The Librarian's Last Chapter (A River Valley Mystery, Book 3)

by Cynthia Hickey

  “Do you feel up to continuing the book fair, Mrs. Steele?” Mr. Dean leaned against the desk. “Mrs. Grimes felt passionate about it, and the school could use the funds. It could be a tribute to the poor woman. I don’t think it will hurt anything if we move the date back two weeks. Have it around Halloween?”

  “Oh.” Question answered. Duane couldn’t be too upset if I snooped around while fulfilling a dying woman’s wish, right? “Of course.” How difficult could a book fair be?

  The ambulance arrived and carted Mrs. Grimes’ body away. I sighed and stood, unsure of what to do next. “I suppose there’s a lot of work left to do.”

  “Yes. All the information for the fair is in that box.” Mr. Dean pointed.

  “Nothing is removed and whatever it is you’re talking about will have to wait until we’ve done our investigation.” Bruce shook his head. “Marsha, you’ve been involved in enough crimes that you should know this.”

  “But she died in that room, not the main library.”

  “Doesn’t matter. Go home and I’ll be along in a while to take your statement.”

  He’d taken enough statements from me over the last few months to make a book. I grabbed my purse, and the box of fair information, and then stormed out the side door. A group of students, Lindsey included, congregated in the parking lot. Wasn’t anyone in class?

  “Mom? Were you held hostage by the terrorist, too?” Lindsey rushed forward.

  “There was no terrorist. I found Mrs. Grimes dead.”

  “Again? What is wrong with you?” She withdrew, shooting daggers from her eyes while in the protection of her friends.

  “I have no idea, sweetie. See you at supper.” I sashayed past the gawking teens as if I didn’t have a care in the world when in all actuality my insides shook like the San Madres fault.

  I sat in my car and waited while they wheeled Mrs. Grimes’s body out on a gurney. Although she was a mean-spirited old woman most of the time I’d known her, it was sad to think someone had closed the last chapter on her life.

  I pulled into the alley behind Country Gifts from Heaven and carried the book fair box into the store with me. Mom waited on a customer, so I stuck the box, and my purse, under the counter before reaching for one of the ruffled aprons Mom insisted we wear. She swore it added character to the store. I thought it made us look ridiculous.

  “What’s in the box?” she asked once the customer left.

  “Stuff for the book fair. I’m in charge of it now.”

  “Mrs. Grimes doesn’t have time?”

  “Not really.” I leaned against the counter. “Someone killed her this morning while I was in the teacher’s lounge. Principal Dean put me in charge of the fair.”

  “Back up.” Mom held up her hand. “Somebody killed the librarian in the library?” She rubbed her nose. “Sounds like the plot of a really bad book.”

  “Yeah, they choked her with the silk flowered scarf she wore.”

  “And now, you can’t stay out of things if you wanted to, which I’m sure you won’t, because the principal asked you to continue there until…?”

  “Halloween.”

  “Of course.” Mom shook her head. “So, how do you propose to pull all this off without getting yourself killed?”

  “I’m not sure.” I plopped into one of the wooden rocking chairs we had available for purchase. “Right now, I’m going to focus on a Halloween themed book fair and how to sell lots of books for the school. Then, I’m tearing up my volunteer badge.”

  “Don’t be so dramatic.” Mom grabbed a rag from the pocket of her apron and started dusting shelves. “You should take a cruise. It was the best thing me and Leroy did.”

  I had no idea what Duane had planned for a honeymoon. All he would tell me was that he wanted it to be a surprise. Personally, I was hoping for a European tour. But, before I could focus my mind on that pleasant trip, I had to get through the next month.

  Maybe Lindsey could help me plan a book fair that high school students would actually enjoy. I grabbed some quilt pieces and thread, ready to finish a lap quilt to sell in the shop. Since Mom’s marriage to Leroy a few months ago, she’d turned over most of the running of our business to me. While it also increased my share of the profits, it almost doubled the amount of work I had to do. Now, add in the book fair, and I was swamped. “Why don’t we sell some crafts on consignment?”

