“But just think of all the good you can do by doing this.”
He sat back down, this time meeting my Ricki’s gaze full on without looking away for even a split second. “Do you really think this will do any good?”
She was one step away from convincing him to let her in the library. “I do. Just from what I overheard, I believe there are a lot of things we could know by searching the library.”
He took a deep breath. “All right.” He paused for another deep breath. “She had a lot of enemies, Ricki.”
“And that’s why I want to snoop. I mean that’s why I want to investigate.”
“I hope we don’t get caught.”
“We won’t…unless you tell someone.”
No amount of reassurance seemed to calm Jon. Even after they were inside the library, he acted like he was breaking the law or that Felicity was going to jump out from between the stacks and chastise him for letting someone in when she strictly forbade it. While he was outside gathering the books from the deposit bin, she looked over the circulation desk to see if she could find anything that might not fit there. Unfortunately, it was a library and everything fit there whether or not it fit there. Since libraries served the public, they had everything you could think of behind the desk, even a sewing kit.
“Where’s Jennifer’s desk?”
Jon booted the computer. “Do you really think this is a good idea?”
“Are we doing anything wrong? Really? Or is it just something your director asked you to do?”
He stared up at the ceiling, thinking. “Technically, we’re not doing anything wrong. It’s just that after Jennifer died, Felicity wanted to keep things in order.”
“I get the impression she runs a tight ship.”
“She has her reasons. Anyway, Jennifer’s desk is over here.” She followed Jon through one door, then another, before he pointed to where Jennifer sat. “Just promise me one thing.”
“This is your show.”
“Don’t touch anything.”
“I promise.” At first she was put out by this order not to touch anything, but then she agreed to it, remembering her phone had a good camera. He couldn’t stop her from taking pictures.
“I’m taking your word for it. I’ll be up front discharging the books, but I’ll come back and check on you every five minutes.”
Ricki felt badly for the guy. Even if he was twenty-one or so, she couldn’t let go of the idea that he reminded her more of a shy teenager instead of a grown man. And because he was so nervous, she hurried her snooping so he wouldn’t have to carry the burden of guilt for going against the wishes of his boss.
Papers were scattered all over Jennifer’s desk. Food crumbs covered the keyboard, not to mention the layer of dust on her monitor. Two cups with dark liquid dried at the bottom—coffee she imagined—sat in the far corner, along with a bottle of sports drink, half-full. She had a jar filled with peanut butter cups, Ricki’s favorite, but she promised not to touch anything even if it was tempting to sneak one. She didn’t see anything abnormal about her desk other than it didn’t fit her personality. She expected the desk of someone who dressed as stylish as Jennifer and who seemed to be a high energy control freak to reflect more of her personality, but it didn’t.
She found a stepstool in the corner near a wall of shelves and positioned it next to the desk. Standing on top of it, she leaned over and snapped a few pictures of Jennifer’s desk. Even if nothing stood out, she still wanted to have a copy to examine later when she wasn’t pressed for time or freaking out a scrupulous young man.
Next to the desk, Jennifer had the standard garbage can filled with a few things like cellophane and bits of plastic from who knew what. Under her desk, was a pair of expensive three inch strappy sandals. Definitely not something you would pick up at the local department store. On the corkboard in front of her desk were several pictures of a beautiful blue BMW convertible. It looked to be an older model. Jennifer leaned against the car in a seductive pose, wearing hardly anything. If that was Jennifer’s car, Ricki wondered how she could afford it. She called out for Jon.
“Did you need something?”
“Are most of the library associates part-time or full-time workers?”
“Part-time. Why?”
“This picture above her desk, is that her car?”
“Pretty, isn’t it? The car, that is, not her.” Jon’s face turned red. “Not that there’s anything wrong with her.”
