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

by Cynthia Hickey

  CHAPTER NINE

  With an onrush of customers wanting Autumn themed crafts, I couldn’t find time to visit Bruce until Thursday. Now, I sat in my rental car and stared at the front door of the police station. I was going to talk hypothetically, but he’d see right through my ruse. Oh, well. Better to just get it over with.

  I exited the Mustang and marched through the double glass doors. I stopped at the receptionist desk, surprised to see Ingrid Jennings. I’d assumed she worked at her mother’s tea shop.

  The plain woman peered at me over her glasses. “May I help you?”

  “Hello, Ingrid. I need to see Bruce.”

  “Do you have an appointment?” She glared at me as if we hadn’t met.

  “I don’t usually need one.” Ingrid’s unpainted lips thinned. “I’ll check to see if he’s available, but next time you’ll need an appointment. No exceptions.” She punched a number into her desk phone and stated that I was here to see him.

  Yes, Miss Congeniality. I tapped my foot while I waited.

  She hung up the phone. “Go on back.”

  “Thank you.” Golly gee whiz, she was a regular chatty Kathy. I gave her a huge grin and pushed through the waist-high saloon doors to head to Bruce’s office. He really needed an office that wasn’t behind the receptionist desk. I hated walking through the bull pen. Officer Bradford may not know me well, but Oscar Wilson did.

  “In trouble again, Marsha?” He cackled like an old hen.

  “Not yet, Oscar.”

  “Thanks for what you do. The trouble you created the last few months got me stationed back in my hometown. For that, I am eternally grateful.”

  I sighed and knocked on Bruce’s door, then walked in without waiting for him to issue an invitation. “I have a question for you.”

  “Good morning to you, too.” He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his bony chest.

  “Sorry, but I need to get to work.” I settled into a brown vinyl chair across from him. “If you were to find a treasure map, would you think it was the real thing? Maybe enough of a motive to kill someone?”

  “What are you talking about?” He leaned his arms on his desk. “Did you find a treasure map?”

  “This is hypothetical.”

  “Do you have evidence in the murder of Mrs. Grimes? Because if you do –”

  “I know, I’d have to turn it in. Can you answer the question?” The man was like a little terrier clinging to my pants leg.

  “If treasure maps were real, some fool would probably kill for it, yeah.”

  “What about a stack of antique books?”

  “My God in Heaven you’re trying to solve Mrs. Grimes’s murder.” He shoved back his chair. It slammed into the wall behind him. “Lord, save us all from Marsha Steele. I can’t keep saving you. One of these days, I’ll be too late.”

  Puh-leeze. “Save me? Excuse me, but I’ve managed to get out of every scrape myself.” Mostly. He did come running with Duane when a mad woman and her son held me at gunpoint, but by then, I had the two crazy people yelling at each other instead of aiming the gun at me. The first crime I’d solved, I tazed the woman and got away. By myself. All Bruce did was lock them up after I was done with them.

  “If you get in the way of my investigation,” Bruce said. “I will arrest you. Give me this so-called treasure map.”

  Sure, right after I make a photocopy. “Don’t worry. I won’t get in your way.” I stood.

  “Famous last words. I have a holding cell with your name on it.”

  “I hope it’s decorated nicely.” Tossing him my best smile, I turned and left his office. Next on my agenda, find out where Mrs. Grimes lived. Mom would know.

  Back at the store, I waited while Mom rang up a customer buying several quilt books and yards of fabric. Next to her sat a pile from our scrap bin. I wished Mom wouldn’t give those away. We could package and sell them. When had I gotten so money hungry? When I’d become a single mother with a wedding to pay for.

  Once the customer left, I grabbed a soda from the fridge and a granola bar to carry in my purse for later. “Mom, where did Mrs. Grimes live?”

  “On Elm Street.” She wiped loose threads from the counter into her hand. “The mailbox looks like a stack of books. Why?”

  I’d seen that house before. “I’m going snooping.”

  Mom whirled, dropping the threads onto the floor. “I want to go.”

  “Who is going to keep the shop open?”

  “Why should you have all the fun? We’ll go on our lunch hour.”

