Andre, who was checking out the last pictures he’d shot, had fallen behind the group. He glanced up when he saw her and smiled.
“Hello, Lindsey the librarian,” he said. “What brings you to the park?”
“You, actually,” she said.
He tipped his head to the side, and the diamond stud in his earlobe caught the sunlight and glinted at her.
“Me?” he asked. He sounded intrigued, then he winked at her. “I don’t know what the Notting Hill Library told you, but I returned those books. I swear.”
Lindsey laughed. She liked his humor. Nick Carroll dropped back from the others and joined them.
“Are you in trouble, love?” he asked Andre.
“It does have a way of finding me, doesn’t it?”
“Andre, did you get that last shot?” Scarlett asked as she hurried over with one hand holding the hat onto her head against the gusts of cool air coming from the water. “I think I want to use it for the website. Oh, hello, Lindsey.”
“Hi.” Lindsey pulled her jacket closer about her, as she’d rushed out of the building without closing it and the breeze was brisk.
Scarlett’s pale blue hat, a wide-brimmed velvet cap with matching plumes of feathers and some intricate ribbon work left Lindsey dazzled. Why, oh why, couldn’t Americans get on board with the hat thing?
Andre held up his camera and showed Scarlett the display. She made a soft squee noise and then squeezed his arm.
“You’re the best,” she said. “These are going to look fantastic. Viv and Fee have really outdone themselves with these hats.”
“Ginger, look lively,” Harrison said as he moved to stand beside Scarlett. He looped his arm about her waist and pulled her close. “We only have a half hour until the Man U game is on.”
“We’re almost done,” she said. “You won’t miss your precious soccer match.” She rolled her eyes, and Lindsey tried not to laugh.
“It’s football,” he said. Harrison glanced at Lindsey and smiled. “Good to see you again, Lindsey. Sorry to hear about that unfortunate occurrence at the library.”
Lindsey raised her eyebrows and Scarlett shook her head. “Brits are the masters of understatement. Truly, it’s an art form. Is everything all right? Can we help you?”
“No!” Harrison, Andre and Nick said at the same time.
Lindsey glanced at the men and then back to Scarlett.
“Ignore them,” Scarlett insisted. “If there is anything we can do . . .”
“Actually, there is one thing—” Lindsey began.
“Oh no,” Andre said. He glared at Scarlett. “How is it this sort of thing follows you wherever you go?”
“Stop!” she said. “You haven’t even heard what she has to say yet.”
“I don’t need to,” he said. “It’s going to have to do with the murder, and you know how I feel about dead bodies.”
“You’re not a fan,” Nick said.
“No, I’m not,” Andre said. “And yet, they just keep popping up, don’t they?”
“You do have the devil’s own luck with that,” Harrison agreed.
“No, not me,” Andre said. He pointed at Scarlett. “Her!”
Lindsey looked at Scarlett, who shrugged. “There have been a few episodes. Not my fault.”
“Wrong place, wrong time?” Lindsey asked.
“Exactly,” Scarlett said.
“I feel you,” Lindsey said. She turned back to Andre. “Which is why I was hoping to talk to you. I noticed that you had your camera the night of the dinner and was wondering if you’d be willing to share any pictures you took from the party with me.”
“That’s it?” he asked. “That’s all you want from me?”
“Yes. Why?”
“No reason,” he said. “Just making sure there wasn’t more to it. You know, nothing that might get me beat up or killed. I can email the file to you. Would that work?”
“That would be fantastic,” Lindsey said. “Thank you.”
“Oy, were we going to be taking pictures today or Thursday?” Fee called from the pier.
Lindsey pulled her cell phone out of her pocket and held it to Andre’s. Once they connected, she said, “Message me and I’ll text you my email.”
“All right,” he said. “I’ll be sure to send the file as soon as we’re done here.”
“Hat-a-boy,” Nick joked.
