A Likely Story: A Library Lover's Mystery

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A Likely Story: A Library Lover's Mystery Page 1

by Jenn McKinlay




  Berkley Prime Crime titles by Jenn McKinlay

  Cupcake Bakery Mysteries

  SPRINKLE WITH MURDER

  BUTTERCREAM BUMP OFF

  DEATH BY THE DOZEN

  RED VELVET REVENGE

  GOING, GOING, GANACHE

  SUGAR AND ICED

  DARK CHOCOLATE DEMISE

  Library Lover’s Mysteries

  BOOKS CAN BE DECEIVING

  DUE OR DIE

  BOOK, LINE, AND SINKER

  READ IT AND WEEP

  ON BORROWED TIME

  A LIKELY STORY

  Hat Shop Mysteries

  CLOCHE AND DAGGER

  DEATH OF A MAD HATTER

  AT THE DROP OF A HAT

  An imprint of Penguin Random House LLC

  375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014

  This book is an original publication of Penguin Random House LLC.

  Copyright © 2015 by Jennifer McKinlay Orf.

  “Readers Guide” by Jenn McKinlay copyright © 2015 by Jennifer McKinlay Orf.

  “An Unlikely Meeting” by Jenn McKinlay copyright © 2015 by Jennifer McKinlay Orf.

  Penguin supports copyright. Copyright fuels creativity, encourages diverse voices, promotes free speech, and creates a vibrant culture. Thank you for buying an authorized edition of this book and for complying with copyright laws by not reproducing, scanning, or distributing any part of it in any form without permission. You are supporting writers and allowing Penguin to continue to publish books for every reader.

  BERKLEY® PRIME CRIME and the PRIME CRIME design are trademarks of Penguin Random House LLC.

  For more information, visit penguin.com.

  eBook ISBN: 978-0-698-18713-9

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  McKinlay, Jenn.

  A likely story / Jenn McKinlay.—First edition.

  pages ; cm

  ISBN 978-0-425-26074-6

  I. Title.

  PS3612.A948L55 2015

  813'.6—dc23

  2015020873

  FIRST EDITION: November 2015

  Cover illustration by Julia Green.

  Cover design by Rita Frangie.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  PUBLISHER’S NOTE: The recipes contained in this book are to be followed exactly as written. The publisher is not responsible for your specific health or allergy needs that may require medical supervision. The publisher is not responsible for any adverse reactions to the recipes contained in this book.

  Version_1

  For the Hub, Chris Hansen Orf, being married to you has been the best time I’ve ever had. You’ve given me the two greatest gifts of my life, our sons, Beckett and Wyatt, for which I am ever grateful. Our family is and always will be our greatest achievement, and I’m so glad we’re in it together. And if all that isn’t enough, you gave me the opening line to this book. I simply couldn’t do this without you, Hub. Love you forever.

  Acknowledgments

  I remember the day that my fabulous editor, Kate Seaver, met me for lunch and told me that A Likely Story was going to be released in hardcover. I was speechless. Anyone who knows me knows that this never happens. With a waiter hovering nearby, I finally managed to choke out, “We’re going to need a minute.” This might be my most favorite moment in time during my whole writing journey, and I am so pleased that I got to share it with my editor, Kate. She has been with me for all three of my series with endless encouragement, support and brilliant insight. There really aren’t enough words to thank her for all that she has done for me, so I’ll just keep saying, “Thank you so much, Kate!” until she gets tired of hearing it.

  In addition to Kate, there are so many people involved in the publication of a book who I never get to see that I have to say a blanket thank-you to everyone at Berkley Prime Crime who has worked on my different series. I feel very fortunate to have such a terrific publishing house working to help make my books the best they can be. And here’s a special shout-out to Danielle Dill in PR for tirelessly arranging signings, interviews and everything else my crazy head cooks up. You are a wonder!

  Lastly, I want to thank my mom, Susan McKinlay; my dad, Don McKinlay; my brother, Jed McKinlay; my husband, Chris Hansen Orf; and my sons, Beckett Orf and Wyatt Orf—the family I started from and the family I made. You people are my cornerstones and you have never let me crack and crumble, not even when the going got really rough. I feel so very lucky to have you all in my life. Love you always.

  Contents

  Berkley Prime Crime titles by Jenn McKinlay

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Acknowledgments

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  The Briar Creek Library Guide to Crafternoons

  Readers Guide for The Daughter of Time

  Craft: Paper Flowers Created from Scrap Paper

  Recipes

  Bonus Short Story: An Unlikely Meeting

  “I need a plunger and a mop stat!” Lindsey Norris cried from the family restroom in the children’s area of the Briar Creek Public Library. There was an inch of water on the floor, and the water spilling over the toilet bowl showed no signs of slowing.

  The harried mother and daughter who had just been in the restroom stood by the door, with the young girl giving Lindsey big worried looks while the mother gushed apologies almost as fast as the toilet spilled water.

  “I’m so sorry, so sorry, so very, very sorry,” Kimberly Curtis said.