Ricki tried not to laugh at his embarrassment. “It is a nice car, and she’s not that bad looking either.” She saw him blush again. “This is a personal question, and you don’t have to answer it if you don’t want to, but how much do you guys make per hour?” Jon bristled at the question, so she rephrased it. “I’m not being nosy, but I was just wondering how someone who worked part-time could afford a car like that, not to mention all the gold jewelry she wore.”
“All library associates start at $10.50 an hour, and she’s been here for about five years or so. You do the math.”
Math wasn’t Ricki’s subject, but if she factored in cost-of-living increase at 3% every year, Jennifer still didn’t make enough money to afford a BMW, or wear expensive jewelry. She filed that away in her head for later.
With Jon still standing there watching her, she snapped a picture of the books sitting next to the desk, stacked neatly, free from food crumbs and dust. “Because I’m unfamiliar with what you guys do, why is there a cart full of books here? What was she doing with them?”
“First of all we call the cart a book truck or just truck. When we’re not working at the circulation desk, we have side assignments, but I’m not sure what she was doing with those books.” He stood over her shoulder and studied them. “That’s strange.”
“What is?”
“Oh, nothing, really. It’s just that you can usually tell what someone is working on by what they have sitting on the truck, but I have no idea what she was doing. The only way we can find out is to look on her computer, but only the IT department can do that.”
“One more question and I’ll get out of your hair: Why didn’t anyone like her?”
Jon’s face turned bright red. He made several attempts to say something, but the words just did not come out of his mouth. “I don’t like to talk about the dead like that.”
That sounded like something her grandmother would say. She always said it wasn’t Christian to speak of the dead. Ricki knew from the first moment she met Jon that she was dealing with a different kind of young man. It wasn’t often in her life that she encountered somebody who exhibited true innocence. The guy who stood before her was truly a tender heart who still saw the world with kind eyes. It seemed the older she got the more cynical she became. Maybe she would take a few lessons from him and try to hold onto that kindness and optimism. She suddenly felt a twinge of guilt for manipulating him into letting her into the library. It was a fleeting thought. There was something serious going on. Some things weren’t adding up. Jennifer had a reputation with men. She had a lot of expensive toys. Were the two connected?
“Jon, thank you for letting me do this. It might be a good idea if you don’t mention it to anyone. Just swallow the guilt as much as you can and don’t say a word. Okay?”
“It’s going to eat at me for the rest of the week. But I think you might be right about wanting to come in and snoop around, I mean, investigate.” He smiled shyly. “You can slip out the back door. I’ll be up at the desk.”
Ricki pretended to walk away but quickly backtracked. Sure, she promised not to touch anything, but she opened each desk drawer quietly. Oddly enough, each drawer was organized and free from clutter and mess, unlike the top of her desk. She even had her snacks lined up neatly. Disappointed at not finding anything juicy, she opened one last drawer. Sitting on top of a small stack of papers, there was an envelope. It was plain, nothing written on it, but inside she found a small note. It read: If you don’t back off right now, you will regret it.
/> Eight
Ricki tapped her foot, anxious to tell her best friend all the exciting things that had happened since she last saw her. Rumpus, with squinty eyes, panted heavily in the afternoon sun. When Becca didn’t answer the door after the first ring, Ricki didn’t think much of it, but after the second and third time and still no answer, she wondered if something was wrong.
Becca’s car was in the driveway. The noise from the TV said someone was home. With Jennifer’s book tucked under her left arm and trying to keep her dog from running off with her right, Ricki struggled to open the door. If she hadn’t talked with Becca just last night, she would have thought this felt too much like the time she found Jennifer on the bathroom floor. Thankfully the poor soul was only sound asleep on the couch with baby Megan cooing sweetly in her bassinet. Rumpus, being the brat that he was, ran and jumped on Becca’s stomach, sending her shrieking upright, scrambling for the now crying Megan.
“Rumpus. Down. Now.” Ricki gave a quick tug of his leash. “It’s only me. Calm down, calm down. Are you all right? I’m so, so sorry.”
“Good Lord, he scared the crap out of me. I thought I locked the front door.”