  Mom stopped dusting. “Not sell our own things?”

  “We’d still do that, but it would lessen the burden of having to provide all the stock ourselves. We could be choosey about what we put on consignment, only using things that meet our standards.”

  “Let me think about it.” Mom resumed her work, her brow creased.

  She took a lot of pride in selling only what we made, but the chore of keeping the shelves full was almost more than I could handle alone. It had been months since Mom had sewed anything. We already sold yarn and craft books. Having a consignment corner wouldn’t be too far of a stretch.

  “Okay.” Mom gave a definitive nod. “But we have to be very picky about what goes on our shelves. Put that quilt down. I want to get some Halloween type things finished this week.”

  “Oh, goody.” I moved to the storeroom and pulled a foam pumpkin off the shelf. I’d carve something cute, rather than scary, and put them on display in the front window. Folks who wanted to keep their jack-o-lanterns for more than a few days should buy them faster than I could carve.

  I caught sight of a felt witch’s hat and a time out baby with a chainsaw. I knew exactly what I’d do for the upcoming book fair. A haunted house. Visitors would have to enter the haunted halls in order to reach the books at the end.

  It should be fun for everyone. Except me. I hated haunted houses. What if one of the people in costume were really a deranged killer using the haunted house for their own evil purpose?

  CHAPTER THREE

  “A haunted house?” Mr. Dean tapped his forefinger on his chin “We try to not highlight any religious holiday, Mrs. Steele.”

  “Halloween isn’t a religious holiday.” Seriously? “If we want the students to enter the book fair, we need something to appeal to their age group. They seem to flock to that haunted corn maze every year. This is right up their alley. Student council and the PTO—a”

  “PTSO,” he said. “The name has been changed to Parent Teacher Student Association. We don’t want to leave anyone out.”

  Of course not. He probably gave all members of the football team a participation trophy, too. “Then I should have more than enough help. We’ll need to get started right away.”

  He nodded. “Let my secretary know and she’ll put it in the announcements. When do you want to start?”

  “Monday.” That gave me the weekend to finalize more of the details.

  He rubbed his hands together, a wicked gleam in his eye that had me sitting straighter in my chair. “I want to participate, too. This should be fun.”

  I sure hoped so. I stepped out of his office and into the small room next door. Cheryl Wright, a former classmate of mine and the principal’s secretary, sat hunched over her keyboard. The sound of clicking keys filled the room. “Good morning, Cheryl.”

  “Hey, Marsha.” She sat back and raised red-rimmed eyes in my direction. “What can I get for you?”

  “I guess you’ve heard I’m in charge of the book fair.”

  She nodded as tears welled. She reached for a Kleenex. “I don’t know how you can do it. Poor Mrs. Grimes. To meet such a fate, why I cry every time I think of it.”

  To my recollection, Cheryl cried over just about everything. In school, she’d cried at hearing the school’s fight song, over every sport loss, and every time someone read a poetry assignment in English class. Not to take anything away from her mourning Mrs. Grimes, but I had a hard time digging up any compassion. “It was a horrible thing.”

  “And you were the one to find her.” She fluttered a hand toward me. “You poor thing.”

  “Yes, w
ell…Mr. Dean sent me in here to ask you to announce that I am looking for student council members to volunteer for a haunted house I’m putting on to draw attention to the book fair.”

  “I can do that. What fun.” Her withdrawn face said she thought it anything but fun.

  “We’ll have the book fair the two nights before Halloween. I’ll have some fliers made up and put them on the counter in the front office. Will that be all right?”

  “Perfect.” She turned back to her computer.

  Dismissed, I headed to the front office. Janet Snyder, head of the PTO, no PTSO, stood chatting with the attendance clerk. “Just the person I wanted to see.” I grinned. “I’m looking for volunteers.” I explained my plan for the book fair.

  Her eyes widened. “A haunted house at a school? Mr. Dean approved this?” She shook her head. “I don’t celebrate Halloween.”

  “Maybe not, but the majority of the students do.” I still had tons of high school age kids ringing my doorbell every year. “Maybe you could work the book fair aspect and leave the other to the students?”

