“I swear I saw something.” I opened my door.
“What are you doing?”
“What do you think I’m doing? I’m getting out to investigate. Isn’t that our job? Jeesh.” I stepped out of the car and closed the door.
“Get back in here, you crazy-headed fool,” he snapped through the window he’d rolled down. “It could be dangerous.”
“Yes, and poor Mrs. Sampson could be hurt.” I crouched down and started zigzagging across the yard toward the librarian’s house like I’d seen in the movies.
Detective Stone hopped out and jogged until he caught up with me, tapping me on the shoulder of my humongous puffy coat. “What are you trying to do, scare the bad guy off by line dancing?”
“Ha, ha.” I continued my crazy movements. “Aren’t you supposed to run in a zigzag pattern when chasing someone?”
“No, you only do that if you are the one being chased and the bad guy is shooting at you with a gun.” He ran right along beside me. “Stop doing that, you look like a fool.” He snagged his arm around my waist and pulled me back against him.
“Oh.” I stopped moving, enjoying the warmth of his wide, hard, sculpted chest for a moment, then came to my senses and stepped out of his hold to stand up straight and march up the driveway.
“Now what the hell are you doing?” He snatched my hand and yanked me to a stop. “You don’t want to advertise your approach, either.”
I looked down at our hands and pulled mine from his, crossing my arms in front of me and tapping my boot. “Okay, smarty-pants, what am I supposed to do?”
“Let me go first. You don’t even have a gun.”
“I won’t argue with that.”
“That’d be a first.” He grunted. “Stay close.”
I stepped behind him and followed closely. So close that when he stopped short by the corner, I bounced off his back, grabbing his hips so I wouldn’t fall. He craned his neck around and scowled down at me from over his shoulder.
“Not that close,” he snapped.
“Sorry.” I winced and backed off a step. Okay, a baby step, but after the standoff with Pendleton, I wasn’t taking any chances. I wanted to solve this case, but I didn’t want to die in the process.
The detective searched the area, made sure it was safe, and then peeked around the corner. He quickly stood up and holstered his gun. “There she is. I think she’s alone, but—”
That was all I needed to hear. I raced around him and ran to the old woman’s side, glancing over my shoulder. He threw up his hands and followed, shaking his head the entire way. She sat at the base of the librarian’s bedroom window, exactly where the footprints had been that night. She had her apron on, as was her habit, I was beginning to see, but at least this time her shoes matched. And thank God she’d worn a heavy coat.
“Mrs. Sampson, this is Detective Stone. Can you hear me?” Mitch asked.
She sat there staring straight ahead, looking dazed.
“Maude, it’s Sunny. I’m so glad we found you.” I touched her cheek.
She turned to look at me. “Sunny? Have we met?” she asked.
Sadness filled every ounce of my body and darkened my soul like tea filling my cup and staining the water black. “Yes, a couple of times. Bernard is looking for you.”
“Oh dear, did I miss our lunch date again?” she asked. “My shift at the library takes up so much of my time.”
“I know, but I’m sure they’ll understand if you want to take a break.” I held her hand. “Bernard is really worried about you. Would you like to go see him?”
“Oh yes. He’s a good man. He works so hard for all of us. Where are my girls?”
“They’re fine,” Mitch said, giving me a funny look. Once he recaptured Maude’s attention, he asked, “Are you ready to go, Mrs. Sampson?”
She gnawed her bottom lip. “Am I in trouble?”
“No, no. We’re just going to have Dr. Wilcox check you out.” Mitch helped her to her feet. “Make sure you’re okay.”
“I told Bernard I was dying, but he wouldn’t listen to me.” She sighed. “He never listens to me.”
I looked her in the eye and squeezed her hands. “Something tells me he’ll listen to you now.”
Dr. Wilcox came out of the exam room, sending Maude home with her husband, Bernard. Bernard stopped at the exit to the waiting room and turned to the detective and me. He cleared his throat and said, “Thank you for bringing my wife back to me. I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t found her.”
