I took the notes and flipped through them. Hmm, she was correct, nothing important. Funny thing, Darci never worried about interrupting me with requests from patrons while I was working in my office. I appreciated Gert’s consideration.
“There aren’t any hold orders here?” I asked.
“No.” Gert shifted self-consciously. “I may be exceeding my authority, but I took the liberty of making up a chart.” She reached under the counter and picked up a clipboard. “It’s in alphabetical order by title.” She handed it to me. “Each sheet lists the names of the patrons wanting to check out that book when it becomes available.”
“My,” I said studying the pages. “I’m impressed.”
Gert’s color deepened.
I turned to the clock. “Darci won’t be here for another thirty minutes—can you handle the counter by yourself, or do you want me to stay with you?”
“No,” she said, shooing me toward the stairs. “I’m sure you have paperwork to do.”
I thought of the mound of unfinished reports sitting on the corner of my desk.
“Okay, if you’re sure,” I replied, placing the clipboard on the counter. “If you need anything, just holler.”
The rest of the morning flew by quickly. With both Gert and Darci manning the counter, no one disturbed me. It was a welcome change to be able to concentrate on unfinished business, and I plowed through the reports in record time.
About one-thirty I heard a short knock on my office door, followed by Darci barging in.
“What’s up?” I asked, pausing over the financial report.
She flopped down in the chair across from me. “Can I have the rest of the day off?”
“Why?” I laid down my pen. “Aren’t you feeling well?”
“I’m fine.” A sullen expression tightened her face. “I’m bored out of my mind.”
“Why? Aren’t we busy today?”
“Yes,” she answered with a pout. “But every time I go to do something, Gert’s already done it.”
I grinned. “I’d think you’d like that. You’ve never been fond of all the filing and returning the books to the shelves. You’ve always preferred helping the patrons.”
“She’s beating me to that, too,” she exclaimed, her pout changing to a frown. “Agnes was in looking for the latest romance. I’ve been helping her for six years—I know exactly what her tastes are—but before I could make my suggestions, Gert butted in.”
“She likes romances, too.”
“Humph,” Darci snorted. “She rattled off a list from our most recent shipment.” She jiggled one knee in irritation. “You should’ve seen Agnes’s face. She was so impressed. She’s never acted that way when I helped her.”
Leaning back in my chair, I placed my feet on the edge of my desk. “You’re jealous.”
“I am not,” she huffed. “I don’t know how this Gert thinks she can learn everything in one day when it’s taken me six years.”
Lowering my feet, I sat forward. “I don’t think it’s like that, Darce. I think Gert may be a little overanxious to please—”
Darci cut me off. “Well, it’s driving me nuts. And she’s always messing with that necklace of hers. What’s up with that?”
I’d noticed that, too.
“It’s a nervous habit, I think.” After a glance at the clock, I returned my attention to Darci. “It’s only about three hours until we close. Gert should be okay, so if you want to leave, you may.”
“Thanks.” Darci appeared to be pacified. “Hey, you’ve been hiding out down here all day, and I haven’t heard about your date.” She leaned forward in anticipation. “How did it go?”
I eyed the dwindling stack of paper on the corner of my desk. It would be nice, for once, to finish them. And I knew if I started telling Darci about Christopher, I’d never get them done.
“I don’t have the time to talk about it right now. Let’s just say Christopher isn’t the guy I thought he was. Can I call you tonight? I’ll give you the details then.”
Disappointment flared in her eyes. “Okay,” she said with reluctance and rose.
“I’m sorry.” I motioned to the pile of papers. “I need to clear my desk, but I’ll call you tonight, I promise.”
“It’s okay.” Her voice was full of resignation. “I’m going home and eat a dozen chocolate chip cookies.” She jerked her head in a nod. “That’ll make me feel better.”
“It’ll be okay, Darce. Once you start school, you won’t be working with her that much.” I tapped my pen on the desk. “Plus, she’ll settle down and quit trying so hard.”
