Overdue

by Elizabeth Spann Craig

  “Hey, thanks again for taking me home last night.” There was just a glimpse of the Luna from yesterday. Then she briskly added, “I’m much better today. Guess I don’t take to unpleasant surprises anymore. Plus, I don’t handle death well. Good thing I never wanted to go into the medical profession.”

  I smiled at her. “Glad you’re better. Were you able to get some sleep?”

  Luna nodded. “Yes. And I ended up talking to my mom about it since she was bound to find out from somebody. Actually, it ended up being a good thing because she talked me completely out yesterday. Whew! We examined Carmen’s death from every angle possible.”

  “And that helped?” If I’d talked it out to that extent, my head might be spinning too much to go to sleep. I walked to the circulation desk and Luna followed, slouching against it.

  “I guess talking it through was what I needed to do,” said Luna with a shrug. “I wasn’t processing it otherwise.”

  “I’m glad she was such a big help. How’s your mom doing?”

  Luna brightened. “She seems to be doing better lately. Not as many aches and pains and she’s been more interested in leaving the house. I’ll bring her by here soon. Now if only our money worries would turn around as fast as Mom’s health issues! I made a resolution to pack my lunch every day. No more trips to the vegan deli for me.”

  I said ruefully, “I should follow your lead.”

  “You pack your lunch almost every day!”

  “The key word there is almost. The problem is that some days I come home and just don’t feel like cooking or haven’t planned what I’m going to eat. Or if I have planned it, I haven’t picked up all the ingredients at the store. On those nights, I snack at home and then the next day I don’t have leftovers to bring. And I frequently don’t have sandwich stuff because I ate them for supper. I guess I just have to be more organized at the beginning of the week to plan a menu and then go to the store to pick up everything.” As usual, I was already starting to follow this rabbit hole of thought instead of focusing on what I was supposed to be—which was setting up an advice column for Fitz.

  Luna drummed her fingers on the table in an unusual nervous gesture. My gaze was drawn by the clicking of her long fingernails, coated in a rich black nail polish. I blinked. “Wow, your nails have really grown out.”

  She snorted. “Nope. I bit them all off last night from nerves. These are acrylics. Putting these on last night was a good distraction from what had happened.”

  I looked down ruefully at my own stubby, sensible nails. “I ought to follow your example, yet again.”

  “Oh, your nails are fine—they suit you. They’re practical, just like you are. Anyway, like I was saying, the acrylics were something to get my mind off things. I tell you, Ann, I was really shaken up. The library seems like a haven to me, you know? A harbor in the storm. I was surprised how much Carmen’s death bothered me. I mean, you had to drive me home!”

  I said, “I think we all have different reactions to deaths. Besides, that was a really abrupt tragedy and Carmen was a young woman. Of course it was upsetting.”

  Luna glanced toward the door and raised her eyebrows. “You don’t have a new admirer, do you?”

  “New admirer? I don’t even have an old one,” I said.

  Luna said, “Well, there’s a man coming through the door with flowers and we’re the only women in here. And I’m not dating anyone.”

  I followed her gaze and saw a man in his 30s carrying a bouquet of flowers. His glasses gave him a studious look and he was attractive with dark hair flopping on his forehead that he impatiently pushed back. He was also in a suit, minus the jacket. I recognized him as Elliot Parker.

  “He’s one of our patrons,” I said slowly. “In fact, I think he may possibly be someone who was dating Carmen.”

  Luna’s eyebrows flew up. “How did you discover that little tidbit? Carmen didn’t seem like the type to be engaging in a library romance.”

  “She wasn’t. I think she was a very private person. But Blake told me about it.” I paused. “There’s something else. When I was back home yesterday, I ran into Grayson. He’s Carmen’s brother. The one whose name you didn’t know yesterday.”

  “What?” Luna’s eyes were huge. “You’re joking. Your Grayson?”

  “I don’t have a Grayson.” I sighed.

  “Not yet. But the Grayson who lives on your street? And is dating that horrible woman?”

