Borrowed Time

by Elizabeth Spann Craig

  I raised my eyebrows. “But you said you weren’t interested in running a company.”

  “I wasn’t. But Scott wasn’t offering to take me on as a partner—only as an employee.”

  I’d detected a note of bitterness in Kyle’s voice. “That must have stung.”

  He nodded. “It did. But it was still pretty nice of the guy. He offered to let me work remotely so I could stay at home with my mom. But I ended up turning it down.”

  “You obviously found a direction, though,” I said, trying to encourage him.

  He gave me a wry smile. “Did I somehow give that impression? I’m not sure how. No, I’m afraid I’m currently unemployed. I’ve floated from job to job like a dandelion seed. And that hasn’t helped my personal life, either. Most of my adult life I’ve been living with my mom and trying to find a solid job. It’s not easy to find dates that way.”

  I said, “Felicity and you seem to have a nice connection.” I paused as he flushed. “I’m sorry, I hope you don’t think I’m being nosy.”

  He shook his head, still a little flustered. “No, of course not. After all, I approached you to find out what book club Felicity was talking about. Naturally you’d be curious about that.”

  “You’ve known each other for a long time,” I said.

  “We have. Maybe too long. It could be one of those things where Felicity sees me as more of a brother because we’ve always hung out together. Kyle rubbed his forehead as if it was starting to hurt. “Another problem is that I have another reason for wanting to talk to Felicity. She has a lot of business contacts in neighboring towns and I wondered if she’d help me network to find another job. Not at her job, of course. That would be too weird, especially if I want to have any kind of relationship with her.”

  I said gently, “Have you thought about just calling her?”

  Kyle frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, it seems to me like you’re knocking yourself out trying to casually run into her. You’re planning on showing up to her book club.”

  Kyle said, “I like to read, though.”

  “And you’ve used every opportunity to try and sit near her . . . at least, when I’ve been around. But there’s a lot going on with all of us right now. I think being direct is probably the best approach when life gets crazy.”

  “You really think so?” Kyle’s expression was worried. “I don’t know. I haven’t ever really just called her up like that.” He added thoughtfully, “Although, in the past, I thought that being direct was the way to go. You probably won’t believe this, but for a while, every time Scott and I would go out to supper or catch a movie or something, he’d invited Roz to go along with us.”

  “Really?” I couldn’t see Roz and Scott together. Especially after Roz had yelled at him at the party.

  “Oh, not for Scott. I think he was planning on Roz and me hitting it off romantically. He’d do things like that sometimes. He liked the idea of being a matchmaker, but he never threw the right people together. And now they’re both gone.” He cleared his throat and gave me an apologetic smile. “I’ve kept you here way too long when you’re just trying to grab some supper and get back home. I’ll see you soon. At the library, I’m sure.” He gave me a crooked grin and disappeared into the cereal aisle.

  I walked through the checkout line with my spaghetti and a side of mashed potatoes. I had the feeling I might be totally undoing the effects of my jogging, but I was definitely in the mood for carbs.

  Fitz greeted me joyfully, as always. He was as perfect as a dog for making a person feel good. When he looked at you it was as if he was saying: You! I’ve been waiting to see you all day long. Hi, friend. I heated up my supper and Fitz immediately jumped up into the kitchen chair beside mine and seemed to smile at me as I ate. He was perfectly polite, though, and didn’t hop into my lap until I was completely finished eating and once I’d invited him to.

  I was scratching Fitz under his chin and listening to his rumbling purr when my phone rang. I looked at it apprehensively. The phone calls I’d gotten lately hadn’t been the best. I reluctantly leaned forward and grabbed it from the far side of the table. My heart gave an extra couple of beats when I saw it was Grayson calling and I worked hard to keep my voice steady as I answered.

  “Hi there,” he said easily. “Hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

  I felt like I should mention I was actually doing something fascinating and exciting. But considering I’d just finished up a ready-to-eat meal from the grocery deli and my entertainment consisted of loving on Fitz, I decided not to. “Not a bit,” I said, trying to keep my tone as light as his. “Just hanging out with Fitz.”

