Lindsey pursed her lips while she studied the lemon. She knew there had to be a way to get her to tell her what she wanted to know; she just had to hit the right button.
“You’re right, of course,” Lindsey said. “I just was thinking that if Candice was a very active library borrower then maybe there was more than the one book checked out to her, or if she was chronically late, there might be other items floating around out there that are also twenty years overdue.”
“She was,” Ms. Cole said. “And she wasn’t.”
“Was and wasn’t what?” Lindsey asked.
“She was an active borrower but she was never late with her materials,” Ms. Cole said. “Candice Whitley was a lovely person, inside and out, and she was very respectful with her borrowed items. She treated library books as a privilege.”
“I see,” Lindsey said. No wonder Candice had been a favorite of Ms. Cole’s. She had obviously been an excellent library patron.
“She was also an excellent teacher,” Ms. Cole said. “Her students adored her.” She glanced at Lindsey with an annoyed look, realizing she had said far more than she meant to. “And that is all I’m going to say.”
“Just because she appeared to have it all together doesn’t mean she did,” Paula said.
She was sitting on the other side of Ms. Cole, sorting a book truck. Her hair was tied in a thick purple braid and her colorful tattoos were just visible beneath the three-quarter-length sleeves of her shirt.
Lindsey gave her a wide-eyed look. Was she really going to engage Ms. Cole?
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Ms. Cole snapped.
“Everyone has secrets.” Paula shrugged.
Apparently, she was. Lindsey opened her mouth to steer the conversation in a new direction but Ms. Cole got there first.
“You don’t know the first thing about Candice Whitley,” the lemon sputtered.
“No, I don’t,” Paula agreed. “But you don’t either, not really. People let you see what they want you to see, like Holden Caulfield in the book that started all this. He doesn’t share his inner turmoil with anyone, so does anyone in the book really know him? No, that’s why he is so full of angst.”
Ms. Cole rolled her eyes. “That’s nonsense.”
“Is it? If you think about it,” Paula continued, looking completely unfazed by Ms. Cole’s disdain, “you can never really know another person no matter how close you are, because you aren’t inside their mind and heart.”
“That’s just . . . That’s ridiculous,” Ms. Cole argued. “Of course you can know people. You can tell what they’re really like from how they behave, from what they say and do. It’s actions that define a person, not their inner turmoil or angst. Some people don’t have any angst, you know.”
Paula glanced away and Lindsey watched a shadow pass over her face. She knew Paula had a past; Paula had alluded to it in previous conversations. But Lindsey didn’t know the details and she hadn’t shared what she did know with her staff. It was none of their business, just as it was none of hers.
She suspected it was her past that made Paula see things the way she did. Lindsey could understand that and she agreed with the young woman.
“I think what Paula is saying is that we all have an internal life that no one else has access to,” Lindsey said. “What a person presents to the world might not be an accurate depiction of who they really are, for better or worse, and that includes Candice Whitley.”
“Well, I say she was a lovely young woman who was murdered in cold blood,” Ms. Cole said. “Whoever killed her strangled the life out of her. There was absolutely nothing she could ever have done to warrant a death like that.”
“On that, we all agree,” Paula said. “Her death is a horrible tragedy. You seemed to have known her and liked her. I am sorry for your loss, Ms. Cole.”
The lemon stared at Paula hard for a moment and then she gave her a quick nod. “Thank you. Now let’s get back to work. These books aren’t going to check themselves in.”
Crisis averted. Lindsey knew she had gotten more out of Ms. Cole than she thought she would, so she’d have to be content with it. She was debating whether or not to question the library pages, who at the moment were all busy shelving, when the front doors opened and in strode Herb Gunderson.
He looked ill at ease and when Lindsey waved to him, he gave a half wave back and scurried over to the DVD rack.
“That’s odd,” Ms. Cole said. “Herb always comes in on Fridays to check out movies, never Thursdays.”
