Due or Die

by Jenn McKinlay

  “Hey, you two, get on up here,” Nancy Peyton called down as she leaned over the railing on the second-floor landing.

  After the grisly discovery at Carrie’s house and the stress of the police station, Lindsey was grateful to hit the familiar stairs. Once she got Carrie settled for the night, she planned to toddle right up to her own place. At the moment, she couldn’t think of anything she wanted more than to cocoon herself in the softness of her flannel sheets and downy comforter.

  She shouldered Carrie’s bag and led her up the stairs. Charlie’s doors were curtained French doors, probably the original from before the house had been reconfigured into a three-family residence.

  Nancy was standing in the open doorway, holding a key. Lindsey could see several candles burning behind her. They were the big pillar kind in a dark burgundy that smelled of cranberries. Probably, Nancy was trying to burn out Charlie’s man stink.

  “I pushed all of his music equipment to the side in the guest bedroom and made up the bed with my own fresh sheets,” Nancy said. “Oh, honey, you look done in.”

  As soon as the words were out of her mouth, Nancy blanched.

  “Oh, I didn’t…” she began, but if Carrie had noticed the bad word choice, she didn’t show it and instead she wrapped Nancy in a big hug.

  “Thank you so much,” she said. She turned and included Lindsey in the hug. “Thank you both so…”

  Her voice cracked and she began to sob. Lindsey and Nancy exchanged a look and then hustled her over to the cushy chair by the gas fireplace, which Nancy had already turned on.

  While Carrie sobbed, Nancy slipped into the kitchen. Lindsey heard the rattle of glasses, and when she reappeared, Nancy had a tray with three mismatched shot glasses and a bottle of Jack Daniel’s.

  “The boy is sadly lacking in his brandy supply,” Nancy said. “But this will do the trick.”

  She set the tray down, and while Carrie blew her nose on a tissue and tried to pull herself together, Nancy splashed the whiskey into the glasses. Lindsey took hers up and noted it was filled almost to the rim. Nancy did believe in a generous pour.

  “Here’s an old Irish blessing: To live in the hearts we leave behind is not to die,” Nancy said. “Godspeed, Markus Rushton.”

  Lindsey took a healthy swallow. It burned on the way down, causing her to grimace, but it also warmed her from the inside out. Carrie took a delicate sip, but Nancy shook her head at her.

  “Drink the whole thing,” she said. “It’s your medicine tonight, and believe me, you’re going to need it.”

  CHAPTER

  7

  BRIAR CREEK

  PUBLIC LIBRARY

  “Is it true?” Ms. Cole asked Lindsey the next day.

  Lindsey just stared at her. She hadn’t slept well and had just stepped into the library when Ms. Cole rumbled toward her from the new-book display. Lindsey couldn’t help but feel she’d been lying in wait for her.

  “Is what true?”

  Lindsey knew full well what she was asking, but she was hoping to avoid the conversation. It was bad enough she hadn’t been able to escape the image of Markus’s dead body in her dreams. She really didn’t want to give voice to the horror she had seen and have it infiltrate her day as well.

  “Is it true that Markus Rushton was murdered?” Ms. Cole clarified, looking disapproving, as if Lindsey was holding out on her.

  “I really couldn’t say,” Lindsey said. She had already decided she was not going to gossip about what had happened at the Rushtons’ as it would just cause more grief for Carrie.

  “But you were there,” Ms. Cole protested.

  Today was a gray day for Ms. Cole. It was an unfortunate choice, given that her broad frame already lent her the appearance of a large land mammal—the gray just narrowed down the species.

  “Who told you that?” Lindsey asked.

  Ms. Cole looked nonplussed and then said, “Well, that’s not…I consider it my civic duty…”

  “Uh-huh,” Lindsey said. “Listening in on the police scanner again, huh?”

  “If more people would take an interest in the goings-on of their community, the world would be a safer place,” Ms. Cole said.

  Lindsey just stared at her. Ms. Cole did not listen to the police scanner because she had some noble desire to help keep Briar Creek safe. Oh, no, she listened because she loved knowing who was getting in trouble and for what. She took great joy in the flaws and foibles of the people around her, and Lindsey had no doubt that it made her feel vastly morally superior.