  “That’s good. Listen, just wanted to let you know that I’ve had great response to your library column. You did an awesome job with that.”

  “Really?” My voice sounded as doubtful as I felt. I didn’t doubt that the column was decent—I figured anyone who was interested in either reading or the library would find it at least helpful. But I was certainly surprised that there would actually be feedback one way or another to the newspaper office.

  “Sure. Wow, you sound surprised,” he said with a chuckle.

  “It’s just that I didn’t think anyone would give you feedback,” I said.

  “Are you kidding? In Whitby? The newspaper gets feedback on every tiny thing. It appears there are plenty of people here who don’t have a lot to do. I made the mistake of discontinuing what apparently was a beloved comic strip and replacing it with one of the latest, coolest strips out there.”

  I smiled. “I’m guessing that strategy didn’t work out well.”

  “It was catastrophic! At one point I wondered if an angry mob might gather outside the newspaper office and start throwing stones at me when I arrived for work. Believe me, I very quickly brought the favorite old strip back. I wouldn’t think about making any changes to the newspaper without lots of deliberation.”

  I said teasingly, “Well, that makes me feel good, knowing the new column could have ended up instigating riots.”

  “Yes, you should feel good about yourself. I got two phone calls right away on it and then a few emails. Everyone was in favor of the column and most of them were also staunch Ann Beckett fans, too. I didn’t realize I’d solicited a local celebrity for the column.” His voice was teasing too and I felt warmth course through me in response.

  I chided myself. Where did I think this was going, anyway? He wasn’t interested in me the same way or we’d already be an item.

  He continued, “Anyway, I thought I might start tackling the trail reviews and see what the response is to those. I know you’re busy, but I wondered if you have any breaks in your schedule and can point out some good trails to me. Or, even better, maybe go on one or two of them.”

  I’d already been mulling this over since the first time he spoke with me about it. Honestly, what did I have to lose? I’ve been trying to exercise more and get out more and clearly jogging wasn’t my favorite thing. Maybe my feelings for Grayson were more of a crush, anyway, and the more time I spent with him, the more disillusioned I’d become. Maybe.

  “Sure,” I said finally. “I think I’m off in a few days. If the weather’s good, let’s do it. I can give you a couple of different options for trails and see what you think: difficulty level, view, etc. I’ll email you tomorrow.”

  “Great!” Grayson’s voice was pleased. “And I’ll leave you alone for the night. Give Fitz a rub for me.”

  Once I hung up, I swore Fitz was looking at me with a sympathetic expression on his face. I was frequently guilty of anthropomorphizing Fitz and thinking of him as a rather small and hairy human. But then he bumped his head lovingly against my face as if to comfort me. He was more cued in to emotions than any other cat I’d ever seen.

  I rubbed him under his chin in return and sighed. “Thanks, Fitz. I think it will work out all right.”

  I thought Fitz’s eyes held just the slightest amount of doubt in them.

>   Unfortunately, between thinking and talking about Roz all day and the late conversation with Grayson, sleep proved frustratingly elusive that night. I gave up even trying to sleep around 3:30. Fitz opened a surprised eye when I got out of the bed, but he stayed curled up in a ball at the foot of my bed as if to demonstrate proper sleeping methods.

  Sometimes, when I couldn’t sleep and my mind was whirling, it was better to just do a brain dump of all the things I needed to do or the thoughts I was having. If it was a task that needed to be done, I stuck it on my calendar. If it was just a nagging thought, sometimes it stopped pestering me if it was down on paper. Sitting in my robe and fuzzy socks, I scribbled in a composition notebook until I couldn’t think of anything else on my mind. I wrote ideas for walking trails with Grayson and tips for keeping it all on a professional level (i.e., no doe eyes from me when I looked at Grayson). I wrote about the Fitz’s Picks pictures and ideas for what titles to include.