  I snorted. “Thanks for being supportive, but she’s not really a horrible woman. You know Trista is a friend of mine. And yes, that very same Grayson. Not that there are many of them around.”

  “Wow. I mean, I can hardly even believe it. Those two are nothing alike. Grayson, when he’s been in the library, anyway, seems so friendly and outgoing. He actually smiles. I can probably count on one hand the number of times I saw Carmen smile and they were all at official library events. She had one of those really tight, reluctant smiles, too, not like Grayson’s wide grin. No, I’d never have guessed it. They don’t look anything alike. And they didn’t act anything alike, either.”

  Luna was right. Grayson was easygoing with a smile never far from his face. Carmen was uptight and you had to win her smiles just as you had to win her approval.

  “Anyway, he mentioned this patron who’s coming in with the flowers. His name is Elliot. He’s a friend of Grayson’s and also dated Carmen,” I said in a low voice.

  “And he’s heading this way,” said Luna. She sighed. “Unfortunately, I’ve got to set up for storytime. Let me know what he says, okay? To be continued!” And she rushed off.

  The man approached me hesitantly. “Hi, I’m Elliot Parker. I know I’ve seen you here many times.”

  I reached out my hand and shook his free hand. “I’m Ann Beckett, one of the librarians here. Is there anything that I can help you with?”

  He nodded, again seeming very hesitant. “I don’t usually do this. Well, fortunately, I don’t ordinarily have a reason to have to do this. But I wanted to bring flowers to memorialize Carmen King. I’m sure you knew Carmen, working in the library as you do?”

  I nodded. “I sure did. And I’m so sorry for your loss; it sounds as if you were a friend of hers. We have a vase in a storage room and I can put the flowers on a small table at the front of the library if you like.”

  He paused. “Was the front of the library near where she . . . passed?” he asked quietly.

  “It is. Would that work?” I asked him.

  He nodded again, a sad look in his eyes as he handed me the flowers. “It would. I’m sorry—I just can’t believe that she’s gone. I just had lunch with her yesterday.”

  A lunch, as I recall, that Blake said ended in an argument. I wondered if that had anything to do with the guilt and grief that I saw etched on Elliot’s features.

  Before I could repeat my condolences, Elliot frowned and asked, “Are you the librarian who found her? The police chief mentioned a member of the staff had discovered Carmen.”

  I nodded. “I was. I was on my way to give her a hand with the friends of the library book sale.” I hesitated. “If it gives you any comfort at all, I don’t think she could have suffered at all. I was there very quickly after it happened.”

  Elliot said, “So the police were telling me the truth. I wondered if they were just trying to be kind. They also told me she’d been unconscious before she fell. I just thought how horrifying it must have been for Carmen to pitch down the staircase.” There was a catch in his voice as he spoke.

  I said, “It sure sounds as if she didn’t suffer at all.” I paused. “Did you know Carmen long?”

  Elliot gave a short laugh. “Was it possible for anyone to really know Carmen? How well did you know her?”

  I shook my head. “I’m afraid that I only knew her on a professional level. We spoke sometimes, but only regarding projects at the library.”

  Elliot said, “I knew her a bit better than that, but I still feel as if she was a mystery to me in many
ways. We were dating each other. I feel so terrible that I wasn’t here. Maybe, if I’d been able to help her out with the book sale, none of this would have happened.”

  “Or perhaps whoever did this would simply have picked another time and place,” I said softly. “You shouldn’t feel guilty about this.”

  He continued absently, “I still should have been here. I didn’t have a class yesterday afternoon. I could have helped out but I wanted to clear my head. I ended up going for a walk on one of the trails. I sometimes do that because it really helps me to sort things out. If I’d only known something like this was going to happen, I could have just helped out at the library instead. I’m here frequently anyway, as you know.”

  I nodded. He was probably a once-a-week patron at least. “I’m sorry. I’m sure the police will get to the bottom of whoever is responsible for this.”

