The Magic Library Mysteries Collection: The Complete Series, Books 1-3

by Hillary Avis

Kara rolled her eyes. “OK. I think I’ve heard enough. Listen, ladies, I know it’s tempting to get involved in an investigation like this, especially when your friend is a suspect, but you have to trust in the justice system. The sheriff and I gathered the evidence, the DA will decide whether to press charges, and Lilian Hale’s lawyer will make sure she has the full protection of the law.”

  “I’m not trying to get involved,” Emily snapped. She grabbed Allison’s arm and pulled her toward the front exit. “Come on, Mom.”

  Allison stumbled after her, glancing over her shoulder at the officer, who stood shaking her head as she watched them go.

  “She probably thinks I’m a crazy old busybody.”

  Emily pushed open the door and marched out onto the steps. “Don’t look now, Mom, but if the shoe fits...”

  “Em!”

  But Emily refused to even speak to her on the walk along Claypool Creek to the restaurant across from the old log pond. Back in the day, it had been a truck stop where big rigs parked so their drivers could take showers and fuel up on three a.m. doughnuts or three p.m. French fries before they headed out, their trucks full of plywood and two-by-fours from the mill.

  When the timber industry dried up, so did the truckers, and the place had sat empty for ten years. It took the new owners, a couple of hippie kids, a full year to renovate it. They’d named it Feast and Flower and transformed the once-huge parking lot into abundant gardens that supplied the restaurant with fresh produce and installed a beautiful covered patio area that was cozy even when it rained.

  Once she and Emily were seated outside and had their menus, Allison was pleasantly surprised to see that, in addition to a kids’ menu, Feast and Flower had a dog menu! When the server came back, she ordered Pogo a peanut-butter yogurt parfait with a homemade doggie bone on the side. Emily glowered at her, but Allison just smiled sweetly and ordered a morel mushroom omelet for herself. She was sure Emily would come around on the whole dog thing with a little more time. She scratched Pogo’s head under the table.

  Emily finally broke the silence when the server left to put in their order. “This place is cute. I can’t believe we got a table without reservations on Mother’s Day!”

  “You should see it at night with the lights. When it’s all lit up, it’s very romantic. You and Zack should come have dinner here sometime.”

  Emily’s face cracked into an incredulous grin. “Why would we come to Remembrance to eat dinner when there are fifty thousand amazing restaurants in Portland? You should come have dinner there sometime.”

  Allison chuckled. She remembered being in her twenties and thinking the big city was the be-all, end-all. But there was nothing like home. “The wonderful thing about living in a small town is that they always have a table open for you, even when it’s been a while and you don’t have reservations. You can’t say that about the fifty thousand restaurants in the city, can you?”

  “We have our local places, too,” Emily said breezily.

  “Well, then maybe when you’re here to visit Dad.”

  Emily’s face crumpled. “I can’t go through that again. I just can’t.” She pressed the back of her hand to her mouth as a tear leaked down her cheek.

  “Oh, honey.” Allison sighed, her heart crumpling like Emily’s face had. She knew too well what her daughter was feeling. “Don’t cry. The silver lining to Dad’s memory issues is that he won’t remember this visit, so next time you come, it’ll be like a do-over.”

  Emily shook her head again and wiped her eyes with her napkin. “I’m sorry, Mom. I don’t think I can do it anymore. Like—I know Dad. I have all these wonderful memories of him and our relationship. I want to keep those, not overwrite them with new ones of how he is now. I don’t want to think of him as someone who doesn’t love me...who doesn’t even know me. It hurts too much.”

  The last thing Allison wanted to do was injure her daughter, and she knew Paul would hate it, too. “I shouldn’t have pushed you into it, and I’m sorry. Visiting Dad is something I have to do for my own reasons, but it’s not something you have to do. I hope you’ll come see me, though, even if you don’t go to Golden Gardens.”

  Emily’s face grew more serious and she leaned forward, reaching across the little table to grasp Allison’s hand. “Listen—with all the craziness going on at Golden Gardens, why don’t we just move Dad to a facility up near me? Then you won’t be stuck here in the boonies, and you can see him whenever you want.”