Darci paused at the door. “I hope so.” She gave me a wicked grin. “I hate to have to hurt her.”
Hooray, the stack of papers was gone, and it was closing time. Shutting off the lights, I made my way through the children’s section and up the stairs. Once again the library was neat and tidy. Not a single checked-in book in sight.
“Nice job, Gert,” I said, crossing to the counter. “Did you have any problems?”
“Oh, no,” she said with a wave of her hand. “I had a wonderful time, helping people, filing. My, there’s a lot to do, isn’t there?”
I smiled. “On some days.”
“That’s the way I like it. I don’t like being idle.”
Jeez, I thought, she must be a workaholic. For someone like her, living out there in the country with her mother would have driven her batty. I only hoped Darci would quit feeling threatened by Gert. I decided to include that thought in our conversation tonight, too.
“Why don’t you leave, Gert? I’ll lock up.”
She drew her purse out from underneath the counter, and I realized I’d forgotten my backpack. “Dang,” I muttered. “I left it down in my office.”
“What did you leave in your office?” Gert inquired.
“My backpack,” I said, heading toward the stairs.
“The black with a Star Trek emblem on it?”
“Yeah,” I said, flushing pink. “Darci bought it for me as a joke.”
“It was on the shelf.”
I ran around the end of the counter. I could’ve sworn I’d taken it with me to my office. The shock at seeing the library so neat must’ve broke my routine and I’d forgotten to grab it when I went downstairs.
Great. My backpack was gone.
“It’s not there?”
“No. Did you see anyone go behind the counter?”
Gert pulled on her bottom lip. “I don’t think so. We were really busy, and I spent a lot of time helping patrons find the books they wanted.”
I shoved my hands onto my hips as I scanned the library. Spying a black strap at the end of one of the bookcases, I hurried over to it.
“Here it is.” Quickly, I unzipped the front pocket. Whew, my wallet was still there. I pulled it out and examined the contents.
“Is everything there?” Gert asked.
“Looks like it,” I said with relief.
“Good, I’m so glad you found it,” she said, as she fiddled with her necklace. “Well, I’d better be off. Mama’s going to be expecting me, and she hates tardiness.”
“You go,” I said. “I’ll lock up.”
“Have a nice evening,” she called out in a cheery voice.
“You, too,” I said distractedly as I went back to checking my billfold.
Yup, driver’s license, money, my ATM card. Thank goodness. Shoving the wallet back in the front pocket, I zipped it. The rest of the bag was empty, so I didn’t stop to go through all the numerous pockets. I needed to get to Abby’s to pick up Tink. I hoped she had a good time browsing the bookstore with Aunt Dot, I thought as I hurried out the door, locking up as I went.
When I reached Abby’s, she was waiting on the front porch.
That was odd.
I threw the car into park and got out, and as soon as my head cleared the door, Abby called out.
“Get in here now,” she exclaimed.
I scrambled up the walk and up the steps wi
th my heart thudding all the way. “Tink? Is she okay?”
Abby squinted, and I didn’t know if it was against the rays of the sun or at me. Her mouth settled in a thin line. “That remains to be seen,” she said cryptically through clenched teeth.
Sixteen
Confused, I followed close on Abby’s heels as we walked down the hallway and into the kitchen. Tink and Aunt Dot sat at the table. One was the face of youth, the other the face of the aged, but they both wore the same expression. That of two chastised children.
Relieved to find Tink safe and sound, I still regarded them with bewilderment. “What’s going on?”
“Who wants to go first?” Abby asked in a voice heavy with the sound of the South.
When Abby’s accent became pronounced, it was a sure sign she was upset.
Both Aunt Dot and Tink hung their heads and didn’t speak.
Abby blew a strand of silver hair out of face and watched the two of them in annoyance. “No?” She moved to the table and took a chair, her eyes never leaving them. “These two decided to play detective while we were in Aiken.”
As if we didn’t have enough problems, I thought, joining them at the table. “What did they do?”
