“Did you have any luck finding your books?” Emma asked. She glanced over her shoulder at Lindsey as she turned her chair and wheeled into the station’s break room.
“Books?” Lindsey asked.
“Yeah, you know, the books you went out there to collect,” Emma said.
“Oh. No.” Lindsey shook her head. “No luck there.”
“But you managed to capture a man who was apparently robbing the Rosen house and says he’s a relative,” Emma said.
She gestured to a Crock-Pot of chowder, plugged in on the counter. There was a stack of thick cardboard bowls and plastic spoons beside it as well as a box of oyster crackers. Lindsey felt her stomach contract with anticipation.
Molly was just finishing up with the coffeepot, and she handed Sully a bag of ice as she passed them on her way out the door.
“Holler if you need anything else,” she said.
“Thanks, Molly,” Sully and Lindsey said together. Lindsey pushed Sully into a chair and put the bag of ice on the back of his head. He gave a tiny wince, but she didn’t know if it was from the pain of having his boo-boo touched or the chill of the ice. Either way, she didn’t remove the bag.
“I’m going to have a chat with our suspect,” Emma said. “You eat, and I’ll be back shortly.”
“I’m due back to the library,” Lindsey said.
“I’ll try to be quick,” Emma said. “If I’m not back here by the time you’re done eating, I’ll come to the library to see you later. Either way, you both need to eat something. You look like you’re going to drop.”
“I’m not arguing,” Sully said.
“Good. Then you won’t argue when the doctor stops by to examine that knot on your head. Also, we need you to file charges for assault.”
“Really? I’ve had worse bumps after a tense night at the bingo hall,” Sully said.
“Don’t get all macho,” Emma chided. “Your charge will give us leverage to hold Rosen-Grant. It’s for the greater good.”
“Fine, but no doctor,” he said.
“Sorry, that’s not negotiable,” she said. Emma looked at Lindsey. “Right?”
“Right,” Lindsey said. At his mutinous look, she said, “For me? So I don’t worry.”
“Fine, but if I’m playing the invalid, you have to have dinner with me so you can keep tabs on my health,” he said.
Emma laughed. “That’s our Sully. He never misses a trick. I’m actually less worried about you now.”
Sully looked hopeful, but she shut him down.
“No, you’re still getting checked out by a doctor.”
Sully frowned. Emma grinned at Lindsey before she wheeled out of the room. Lindsey dished two bowls of chowder for them and put one in front of Sully before taking the seat across from him.
“You’d better hurry,” he said. “I’m sure she’ll be back or send Kirkland for it at any moment.”
“For what?” Lindsey asked. She tried to sound innocent, but she knew she had failed miserably when he narrowed his eyes at her.
“The safe-deposit box key in your pocket,” he said.
“Remembered that, did you?” she asked.
She took the key out of her pocket and pulled her cell phone out of her handbag. She held the key in her palm and took a quick picture of each side of it before returning her phone to her bag and the key to her pocket.
“What do you hope to gain by having a picture of it?” Sully asked. He dropped a fistful of oyster crackers onto his chowder.
“Nothing, really,” Lindsey said with a sigh. “I just thought if Stewart came by the library again, I could show him the picture and ask him about it.”
“Makes sense,” Sully said. “Assuming that he’s familiar with it, he might tell you which bank it comes from.”
Lindsey tucked into her soup. It was rich and creamy without being too thick; Mary and Ian made it the proper New England way with cream instead of flour. Her stomach was happy, but even more than that, she felt as if her insides were warm for the first time in hours.
“Do you think Stewart or Peter knew about Steven?” she asked.
Sully shrugged. “It’s hard to say. Stewart never mentioned him.”
“Steven knew about them, though,” Lindsey said. “Obviously, his mother told him all about being a Rosen. He must have felt very bitter about being unacknowledged.”
“Which gives him a perfect motive for murder, doesn’t it?” Sully asked.