“Well, you didn’t. But I didn’t come to burgle you.” Ricki couldn’t remember the last time she saw her friend like this. Her hair was a mess. She had dark circles under her bloodshot eyes, and there were baby barf stains all over her shirt. Wait a minute. She could remember the last time Becca looked like this. It was in a photo someone had taken of her and her friends, passed out from a night of underage drinking, at the senior prom. “Are you feeling okay?”
Becca bounced the baby in her arms, shushing her sweetly. “Do I look okay?”
“No, you don’t. Why don’t you run up and take a shower while I keep an eye on Megan. I’ll make us some lunch.”
Becca’s lip quivered a few seconds before a fountain of tears came spurting from her eyes. Ricki must have touched a raw nerve. Surveying the living room, dining room, and kitchen painted a clear picture of just how raw that nerve was. Baskets of dirty laundry sat by the basement steps. Dishes were piled high on the sink. A trash can overflowed with dirty diapers. Ricki took Megan in her arms and pushed Becca toward the stairs. She sobbed the entire way up the steps.
She bounced the baby until she calmed down. Ricki lay her gently in the bassinet before heading to the kitchen and starting lunch. Rumpus took his position on the sofa and rested his head on the arm, keeping an eye on everything while she was busy in the kitchen.
The kitchen was worse than she realized. A peek at it from the vantage point of the living room didn’t paint the full picture. The breakfast dishes were still in the sink. Milk of some sort was splattered on the countertop. Becca’s breast pumping machine was air drying on the one clean spot in the entire kitchen. Ricki had no idea her friend was so stressed out. Of course she wouldn’t have called and asked for help. That wasn’t like her.
Ricki got down to work and cleaned the kitchen before starting lunch. She made a pot of coffee, loaded the dishwasher, and checked on baby Megan between tasks. The sweet thing was wide awake, kicking her little feet and clucking her tongue.
Becca came downstairs about an hour later looking like she had just stepped out of the salon. Without a word, she wrapped her arms around Ricki and gave her a big hug.
“I made you a grilled cheese sandwich, tomato soup, and a gallon of coffee.”
She started bawling again. In between sobs she said something that sounded like, “Tomato soup, grilled cheese, I love you, thank you.” While she cried, Ricki led her to the chair and pushed it in for her, even placing the spoon in her hand. She dried her eyes with a napkin, eyeing Jennifer’s book sitting under Ricki’s purse on the opposite end of the table. “What’s that?” Becca dunked the corner of her grilled cheese sandwich in the tomato soup.
“That’s the book Jennifer wrote.”
“No way. Is it a steaming pile of excrement?” Becca sounded too excited at the possibility that the book was horrible.
Rumpus made his way into the kitchen, resting his head on Ricki’s knee, wide-eyed and begging for food. “It’s actually good. It’s a romantic suspense.”
“Are you going to keep reading it now that she’s gone?”
“I don’t know. She is dead, so she’d never know if I read it or not. But that’s what I wanted to talk to you about. Something’s not right about the book.” She needed to hash this out with someone not close with Jennifer to make sense of it. Whenever she had a plot problem or a story problem or a character problem, she often went to Becca for an objective opinion. She always managed to give her some insight that she somehow overlooked. Being so close to her work made it hard to be objective. Hearing a different opinion really did the trick most of the time and now was no different. It wasn’t her work this time but a murder investigation.
Ricki took a sip of coffee. “So much has happened in the past few days. I don’t even know where to start.”
“Start with when you found her in the bathroom. I might’ve dozed off when you told me the first time.”
Ricki told Becca everything from finding Jennifer on the floor, to the warning in her drawer, and even a brief mention of Damon. That she glossed over without much notice on Becca’s part. And she managed to stay awake during the whole conversation.
“Chris is telling me to mind my own business. But the way he said it, Becca, it’s like he was hinting that something is going on and I needed to keep my distance. For my own safety, maybe.”