“His internal life must have dictated that he do otherwise today,” Paula teased. “See? You never can tell . . .”
Ms. Cole hushed her. “He looks nervous and a bit twitchy. Do you think he looks nervous?”
Lindsey watched him cross his arms and tuck his hands under his armpits. It seemed like a self-soothing sort of gesture. She’d never seen him do that before.
“Yeah, there’s definitely some anxiety happening there,” she said.
“Small wonder,” Ms. Cole said. “Having that book show up after twenty years has got to be his worst nightmare.”
“Why?” Lindsey asked. She was afraid to question Ms. Cole too deeply lest she clam up, so she tried to appear casual even as she hung on every word Ms. Cole uttered.
“Because Herb’s younger brother Benji Gunderson was Candice Whitley’s boyfriend at the time of her murder. He was also one of the primary suspects.”
“Are you kidding me?” Lindsey asked.
“I never kid,” Ms. Cole said.
“Yeah, what are you thinking?” Paula asked Lindsey.
“I wasn’t,” she said. She resisted the urge to do a face palm. “So that’s why he was so weird when I brought the book over to Emma when he and the mayor were there.”
“The Gunderson family has barely recovered their good name,” Ms. Cole said. “Well, except for Benji; he never will.”
“Poor Herb,” Lindsey said. “I had no idea. He never said.”
“Of course he didn’t,” Ms. Cole said. “The shame has dogged him his entire life. Why do you think he works so hard for the mayor? He’s been trying to rid his family of the gossip ever since that horrible night.”
Lindsey tried not to stare as Herb perused the DVD collection. She imagined that the very by-the-book town manager had to be rattled to the core, which was probably why he was here. Since he was looking at the movies a day earlier than usual, she suspected that he wanted more than movies from the library.
Ten minutes later, when he approached the desk, she was proven right.
“Lindsey, hi, how are you?” he asked with a feigned note of surprise, because finding the librarian in the library would be a real shock. Not.
“I’m fine,” she said. “And you?”
“Good, really good. Say, could I have a word?” he asked.
“Sure,” she said.
He glanced at Ms. Cole and Paula, and Lindsey got the feeling he didn’t want to talk in front of them. She waited while Ms. Cole checked out the movie he handed her and Lindsey walked with him toward the door.
“What can I do for you?” she asked.
“I was just wondering if Emma told you what she was going to do with the book.”
“Oh, the book,” Lindsey said. She hesitated for a second but then decided that Emma wouldn’t care if she told him. She certainly hadn’t asked her to keep it a secret. “She was planning to turn it over to the state police to see if their forensic unit can find anything on it that might indicate if it was in Candice’s possession at the time of the murder.”
“Oh, I see. That’s good, very good,” Herb said. He sounded as if he was talking himself into believing it. “Excellent.”
“She said it could take weeks or months before they get to it,” Lindsey said. “And even then, after all these years they may not find anything.”
Herb nodded. It was a quick, jerky motion, as if he was just trying to make it all go away. Lindsey felt bad for him but she also felt that she had done the right thing. Whether Benji Gunderson was involved in the murder of Candice Whitley or not, she deserved justice.
“Well, I’ll let you go,” he said. He turned and left the library and Lindsey noticed that despite the pleasant evening, his shoulders were slumped as if in defeat.
She knew she shouldn’t feel guilty, that she had nothing to feel guilty about, but still she felt bad for him. One of the things she had learned early on with Herb was that appearances were always so important to him. Following the rules even when they didn’t make sense was his modus operandi in every staff meeting Lindsey had suffered through with him.
Maybe he’d always been like that or maybe it came after what his family had been through. She didn’t know; she just knew that the case being reopened and his family being under scrutiny again had to be horribly uncomfortable for him.
If she’d been quicker-witted, she would have asked him about his brother Benji. It was probably a good thing she hadn’t. Herb had looked worried enough without an inquisition.