Andre rolled his eyes. “That was beanie-th you.”
Scarlett groaned and Lindsey laughed.
“You know what they say: hatters gonna hat,” Harrison said.
“You really got a-head of that one,” Scarlett said. No one laughed except for Lindsey, which only made her laugh harder.
“I like you,” Scarlett said. “Clearly, you’re my people.”
“Because I bowler you over?” Lindsey teased, and Scarlett let out a whoop.
“You are brimming with good puns,” Scarlett said. Again, no one laughed except Lindsey. “Oh, come on. That was a good one. Lindsey liked it.”
“Because she is cap-tivated by your lack of word skill,” Nick said. Then he raised his arms in the air and shouted, “For the win!”
“He’s going to be unbearable now,” Scarlett said with a shake of her head. “We’ll see you again, Lindsey?”
“Definitely.” Lindsey grinned as the group crossed the park to meet their friends and finish their photo shoot. She knew it was a long shot, but maybe Andre’s photographs would help piece together the events of the evening. Feeling a surge of optimism, she strode back to the library to see what she could find out about Kim MacInnes and the other mean girls.
Lindsey’s search online for information about Kim didn’t turn up much. She was divorced, as she had said. She’d gone to college in Tennessee but had returned home to Connecticut to marry her high school sweetheart. They were married for fifteen years but had no children. When Lindsey searched for Kim’s ex-husband, Bill, she discovered he was living in Mystic, Connecticut, and had remarried. He had two small children, and judging by the pictures his new wife put on social media, he was very happy.
She used the online telephone directory to find the number for his house and was relieved when a woman answered. Like with Molly’s oversharing, Lindsey had a feeling she’d get more information out of the second wife than she would the husband.
“Hi, my name is Lindsey,” she said. “I’m calling from the Briar Creek Library to speak with Bill MacInnes.”
“Briar Creek?” The woman’s voice was immediately wary. “Why do you want to talk to Bill?”
“It’s about a mem—” Before Lindsey could go into her spiel about a memorial being set up for Bill’s old neighbor, the woman cut her off.
“Listen, Bill hasn’t lived in Briar Creek for years,” she said. “Any debts his crazy ex-wife racked up are completely her own problem. He is not liable for her money issues anymore.”
“Ah, okay, I was just hoping—”
“Listen, I’m sorry if Kim’s gambling is out of control again and if she’s shirking on paying her bills, but I really must ask that you bill collectors stop calling here,” the woman said. “My husband cannot help you.”
The woman ended the call with a click, and Lindsey stared at the phone in her hand in some surprise. So, Kim had a gambling problem. From the sound of it, it was rather serious. Had Olive been holding that over Kim’s head? Was Kim trapped because of the debt she had accrued? And now that Olive was dead, what did that mean for her?
By the time Kili returned to compare notes, Lindsey had received the photographs from Andre and was going through them one at a time, hoping to see something.
Kili knocked on her office door and strode in, closing it behind her.
“What did you find out?” Kili asked.
“Kim’s a gambler, big-time, which is probably why he
r husband left her,” she said. “I suspect that Olive helped her out by paying her bills for her. Basically, she owned Kim.”
“Nice,” Kili said. She sat across from Lindsey, looking at her as if perhaps she had underestimated her before. “Anything else?”
“Not much,” Lindsey said. “But I did confirm that LeAnn is still married—at least there’s no record of a divorce—but no one has seen her husband in ages.”
“That’s because he’s living with the mother of his two children down in Florida,” Kili said.
Lindsey gave her an appreciative glance, and Kili buffed her red nails on the lapel of her blazer.
“Do you think Olive knew?” Lindsey asked.
“Oh yeah,” Kili said. “I called Mr. Barnett in the guise of a Realtor who was interested in buying his house here in Briar Creek. He told me straightaway that he had nothing to do with it or the woman who lives there, who claims to be his wife.”
“Claims? So, they’re not married?”