Lindsey swallowed a bite of potato, but it went down hard. Was Steven Rosen-Grant a murderer? Had he gotten to Stewart before they found him? No. Something didn’t sit right with that idea. She remembered when he had chased her in the house and had scared the snot out of her by grabbing her leg.
He had been chasing her because he thought she was a looter. Was that normal behavior for a person who didn’t care? Of course, he might have been trying to keep her from stealing things he wanted for himself, but she didn’t think so. When she took her own panic out of the equation, he had sounded upset by her presence in the house. More than upset, he had sounded protective.
“We didn’t find my books,” Lindsey said. Which, now that she thought about it, seemed sort of weird. Why would anyone touch a crate of library books when there was so much other stuff out there?
“No, we didn’t,” Sully agreed. “You know what else we didn’t find while we were out there?”
“Any sort of computer,” Lindsey said.
They exchanged a perplexed look, but before either of them could comment on the situation, there was a commotion at the door as Emma tried to wheel herself in and crashed against the doorjamb. She backed out and tried again two more times before finally entering the room without mishap.
“That was fast,” Sully said, clearly not referring to her entrance.
“He’s lawyered up,” Emma said.
She glanced up at the Crock-Pot, and Lindsey hopped up from her chair and went to fill a bowl for the chief. Emma looked comically grateful when Lindsey set it down in front of her.
“Thanks,” she said. “I wasn’t really sure how to tackle the Crock-Pot from down here. I’m sure getting a whole new perspective on our citizens who live life from a rolling chair.”
Lindsey knew it was coming, so she decided a preemptive strike was best. She reached into her pocket and took out the key. She laid it down on the table and pushed it toward Emma.
“Ah, Kirkland told me you had this,” Emma said. She picked it up and studied it. “Fancy.”
“What did Steven tell you before he requested representation?” Sully asked.
“Not much,” Emma said. She put the key down and studied them. “Kirkland explained Rosen-Grant’s claim to be a relative. To my mind, it doesn’t make him less suspicious but more so.”
“Any idea what his background is?” Lindsey asked.
“I had Officer Trousdale run a quick background on him. A cursory check shows no priors, but he was raised by a low-income single mother much like his mother was before him,” Emma said. “Which is another fact that doesn’t help his case.”
“How do you figure?” Sully asked.
“If he really is a relative and what he says is true—that the Rosens’ mother cut his grandmother off without a cent when there was a fortune that was rightfully theirs—well, that’s a pretty big grudge to hold over the years and might make a person prone to murder,” Emma said.
“Do you think he killed Peter and planned to do the same to Stewart in an effort to gain the estate?” Lindsey asked.
“I don’t want to make any assumptions until I know more, but it certainly is one theory,” Emma said. “If we could just find Stewart and learn what he knows . . .”
Her voice trailed off, and Lindsey felt a flash of guilt. She’d had Stewart with her. This mess that was spiraling out of control was largely he
r fault.
“No, it isn’t,” Sully said. “Stop torturing yourself.”
She glanced at him in surprise. He shrugged.
“Guilt is written all over your face,” he said.
“He’s right,” Emma agreed. “And there’s no need. Whoever attacked Milton is to blame. I just wish we knew if they took Stewart or if he ran off on his own. Ah well, tell me your version of what happened today out on the island. Maybe there will be a clue in there somewhere.”
Emma enjoyed her soup as she listened to Sully and Lindsey describe the events on the island from their perspective. When Lindsey talked about ducking into the strange little tunnel to escape Steven, she felt Sully tense up beside her. When she got to the part about kicking herself free, he relaxed just a little, but she could tell he was unhappy about what had transpired.
They finished their story just as Emma finished her chowder. She put down her spoon and asked, “Can you think of anything else?”
Sully and Lindsey exchanged a look and said together, “No.”
“All right,” Emma said. “I have a meeting with Detective Trimble. We’re going to try to figure out how to proceed with Mr. Rosen-Grant. It would help us out if you’d both file charges. If he is our killer, I don’t want to let him slip away.”