  “I can’t just leave!” The words popped out before Allison could stop them.

  Emily leaned back in her chair, an eyebrow raised. “Why not? The bakery’s sold, and you don’t have a new job yet. Dad’s the only thing keeping you here, and there’s no reason for him to stay in one facility over another. It’s not like he knows the difference anyway.”

  Allison chewed the inside of her cheek as she struggled to come up with a good excuse. Of course, she had one. She was responsible for the library now, and she couldn’t just leave it behind—at least, not until she found a new guardian. Anyway, she didn’t want to leave the library, not when she hadn’t even had a chance to look for Paul’s memories in the books. “I just think...I just think I’m getting close. This thing with him remembering Tiny is the first glimpse of hope I’ve had in the last two years, and I’m not ready to let it go.”

  “You can bring Tiny to Portland.”

  “What about Zack’s allergies?”

  “We’ll find you your own place so you don’t have to move in with us.”

  “But I just moved! I don’t want to pack again.”

  Emily narrowed her eyes. “You said everything was still in boxes.”

  Allison sighed. “I’m just not ready to leave, Emily.”

  Emily nodded, her expression resigned. “I get it. I hate to see you throwing your life away, though. You have so many years ahead of you to build something new! At what point will you be able to give up and move on?”

  “Three years. Give me three years.” That’s all the time she had at the library, anyway. If she couldn’t find answers in three years, she probably never would. “If he’s still like this in three years, I’ll be ready to figure out what my life looks like without him.”

  Emily just looked at her and didn’t say anything.

  “What?!”

  “Do you mean it? Or are you just saying that to get me off your back and in three years you’ll want another three years?”

  Allison looked her straight in the eye. “I mean it. Three years and I’m done. That’ll be five since he lost his memory, and that’s enough time, don’t you think?”

  Emily nodded, swallowing hard. “It is. I’m proud of you, Mom.”

  The server returned with arms full of gorgeous food and set it on the table. Emily’s towering stack of honey-wheat pancakes were drizzled with hibiscus syrup and decorated with edible pansies. Allison’s plump omelet overflowed with morels and asparagus and was topped with just the right amount of creamy, lemony Hollandaise. And of course, there was an adorable peanut-butter yogurt cup with a homemade dog biscuit stuck on top for a certain little terrier. Even Emily couldn’t help smiling when she saw it.

  She peeked under the table at Pogo. “Hey boy, I’ve got something for you.” She reached down and snapped her fingers, using Paul’s familiar gesture, and Allison’s heart squeezed.

  Pogo went straight to her, and Emily put the bowl down on the floor for him. He began lapping it up immediately.

  “I think he likes you,” Allison said smugly, popping her first bite of the omelet into her mouth. She knew Emily would come around on the dog.

  Emily grinned. “I think he likes peanut butter.”

  “Well, considering how much of it you ate growing up, I’d say you’re about eighty percent peanut butter.”

  “Eighty percent peanut butter, twenty percent Dad’s cinnamon-raisin bread.”

  Allison smiled fondly across the table at Emily. She could almost smell that bread baking. “I’d forgotten
about that bread. That always was your favorite, wasn’t it?”

  Emily nodded and launched into a story about the time she ruined a batch of the dough by “helping” add more raisins to it. Allison listened with one ear, her heart full of love and nostalgia for their years together as a family.

  “Maybe someday when you and Zack have kids, they’ll be able to bake bread with their grandpa,” Allison said without thinking, during a lull in the conversation.

  Emily pushed the pansies around her plate and Allison worried for a minute that she’d said the wrong thing. Of course, Emily thought that Paul was a lost cause, that recovering his memories was a fool’s errand. She didn’t see her father in her life going forward. Allison would have to keep this part of her life separate, so she didn’t upset Emily even more.

  “Sorry, sweetheart. I’m just dreaming.” She smiled apologetically.

