“Anne expected to be introduced now.”
Luke stammered his way through a statement about how technological advances have helped transform our lives. Clearly, he’d not prepared for this moment in the spotlight.
Anne had.
Yet she was stuck standing mutely beside the mayor. Overlooked. Ignored.
As much as I disagreed with her methods, and despite suspecting her of putting an early end to Duggar’s life, I felt for her. I knew what the sting of invisibility felt like.
The mayor interrupted his blundering son. Luke looked relieved. Mayor Goodvale grabbed hold of the lapels of his suit jacket. He cleared his throat. Paused. And then announced that he was going to take the reporters on a tour of the library’s grand improvements. He’d apparently forgotten his promise to Anne that she could lead the tour of the library.
“Be sure to note in your news reports,” the mayor said, “how my son was my consultant and mastermind behind this groundbreaking work. And he did it without compensation from the town. That’s how much he believes in what we are doing.”
Anne, clearly not able to take being left out of the opening celebration a moment longer, put her hand on the mayor’s sleeve. “Sir,” she said, her voice a little too forceful, “I believe I should show the press around and tell them about the changes and plans I made. The town manager and I worked closely together on making sure no library in the country will rival ours. I want to make sure everyone here understands that.”
Mayor Goodvale’s face turned pink around the edges, but his smile never wavered. “Yes, yes, my dear.” He patted her on the head. “This little girl standing next to me is Mrs. Farnsworth’s assistant librarian.”
I ground my teeth. I was Mrs. Farnsworth’s assistant librarian. Anne was the digital and emerging technologies librarian.
“She’s been helping Luke set up the library and making sure all the computers are up and running correctly. While I’m busy with the press, she’ll lead tours for the residents here today. I’m sure everyone is eager to hear about how the library will improve their lives.”
Anne tried again to speak up for herself. Mayor Goodvale spoke over her. Clearly, she wasn’t used to the slick political tactics the mayor had learned in the good-old-boy system.
Anything Anne did to assert herself now would only make her look like a disobedient child, because that was how the mayor had introduced her. As a “little girl,” a child.
Again, I felt a pinch of sympathy for her.
She’d worked hard and had expected much more than a crumb of attention.
The mayor, still looking pleased with himself, hooked his arm with his son’s and led the press through the library. From what I could hear as his voice boomed from the main part of the library, he wasn’t providing any technical information. He was only saying over and over again how cutting-edge the library had become and how high-tech industries would be begging to locate their factories in the town.
I had to give Anne credit. Instead of stomping off in a snit, she led the residents on a different route through the library, giving them the presentation she’d prepared for the press.
Both groups disappeared from view. Their voices gradually faded away.
“Well, that didn’t disappoint,” Krystal said with a laugh. “I’m glad I made time to come watch the show. Although I had suspected you to be the one to make the scene.”
“Me? I would never—”
“No. I suppose not.” She tapped her chin. “You’re too crafty for that, aren’t you?”
I didn’t know how to reply to that. So I didn’t. Instead, I asked her if she had any new information about either Duggar’s murder or the break-in at Charlie’s store. She feigned ignorance. But there was a twinkle in her eye that said otherwise. The police department was tiny. I’d heard from more than one source that there were very few secrets kept within those walls.
Despite my efforts to get Krystal to dish some dirt, she remained tight-lipped. Eventually our conversation turned to happenings around town.
Over an hour later, the crowd of reporters returned to the foyer. They were still paying court to the mayor. He lapped up the attention with the excitement of a child on Christmas morning. Luke must have given up trying to pretend he knew what was going on. He was nowhere in sight. Mrs. Farnsworth came out of her office. She frowned at the mayor, who was still talking much too loudly for a library setting. She then noticed the touring public, who were wandering around looking at things without Anne as their guide. Her frown deepened. She marched off toward the back of the library.