Becca put the bowl of soup to her lips and slurped up the rest of it, just like a kid. When she lowered the bowl to the table, she smiled. “You’re the only person I would ever do that in front of. Now, back to your brother and your problem. I think you should listen to him. I mean, from what I hear about Jennifer in the neighborhood, she wasn’t a very nice person. I finally know what a piece of work means.”
“What neighborhood? This neighborhood?”
“Ricki, Ricki, Ricki, you don’t understand. I’m a member of the club now. Ever since I had a baby, I’m part of the Mommy Brigade. And being a member of the club means I get to hear things others don’t. When you have a baby, you’ll see. When moms get together, walking around the block pushing strollers, we talk a lot. Ever since Jennifer died, you would not believe the things they’ve been saying about her.”
Ricki rested her chin in her hands. “Did they say anything about how she could afford an expensive car?”
“Someone hinted that she might’ve been turning tricks on the side, but I don’t believe it.”
“Neither do I. Folks would look down on you for something like that, but they wouldn’t be glad you bit the big one. What else?”
“The biggest piece of gossip is that she slept with Trina Rossini’s fiancé right before the big day.” She wiggled her eyebrows. Ricki always wanted to be able to do that but got a cramp in her face from trying too hard. “Once she busted up the impending marriage, she tossed him aside like a used tissue.”
Ricki gasped. “I forgot all about that. And Trina is Grace1’s granddaughter.”
“I love watching you finally catch up.”
“That would explain why Grace1 never volunteers when Jennifer is working. What else did you hear?”
“Isn’t that enough?”
“But where did she get the money. She can’t drive a Beemer and wear all that fancy jewelry on ten dollars an hour, part time.”
“Maybe she inherited some money or the car and jewelry. My mother inherited a brooch from an aunt she hardly knew. The thing was worth a lot of money.”
“That’s possible. But what if it wasn’t?”
Becca shrugged. This was going nowhere. She needed information about Jennifer, specific information, but nobody seemed to know anything about her that wasn’t from the rumor mill.
“Hey, I just had an idea. Didn’t The Two Graces say they walk every day in the park between ten and twelve?”
“They might have, I don’t
remember.”
“If anyone would know more about Jennifer, Grace1 would.”
Becca shook her head and laughed. “Tell me you’re not going to bring up such a painful subject.”
Ricki knew she was about to get lectured about her lack of social graces and how she sometimes blurted things out at inappropriate times, but she wasn’t going to let that stop her. She had to get to the bottom of Jennifer’s death and asking uncomfortable questions was the only way to do it. “No, I wasn’t. Not directly. But if I could get her talking and she just happened to share the information with me on her own, that wouldn’t be bad. And maybe while I’m hanging out talking with The Two Graces, you can pump the Mommy Brigade for more information and report back to me. Isn’t this fun?”
“You’re nuts. I’m more apt to agree with your brother and say stay out of it. If there’s an investigation going on sticking your nose in might get you in trouble. Did you ever think about that? You can get arrested for obstruction of justice.”
“But how is it obstruction of justice if I’m trying to help and not hinder?”
Becca carried her dishes to the sink. “I don’t know. I don’t know anything about the law, but I’d hate to see something happen to you just because you’re bored.” Leaning against the sink, Becca studied Ricki. Her lips curled in a devilish grin. In high school she would get that same look right before she came up to Ricki and smacked a book out of her hand, wondering what she was reading, calling her a freak and a nerd the entire time. She forgave her because there was more to Becca’s story. She may have been hard on the outside, but inside she was nothing but a big ball of fluff. “All right. I’ll help you. Tomorrow I’ll strap my baby in the stroller and head out with the Mommy Brigade to dig for dirt on Jennifer. How’s that?”
“Sounds like a plan.”
“It shouldn’t be too hard because half the people in this town hated her.”
Checked Out (A Ricki Rydell Mystery Book 1) Page 6