  We never took a lunch hour, staggering our lunches instead to keep the store open. “We’ll be trespassing. Bruce has already threatened to arrest me.”

  “He wouldn’t dare. Not while I’m with you. Why, I knew his mother.” Her face lit with expectation. “Let me grab my camera, and we’ll leave right away.”

  I sighed and jotted a quick note on a sheet of paper that we’d be back at eleven. An early lunch, I guess. “I’m driving this time. My rental is less conspicuous.” I really needed to start shopping for a new car.

  “It’s red.” Mom shook her head and dashed out the backdoor toward her white beast.

  She could sit out there until doomsday. I was driving this time. I headed out the front door and waited behind the wheel of my car.

  Two minutes later, Mom parked the Caddy right behind me, blocking me in. She honked.

  “I said I’m driving,” I yelled out my window.

  She honked again. “Try getting around me.”

  “Fine.” I started the ignition, then pulled forward a couple of inches, then back, then forward, turning my wheel.

  “Don’t you hit my car,” she called out.

  “Then move!” I kept maneuvering until I found myself diagonal and thoroughly wedged between our shop and the dentist next door. “You win. Move so I can straighten out, then I’ll join you.” As if. The moment she moved her boat of a car, I sped down Main Street toward Elm, leaving Mom to follow. We were about as inconspicuous as two purple elephants blowing trumpets.

  I parked around the corner from Mrs. Grimes’s house. Mom pulled in behind me. “That was dirty pool,” she said marching past me.

  “You asked for it.” I jogged beside her. “We need to have a story to tell if someone asks why we’re here.”

  “We’ll think of something.” Mom set her chin, clearly put off by my shenanigans. She marched up to the front door and knocked.

  Mrs. Grimes’s house was painted a cheery yellow with a bright red front door. White lace curtains hung at the spotless windows. Flower boxes, full of autumn mums, hung under both front windows. The house resembled a storybook cottage.

  “Nobody’s home,” Mom said.

  “Of course not, she’s deceased.” I cupped my hands around my eyes and peered in the window beside the door. “We’ll have to get in another way.”

  “Let’s try the back.” Mom led the way to a small door off the kitchen. It was locked. “Maybe we can pick the lock. This is an old house.” She pulled a packet of sharp objects from her purse. “I bought these lock picks off eBay and watched a YouTube video on how to use them. I thought they might come in handy with crime solving.”

  We were going to be arrested for sure. “Who are you and what have you done with my mother?”

  “Oh, hush. I’m trying to concentrate.” She bent over and got to work while I kept a sharp eye out for any curious onlookers.

  A loud click and she swung the door open. “Voila.” She grinned over her shoulder. “Am I amazing or what?”

  “Hurry and get inside before someone sees us.” I shoved against her back.

  We stepped into a cheery yellow kitchen with painted metal cabinets and modern appliances. “Look for anything that might tell us why she was killed.”

  “Put these on.” Mom handed me a pair of rubber gloves.

  “You scare me.” I donned the gloves and headed for the back of the house, leaving Mom to do the front.

 
Off the hall, I found two bedrooms and a bathroom. Only one bedroom looked as if anyone lived in it, so I chose to check that one. The other room looked like a guestroom slash office.

  I opened the closet. A line of dresses hung from the rod. Shoe boxes lined the shelf. Labels signified what was in each of them. Some were shoes, one was receipts, and one said important papers. I stretched my short frame to pull it down. Something rubbed against my ankles. I screamed and fell backward, banging my hip on the dresser. At my feet sat a beautiful silver Persian cat with yellow eyes. “Well, hello, gorgeous. I thought the neighbor was keeping you?”

  Had the poor thing been alone all this time? He must be starving.

  “What’s wrong? What did you find?” Mom burst into the room. “Oh, isn’t he lovely?”

  “Bruce asked me if I wanted Mrs. Grimes’s cat, but when I said no, he told me the neighbor would take it to the pound. I guess that isn’t true. I hope he hasn’t been locked up in here alone all week.”

  “You’ll have to take him, Marsha. You can’t let this beautiful animal be euthanized.”

  “You take him. Samson won’t be happy.” I reached again for the box. Getting a hold of it, I set it on the bed.