  “It’s fine,” Lindsey lied. “Happens all the time.”

  She glanced down at the young girl, Madison Curtis, who was pulling her winter hat over her face as if to hide. She peeked at Lindsey from under the edge and said, “I sorry. Ducky wanted to swim.”

  Lindsey felt her lips turn up in spite of the situation. She glanced at Kimberly and said, “It does make sense on one level.”

  Kimberly hugged her daughter and gave Lindsey an appreciative glance. “You’re very kind, but there is nothing logical about flushing a stuffed duck down the toilet.”

  “Here’s the mop!”

  Lindsey glanced past Kimberly and Madison at her second in command. Her longtime friend Beth Stanley was coming at her with a mop in one hand and a plunger in the other, or more accurately, a mop under one wing and a plunger under the other.
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br />   “Wild guess here,” Lindsey said as she took in Beth’s bright yellow hooded sweatshirt with wings on the sleeves and an orange beak and two large eyes sewn onto the hood. “Make Way for Ducklings for story time?”

  “McCloskey is the man!” Beth said. “Yes, we read all the feathered faves: The Story about Ping; Come Along, Daisy! and The Ugly Duckling, natch.”

  “Well, you inspired little Madison here to set one free,” Lindsey said.

  “Uh-oh,” Beth said. She looked past Lindsey at the bathroom floor.

  “It’s fine. I changed into my boots,” Lindsey said. She pointed to her L.L.Bean snow boots. “I’ll just waddle on in there and shut the water off.”

  “I’ll help. I’m in boots, too. They look like duck feet, don’t you think?” Beth asked.

  “They do,” Lindsey agreed. She looked at Kimberly and Madison. “We’re going to start cleaning, and then I’m going to call our maintenance people from the town and see if they can get your duck out of the pipes.”

  Madison’s face crumpled, and she looked like she was going to have a complete meltdown. Beth, ever in touch with her story timers, saw the brewing storm and started having a conversation with Madison’s duck.

  “You’re going where? Oh, sorry,” she called into the toilet. She glanced at them with a chagrined look. “I forgot to speak in duck.” She turned back to the toilet and said, “Quack, quack quackety quackers.”

  Madison’s face went from distraught to hopeful. Beth kept up the conversation, making Madison laugh while Kimberly leaned close to Lindsey and said, “We won’t need Fluffy back. When Madison made it her go-to stuffie, Beth advised me to buy more of the same. I bought three of them, and I rotate them in and out so they have the same amount of wear.”

  “Brilliant,” Lindsey whispered back. Then she hurried into the bathroom to shut the water off.

  “Where did Fluffy go?” Madison asked Beth. Her four-year-old voice was so pitiful that Lindsey wanted to hug her.

  “Fluffy says she’s going to visit her sister and she’ll be back”—Beth paused to look at Kimberly, who nodded—“after dinner.”

  Madison beamed and clapped her hands as Beth and Lindsey sloshed back toward them.

  “What do you say, Madison?” Kimberly asked her daughter.

  “Thank you,” Madison hugged Beth around the knees and then did the same to Lindsey.

  “You’re welcome,” they said together. They waved as the mother and daughter bundled up to go out into the February cold.

  “Maintenance is never going to get that duck out of there, are they?” Lindsey asked.

  “Not a chance,” Beth said. “But it’s okay. Kim is smart and has backups.”

  “So she said. Great advice you gave her there.”

  “Sometimes I pull a good one out of my beak,” Beth joked. “Quack.”

  “Clark from maintenance just called. They are fixing an electrical issue with the town garage and can’t get back here until late this afternoon,” Ms. Cole said as she joined them. She looked at the bathroom with disapproval and added, “When Mr. Tupper was director we never had plumbing issues.”

  “That’s ridicu—” Beth protested, but Lindsey interrupted her.

  “Thank you for calling them, Ms. Cole,” Lindsey said.

  When she had taken the job as director of the small town library a couple of years ago, she’d had no idea that her skill set would expand to include basic plumbing, but then there were a lot of things she hadn’t expected when she took this job. She supposed the unexpected was what kept it interesting.

  She glanced at her watch; speaking of interesting, she had a meeting to attend. Her weekly crafternoon group was scheduled for one hour from now, and she knew what she had to do. Mop.

  * * *

  “Hurry!” Beth said as she and Lindsey hustled down the hallway.

  Lindsey was surprised at how much of an important part of her life their weekly crafternoon meetings had become for her over the past couple of years.

  Briar Creek was a small town nestled on the coast of Connecticut. Its claim to fame was that Captain Kidd had once buried treasure out in the Thumb Islands, which numbered into the hundreds if you counted big rocks in the bay. As of yet, no one had found the treasure, although plenty had tried.

  When Lindsey had become the director of the library, she knew that in order to survive, she had to make the library a place where people really enjoyed spending time. One of her very first ideas had been to form a crafternoon club, a group of women who met every Thursday for lunch, book talk and crafting. Men were welcome, too, but so far they’d had no takers.