Mitch nodded once in return.
I said, “You’re welcome, Mr. Sampson. Please take care of her. She’s a little fragile.”
Bernard replied, “I know all about my wife, Ms. Meadows. I’ve always looked out for what’s mine.” The lines in his face looked deeper today, like the worry and stress had finally taken its toll.
“That’s my Bernard,” Maude said, patting his arm. “A real trouper.” She looked exhausted. He held her hand tight, and they walked out together.
Dr. Wilcox reentered the waiting room and called Detective Stone and me into his office.
“Well, what’s the verdict, Doc?” Detective Stone asked, leaning a hip against the wall.
I refused a seat as well, too keyed up to sit.
Doc sat on the edge of his desk and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Mrs. Sampson is worse off than I had originally thought.”
Gee, ya think? I wanted to shout. I was no doctor, but even I could tell she wasn’t exactly all there. Instead, I smiled politely and inquired, “Really? How so?”
“She’s always complained of being tired, but that’s a natural part of aging. Forgetting some minor things is also an inevitable part of growing old, but I think Mrs. Sampson’s forgetfulness has gone beyond the norm.”
“What do you mean?” Mitch asked.
“Well, she’s not just forgetting simple things. Part of her short-term memory is going as well. At times she seems to think she still works at the library. And she often forgets she’s met someone a day later.”
“I can attest to that,” I said. “I’ve met her several times, yet she never remembers. And she always forgets to take her apron off, sometimes even mismatches her shoes.”
“I’m afraid it’s the early stages of Alzheimer’s,” Doc Wilcox admitted. “Bernard isn’t going to be able to take care of her on his own for much longer. It’s a shame. Last I heard they were planning to retire in Florida. That’s not likely to happen now. His daughters live a couple of hours from here nowhere near Florida. Without their help, I don’t see how Bernard can swing it.”
“Thanks, Dr. Wilcox.” Mitch stood up and shook his hand. “I’m glad she’s safe. The last thing Divinity needs is for someone else to die.”
“I couldn’t agree more,” Dr. Wilcox responded.
“Thank you, Doctor,” I said and followed Mitch out to the car. “So where to, Detective?”
“The library. I’m in the mood to do some reading.” He looked at me as he started the car. “You in?”
“Um, okay, sure.” I fastened my seat belt. “What kind of reading?”
“Personnel files.”
“But I thought we pretty much ruled Carolyn Hanes out,” I said.
“Carolyn’s not the one I’m interested in. I never checked out Maude. Something seems off about her retirement, and then there’s the fact that we found her by the librarian’s window.” He rubbed his jaw while turning down the road for the library. “I want to know why.”
“Hasn’t she been through enough?” I felt really bad for Mrs. Sanders. She was so confused, and she seemed to be getting worse every day. With her daughters gone and her husband working a lot of overtime, she was virtually alone.
“Tink, I’m not saying she’s guilty.” Mitch’s voice was low and gentle. “I’m just saying she might need more help than we realize.”
“Fine, I’m in.” I was on a mission now. I pointed my finger in the detective’s face. “But only to prove the
re’s no way that sweet little old lady could be a murderer.”
“Fair enough.”
A few minutes later, Mitch pulled into the parking lot of the library and cut the engine. I followed the detective inside, and we headed straight to the circulation desk where the new manager, Carolyn Hanes, was talking to one of her employees.
“Good afternoon, Miss Hanes,” Detective Stone said. “You mind if we have a word with you?”
She looked warily at me, but she nodded, excused herself to her employee, and then to us said, “Follow me.” She led the way in the back to her office and closed the door behind us.
I scanned the room but didn’t see any signs left over from Lucinda or Holly having been there. Carolyn had definitely put her stamp on the room. “I noticed the teddy bear I left is gone,” I said. “What happened?”
Carolyn shrugged. “Ms. Smith said it was a fire hazard. I guess it fell off the shelf and landed on her desk next to a candle and then burst into flames.”
“No kidding? Imagine that,” I said.