And that was that. I glanced at my watch. I hadn’t seen Tori in a while. Where had she gone? In a little less than an hour, I would take my lunch break so Flossie, Tori, and I could direct an opening of our own.
In a way, it was ironic how the upstairs library’s grand reopening occurred pretty much how Duggar would have planned it: sharing the credit for his work with only one person—the mayor. Anne may have wanted to be seen as the genius behind the library’s revolution, but that was never going to happen.
“It’s as if Duggar’s murder didn’t accomplish anything,” I mused.
“Not so loud,” Krystal warned. Her perfectly plucked eyebrows shot up. “The walls have ears.”
My gaze followed hers, and I spotted Jace dressed in jeans, a gray Oxford shirt, and a blue blazer. He leaned against the wall not ten feet away.
When had he come in?
His arms were crossed over his chest. He looked undeniably grim as he watched me.
“Walls indeed,” I grumbled.
He straightened and then started to cross the room toward us.
I wracked my brain to come up with something snarky to say to him, something like, “Still investigating the murder? I have a hammer in my shed that might interest you.”
Yes, that. That’s what I should say to him.
I stood. Drew a long breath. Opened my mouth to say exactly that when—
Someone screamed.
“Stay here,” Jace ordered. With his hand moving toward the inside of his blazer where a gun was most likely holstered, he took off running toward the screamer. Krystal and I exchanged looks of horror before we both took off running after him.
Chapter Sixteen
Fueled by a burst of adrenaline, I surged ahead of Krystal, who was starting to breathe heavily. I rounded a corner and found Delanie standing at the doorway to one of the recording studios. Her hands trembled as she held them beside her cheeks. And she was screaming. She looked like one of the hysterical girls in those old videos featuring The Beatles coming to the United States for the first time.
Jace moved her aside. He had his gun drawn as he cautiously entered the small room.
I peeked through the doorway and spotted Luke Goodvale. He was sprawled on his back on the ground, his arms spread wide. Blood oozed from a gash in his forehead and matted in his blond hair. The skin around his eyes was already starting to swell.
“Was he in a fight?” I asked Delanie, who was still screaming.
I grabbed her arms, turned her away from the doorway, and forced her to look at me. She blinked. “Shhh . . . It’s going to okay,” I soothed. “What happened?”
“He-he-he—” she stuttered.
Krystal knocked into me as she ran—huffing and puffing—into the room. She immediately dropped to Luke’s side and pressed a finger to the pulse point on his neck. “Get the mayor,” she ordered. “And call EMS. He’s alive.”
As she spoke, Luke groaned.
“He’s going to be okay,” I told Delanie.
She nodded tearfully. “He-he-he—” she stammered again.
A crowd was forming behind us. I glanced around, searching for Tori. Why hadn’t she come running? I could use her help with Delanie. Tori had always been much better than me at dealing with hysterical people. I hadn’t
seen my friend since she went to check out the café. Where had she disappeared to?
Police Chief Fisher swore as he pushed his way through to the front.
“Stay back,” he ordered.
“He-he-he—” Delanie stuttered in response.
I didn’t move. I had a feeling that if I let go of Delanie, she’d collapse. She’d started swaying.
“Breathe,” I commanded.
I wondered where Detective Ellerbe had gone.
Jace emerged from the room. He’d holstered his gun. “I’m going to do a quick sweep of the library,” he told Fisher. He barely glanced in my direction before pushing into the crowd.
“Everyone needs to back up,” Mrs. Farnsworth said in that firm, whispery voice of hers. The crowd parted as if they were the Red Sea and she was Moses. She walked over to where I was still holding Delanie upright. She flicked a look into the studio room before focusing on her friend.
“You’ve had a shock,” she said to Delanie. “Come with me. Sit in the quiet of my office. I’ll buy you a coffee. Apparently, instead of lending books, my library now sells coffee.”
“He-he-he—” Delanie stammered, while nodding.