  Instead of a program for the library, what Lindsey had gotten was a close-knit group of friends who shared her love of food and books and tolerated her inability to craft. She adored each and every one of them.

  She and Beth skidded into the room to find the lunchtime meeting already under way. Nancy Peyton, Lindsey’s landlord, was leading the discussion.

  “Inspector Grant,” Nancy said. “What do we think of him, ladies?”

  Her short gray hair was cut to flatter her large sparkling blue eyes. She was dressed in her usual turtleneck sweater and slacks with a heavy chambray shirt over the sweater to keep out the winter chill.

  “I like him,” Violet La Rue said. “He has spunk.”

  Lindsey smiled as she and Beth hit the buffet spread and loaded up their plates. Violet would know a spunky personality since she had one herself. A retired star of the Broadway theater scene, Violet dressed in long flowing caftans in brilliant jewel tones. She wore her thick gray hair in a knot on the back of her head. While about the same age as Nancy, Violet’s brown complexion was wrinkle free except for several tiny lines at the corners of her eyes, which only showed when she laughed, which she did quite often.

  Given both Violet’s and Nancy’s feisty ways, it was no surprise to Lindsey that they approved of Inspector Grant, the hero of this week’s book under discussion, The Daughter of Time by Josephine Tey.

  “Hurry up, you two, before we get to the good stuff,” Charlene La Rue ordered.

  Charlene was Violet’s daughter and just as lovely as her mother. Charlene worked in New Haven as a newscaster but spent her off time in Briar Creek with her husband and children, as her children loved to help their grandmother with whatever community theater project she had under way.

  Charlene had been in charge of the food this week, and it consisted of a large casserole dish filled with shepherd’s pie, an arugula salad, sweet tea and chocolate cream pie for dessert. The shepherd’s pie was still hot, and Lindsey felt her mouth begin to water. She’d had no idea that swabbing a bathroom floor could cause such an appetite.

  “The good stuff?” Mary Murphy asked. “Are we talking about the food or the book?”

  Mary Murphy was a pretty brunette who owned the local café the Blue Anchor with her husband, Ian Murphy. She was also the younger sister of Lindsey’s ex-boyfriend Captain Mike Sullivan, known to everyone locally as Sully.

  Lindsey always appreciated that Mary was able to separate their friendship from Lindsey’s relationship with her brother, although Mary did lobby on her brother’s behalf every chance she got.

  “The book, definitely the book,” Charlene said.

  “Speaking of which,” Nancy paused and her eyes twinkled as she looked at Lindsey. “Can you imagine trying to solve the mystery of whether King Richard III murdered the princes in the tower just because you were hospitalized with a broken leg and were bored? Who does that sort of thing, solve mysteries just because?”

  Lindsey shoved a forkful of salad into her mouth and then pointed to her lips to indicate she couldn’t talk right now because she was chewing.

  Charlene laughed. She scooted over on the couch so that Lindsey could sit next to her. Then she looked at Lindsey and said, “She’s teasing you.”
>
  Lindsey swallowed. “You think?”

  Beth took a seat on the other couch next to Mary and said to Lindsey, “We could always talk about who you’re dating if that would be more comfortable than your inclination for amateur sleuthing.”

  “Did you know that The Daughter of Time was written in nineteen fifty-one, shortly before Tey’s death? It was her last novel and was voted number one on the list of top one hundred crime novels of all time by the UK Crime Writers’ Association in nineteen ninety.”

  Mary shook her head at her. “That was the worst attempt at a subject change ever in the history of our meetings.”

  “Obviously, Lindsey does not wish to discuss her personal life,” Violet said. “We should respect that.”

  “We should,” Nancy agreed. “But we’re not going to, are we?”

  “Of course not,” Mary said. “So, how is the old love life?”

  Lindsey gave her a stubborn look. “I’m not dating anyone right now, so it’s steady as she goes, thank you very much.”

  “Really?” Mary asked. She sounded disappointed. “Not even a lunch date?”

  “No breakfast, lunch or dinner dates,” Lindsey said. “Or any other kind of date, for that matter.”

  “So, you’re not dating at all?” Violet clarified. She caught Lindsey with her hawklike stare, and Lindsey turned to Charlene.

  “I bet you never lie to her,” she said. “She’d catch you in a nanosecond.”

  “That stare is like getting blasted with a laser gun,” Charlene agreed. “It’s kept me on my toes my whole life.”

  “It’s sort of like Tey’s hero Inspector Grant and his ability to judge a person’s character by their face,” Lindsey said.

  “It doesn’t keep you from changing the subject though, does it?” Violet asked, looking a bit put out.

  Lindsey grinned. Violet had a horse in the race for Lindsey’s affections, an actor friend of hers named Robbie Vine, who was ridiculously charming and also married, adding to what was already a complicated situation.

  “Speaking of Inspector Grant’s uncanny ability,” Lindsey said. “Do you think it’s possible?”

 

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