  “I had no idea you were so civic-minded,” Lindsey said. “Remind me to have you chair the library’s community fund drive this year.”

  “Oh, but I…”

  “I’ll be in my office,” Lindsey said. She moved forward as if Ms. Cole wasn’t standing there, blocking her way like a potted ficus.

  Given no alternative, Ms. Cole stepped aside and Lindsey shouldered her tote bag and strode into her office. When she shut the door, she hoped it signified clearly enough that the conversation was over.

  She hung up her coat and unpacked her bag. She was never sure why she felt the need to bring the same files home every night. She always thought she’d go through them, but she never did. She really needed to break the tote bag habit.

  She turned on her computer and checked her voice mail while she waited for her login window to open. There were several messages, mostly from Friends of the Library members who were concerned for Carrie and wanted to know what they could do to help her. Lastly, there was a disturbing message that made the hair on the nape of her neck prickle in alarm.

  Lindsey almost erased it, because there was a three-second pause before the voice started, but her finger stalled over the erase button when a whisper-soft voice sounded on the line.

  Lindsey wondered if the caller thought that by whispering she was letting Lindsey in on a secret.

  “Now that Carrie is going to jail for murdering her husband,” the voice said. “You can make sure that Bill Sint becomes the president of the Friends again.”

  There was a giggle that sounded oddly humorless and then the voice grew harsh, the softness of the whisper was gone. “I’ll be watching.”

  The automated voice mail offered Lindsey the choice to erase or save. She opted to save. Someone else needed to hear this message and reassure her that she wasn’t crazy but that Marjorie Bilson most definitely was, because Lindsey was quite positive that the voice on the message belonged to Marjorie.

  The call was disturbing on so many levels. First, why was she calling Lindsey? Second, the whispering thing creeped her out. And finally, the woman actually cackled with glee when she mentioned Carrie getting arrested.

  Lindsey hung up the receiver. It was apparent that everyone thought Marjorie was a few chapters short of a book, but was she dangerous? The call certainly gave Lindsey the heebie-jeebies, and she had a feeling Emma Plewicki might be interested in hearing it, too.

  It was probably crazy for her to even think it, but could Marjorie have shot Markus in a plan to have Carrie arrested for murder? Nah, that made no sense. If she was a murderess and really wanted Carrie gone, she would have just shot Carrie.

  Lindsey thought back to the night Marjorie had chased her down with her car. Was she crazy enough to commit murder for Bill?

  A knock at the door brought Lindsey’s attention up, and she shook her head to clear it. Beth opened the door and stuck her head in. Her black hair was styled in disorderly spikes all around her head, and she had a large plastic bucket of kids’ instruments propped on her hip.

  “Hey, I heard about what happened,” she said. “Is Carrie all right?”

  “She’s managing,” Lindsey said. “Nancy is keeping an eye on her.”

  “If there’s anything I can do…” Beth let the sentence dangle.

  “I’ll let you know,” Lindsey promised. “What’s with the instruments?”

  “Parent-tot music time,” Beth said. “I’m planning a parade around the ci
rculation desk when the lemon is on duty.”

  Lindsey felt the corner of her mouth twitch, but she squashed a full-on smile, thinking she’d best not encourage Beth’s shenanigans. “Nice to see you enjoying your work.”

  Beth grinned. “I have to go Lysol all of these before class. Flu season, you know. See you later?”

  Lindsey nodded and turned back to her computer. She had a stuffed inbox of e-mails to deal with and a meeting with the mayor’s community liaison officer later that afternoon.

  She had answered half of the e-mail when her phone rang. The caller ID listed her landlord’s number.

  “Hello, Briar Creek Library, Lindsey Norris speaking. How can I help you?”

  “Oh, I’m glad I caught you,” Nancy said. She sounded winded. “They just took Carrie in for questioning.”

  “Well, that’s pretty standard, right?”

  “In handcuffs,” Nancy added.