She opened the door to the small room that housed the book drop to check it one more time. It was still empty. She would have cried with relief but she didn’t want Ms. Cole to see her. As it was, she was pretty sure if she brought any more books to the circulation desk, Ms. Cole might stab her with a pen.
She switched out the light and closed the door. It was just about time for her to call it a day. She turned, slammed right into a solid male chest and yelped.
“Oh, sorry, didn’t mean to get you in a fizz,” Robbie Vine said. He caught her by the shoulders to keep her from toppling backward.
“Ugh.” Lindsey blew out a breath. “Sorry. It’s been one of those days.”
“I heard there’s been some excitement in the stacks today,” Robbie said. “So, where do we start?”
“Excuse me?” she said.
She stepped out of his hold, trying to look casual about it, but judging by the twitch of his lips she failed miserably.
She gave him a stern look. Robbie was a handsome British actor currently residing in Briar Creek. He had gotten it into his head that he and Lindsey would make a fine couple, and while she did find him attractive, Lindsey knew that his life wasn’t here and that he would be leaving sooner rather than later to resume his role as an actor, and that life just wasn’t for her.
“Start what, exactly?” she asked.
“Our investigation, naturally. I heard a book was returned today, after twenty years, and that it had been checked out by a woman on the same day that she was murdered,” he said. He shivered. “Makes my neck prickle just to think about it.”
“Huh, looks like the rumor mill got that one right,” she said.
“So.” Robbie clapped his hands together. “What have you discovered about it so far?”
“What do you mean?”
“Please, love, I know you,” he said. “This is going to nag you like a loose thread. I’d wager my last dollar that you’ve already started—”
“Hi, Dad!”
Lindsey and Robbie turned around to see Dylan Peet, one of her library pages, walking toward them.
“Hello, son,” Robbie said. The affection in his voice was obvious as he regarded the teen.
Robbie had arrived in Briar Creek the previous year to help his longtime friend Violet La Rue with her community theater production of A Midsummer Night’s Dream. In the process, he had reconnected with his son, Dylan, and was thoroughly enjoying his role as a father.
Lindsey glanced between them, marveling at their similarities. While Dylan’s hair was a deeper auburn than his father’s reddish blond, they shared the same green eyes and devilish grin, the sort that charmed good girls into all sorts of bad decisions.
“Are you ready for supper?” Robbie asked. “I made my specialty, bangers and mash.”
“Excellent,” Dylan said. “I just need to grab my backpack from the break room.” He turned to face Lindsey. “I’ll come in tomorrow for extra hours, if that’s okay, and get these carts shelved.”
“Okay?” Lindsey asked. “That would be outstanding.”
Dylan grinned and it practically blinded her. She watched him walk away with a bounce in his step that reminded her so much of Robbie.
“He is more like you every day,” she said. “Although if I remember right you used to have a few inches on him in height. He’s closing the gap.”
Robbie looked chagrined. “I know. He’s almost an adult. I missed so much of his childhood. I can never get those years back.”
“No, but you have each other now,” Lindsey said. “And you arrived just when he needed you most.”
“Ay, there’s that,” Robbie said. “He’s a great kid. He’s trying to figure out what sort of relationship he wants with his adoptive parents. I told him I’ll support whatever he decides. I’m just glad to have him in my life.”
Lindsey reached out and squeezed his arm. “You’re a good dad, Robbie, and he’s lucky to have you.”
Robbie looped an arm around her shoulder and gave her a half hug. Then he kissed her forehead.
“Thanks,” he said. His voice was gruff and he cleared his throat. When he spoke again, his voice had its usual teasing lilt. “I hear some women find the father thing very attractive.”
He gave her a decidedly flirtatious look.
Lindsey shook her head at him. “No.”
“No, what?” he protested. “I didn’t even ask you anything.”
“You know I’m not going to date you,” she said. “Save your come-hither looks for women who will.”