  “I am so good at this. Really, I’ve missed my calling.” Mom pulled a rose-colored book from the nightstand. “Here is Harriet’s journal.”

  The doorbell rang. Mom shoved the journal under her shirt. I shoved the box of papers back in the closet and pulled off my gloves. “The gloves,” I hissed. Scooping the cat into my arms, I headed for the front door. A peek outside sent my heart plummeting to my toes.

  Bruce peered through the keyhole.

  I took a deep breath and opened the door. “Hello, Bruce, what brings you here?”

  “A neighbor called about suspicious characters in a dead woman’s house. Why are you here?”

  I held up the cat. “You did tell me to take him, did you not?”

  “You said no.”

  “I had second thoughts.”

  “How did you know he would still be here?” He stepped past me into the house. “Mrs. Bohan, I’m surprised to see you.”

  Mom crossed her arms. “Don’t start with me young man. I knew your mother.”

  He opened and closed his mouth a few times, then shook his head. “How did you get in?”

  “The back door was open,” I said. Well, it was by the time I entered. “We’ll take this sweetie and go now, shall we?” I motioned my head toward the front door.

  “I’ll just get my purse off the counter.” Mom skedaddled to the kitchen, tossed her little leather pack into her purse, while holding a hand to her side to keep the journal in place, then dashed back to me.

  “Why are you holding your side?” Bruce asked.

  “Oh, it’s nothing, really.” Mom widened her eyes. Instead of the innocent look she was most likely trying for, she looked deranged. “The cat startled me, and I bumped into the counter. See you later.” She grabbed my arm with an iron grip and dragged me from the house.

  “We need to get to the cars,” she said. “Before Bruce wonders why we didn’t park in the driveway like normal people.”

  We were far from normal. I glanced back.

  Bruce stood on the porch and watched us scurry away like the guilty people we were.

  CHAPTER TEN

  With working at the shop and meetings for the book fair, Marsha had yet to dig into Mrs. Grimes’s journal. Now, it was Saturday and the day Lynn was picking her up to go dress shopping. “Lindsey, she’ll be here any minute! Mom?”

  “Settle down,” Mom called from the kitchen. “We’re ready.”

  Marsha stormed into the kitchen and reached over the refrigerator for her M&Ms. The day called for her stress reliever and a venti-sized coffee at the coffee shop. Her first wedding had been a quick, thrown together affair when Marsha had donned her mother’s old wedding dress. Now, she was shopping for a new one and had no idea what she was looking for. Should she even wear white? As a widowed mother, maybe she should be happy with a sundress.

  “Why aren’t you smiling?” Mom handed me a cup of coffee. “This is a fun day. We closed the shop for the occasion.”

  “I don’t think I need a wedding dress. I can go to the department store and buy a pretty sundress I’ll wear again.”

  “Mom!” Lindsey pouted. “I’m looking forward to this. I want a gorgeous bridesmaid dress so I’ll look awesome in the pictures.”

  “Fine, but why do I have to wear a big frilly gown?”

  “They aren’t all frilly,” Lynn said strolling into the kitchen. “I hope you don’t mind me just barging in. The front door was unlocked. Not wise, considering Marsha is neck deep in murder again. Oh, pretty.” She petted Prince, Mrs. Grimes’s cat, who would not stay off the counters no matter how many times we rattled a can of marbles or sprayed him with water.

  Maybe it had something to do with the German Shepherd staring up at him and licking her lips. Or the fact that Samson the monster cat hissed everything the fancy cat came near him.

  “Mom doesn’t want to buy a wedding dress,” Lindsey said. “I think she thinks she’s too old or something.”

  “I never said that.” I grabbed another handful of candy. “I’m a widowed mother. This isn’t my first marriage.”

  “Nobody cares about that anymore. Buy the wedding dress of your dreams. Oh.” Lynn popped out and returned moments later with four mocha flavored blended coffees. “I set these on the foyer table to close the door and left them. Are we ready to go?”

  I sighed. “As ready as I’ll ever be.” I wanted to marry Duane with all my heart, but the planning that went along with it gave me hives. I wasn’t the type to want to be the center of attention.