  Elliot’s voice turned sharp. “Maybe the police should be looking at her friends.”

  “Her friends?”

  “She had one friend that she’d been arguing with lately.” He sighed. “Carmen wasn’t always the kindest of friends. On the one hand, she could be incredibly loyal. But on the other, she could be a bit of a backstabber. I think this particular friend, Mel, felt the backstabbing lately.”

  I pricked my ears up a little. Grayson had mentioned Mel, too.

  Elliot continued, “The funny thing is Carmen could also be a fantastic friend. She remembered everything. I was surprised one time when Carmen showed up at my office with flowers and take-out for our one-month anniversary.” He had a faint smile on his mouth at the memory. “I felt like we were kids again: like a one-month anniversary was actually reason to celebrate. We streamed some music and danced in my office until a student showed up for office hours.”

  I smiled at him. “It sounds as if you were both really close.”

  Elliot said, “It does sound that way. But then, on the other hand, she could be tough to deal with. Sometimes the same exact day. In fact, later on that anniversary, she called me up and complained about the fact that I hadn’t texted her back an hour before.”

  I said, “She expected immediate responses from you?”

  He nodded. “Immediate. And I’d been teaching a class. I don’t have my phone on when I’m teaching—I don’t like it when my students are on their phones when I’m trying to teach and I sure wouldn’t want them to see me up there texting when I’ve asked them not to.”

  “Did it blow over? I mean, was she the kind of person who’d be upset for short periods of time and then she was fine a few minutes later?” I asked.

  He shook his head. “No. She was one to nurse grudges. And when Carmen froze you out, you really felt frozen. It was like being separated from the sun.”

  I couldn’t imagine it was that bad, but then I hadn’t been Carmen’s friend. I asked, “And this happened to Mel?”

  “That’s right. She and Mel had been best friends for a while. It was kind of an odd pairing, but I think Carmen enjoyed the sycophantic aspect of the friendship. Mel is very different from Carmen—sort of socially awkward, very sweet. And earnest. Carmen was . . . well, you know.”

  I did indeed. She could be quite cutting, sarcastic, smug, and definitely not awkward in any sense of the word.

  “Anyway, something changed with their relationship recently. Something on Carmen’s end. I don’t know what it was, but suddenly Carmen was ignoring Mel’s texts and phone calls and would roll her eyes when talking about her.” He tilted his head to one side and looked worried. “Mel seemed really upset by it. In fact, she came to talk to me about it, but I said that I couldn’t be caught in the middle of it all. Surely Mel didn’t get angry and shove Carmen down the stairs?”

  I didn’t answer and he shook his head. “Never mind. That would be crazy.” He seemed flustered suddenly. “Thanks for letting me do a brain dump with you. I guess librarians have to put up with all kinds of stuff, don’t they?”

  I gave him a reassuring smile. “I was happy to listen. Again, I’m really sorry about Carmen.”

  Elliot nodded and walked absently out of the library. After finding a vase and carefully arranging the flowers at the front of the library, I headed to the circulation desk to come up with a plan for Fitz’s advice column. This plan, like all plans involving the cat, started with a picture of Fitz. I looked at him thoughtfully. I remembered there was a small pair of glasses in a closet that belonged to one of the puppets we sometimes used for storytime.

  I hurried off to get them and carefully put them on Fitz’s face, peering at him to see if he objected to the intrusion on his face. He beamed up at me as if he’d been waiting for spectacles his entire life. His looks were being totally exploited for the library’s benefit, but Fitz seemed absolutely elated about the exploitation. He purred loudly and his lips turned upward for the camera as soon as I lifted my phone.

  “Fitz,” I said, “you’re wasted as a library cat. You should have been a model for cat food commercials.”

  Fitz mewed his agreement as I continued snapping pictures. Then I took a look at what I had while the cat proceeded to take another nap. I found one picture where Fitz looked both intellectual and knowing and also completely captivating and favorited it.