Abby arched an eyebrow. “Aunt Dot pretended to be a customer—”
I broke in. “What kind of customer?”
“At Buchanan’s Funeral Home. She pretended she wanted to preplan her funeral.” She grimaced. “And while Aunt Dot,” she said, pointing a finger at her, “kept the funeral director busy, this one,” she moved her finger to Tink, “snooped through the files.”
“Tink! You’re grounded!” I exclaimed.
“Figures,” she grumbled.
I flashed a look at Aunt Dot. Unfortunately, Abby couldn’t ground a ninety-one-year-old.
Abby followed my thoughts. “Oh, don’t worry, she’s not getting out of my sight again,” she said with certainty.
Returning my attention to Tink, I scrubbed my face with my hands. “What would you have done if you’d gotten caught?”
“Told them I was looking for the restroom?” she replied hopefully.
“Uh-huh. And you just happened to decide to go through the files while you were at it.”
She lifted a thin shoulder and didn’t answer.
“Did anyone suspect what they were doing?” I asked Abby.
She shook her head. “No, I think Holmes and Watson here pulled off their little caper without anyone the wiser.”
“How did you find out about it?”
“We left the nursing home early. Edna’s sister had to go to physical therapy, so we cut our visit short. We saw these two coming out of Buchanan’s as we were driving down Main Street.”
“Edna knows that they were snooping around the funeral home?”
“Not exactly. Aunt Dot made a lame excuse that she’d stopped by to visit Mrs. Buchanan.”
“Edna go for it?”
“Not really. She was the one who spotted them walking out of Buchanan’s. She became so excited she couldn’t wait for them to get in the car so she could start pumping them for information.”
“And whatever they didn’t tell her, she’ll fill in the blanks with suppositions…”
Abby nodded. “Yes, and by this time tomorrow those suppositions will be going around town as facts.”
“Bill isn’t going to like this,” I stated with a sigh.
“I should say not.” She sat back and crossed her arms. “And right now, if he did want to make the two of them overnight guests of the county, I wouldn’t lift a finger to help them.”
“Sheriff Wilson can’t arrest a kid,” Tink pointed out logically. “And Aunt Dot—”
Tink’s next remark was interrupted by a knock on Abby’s screen door.
Shifting in my chair, I looked over my shoulder. “Who’s that?”
Abby rose. “Didn’t I tell you?” She cast a derisive look at Aunt Dot. “She invited Mr. Buchanan’s assistant, Kevin, here for dinner.”
A couple of minutes later Abby escorted Kevin into the kitchen. He greeted everyone, and when he smiled at Tink, I noticed her face flush before she ducked her head in response.
Aunt Dot’s expression took on a transformation, too. She eyed Kevin with avid interest, and I had the distinct impression that Abby’s earlier scolding about her snooping had absolutely no effect on her. She intended to have an adventure regardless of what anyone said. My only hope was that it wouldn’t compromise Tink’s safety.
“How old are you, Kevin?” Aunt Dot asked.
“Ahh, twenty-one,” he replied.
“Would you like some wine?” Aunt Dot stood, but before she could toddle over to the cupboard, Abby placed a hand on her shoulder and gently pushed her down to where she’d been seated.
“No,” Abby said, her voice brooking no opposition. “In this heat, ice tea is much more refreshing.”
After serving everyone ice tea, Abby and I set about preparing a light supper—ham sandwiches, pasta salad Abby had made that morning, and some leftover chocolate cake for dessert. At first an awkward silence hovered over the room as we sat down to eat, but then Kevin broke it.
“You have a nice home, Mrs. McDonald.” He took in the kitchen with a wandering glance. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a kitchen quite like this one.”
“It’s patterned after the one in the cabin where I grew up,” she said, smiling fondly, “in Appalachia.”
“And you live there now, Miss Cameron?” he asked.
“Call me Dot, please,” she said with a pat of her hand. “Yes, my sister Mary and me live at the old home place now.”