  We trooped out to Lynn’s modest Toyota Corolla. Mom and Lindsey climbed in the back, leaving the shotgun seat to me. I sipped my frozen drink and stared out the window. I knew without asking that Lynn would take me to the ritziest wedding shop around. She didn’t disappoint. Thirty minutes later we parked in front of an old Victorian house turned wedding dress venue. I took a deep breath and slid out of the car.

  “Don’t worry,” Lynn said. “Leave this to me. We’ll have you looking beautiful.”

  We trooped inside to be greeted by a lovely, friendly woman with fake boobs and a genuine smile. “Welcome to Monique’s. Which one is the bride?”

  I raised my hand and forced a smile.

  “Lovely. What type of gown are you looking for?”

  I glanced in desperation at my maid-of-honor. Lynn grinned. “Something in off-white, not too fancy, very classy in the price range of twelve hundred dollars. We are also looking for a mother-of-the bride dress, which we hope to get for free by also purchasing two bridesmaids gowns.”

  My best friend the negotiator.

  “I’m sure we can work something out.” The saleslady, her nametag labeled her as Veronica, tapped a manicured finger to her lips. “As long as we keep the bridesmaid dresses and mother’s dress in the two hundred dollar range?”

  “Perfect.” Lynn followed her as if Lynn were the bride to be instead of me.

  As we passed row after row of dresses, I began to hyperventilate. How did anyone make a decision with so many choices?

  Veronica led us to a round platform of mirrors and pulled back a curtain. “This is where you will change and observe your choices. Have a seat, grab a bottle of water, and I’ll be back with some gowns for you to look at.”

  I’d rather stare down the barrel of a gun. Seeing as that wasn’t an option at the moment, I stepped onto a small platform and studied my petite figure. I’d lost weight in the last few months, no longer looking like a matron. Instead, a trim thirty-six year old with crazy auburn hair stared back at me. Maybe I could pull this off after all. “I don’t want a veil. A headband will do just fine.”

  “That should be cute,” Lynn said.

  “What will Duane lift when he kisses you?” Mom plopped onto a plush divan.

  “We’ve alr
eady kissed, Mom. Several times.” I turned and studied my rear end. Still curvy, but the right dress should make me look flatter.

  “I’m going to glance at the rack of bridesmaid dresses.” Lindsey disappeared around the corner.

  “Okay,” Mom said. “But there’s something romantic about a veil.”

  Veronica returned with five dresses. The first one I tried on was a vintage style with delicate lace covering the entire satin underdress. I closed the curtain and changed. The dress fit me like a glove. I felt like a princess. Tears welled in my eyes and I tossed back the curtain.

  Mom gasped, putting a hand to her mouth. Lynn clapped. Lindsey froze, several gowns in different colors in her arms. “I’ve never seen you so pretty,” she said.

  “This is the one I want.” I turned in a slow circle. The sleeves of the gown sat just off my shoulders. The neck dipped to a V hinting at cleavage but stopping short of actually showing any. The train swept two feet behind me.

  “Try on the others first,” Lynn said. “But that one is gorgeous.” She peeked at the price tag. “Twelve hundred and fifty dollars. Perfect.”

  I tried on a dress that skimmed my hips and trailed onto the floor in a cathedral style train, then one that was all smooth, but swished around my ankles. Disregarding the last two, I tried back on the first one, running my hands over hips as soft as a baby’s bottom. I was in love and finally knew why women put so much effort into finding the perfect dress for their wedding. I didn’t want to take it off.

  “Our turn, Mom.” Lindsey hung up a rainbow of dresses. “I think the muted rose color will go with your old-fashioned gown.”

  I agreed, but didn’t like her description of my “precious”. The dress was my “ring” from the Lord of the Rings trilogy, and I didn’t want to let it go.

  “Once you pick the style you like,” Veronica said. “We can have them made in any color you choose.”

  They decided on simple off-the-shoulder gowns that fell to the knees with a sash in a slightly darker shade than the dress. I was getting my wish, simple but elegant. Nothing too frilly. Even Mom didn’t disappoint. She chose a simple sheath dress in a mango color with a small matching jacket.