  Then I moved on to Scott’s and Roz’s deaths. I made little notes about Kyle’s business dealings with Scott and his interest in Felicity. I wrote about Scott needing a tax attorney. I jotted down how Felicity had been trying to ignore Scott. I made a note about Roz’s room location overlooking the pool, her comments to Kelly, and her murder. I considered Kelly and Scott’s troubled relationship. Then I put down Grace’s collection of guests and the words she’d exchanged with Scott when I’d woken up from my nap on the boat.

  I read everything I’d written, and then picked up my laptop. I didn’t know as much about Felicity and Grace as I felt I did about the other guests at the party. I started searching for their names online: social media, press releases, newspaper articles.

  Felicity came up a few times and it all seemed to be work-related. She headed a volunteer group that tutored in local elementary schools, she received some sort of banking award for meeting a particular goal, she joined an industry-related organization. She wore a tight smile in each photo I saw of her and her eyes looked deeply reproachful, as if she was unhappy with the photographer about taking her picture.

  Grace was much the same way, except that she seemed to enjoy having her photo taken and appeared to be genuinely enjoying herself in the pictures I saw. There was an obituary for her husband, who’d been a bit older than Grace. Actually, he’d been quite a bit older. They’d been very active together in their community and were photographed at a lot of banquets and charitable events. Grace wore expensive-looking gowns, her husband wore tuxedos, and they were with people who were equally well-attired in formal settings.

  I started delving into Grace’s deceased husband’s information, which took time since most of the stories about him related to philanthropy. I raised my eyebrows when I read that he was a major shareholder and board member in a pharmaceutical company. The main product for the company was an opioid that had been on the news quite a bit. I frowned. The opioid had been blamed for a lot of misery around the country in general. Maybe that explained why her husband had been such a philanthropist: he felt guilty.

  The problem was that there wasn’t anything for either Felicity or Grace that went back any farther than five years or so. I decided when I got back to work that I might look in the archives at the paper and see if there was anything from when they attended college. Or, perhaps, even earlier. The paper had digitized some back issues, but it seemed it was a large, ongoing project that was only addressed when someone on staff had time . . . or maybe an intern. I decided to ask Grayson about it the next time I spoke to him. Fortunately, the library had a collection of all the newspaper archives, although some of them were still on microfiche. I’d have to see how busy we were at work.

  I glanced at the clock and saw with surprise that I’d managed to burn up a couple of hours. I fed Fitz, who was now sleepily waking up, and did some stretching since I’d been hunched over my computer. I ate my breakfast, packed my lunch for the day, and tried to use makeup to address the fact that my eyes had bags under them from the sleepless night.

  It still wasn’t quite time to head off to work, so I read And Then There Were None for a while, finishing it up in the process. It gave me the willies even more than usual since Roz’s murder. It also made me think. In Agatha Christie’s story, the consecutive murders were connected to sins in each person’s past. It made me even more determined to poke around in the archives. And, maybe, speak with Luna. After all, she remembered everyone from when they were in school. Maybe she could shed some light on them.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Fitz and I arrived at the library thirty minutes before it opened. I loved the library when it was quiet like this. It almost made it feel like it was something that belonged totally to me. Fitz, although incredibly social for a cat, also liked the chance to sprawl out in the middle of the library floor for a nap—something he was cautious about doing when the library was full.

  Wilson came in fifteen minutes later, looking pleased to see me there. “Excellent! You’re getting an early start on the day, aren’t you?”

  “I figured I might as well, since I was up early this morning,” I said lightly. My voice, I realized, didn’t sound exactly like myself, though. It was a scratchy, throaty, didn’t-get-enough-sleep voice.

  Wilson frowned and said, “Yes, seems you did. Hopefully not too early. I believe you’re closing up this evening, aren’t you?”

  That was actually a wrinkle I’d forgotten about. I repressed a sigh. It was going to be a long day on both ends, it seemed. I nodded.