  “I could do that. But all the decorations will give me the heebie jeebies. You should also ask Mrs. Grimes’s book club members to help out as a tribute to her. They’re older women, but they could do some of the more menial type tasks.”

  “That’s a good idea, thanks. Have the police opened the library yet?”

  “It’s only been a day. Give them time.”

  “Then do you know how to get in touch with the book club?” I cocked my head. Who got her panties in a wad?

  She scribbled a number on a piece of paper. “Here’s the phone number for Norma Rae Jennings. Mrs. Grimes was head of the club, but Norma Rae is the second-in-command.”

  “Thanks.” I shoved the paper into my pocket. Instead of calling, it might be more beneficial to join the club and get to know the other women before blurting out my request over the phone. As if I had time for one more thing. Maybe I could get Mom to join instead.

  My cell phone rang as I crossed the parking lot. I smiled to see Duane’s face pop on the screen. “Hey.”

  “How’s your morning? I’m between classes and thought I’d give you a call.”

  I unlocked the door to my Prius and slid inside. “It’s going okay. I’m finalizing some details on the book fair.”

  “Yeah, I’ve heard of the haunted house. I’d like to be a part of that.”

  “Really? That would be awesome! You can be the chainsaw wielding maniac.”

  “Perfect. See you at dinner. Love you.”

  We hung up, and I drove back to the shop. Having Duane present would help keep the students’ shenanigans at a minimum. None of the boys would want to anger the football coach.

  Bruce and the new officer strode across the parking lot and entered the library from the side door. What could they possibly have left to do? I really wanted access to the locked drawer.

  I slid from the car, locked it, and ducked inside the library side entrance before anyone could stop me. Bruce and Officer Bradford were in the back room where Mrs. Grimes was killed. I needed to find the key to that drawer, and fast.

  The low murmurs of their voices propelled me to search through desk drawers. I was most likely searching for a small gold key, the type used for filing cabinets. What if she’d worn it around her neck? I didn’t remember seeing a lanyard. Would the office manager have an extra key?

  Wait. She’d had the key in her hand when she’d ducked into the back room. I bit my bottom lip. I couldn’t go in there with Bruce.

  “What are you doing here? We haven’t allowed access to the library yet.” Bruce marched toward me.

  “The side door was open. I need some things, like—” I searched around for something, anything, and grabbed a notebook off the desk. “Notes.”

  His lips thinned. “That’s my notebook.” He held out his hand. “You’ll have access to the library again tomorrow.”

  I handed over the book and tried to peer around him. “What are y’all looking for?”

  “That’s none of your business.”

  “But I need something out of there.”

  “Tomorrow.” He pointed at the door.

  “Fine.” I whirled and headed back to my car. What a waste of time that had been. If Mrs. Grimes had stuck the key in a pocket or her purse, I’d never get my hands on it. All that would be handed off to the next of kin. Who was her next of kin? I drummed my fingers on the steering wheel. Her personal effects had to go somewhere.

  I didn’t know why, exactly, but I knew whatever was locked in that drawer had a bearing on her death. Call it a snoopy woman’s intuition. I started the car and drove to the shop. I had giant spiders to make. I’d decided I really didn’t like Halloween. Who came up with the stupid so-called holiday anyway? Within a couple of days’ time, I found myself neck deep in darkness.

  I should have chosen a harvest theme for the book fair, but that wouldn’t attract the traffic we needed. I owed it to Mrs. Grimes to put on the best book fair the school had ever had.

  I entered the shop to the sight of customers standing four deep at the counter. Not one of them had anything in their hands to purchase. At the jingle of the door, they all turned.

  “There she is!” They rushed me.

  I stumbled backward onto the sidewalk. My feet slid out from under me. I landed in an unbecoming heap on my backside.

  “You found Mrs. Grimes?” An elderly woman held out her hand. The strength in her arms as she helped me to my feet belied her frail appearance. “I’m Ingrid Jennings. This is my daughter, Norma Rae. Harriet was the president of our book club.”