  Then I found some scrap paper and drafted a copy for the library flyers and social media posts about the advice column. Since Wilson definitely seemed to want the column to focus not only on our usual patron questions (how do I open a new email account, how do I get books on my e-reader, can you help me work the copier) but also on personal questions, I made sure to give examples of all the types of questions that a patron might have.

  Then I buckled down on the research. I wanted to compile a list of credible, legitimate resources as references to help with the variety of problems that might be sent in. I had the feeling that, otherwise, I was going to be quickly in over my head.

  I took a look at it after I was done. “Ask Fitz” was the banner I’d created with Fitz looking adorable. Wilson was right—this was a great way to generate interaction with our patrons as well as hopefully help a few out.

  I found him in his office and showed him what I’d put together. He beamed. “That’s perfect. Exactly what I was looking for. Now, can you go ahead and post it on social media? If you can also print out copies to put on the circulation desk and tables around the library. Then we’ll see what we get in.”

  “And you’d like me to sort through them and pull out the most interesting to respond to?” I asked.

  Wilson was already delving back into whatever work he’d been doing before I came in. He shrugged. “Let’s see how it goes. If you get a huge number of responses, then yes, those can be winnowed down. But it might be nice to personally respond to as many of them as possible, even if the answers don’t end up going on social media.”

  I considered this for a second. “The only problem with that is that I won’t be able to individually reach out to patrons unless they’ve left their contact information. And I think a lot of the time, their questions may end up being anonymous.”

  Wilson said briskly, “We’ll play it by ear. See how it goes. And thanks, Ann.”

  It was definitely a dismissal, so I left and carefully closed the door to his office behind me.

  I ran into Luna on her way to the breakroom.

  “Everything okay?” she asked. “You were having a pretty long conversation with that patron.”

  I nodded. “He was leaving a tribute to Carmen.”

  “Makes sense. By the way, since you saw Grayson last night, how was he doing? He must be pretty upset,” said Luna.

  “He was. I think he and his sister must have had a pretty good relationship. He was trying to find out more about what happened.”

  “Not that we know anything,” said Luna. She frowned. “At least, I don’t think we know anything.”

  “The only thing I noticed was that Carmen seemed to have been hit on the back of the head. But we found her face-down, so I don’t thin
k she got the injury from hitting her head on one of the stairs,” I said.

  Luna sighed. “Whatever happened, she didn’t deserve it. And I still feel bad about everything.”

  “You shouldn’t feel guilty about Carmen. She had a really difficult personality and that might have somehow contributed to her death. If we don’t tell Burton about it and we say that butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth, then he’s going to have no idea that she was so abrasive. He wouldn’t be able to search for her killer in any of the right directions.”

  “What do you think are the right directions?” asked Luna. “It sounds like you’re saying that Carmen was killed by somebody close to her. Or, at least, somebody who knew her well and knew that she was . . . difficult. I like your word for her.”

  “It must have been someone close to her, right? I can’t imagine that there was some opportunistic stranger who just suddenly decided to murder Carmen out of the blue. Maybe that happens some places, but it seems really unlikely to happen in a town like Whitby,” I said.

  “What did this guy say? The patron you were speaking to? He’s Grayson’s friend, you say? I know I’ve seen him in here before,” said Luna.

  “He was dating Carmen,” I said.

  Luna frowned. “I thought that guy who drove up in the truck yesterday was dating Carmen. At least, that’s what it looked like. Although I ordinarily wouldn’t have put the two of them together. He was sort of rough around the edges and she looked like a prom queen.”

  I said, “I think she was dating them both.”

  Luna’s eyes were wide. “And they were okay with that?”

  “I don’t think so. From what Blake Thompson was telling me, Carmen was meeting Elliot for lunch to break up with him.”

  Luna said, “Yeah, I don’t really see her with a guy like Elliot, either. He seems too polite and too academic for her.” She paused. “Wait. Did you say she was having lunch with him to break up? I bet the restaurant customers must have loved that. In a town this size, a public breakup would have been fodder for gossip for weeks.”