“Can you find out what she’s trying to say?” I asked Mrs. Farnsworth. “She keeps repeating the same thing. It might be evidence.”
“I’m sure the police will question her when they’re ready,” Mrs. Farnsworth answered, rebuking me. “You need to do your job and get this place under control.” She straightened her already starched spine. “Quietly,” she added.
“Yes, ma’am.” I tried to disperse the crowd, but most of them seemed determined to stay and watch. And more were coming, including a camera crew from one of the national news organizations and Betty Crawley, who was carrying a camera with a long telephoto lens attachment. The last thing the library needed was video or photos of the mayor’s son, bloodied and battered, playing on endless loops on news shows. It would be a disaster for the town’s plan to attract high-paying jobs. No industry would want to move to a town where people were attacked at the library.
I quickly pulled the door to the recording studio closed, and then I held up my hands. “There’s nothing to see here. A member of the community has collapsed. But everything is being taken care of. Medical personnel have been called and are on their way.”
“Didn’t I see the coroner go in that room?” an older woman asked.
“Yes, you did. She has a medical degree. She’s taking care of the man who collapsed.”
“Who is it?” Betty yelled.
“Shh,” came my automatic reply. “This is a library. Please, let’s all respect this institution and respect the privacy of the man who is ill. If he wants to talk to the press, he can do so when he is able. Ah, here is the mayor. Please, let him come through. I’m sure he’ll want to personally make sure everything here is under control.”
“Yes, thank you, Miss . . . um . . .”
“Becket,” I supplied.
“Becket’s girl. Right.” He lowered his voice. “What’s going on? Why was I pulled away from my press conference?”
“Because of this.” I opened the door just wide enough for the mayor to slip through. I followed him inside the room. “Someone hurt your son.”
Krystal was still crouched beside Luke. The police chief had squatted down on the other side of the young man. They had helped him into a sitting position and were keeping him propped up by holding on to his arms. Krystal had pressed a cloth handkerchief against the deep gash on Luke’s head. It was already soaked through.
“Do you remember what happened?” Chief Fisher was asking.
Luke moved as if he were drunk. He glanced over at his father and paled. “No. It happened so . . . came at me from behind . . . I . . . I didn’t see who.” It sounded as if someone had stuffed cotton into his mouth.
Mayor Goodvale sighed. “Is he going to be okay?”
“He’s pretty banged up,” Krystal said. “Have the ER doctor order an MRI to make sure there’s no internal bleeding. But honestly, I’ve seen worse damage from bar fights down at the Lakeside Tap.” She smiled kindly at Luke. “He’ll heal up just fine.”
“Are you sure you didn’t see—?” Fisher asked again.
“Didn’t you hear my boy? He said whoever attacked him came at him from behind.” It had clearly upset the mayor to see his son injured. “Stop badgering him. Where is that ambulance? You did call one? Or do I need to do everything around here?”
“It should be pulling into the parking lot just about now.” Fisher stood up. “I will need to talk to your boy some more. When he’s feeling better. If you’ll excuse me, I’d like to find my detective and see if he’s found any witnesses.”
As he left, a pair of EMTs rushed into the room with a stretcher. I pushed the door closed behind them and kept out of the way in the cramped space. Krystal spoke quietly to the EMTs, who swiftly took charge. The mayor insisted they transport Luke to the Medical University in Charleston, which was nearly two hours away.
While all this was happening, I quietly wondered how someone who was attacked from behind would end up with a blossoming black eye and a deep cut on his forehead.
Simple answer: he wouldn’t.
Luke was lying. But why? And how was his attack related to Duggar’s murder?
Was it related?
I needed to find out what Delanie had seen that had upset her so severely. And I needed to find out who would do something like this in the first place.
Chapter Seventeen
Noon arrived too quickly. My nerves were still sparking. Someone had beat up the mayor’s son? In the library? I still couldn’t believe it.