  “Meet you at the station in five,” Lindsey said and hung up. Now she knew she had to get Emma to listen to the message from Marjorie. It might be the only thing that kept Carrie out of jail.

  CHAPTER

  8

  BRIAR CREEK

  PUBLIC LIBRARY

  Lindsey shrugged on her coat and was striding to the front door when Ms. Cole moved to stand in front of her.

  “You’re leaving?” she asked. Although it seemed improbable, her lips puckered even more tightly in disapproval than usual. “It’s a little early for lunch, isn’t it?”

  “It is,” Lindsey agreed.

  She took a deep breath. She knew if she let Ms. Cole get under her skin, then they were done for in a working capacity. And although the woman drove her nuts with her lack of social skills, she was the institutional memory of the small library, and Lindsey wouldn’t want to lose her, not really.

  Besides, Ms. Cole couldn’t help it if she carried a torch for the former library director, Mr. Tupper, and channeled her disappointment in love into disapproval of Lindsey. Still, Lindsey was the boss and she did not take orders from Ms. Cole.

  “There is an emergency with the Friends of the Library, but no worries. I’ll be back in time for my meeting, and Jessica is here to cover the reference desk while I’m gone. If you need me, call my cell phone.”

  Ms. Cole opened her mouth to protest but Lindsey made a preemptive strike by adding, “I know with your experience and skill, Ms. Cole, you’ll be able to handle anything that comes up.”

  Before the lemon could say a word, Lindsey pulled on her gloves and strode through the front door.

  Nancy was just parking her vintage powder blue Mustang behind the police station when Lindsey arrived. Since the library was just a few doors down from the police station, Lindsey was able to get there in just moments. Nancy must have put the stomp on her gas pedal to have gotten here so fast, which made Lindsey even more uneasy about the situation.

  Emma Plewicki was manning the front desk when they walked in. She shook her head at the sight of them, as if she should have been expecting this but somehow hadn’t.

  She was in her standard-issue blue uniform, the winter version with long sleeves. Her thick, shoulder-length hair was cut in a stylish sweep, which framed her heart-shaped face becomingly. She was pretty enough that Lindsey wondered if she ever had a hard time getting criminals to take her seriously. Judging by the hardware she wore on her belt, it would be a mistake a criminal wouldn’t make twice.

  Lindsey liked Emma. She came into the library a lot and had a great rapport with the teens that congregated in the youth area after school. She knew them all by name and they seemed to like her, too. If a community’s safety was built on a foundation of trust between the police and the residents, then Emma was this department’s cornerstone.

  “Lindsey, Nancy,” Emma greeted them. “Carrie’s in back talking to Chief Daniels and a state investigator.”

  “Why the handcuffs, Emma?” Nancy asked. “That’s not how we do things around here.”

  “This is a murder investigation,” Emma said. “Everything has to be done according to regulation. It may not seem like it, but it’s to protect Carrie.”

  Lindsey noticed that she dropped her gaze to the countertop when she spoke. Clearly, she wasn’t as comfortable with this as she’d have them believe.

  “Horse feathers,” Nancy snorted. “Since when did you start talking in police speak?”

  “It’s my job,” Emma snapped, looking annoyed.

  “The medical examiner gave a time of death, didn’t he?” Lindsey asked.

  Emma gave her a sharp glance, and Lindsey knew she had reasoned it right. Emma sighed and confirmed, “Mark Rushton was killed between four and eight last night.”

  “Making Carrie a viable suspect,” Nancy said.

  Emma didn’t say anything. She didn’t have to.

  “Can we see her?” Nancy asked.

  Emma shook her head. “Not while they are questioning her.”

  “Does she have an attorney?” Lindsey asked.

  “She declined,” Emma said.

  Lindsey swore under her breath. The one thing she had learned while engaged to a law professor who specialized in criminal law was to always have an attorney present when being questioned by police or going in front of a judge. The law was such a labyrinth of legalese that you needed one just to navigate the ins and outs.

  “Listen, I got a really unsettling phone call on my office line at the library,” Lindsey said. “I’d like for you to hear it.”