  Harriet? How did I not know Mrs. Grimes’s first name after all these years?

  “We heard you were with her in her final moments.”

  “I was.” I dusted off the back of my denim jeans, hoping I hadn’t knocked one of the sparkly sequins off. Some days seemed to scream for the overalls I used to wear.

  “How was she? Did she say anything about her dear friends?” Ingrid cocked her head, much like a bird.

  “No, she put me to work.” I pushed past them and took sanctuary behind the counter. “What do they want?” I hissed at Mom.

  She shrugged. “You. They’re all nothing but Nosey Nellies.”

  The crowd followed me back inside. “Oh, no.” Through the window, I spotted my nemesis, Stacy Tate, resident reporter of River Valley.

  She elbowed her way through the women. “Well, well. It looks like Marsha is knee deep in trouble again.”

  “I thought you left town after the last fiasco.” The woman had almost been killed by the deranged ex-wife of a man she’d cheated with.

  “I only took a leave of absence.” Stacy pulled a notebook from the oversized red leather bag she carried. “May I interview you? Thanks. Tell us what you found in the high school library.”

  “Lots of books.” I would not make this easy for her.

  “Marsha.” She narrowed her eyes. “Wouldn’t you rather have a friend interview you? We miss you at the paper. Your gossip column was the hit of the town.”

  What a liar. Since the moment I spilled the beans about her breast enhancement surgery, Stacy had been out to get me. “I wasn’t in the library when Mrs. Grimes was killed. I found her after returning from the teacher’s lounge.” I shuddered.

  Stacy’s pen flashed silver as it scratched across the pad. “Were you frightened? What did the victim look like? Can you tell us how she was killed?”

  Even I knew not to give out too much information. If I said something, even inadvertently about the murder, Bruce would slap handcuffs on me faster than a hummingbird’s wings fluttered. The man was only waiting for his chance.

  “She looked dead.” I crossed my arms. “You know I can’t divulge any facts.”

  At the word dead, the onlookers gasped. What? They thought she’d look like Sleeping Beauty? “Ladies, we have work to do. If you aren’t going to make a purchase, we need to ask you to leave. You’re keepi
ng paying customers from entering the store.”

  No one waited outside, but I didn’t need an audience when dealing with Stacy. She usually left me feeling, and looking, like a fool. Lord, give me patience.

  Ingrid rushed forward and slipped a pink sheet of paper in my hand. “We have a club meeting tonight. We hope you can join us. You, too, Gertie.” She led the group from the store.

  “Are you going to solve this mystery like you did the other two?” Stacy’s eyes gleamed.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  “Supper was delicious, as always.” I carried mine and Duane’s plates to the kitchen sink, Mom’s lasagna resting in my stomach. Mom and Leroy may have moved to the guesthouse, letting Lindsey and I live in the main house, but she still did most of the cooking. Of which I was grateful. My tendencies to—experiment—in the kitchen, often led to a disastrous meal.

  “What are you two up to tonight?” Duane came up behind me and nuzzled my neck. “Usually you’re in your slippers by now.”

  “Mom and I are trying out a book club.” I closed my eyes and leaned into him.

  He stiffened. “The one Mrs. Grimes ran?” At my nod, he sighed. “You’re getting involved.”

  I turned in his embrace and stared up into his dark blue eyes. “I didn’t ask to be. Mr. Dean asked me to continue the book fair and Ingrid Jennings invited Mom and I to come tonight. What could it hurt? It’s a bunch of old ladies.”

  “Have you forgotten you were almost killed by an old lady a few months ago?”

  He was talking about the last murder I’d dabbled in. “She had help from her son.”

  He cupped my face. “Don’t get yourself killed before our wedding.”

  “I won’t.” I stood on tip-toe to kiss him.

  “Let’s go. We don’t want to be late.” Mom bustled into the kitchen. “Y’all can smooch later. Duane, are you staying to keep Leroy company? I think there’s a game on TV.”

  “Sure. I never turn down the opportunity to watch football on a big screen.” He hugged me. “Be careful.”