“Of course,” Lindsey said, and Sully nodded.
“Great, I’ll send someone in to take your statements,” Emma said. She rolled back from the table and managed to turn her chair around. It only took her two tries to clear the door, and Lindsey heard her muttering mild profanity as she went.
* * *
It was another hour before Lindsey made it back to the library. An enormous bouquet of blue delphinium and yellow roses obscured the children’s desk from view. Feeling as if a glimpse of flowers might thaw the frosty edge of fear that still encrusted her psyche, Lindsey walked over and buried her face in the blooms.
“Aren’t they amazing?” Beth asked as she popped up behind the bouquet, making Lindsey yelp.
“They are lovely,” she said. “Aidan?”
Beth flushed a deep shade of pink. It made her look even younger than her small frame and pixie haircut already did.
“We have another date tonight,” Beth said. “I think things are getting serious.”
“That fast?” Lindsey asked. She knew she hadn’t cushioned the sound of her disapproval well when Beth crossed her arms over her chest and scowled, looking very defensive.
“When it’s right—” Beth began but was interrupted by two people who joined Lindsey in admiring the flowers.
“Your friends will be happy for you and approve.”
“And until we know it’s right, we’re tagging along to make sure you haven’t picked yourself a clunker.”
Lindsey turned around to find Violet and Nancy standing behind her. She raised her eyebrows at them and then turned back to look at Beth to see if she was okay with this. Beth sighed, and her shoulders slumped in resignation.
“I suppose it’s for the best,” Beth said. “My track record is pretty bad.”
Nancy moved in to smell a rose. She sighed. “He’s looking pretty good so far.”
“But a nice bouquet does not a stellar boyfriend make,” Violet said. “Mary and Charlene will be joining us as well. Are you in?”
She looked at Lindsey with her most penetrating gaze. It was at moments like this one that Lindsey understood why Violet had been such a successful stage actress. She had no doubt that the woman could pierce the farthest corner of a dark theater with that intense, laserlike stare.
“I wouldn’t miss it,” she said.
Violet and Nancy nodded as if they had expected no less.
“Tonight at seven at the Anchor,” Nancy said. “Charlie is having band practice in his apartment, and you know how Heathcliff enjoys howling with the band.”
He certainly did. Lindsey often wondered if her puppy had been a rock singer in a former life.
Lindsey watched the two women walk away and felt sorry for Aidan. The poor man had no idea what he was getting into dating their Beth. Truly, the Spanish Inquisition had nothing on the crafternooners.
Lindsey spent the afternoon on the reference desk. Her inbox in her email was full to bursting, and she had orders backing up, minutes from the board meeting to proofread before sending them on to the mayor’s office and about a million other tasks that needed her attention. There was no more putting it off. She was going to have to hire a part-time library assistant ASAP.
She glanced up at the circulation desk and saw Ann Marie talking with a customer. The customer asked for something, and as Lindsey watched, Ann Marie walked the man over to one of the library computers and opened up the Zinio option. The man opened the messenger bag on his shoulder and pulled out a tablet computer. As Lindsey watched, it was clear that Ann Marie was helping him check out magazines to his tablet.
Ann Marie paused by Lindsey’s desk on her way back to the circulation desk. Again, Lindsey was struck by Ann Marie’s transformation from ponytailed mom in baggy sweaters to the sleek professional in front of her now.
“Hey, boss, I’m going to unload the book drop in the back parking lot,” Ann Marie said. “If I’m not back in fifteen minutes, assume I’ve succumbed to hypothermia and send a rescue dog, preferably the kind who carries a barrel of brandy on his collar.”
Lindsey smiled. “Well, here’s something to think about, while you’re out there,” she said. “I’m going to be advertising for a new part-time library assistant in reference, and I want you to apply for it if you’re interested.”
Ann Marie stared at her. “Huh?”