  “Well, what have you gotten started on this morning?” asked Wilson briskly. “Might as well have a look before I head into the office and all the paperwork devours me.”

  I hadn’t really made my notes about Fitz’s Picks for public viewing and they were hastily scribbled out. I flipped to the page in my notebook and showed Wilson my very sketchy sketches and the titles I’d come up with as the cat’s favorites in different categories.

  Wilson nodded, looking pleased again. “That’s going to work very well, I think. Yes, very well.” He paused. “On other matters, I was wondering if you’d heard anything from Grace?”

  I chuckled. “Are you proposing I start a daily lunch club with her? No, I’m afraid I haven’t.”

  Wilson said, “No, no, nothing like that. I was simply curious if she thought renaming the community room was a good idea.”

  “I haven’t even broached it with her yet. We’ve been talking about other things.” I hesitated, thinking about her husband and the opioid income. “Just a thought, and you’re welcome to ignore it if you like, but usually the consensus is that it’s safer to name a building or a room after someone long-dead and not someone who’s still living.”

  Wilson frowned at this. “Do you think there might be a scandal of some sort? Nothing to do with that death at her house, is it?”

  “I’m not saying there’s going to be a scandal, just that perhaps we should proceed with caution. Maybe the board needs to vote on it, for one.”

  “The board?” Wilson stared at me as if I were from outer space. Considering how early I’d arisen, perhaps I was starting to look a bit alien. “The board doesn’t have to be involved in trivial decisions like this. It’s a waste of their time.” His eyes narrowed. “Is there something you know about Grace that I don’t?”

  The last thing I wanted to do was gossip, especially during my early-morning quiet time at the library before things started getting busy. But now Wilson was looking at me as if he expected a far-worse story, so I supposed I needed to spill what little I knew. “It’s really probably nothing. It’s just that Grace’s money, from what I understand, came to her from her husband’s estate when he passed away.”

  Wilson said irritably, “And there’s nothing wrong with that. It’s her money now, isn’t it?”

  “Of course it is. All I’m saying is, I spent a bit of time doing some research. You know how research librarians are,” I said, trying to keep my voice light.

  Wilson’s eyes narrowed even furth
er so they were slits behind his glasses.

  I took a deep breath. “Anyway, her husband was on the board and owned a lot of stock in a pharmaceutical company. The company had a few smaller products that didn’t bring in much income. Their star product and the bulk of the business’s income came from an opioid drug. The company has had lots of bad press and so have the board members and others associated with the business.” Wilson’s face was unreadable and I continued, “It was all online. I read a good number of articles on it all.”

  Wilson now looked as if he devoutly wished I weren’t such a nosy person. Or such an avid researcher. “And you’re sure about this?”

  “Very sure. I can send you links, if you’d like to read the stories.”

  He shook his head and put up a hand as if warding off unhappy stories. “No. No, I don’t think I want to.” He paused for several moments and then said slowly, “I suppose one could say the money is tainted. Yes, I don’t think it would be too dramatic to say it’s tainted with human unhappiness and desperation.”

  This was quite a poetic turn of phrase for Wilson.

  He paused again and then said, “Yes. Yes, I think you may be right. I should present this to the board. Perhaps they’ll think it’s more appropriate to return the funds, under these circumstances, and not risk putting the library in a bad light. Or,” he added hopefully, “maybe they’ll think it’s an opportunity for the money to be used for public good since it was used to harm the public previously. At any rate, I shouldn’t make the decision on my own. Good point, Ann.”

  He started moving briskly away to his office and then stopped and turned around. “When I present this issue to the board, I would like to come fully apprised. On second thoughts, could you send me all the links and information you have?”

  I pulled out a sheet of paper from my purse and handed it wordlessly to him.

  He nodded, glancing over it as if not at all surprised that such a document existed. “And could you continue delving into Grace’s background? It appears we have abundant information on her husband, but not so much on Grace herself. Particularly if we’re to name a room in the library after her.”