  Emma raised her eyebrows. “Can you retrieve it from any phone?”

  “Yes,” Lindsey said. Emma turned the desk phone around so that it faced her.

  Lindsey quickly dialed the number to hear her voice mail, queued up the message and handed the receiver to Emma.

  She watched the officer’s face as she listened. A frown formed in between her eyes and she gave Lindsey a searching look.

  “Interesting,” she said. “Hang on one second, would you?”

  She handed Lindsey the receiver and then went to another desk in the back of the room. She opened a drawer and came back to the main desk with a mini tape recorder in her hand.

  “Let’s play that again,” she said. She held up the recorder to the receiver, and when it was done, she clicked it off. “Do me a favor and save that message, okay?”

  Lindsey nodded and took the receiver back. When prompted, she saved the voice mail message and then hung up.

  Nancy glanced between them, but neither Lindsey nor Emma explained. Lindsey had a feeling Emma wanted to keep it quiet until they talked to Marjorie. To Nancy’s credit, she didn’t press.

  “Can you do us a favor and tell Carrie that we’re here?” Nancy asked. “So she doesn’t feel so alone.”

  “Of course,” Emma said. She pushed back from the counter and strode toward the back.

  “Well, we may as well have a seat,” Lindsey said. “There’s no telling how long this will take.”

  “I can wait,” Nancy said. “Why don’t you head back to the library? You don’t want to give Ms. Cole a reason to suggest your termination to the board.”

  “Do you really think she’d do that?”

  “The lemon? Are you kidding?” Nancy asked. “You know she wanted your job, right?”

  “No, I didn’t,” Lindsey said. “Huh. I thought she always gave me a hard time because she was in love with Mr. Tupper.”

  “What?” Nancy gaped. “The lemon had the hots for Tupper? No way!”

  “According to Beth,” Lindsey said. “But why didn’t she tell me that Ms. Cole wanted my job?”

  “She may not have known,” Nancy said. “I only know because Milton was on the hiring committee. The committee members were the only ones who got to look over all of the applicants. He asked me, as a resident, what I thought of Ms. Cole’s people skills.”

  “And you said?”

  “That although she had her merits, working with people is not her gift.”

  “She must have been pretty
upset,” Lindsey said.

  “Honestly, it’s hard to tell,” Nancy said. “She scowls as much as ever.”

  “But she’s been there for thirty years,” Lindsey said. “And she has her degree in library science. Don’t you think she earned the promotion?”

  Nancy sighed. “Can you imagine her running the Briar Creek Library? Just because you have the paper and do the time does not make you the best leader.”

  They walked across the police station lobby to the line of vacant chairs placed in front of the window. They were hard plastic in a shade of orange usually reserved for bowling alleys and the department of motor vehicles. They did not invite lingering.

  Nancy sat down and promptly pulled her crochet out of her tote bag. She had begun a new project, a baby blanket in aqua for her niece who was expecting a boy. It was a super-soft yarn that she was crocheting in a large circle, and she had a fluffy yellow yarn to crochet around the border to give the baby something tactile to grab.

  Lindsey watched as she looped the yarn around her hook and pulled one loop and then another in a double crochet. Nancy made it look so easy it was positively annoying.

  A glance at the clock and Lindsey knew she had to get back to the library. Ms. Cole would be watching, and it didn’t seem that there was anything she could do here.

  “Will you call me if I can help?” she asked.

  “Absolutely,” Nancy said. “I’ll keep my ears open and let you know if I pick up anything.”

  Lindsey stepped back and studied her merry-eyed friend. Nancy had been widowed young when her captain husband went down with his ship in a bad storm. She had never gotten over it, and during particularly bad storms, she’d been known to climb out onto the widow’s walk of her house and look for her husband’s ship.

  Lindsey wondered if she was feeling a kinship with Carrie because of the dead-husband thing that brought her to this crocheting vigil she was keeping for Carrie. She would have asked, but there was no way to do it without being rude.

  “Call me when she’s out,” Lindsey said.

  “Will do,” Nancy agreed. “Now shoo.”