“I know. It could have burned down the whole library. That’s why I issued a new policy.” She locked eyes with me, and I wondered if she’d somehow found out the bear held a nanny cam. “No gifts that aren’t of monetary value are to be accepted.”
I’ll bet you did, I thought, but said, “Hmmm. That’s a shame.”
“Isn’t it, though?” Carolyn turned to the detective. “How can I help you?”
“I need to see the personnel records from when Amanda Robbins was manager here,” the detective answered.
“But you already looked through them.”
“Not all of them,” he explained.
She looked confused and a little troubled, but she complied. What choice did she have if she didn’t want to look guilty and uncooperative? “Certainly. You can use my office if you’d like.”
“Thank you. That would be wonderful,” I said all sugary sweet.
A few minutes later Detective Stone and I sat at Carolyn Hanes’s desk with a large box between us. He took half of the files, while I took the other half. We decided to pore over every one once more in case he had missed something the first time around.
Finally he came to Maude Sampson’s file. “This can’t be right.”
“What?”
“It says here that Maude didn’t retire.” He looked up and met my eyes. “She was fired.”
“You’re kidding.” I leaned forward and scanned her file. “Why would her husband lie about it?” I wondered aloud.
“Like he said, he’s always protected her. He probably didn’t want the scandal or embarrassment to taint her name.” Mitch read on. “You’re not going to believe this one. Carolyn Hanes was the one who got her fired. Her report on Maude says she was incompetent, forgetting things, and messing up the catalog system.”
“You know,” I said as something occurred to me. “Maude worked there much longer than Carolyn. If Maude hadn’t gotten fired, she would have been in line for the management position. They might not have been able to discriminate against her because of her age, but the fact that she was incompetent was a whole different matter. I think Carolyn was desperate for a higher-paying job because of her shopping addiction. While she might not have murdered her best friend, I doubt she was above getting Maude fired.”
My cell phone buzzed. “Hang on, Detective, I’ve got to take this.” I answered the call.
“Hey, Dad, what’s up?” I listened in shock. “Are you sure?” He filled me in on all the details. “Wow, okay, I’ll tell him.” I hung up and stared at Mitch with my mouth hanging open.
“What the hell is it?” Mitch sat forward.
“Dad finally got the doctor to talk.” As much as it pained me to say this, I knew I had no choice. “Maude Sampson was on digoxin for an irregular heartbeat.” I blew out a breath. “I guess that means she could have committed murder, especially if she was angry at Amanda for firing her. She loved working at the library. It was her life, especially after her girls left.”
“Don’t jump to conclusions, Tink. What else did your father say?”
I thought for a minute and then brightened a little. “He did say the pharmacy revealed Amanda Robbins used to pick up Maude’s prescription for her because Bernard worked overtime at the mill. Amanda would bring it to the library and give it to Maude at work before she was fired.”
“Carolyn would have had access to it,” Mitch pointed out. “She still could have been playing both sides and given it to Pendleton to use on Amanda when the bookstore deal didn’t go through. And then jumped ship with the FBI when things started to look bad for Alex and Gladys. And hell, for that matter, I think Gladys Montgomery would do just about anything to have one of her treasures declared a national landmark.”
“Do any of them have an alibi?” I asked.
“They all claimed to be each other’s alibi, hashing out the details of the deal and what the repercussions would be if it went through,” he answered. “But no one saw them.”
“You know what that means, don’t you?” I asked.
“Yeah.” He grinned. “We’re back in the game. I’ll see if we can get Pendleton to talk.”
“And I’ll talk to Maude’s husband, Bernard. Maybe he can clarify if one of his wife’s bottles was ever missing. He might also be able to explain more about his wife’s condition. Help give her an alibi.”
“Sounds like a plan, Tink. Maybe you’ll make it through this investigation after all.”
“Gee thanks, ye of little faith.” I smirked.
“Hey, everyone’s a suspect in my eyes until a case is closed.” Mitch’s smile dimmed, and the detective in him took over full force. “Including you.”