Kevin tugged on his lip. “I don’t mean to be nosy, but if you live in Appalachia, why were you interested in a preplanned funeral here in Iowa?”
I sat back in my chair and crossed my arms. This ought to be good. I wondered how Aunt Dot was going to explain it.
She appeared unshaken by Kevin’s question. “Ack, I’m an old lady and you never know what’s in store. What if I would cross over on this visit? Without a little planning,” she motioned toward Abby, “my poor niece here would be left to make the arrangements on her own. Sister always says plan for the worst and it never happens.”
Humph, pretty thin excuse if you would have asked me, but Kevin seemed to accept her logic. I suppose he thought her merely eccentric.
Changing the subject, he glanced at the bundle of plants drying overhead. “What are those, Mrs. McDonald?”
“Herbs. I like to grow my own. They—”
Aunt Dot interrupted. “She uses them for healing. We—”
She broke off when I nudged her foot under the table. “Abby’s a master gardener,” I said before Aunt Dot could start blabbing secrets. Uncertain as to how much Kevin knew about our family, I had no intention of letting her give any more information away.
“Umm,” Kevin said as he pushed his plate to the side. “Ray mentioned that you’ve also helped the police with their investigations.”
I exchanged a look with Abby. How did we explain that away?
“No,” I exclaimed. “Not really. We’ve had the misfortune of being in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
Jeez, my excuse sounded as lame as Aunt Dot talking about planning her funeral.
“You’re not unofficial private investigators?” He sounded disappointed.
“Oh gosh, no.” I assured him.
“That’s too bad.” Kevin sagged a little in his chair. “I’m afraid the police aren’t going to solve Ray’s murder. I was going to ask if you’d look into it for me…” His voice dropped. “I don’t have much money, but I’d pay you whatever I could,” he finished, his voice rising on a hopeful note.
“No, no, I’m afraid Aunt Dot misled Mr. Buchanan when she related some of our experiences to him,” I said in a rush. “This kind of thing should be left up to people who know what they’re doing.”
I stressed the words as I gave Aunt Dot a steely look.
She suddenly found s
omething very interesting about Abby’s tablecloth and ignored me.
“But the investigation isn’t moving forward,” he argued. “The longer it continues, the less chance Ray’s killer will be brought to justice.”
“Don’t worry, Kevin. Sheriff Wilson is good at his job,” I said, trying to reassure him. “He’ll make an arrest.”
“If only I’d stayed home that night.”
“You live in the apartment above the business, don’t you?” I asked.
“Yes. It’d been Ray’s until he married Mrs. Buchanan.” His face twisted with distaste. “She said living above a funeral home gave her the creeps, but she sure didn’t mind the money the business brought in.”
“Was this Mr. Buchanan’s second marriage?” Abby questioned.
“Yes. After his divorce, he tried one of those online dating sites. That’s where he met Mrs. Buchanan. And once she got her hooks into him, that was it.”
“I don’t mean to be personal, but I take it you don’t care for his widow?”
He made a derisive sound. “To be honest? No. She’s caused trouble between Ray and his sons from his first marriage, she went through money like no other, and was always pressuring Ray for more.” He halted for a moment. “I question how committed she was to Ray.”
My eyebrows shot up after a quick glance at Tink, who sat soaking the conversation in and then said, “An affair?”
Kevin’s gaze slid to Tink and back again. “There’ve been rumors.”
Aunt Dot leaned against the back of her chair and watched Kevin with narrowed eyes. “Young man—” she began in a frosty voice.
“Did her husband know?” I asked before she could finish.
“He never mentioned it, but I think he’d heard them, too, and chose to ignore them.”
“Kevin,” I said, choosing my words carefully, “have you told Sheriff Wilson any of this?”
He dropped his head. “No. I didn’t want to falsely accuse anyone.”
I chewed the inside of my lip. I’d heard of women wanting to do away with their husbands, but embalming one alive? Pretty cold.
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