“I think you’d be perfect,” Lindsey said. “You have a great way with people, you know the library and our materials inside and out and I think you could give our adult programming a shot in the arm.”
“Me?” Ann Marie asked. “Sit out here?”
“If you’re interested,” Lindsey said.
“I . . . Yeah,” Ann Marie said.
“Great,” Lindsey said. “I’ll let you know when HR starts accepting applications.”
“Okay,” Ann Marie said. She grinned then frowned. “You’re not pranking me, are you?”
“Not even a little,” Lindsey said.
“But what about the circulation desk and Ms. Cole?” she asked.
“We’ll hire a new clerk to help her,” Lindsey said. “She could probably use some fresh meat, since you don’t intimidate so easily.”
Ann Marie grinned. “Now that’s going to be fun to watch.”
Lindsey pursed her lips. “On second thought—”
“No, no, I’m sure it will be fine,” Ann Marie said. She backed away from the desk. “No need for second thoughts. I’ll help the newb, I promise.”
Lindsey watched as she turned and hurried away from the area. She glanced at the desk where Ms. Cole was seated, fine-sorting a cart of books to get them ready to be shelved. Ms. Cole was still frosty with Lindsey, not that she could blame her, and Lindsey had a feeling it was going to get chillier when Ms. Cole found out that Lindsey was considering Ann Marie for the reference desk.
Ah well, the joys of small-town library administration. Lindsey wondered how Mr. Tupper would have handled it, then she wondered if he’d been a drinker, because his nonconfrontational history must have had an outlet somewhere. She shook her head. It wasn’t nice to think such things about her predecessor. Still, she was curious.
Curious. That reminded her of the safe-deposit key and the contents of the box. She wondered if Emma had figured out which bank it belonged to and if she’d managed to get a warrant to search it. If only they knew where Stewart was, they could ask him, as he was probably the only one who knew.
That thought reminded Lindsey that she had a list of people who had attended Dr. Rosen’s funeral, people who had worked for the Rosens. Would on
e of them know about the safe-deposit key? It had been kept in a music box that probably belonged to Mrs. Rosen. Her maid would have known about it, wouldn’t she?
Lindsey darted into her office where she had left the printout from the microfilmed Gazette. She grabbed it from the top of her desk and took it back out to the reference desk. Now the dilemma was, who could she ask about the names?
Being the head of the historical society and a Briar Creek native, Milton was the obvious choice, but she just couldn’t get him any more involved in something that had already gotten him hurt. No, she needed someone else.
She glanced out the window at the pier. She could see Sully’s boats and his office. The lights were on in the office, as if putting up a small fight against the gloom of the day. Lindsey wondered how Sully’s visit with the doctor had gone. She thought he might know some of the names on her list but even better Ronnie, his octogenarian receptionist would know for sure since she had lived in Briar Creek her whole life.
She picked up the phone on the desk and dialed. Ronnie answered on the second ring.
“Thumb Island Tours and Taxi, how can I help you?”
“Hi, Ronnie, it’s Lindsey,” she said.
“Oh, hi,” Ronnie said. “The boss just checked in. His big, blocky head is fine.”
“Oh, I’m so glad,” Lindsey said. She paused. She wasn’t sure how to segue into the next part of her query.
“Was there something else? Do you need the taxi?”
“No, actually, I was wondering if I could ask you about some names.”
“Names? Of what?”
“More like who,” Lindsey said.
“I’m listening,” Ronnie said. She sounded intrigued, and Lindsey imagined her putting down her nail file and leaning in, fully engaged.
“I have to warn you, these are names from the past,” Lindsey said.
“That’s okay. I have an excellent memory.”
Lindsey didn’t doubt it. Ronnie ran Sully’s office with an efficiency that was unparalleled. Keeping track of taxi pickups, drop-offs, tours and her errant captains, she was amazing.
“All right,” Lindsey said. She glanced at her list. “Cletus Hargreaves.”
A Likely Story: A Library Lover's Mystery Page 20