Robbie wrinkled his nose as if he smelled something bad.
“Is it Sully? That sailor boy of yours?”
“My personal life is none of your business,” she said. “And he’s not mine.”
“Not my business?” Robbie gaped. “I got divorced for you.”
Lindsey dropped her head to her chest. Over the past few months, she and Robbie had been over this and over this.
“I never asked you to get divorced,” she said. “You and I have never really dated. We’re just friends, and I think it’s best that we keep it that way.”
“So, it is the water rat!” Robbie said. Per usual, he completely ignored her words about them not dating ever. “What do you see in him?”
“Let me think,” she said “He’s good, kind, strong, funny, smart . . .”
“Okay, enough. I swear I’m going to puke,” he said.
“Not on our carpet,” she said with a laugh. “Take it outside to the bushes if you’re going to be sick.”
“You didn’t say handsome,” Robbie said. “You have to admit I have him beat in the looks department.”
“He’s handsome,” she said. “And you know it.”
“Oh, come now, there has to be something I’ve got that he hasn’t,” Robbie said.
He looked put out, and Lindsey couldn’t help but take pity on him.
“You are more emotional than he is,” she said.
“What, as in girly?” he cried. He looked appalled.
“No, like openhearted and emotionally available,” she said. “Trust me, it’s a good thing.”
“So, what exactly is going on between you and Sully?” he asked. “I’ve been watching but I haven’t seen any actual dates happen. Are you two dating?”
“I don’t know.” Lindsey shrugged.
It was the honest truth; she really didn’t know. They’d begun spending more time together a couple of months ago, and it seemed to be going well, but she knew they were both being very cautious. By unspoken agreement, they hadn’t said anything to anyone about the time they spent together, preferring to keep it private until they knew where they stood f
or sure.
She envied Beth’s situation where she was free to just fall head over heels in love with Aidan. But that was more in Beth’s nature than Lindsey’s. Lindsey had always been more careful, a bit of an overthinker some might say.
“That’s not an answer,” Robbie said. He glared out the window toward the pier where Sully docked his water taxi and tour boats. “Tell me this: Are you in love with him?”
Lindsey blinked. There it was. The “L” word again. She and Sully hadn’t gotten there yet. She hadn’t even allowed herself to think about it. They were very much doing a baby-steps sort of thing with their relationship. To have Robbie ask her flat out, well, she just wasn’t prepared.
“Um . . .” She didn’t know what to say. She felt her face get scorching hot and she pressed her palms to her cheeks.
“Oh, Bloody Nora! You are, aren’t you?” he cried. Suddenly, he staggered back, clutching his chest. He careened around the lobby, hunched over and moaning.
“Robbie, are you all right?” she asked. “Can I get you something? Water? Ice? Should I call a doctor?”
“No, no,” he said. He waved her off and spoke through gritted teeth. “I’m sure it’s nothing.”
“But—” she began, but he interrupted with a groan as he grabbed the counter in front of Ms. Cole.
Ms. Cole looked at him over her glasses. She seemed singularly unimpressed.
“My heart,” Robbie cried.
Lindsey’s eyes went wide. “Are you having a heart attack?”
She rushed forward as he slumped to the floor. She caught him before his head connected with the ground and cradled his upper body in her lap with his head on her shoulder.
“Ms. Cole, call 9-1-1,” Lindsey said.
“No,” Ms. Cole said.
“He’s having a heart attack,” Lindsey said.
“No, he isn’t,” Paula said. She popped up beside Ms. Cole as they both peered over the counter at Lindsey and Robbie.
“The pain,” Robbie moaned. “How does a heart withstand the deep cut from the sharp blade of apathy?”
“He’s acting out the breakup scene from his last movie,” Paula said. “You know, where the hero dies of a broken heart. Great death scene, really, top notch. It even made me cry, and I never cry.”
Better Late Than Never Page 5