“Oh no, they are, but only because LeAnn won’t grant him a divorce. And it’s not about money. LeAnn is loaded. He’s not paying alimony. They didn’t have kids. It’s merely that she doesn’t want to be divorced. He said that she thinks it’s some sort of personal failure.”
“But he has children with someone else,” Lindsey said. She was trying to wrap her brain around it. “He’s got a whole other life and family.”
“Yep, but LeAnn won’t let him go,” Kili said. “I asked him if he knew Olive Boyle, and he confirmed that he did. In fact, he thinks she’s the reason why LeAnn wouldn’t grant him a divorce.”
“Why would Olive care?”
“He thought LeAnn kept him dangling, saying he was away on business instead of off living with his new family, just to torture Olive with the fact that LeAnn was still married when Olive wasn’t.” Kili made air quotes around the word married, making it clear that any marriage between LeAnn and her husband was bogus. “He also said that Olive tracked him down a few months ago and was ecstatic to discover that he was with someone else. He was sure she planned to taunt LeAnn with the information. He thinks they were more frenemies and than friends.”
“So, Kim was in debt to Olive financially. That had to chafe,” Lindsey said. “And LeAnn was hanging on to her husband just to appear to be in a better relationship situation than Olive, which Olive recently discovered was false. That had to have been an ugly scene. While not exactly motives for murder, they are consistent with Olive’s other toxic relationships.”
“It’s almost as if the only way Olive could have someone in her life was if she had complete control over them,” Kili said. “What about Amy?”
“I’ve got nothing. My online search turned up so many matches that I need to find a way to whittle it down with a place of birth or school attended or some such thing.”
“It was the same for me,” Kili said. “It’s like there isn’t a specific cyber footprint out there for her, which is very weird.”
“She’s younger than the others, too,” Lindsey said.
“Meaning?”
“Just an observation but you’d think she’d be hip to the whole sharing every moment of her life online thing, so we could find something.”
Lindsey saw Kili examine her reflection in the window glass. She wondered if younger reporters were already chomping at Kili’s heels. While male newscasters got more distinguished and smarter with age, females just got put out to pasture.
Lindsey wondered if Kili felt like she was on borrowed time. Maybe that was why she was so aggressive. Lindsey couldn’t really fault her. She would hate it if keeping her job was dependent upon her youth.
“So, what are you working on there?” Kili asked. She nodded toward Lindsey’s computer screen.
“Nothing, just some work stuff.”
“Uh-huh, looks like dinner party pictures,” Kili said. “I thought we were working together. Why are you shutting me out?”
“I’m not.” Lindsey had to clasp her hands together to keep from covering her monitor from Kili’s prying eyes.
“Please, you’re studying the photos, trying to see if you can spot the killer,” Kili said. She raised one eyebrow at Lindsey as if daring her to disagree.
“Okay, fine. I am, but I got them from a British photographer, and I don’t know that he’d be all right with me sharing them with anyone else. It was just a hunch that they might give us some information on who was where and at what time.”
“Let me see,” Kili said. She didn’t wait for an invitation but stood and pulled her chair around the desk to sit beside Lindsey.
Forced to scoot over, Lindsey adjusted her seat and turned the monitor so that Kili could see the photos, too. Lindsey had been halfway through examining them, but Kili took over the mouse and moved the file back to the beginning.
“I already checked those,” Lindsey protested.
“Two pairs of eyes, blah, blah, blah,” Kili said. She was studying each photograph, looking for who knew what.
Lindsey let her have a few minutes to catch up and studied the notepad on her desk where she’d jotted down some observations.
“To answer your question from earlier, Olive’s friends were wearing all dark colors with the exception of Amy, who was in a pale blue dress,” Lindsey said.
“What about at the end of the party?” Kili asked. “Any shots of them?”
“I hadn’t gotten that far,” Lindsey said. She gestured to her notepad. “I was focusing on keeping track of where everyone was during the party.”