The library had been my sanctuary, my refuge. The old building was as sacred as a church. Its books were like angels. But the town had taken away the books. Did the loss of its guardians trigger the end of the library’s sanctuary status?
If people didn’t feel safe here, they’d stop coming. If no one used the library, the town would cut its funding, close it down. The historic building would become yet another vacant space in a town already overrun with vacant spaces.
Hopefully, the secret bookroom would be enough of a lure to keep people coming and keep the library healthy and vital. If not, I’d have to think of something else to do. I would not let this place die. I could not.
“What are you thinking about?” Jace asked as he walked up to the circulation desk. He’d been interviewing everyone who’d been in the building at the time of Luke’s attack. “The look on your face is pretty scary.”
I told him the truth, that I was worried about the library. “We have to keep this building a safe place. I’m not going to let someone ruin my library.”
“Your library?” His brows shot up.
“You know what I mean.”
“I’m afraid I do,” he said, giving me a look that made me doubt he’d ever understand.
I didn’t mean it was my library and mine alone. The library belonged to me and him and to everyone in this town. But I didn’t feel like arguing. “Did anyone see Luke’s attack, or at least see something suspicious? Certainly, someone saw something.”
“You know I can’t talk about that.” He sighed. “But no. No one seems to have the slightest clue about what is going on.”
“Not even Delanie? She was so upset. Didn’t she see who did that to Luke?”
“I interviewed her. Fisher talked with her. Even Mrs. Farnsworth tried to get her to remember any small detail that perhaps she’s repressed. And . . . nothing. She claims she just happened to peek into the room and found Luke like that.”
“Did you find out what she was trying to say to me?” I couldn’t forget how she’d kept sputtering, “He-he-he—”
“She says she was trying to tell you that Luke needed help. She was afraid he was dead.”
“The
poor woman. It must have been quite a shock. At least Luke is going to be okay. He is, isn’t he?”
“I don’t know. I hope so.”
“You don’t think this attack is related to Duggar’s murder? It isn’t, is it?” I asked.
“I don’t see how it could be.” But he frowned as he considered it. “Did you—?”
“Drat!” I noticed the time on the wall clock. It was already a few minutes past noon, which meant I was late for the library’s second grand reopening of the day. “I’ve got to take my lunch break.” I jumped up from my chair. I needed to get downstairs.
No press hordes.
No crowds.
Only a handful of people whom we’d personally invited.
I tried to act casual as I speed-walked toward the stairs leading down to the basement. Jace followed. Of course he followed. It was turning into that kind of day.
“It seems like you’re in a hurry,” he said.
“If I don’t eat on a regular schedule, I sprout horns and turn into an absolute monster. No one wants that.”
“You, hangry? That’s hard to picture. But I’m starting to think you have all sorts of hidden depths underneath your plain, mild-mannered librarian’s assistant facade.”
“Assistant librarian,” I corrected. “And you’re wrong. What you see is who I am.”
“Hmmm . . . Maybe I should join you for lunch,” he said, sounding perfectly happy to be a thorn in my side. “You could tell me about—”
“My mother tells me that I should have my lawyer with me for any formal police interviews.”
“You have a lawyer?” He stumbled over his feet.
I’d reached the stairs. I couldn’t let him follow me down to the basement, not with readers waiting beside the vault’s doors, eager to see the secret bookroom. All morning, I’d directed the most dedicated book-reading, secret-keeping library patrons to sneak down the back stairs when they had finished the upstairs tour.
“Look.” I tried not to sound panicked, but everything that was happening in my library made me feel out of control. “You know I didn’t see anything this morning. You were standing by the circulation desk watching me and listening in on my conversation with the coroner while someone was beating on Luke’s face. So, please, let me have a moment to myself. I don’t want to think about murder, or how you believe I had something to do with Duggar’s death because I own a hex-head screwdriver, and I certainly don’t want to think about how my library is no longer a safe place.”
The Broken Spine Page 12