18
I pulled my bug up to the large mill on the outskirts of Divinity and parked next to old man Sampson’s pickup truck. It was nearly lunchtime, so I figured it was as good a time as any to have a word with him. I chose not to talk to him at home because I didn’t want to risk Maude being around to overhear our conversation.
A loud whistle blew, and a minute later the doors opened and workers filed out for their lunch break. Some would remain on-site to eat, while others needed a break from the daily grind. I’d taken my chances that Bernard was one of the latter.
Turned out I was right.
Bernard was one of the last to exit, his shoulders slightly drooping, and his gait a bit heavy. He approached his truck and then stopped short when he saw me. I hopped out of my car and walked over to him.
“Hi, Mr. Sampson. Remember me? Sunny.” I held out my hand.
He shook it warily. “I remember you. What do you want?”
“Wow, you get right to the point, don’t you?” I giggled, but his mouth flattened to a thin line. I stifled my awkwardness. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to intrude on your lunch hour, but I was wondering if I could have a word with you?”
“About what?”
“I was worried about Maude and wanted to see how she’s doing.”
“She’s fine.” He started to walk around me.
“There’s more.” I stepped in front of him, pulling my coat closer together. The temperature was below freezing today.
“You know where I live, why not come to the house?”
“Because I don’t want your wife to overhear us.”
He hesitated for so long, I wondered if he’d had a stroke. Finally, he huffed, “Fine, but I eat in my truck.”
“In your truck? But it’s so cold out.”
“I like the cold. Besides, it’s the one place that’s all mine where I can relax and feel at peace.” He climbed into the driver’s side without another word.
I could relate. My sanctuary gave me the exact same feeling. I could only hope I’d get to start up my business again soon. Share a piece of me with the world. I slipped inside the passenger’s side of Bernard’s truck, but somehow felt he didn’t quite want to share a piece of himself with me.
“I truly am sorry for invading your sp
ace, Mr. Sampson, but I really am worried about your wife.”
His old-fashioned metal lunch box sat open on the worn cloth seat between us, his sandwich already half eaten. He slowly lowered the rest of his sandwich to his lap and looked at me. “I don’t mean to be so gruff, Ms. Meadows, but it’s been a long couple of weeks. What do you want to know?”
“For starters, how is Maude?” I asked, full of sincerity. I truly cared about what happened to her.
He jerked his gray head to the side. “As good as can be expected.”
“Does she remember anything from over the last couple of days?”
“She’s fine now, but she doesn’t remember anything from when she wandered off.” He looked pained and frustrated. “She has her good days and her bad, but then again, so do all of us.”
“I hear that,” I said softly, and then I asked the question that I dreaded but needed to be asked. “Your wife didn’t retire from the library. She was fired, wasn’t she?”
His eyes whipped up to mine, looking startled and a little afraid, but then he stared off into the distance. “She had just started to forget things at that time, but it wasn’t that bad. We both thought it was part of getting old. We’d worked so hard so we could enjoy our golden years, but then it looked like we wouldn’t have any golden years at all. Maude kept saying something was wrong, but I kept insisting she was fine. That maybe if she read more or did crossword puzzles or something, she would get better.”
“But she didn’t get better, did she?”
“Nope. Things got worse, but I was in denial. When she got fired for being incompetent, I couldn’t bear for anyone to think less of her, so I said she retired. Ms. Robbins felt horrible about having to let her go, so she agreed to tell everyone publicly that Maude retired.”
“But officially she had to put why she was fired in the records, didn’t she?”
He nodded, looking sad.
“Don’t take this the wrong way, because I really do want to help your wife, but where was she the night of Amanda Robbins’s murder?”
“Truth is, this is not the first time Maude has wandered off and not remembered where she was. I’ve covered for her in the past, but this time she was gone too long. I was afraid something really bad had happened to her, so I had to call the police.” He looked at me with pleading eyes. “I swear my Maude would never hurt a fly. You have to believe that.”
Tempest in the Tea Leaves Page 19