“You mean on where your employee Paula Turner was, don’t you?”
Lindsey didn’t dignify the question with an answer. They continued flipping through the pictures. Sadly, there were none of a person pocketing their steak knife for later use, nor were there any of a person sneaking out of the party covered in blood. Equally, there were no shots of Paula after the dinner to determine her exact whereabouts, just a couple of shots of her at the table and out dancing, and that was it.
“Good pictures,” Kili said. “Just not very useful.”
“Oy, what’s this?” Robbie entered Lindsey’s office without knocking. He stood in the doorway with his hands on his hips, looking outraged. “Have you replaced me with her?”
22
“Yes, I’m working on the Olive Boyle murder with Lindsey,” Kili said. “If that’s what you’re asking.”
“Oh no, don’t—” Lindsey began but Robbie interrupted.
“What? You’re working with her?” he asked. His eyes went wide as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.
“She uncovered some good stuff on LeAnn,” Lindsey said.
“Let me get this straight,” Robbie said. He raised one finger in the air as if to emphasize his point. “She’s your new partner.”
“No,” Lindsey said at the same time Kili said, “Yes.”
“Ah!” Robbie gasped and clutched at his chest. “You’re heartless.”
“No, I’m not,” Lindsey said. “What I am is desperate to prove that my clerk is innocent so that she can come back to work.”
“Has your girlfriend told you anything about the case?” Kili asked him.
Robbie looked sulky when he answered. “No. She won’t discuss it. It’s making me mental.”
“If you want to help, we need intel on Amy Ellers,” Kili said.
“She’s right. I wasn’t able to find much,” Lindsey admitted. “I know from asking about that she moved into her house a few months ago, but not much is known about her before she appeared in Briar Creek. She’s apparently not super social and spent most of her time with Olive.”
“She did not seem terribly susceptible to my charm,” Robbie said. “She called me a sourdough.”
“Don’t be a quitter,” Lindsey teased. Then she frowned. Sourdough was a weird thing to call someone. She op
ened up the urban dictionary on her computer and searched the term.
“Yeah, Lindsey’s right. You’ve still got it, you know, for an older guy,” Kili said.
“I don’t like you,” Robbie retorted.
“Just stating the facts.” Kili shrugged.
“There has to be a reason she’s so private. Maybe she’s in the witness protection program,” Robbie said. “And Olive figured out who she was so the CIA or the FBI or whoever is in charge of that had to kill her. That’s why we can’t figure it out. It was a professional hit.”
“Wouldn’t Amy just have been relocated?” Kili asked.
“Spoilsport,” he snapped.
“Reality much?” Kili returned.
“Enough you two,” Lindsey said. “Listen, the term she called you—sourdough—that’s an Alaskan term, meaning someone who has lived in the north country their whole life. But when she called you that, it was clearly a comparison insult as if she had nothing but contempt for the type of person who was tenacious enough to survive in the wild. I think she has to be from Alaska. We need to find out more about her. Any ideas on where to start?”
“I’m going to ask her for an interview,” Kili said. “Everyone loves to be interviewed. If she declines, then we know she’s hiding something.”
“That’s shaky reasoning,” Lindsey said. “And it won’t give us any more information, especially if she declines, which she will if she’s as private as she seems.”
“Do we really need to know her backstory, or do we just need her to think we do?” Robbie asked.
Kili squinted at him. “Continue.”
“You’ve been using the ‘memorial for Olive’ reason to talk to everyone. Why not use it on her friends, and then when they’re here, we can let them know that we know their secrets,” Robbie said.
“And the killer will be revealed when they panic,” Kili said. “Brilliant.”
Robbie inclined his head in thanks as he sat in the vacant seat.
“I don’t know,” Lindsey said. “This sounds like it might become dangerous if one of them is the killer, and I promised that I would not do anything dangerous.”
Death in the Stacks Page 19