  Emily put down her fork. “You know what? Maybe so. Wouldn’t that be great?”

  Relief washed over Allison. She knew Emily didn’t believe it, not really, but she was playing along for Allison’s sake. It was a gesture of love and understanding, and Allison was grateful for it. It was the best Mother’s Day gift she could have asked for, and she hadn’t even known how much she needed it.

  After they finished their brunch and walked back along the creek to Rosemary Street, Allison gave Emily a tight hug by her car.

  “Sorry I have to run,” Emily said, pulling back. She reached down to ruffle Pogo’s fur. “I have to pick Zack up at his mom’s house in Molalla on the way home and he’s expecting me.”

  Allison waved her hand. “No worries. I have plenty of unpacking to keep me busy. We’ll visit more next time. I want to hear about everything!”

  “There’s not much to say; graduation is in two weeks. Are you coming?”

  In all the excitement over the murder, selling the bakery, fostering Pogo, and moving, Allison had completely forgotten that, too. Some kind of mother she was. “Oh, right. Of course I’m coming to see my daughter graduate from medical school!”

  Emily paused, her hand on the car door as she chewed her lip thoughtfully. “How are you going to get up there, though? Do you want me to have Zack’s parents pick you up? It’s really OK if you can’t make it.”

  Allison hadn’t thought it through, but she didn’t want to disappoint Emily by saying so, not after such a nice brunch. She’d find a way to make it to Portland. She could borrow a car, maybe, or take the casino bus that shuttled senior citizens and tourists from Twin Trees Casino up to Portland and back every morning and evening. “Don’t you worry about me. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

  She watched the red Acura pull out and buzz toward the highway, waving until her arm ached, long after the car disappeared from view. It wasn’t until Pogo yawned and curled up on the sidewalk like a little cinnamon roll that Allison remembered the boxes marked “Emily” still sitting in the entryway.

  Allison looked down at him and chuckled. “OK, I get the hint. Let’s go inside. We have some reading to do.”

  Chapter 16

  Before Allison could even unlock the door, a police SUV tore down Rosemary Street and screeched to a halt in front of her picket fence. Kara burst out of the driver’s side and stormed up the front walk, the gate banging shut behind her. Pogo snarled as Kara leaped up the porch steps and stopped inches from Allison.

  “How did you know?” Kara demanded. “Tell me.”

  Allison shrunk back as far as she could before she bumped into the porch rail, pulling Pogo away from Kara’s ankles in case he made good on his snarl’s promise. “What are you talking about?”

  “The accident. At Golden Gardens. How did you know Gertrude Winter fell on those knitting needles?”

  Allison frowned, blinking rapidly as she scrambled to come up with a reasonable explanation. Failing that, she finally shrugged. “I was just trying to explain what happened. I knew Lilian didn’t have the strength to stab anyone. Wait...how do you know it was an accident? This morning you were convinced Lilian was a murderer.”

  Kara slumped down onto the porch bench and rubbed her forehead. “After you said that you knew for a fact that it was an accident—”

  “I didn’t say that!” Not those exact words, anyway.

  “Well, whatever you said, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. So I called the medical examiner in Salem—we used to work together when I was on the force in Portland. I asked her what the report is going to say when it drops tomorrow. And she said they’re ruling it an accident. The angle of entry and force required for the knitting needles to penetrate in the way they did show that a human attacker couldn’t have done it. You were right. Gertrude Winter got up in the night and fell onto those knitting needles. Lilian Hale had nothing to do with it.”

  Allison sank down on the chair across from Kara, overwhelmed with relief. Now she didn’t have to mention the open window and explain why she’d kept the detail from police for so long...or explain why her fingerprints were on the window and the knitting needles. Pogo took up his post between her feet, his gaze intent on Kara. “So Lilian won’t be charged? Even though she wrote a confession?”

  “As far as I’m concerned, it’s a work of fiction.”

  Allison nodded smugly. “I told you.”

  Kara leaned toward her, her eyes bright with suspicion, and poked her index finger in the air, punctuating her words. “I know you did. And I don’t buy that you were just guessing. Too many people in this town seem to know things they shouldn’t, and nobody has an explanation for it. I don’t know what secret you’re keeping, but I’m telling you now—I’m going to find out.” Abruptly, she stood and, nodding a brusque goodbye to Allison, walked stiffly back to her car.

  As if to punctuate her exit, Pogo let out a sharp bark. Allison stroked his fur, her heart pounding. “You tell her, Pogo.”

  Whatever sense of relief she’d felt at the news that Lilian wouldn’t be blamed for Gertrude’s death was gone, replaced with a palimpsest of dread, fear, and anxiety. Kara Lee wanted to know her secret, and she seemed bent on discovering it. If only she knew she’d been sitting on the front porch of that very secret just seconds before.

  “We’re the only ones standing between her and the truth,” Allison murmured. Suddenly this guardian gig wasn’t as easy as it had first seemed.

  INSIDE THE HOUSE, POGO bounded over to the green velvet sofa in the living room. He hopped up onto it, turned around a few times, and curled up for a nap. Without him to capture her attention, Allison was dismayed to notice the general disarray as she wandered through the rest of the house. She’d only been living there for two days, and she’d already managed to make a mess in every room of the house. In addition to the books piled on the hearth in the living room, there were a couple of books on the floor of the foyer that hadn’t made it back into the “sinister” box during her hurried exit this morning. The Guardians book lay on the dining table along with others she’d pulled from the shelves, and stacks of food-related memories cluttered the countertops in the kitchen. She knew books littered the floor in both bedrooms, too.

  She sighed. Well, this was part of the job, too, keeping the library in order. And reshelving the books would give her a chance to peruse the titles and get to know the library better. After all, she only had three years to skim every book in the library for mentions of Paul.

  Well, maybe not every book, she thought as she began putting books back in the pantry. She wouldn’t read the racy ones in the bedroom closet, nor the ones in the sinister box. That box could go back in the basement. She didn’t need any more murderer memories rattling around in her brain. She just needed Paul’s.

  When she finished in the kitchen, she returned to the foyer and scooped the books from the floor. As she slid the box out of the closet and opened the lid to put the books inside, she paused.

  The memory of Gertrude’s death hadn’t been in a book called Awful Accidents. It’d been in a book called Homicides.

 
Allison’s sense of dread deepened. As far as the law was concerned, no crime had been committed. Lilian wouldn’t be charged and Allison wouldn’t be a suspect. No innocent people would be blamed for Gertrude’s death. But that meant no guilty people would be brought to justice, either, and someone was in that room on Monday night when Gertrude fell on those knitting needles. Maybe that person hadn’t intended to kill Gertrude, but she wouldn’t have died if they hadn’t climbed through her window. And even though the law didn’t know this, the library did.

  Allison sifted through the box and located the thin volume that contained the memory. She was the only one, besides the killer, who knew what had happened. She couldn’t tell Kara or Leroy what she knew or how she knew it, but it still wasn’t right that the killer wouldn’t face any consequences for their actions.

  “What should I do?” she whispered, staring at the book. Even if she could figure out the identity of the killer, she couldn’t dispense justice like some vigilante superhero. For one, there was no way she was going to wear a getup that involved tights or a cape. And two, she had no interest in tangling with a dangerous criminal who liked to break into old people’s bedrooms and steal—

  “The envelope!” she gasped. Of course, why hadn’t she thought of it before? The killer hadn’t climbed in Gertrude’s window to hurt her; he or she had come for whatever was in that envelope. It was bad luck that Gertrude woke up and decided to go on the offensive—but that envelope held the key to why the killer was there in the first place.

  If Allison could just learn what was inside it, maybe she could prove who was in the room that night. And if she could prove who climbed through that window and what they stole, then even Kara Lee would believe her story and bring the killer to justice.

  Chapter 17

  Monday

  The next morning, Allison tucked Pogo under her arm and breezed through the activity room at Golden Gardens. She paused when she spotted Kara standing guard at Lilian’s door.