Murder by Page One

by Olivia Matthews

  His face darkened with a blush. He looked at us self-consciously. “Yeah.”

  I clasped my hands in excitement. “Wow! That’s wonderful. What are you writing?”

  “A children’s fairytale,” he muttered.

  I blinked. There was so much more to the grumpy old man than met the eyes.

  Chapter 20

  “Excuse me, Marvey, but the deputies, they’re back.” Adrian sounded concerned.

  Deputies Jed Whatley and Errol Cole circled him to enter my office Thursday morning.

  “Thank you, Adrian.” I offered my young coworker a reassuring smile. Still appearing anxious, he moved away but left the door open. Did he plan to linger outside my office to eavesdrop on my meeting with the deputies? I directed my guests to the visitors’ chairs. “How can I help you, deputies?”

  The two men removed their campaign hats and settled onto the seats. Errol’s body language was tentative. Something appeared to be troubling him. Jed’s movements were tight, as though he was irritated. Irritation seemed to be his default mood.

  “Ms. Marvey.” Jed’s opening was delivered on a long-suffering sigh. “Perhaps you could clear up a misunderstanding for us.”

  I spread my hands. “I’m happy to help if I can, deputy.”

  “Alright, then. I appreciate that.” Jed glanced at Errol before continuing. “Ms. Betty came to see us the other day. It seems she thinks you’re still investigating Ms. Fiona Lyle-Hayes’s murder. Now, that just can’t be true. Could it, Ms. Marvey? Because Deputy Cole and I, we remember specifically asking you not to investigate.”

  From Jed’s line of questioning, I understood Errol’s tentative motions. He’d recognized before I had that we were in the company of a gathering storm. “Of course it couldn’t be true, Deputy Whatley. How could I investigate anything? I don’t have a forensics team. I can’t issue warrants. All I can do is ask a few questions. There’s nothing wrong with my asking questions, is there, deputy?”

  If anything, Jed’s frown darkened. I thought I detected a muscle twitching beneath his left eye. “Ms. Marvey, your questions are interfering with our investigation.”

  “Really?” My attention shifted to Errol. The junior deputy looked uncomfortable. I felt sorry for the guy, but I turned back to Jed. “How?”

  Jed sputtered for a moment or two before his thoughts seemed to gain traction. “Leave the investigation to me—us.” He jerked his campaign hat toward Errol. “Stick to your role with the library. Don’t worry about asking questions. That’s our job.”

  Since I didn’t like the point he was making, I chose to misunderstand it. “I’m not worried about asking questions. ‘The greatest gift is not being afraid to question.’ Ruby Dee said that. She was a renaissance woman—civil rights activist, actress, playwright, screenwriter, poet, journalist. Did you know that?”

  Errol’s eyes widened. “No, I didn’t know she did all those things. I knew she was an actress. She was from Cleveland, Ohio, wasn’t she?”

  “Yes, she was.” I nodded approvingly, and smiled when Errol seemed to preen. “I also like Eugene Ionesco’s quote, ‘It is not the answer that enlightens, but the question.’ He was a French playwright of Romanian descent.”

  Errol’s brow creased. “I don’t know him.”

  I leaned toward the deputy and gave him a considering look. “Do you have a library card, Deputy Cole?”

  His eyes widened. “Why, yes, ma’am. I haven’t borrowed any books in a while, but—”

  “Could we get back to the investigation?” Jed’s delivery was terse.

  I made a mental note to find a time to continue my side discussion with Errol. Something told me with very little encouragement, the young deputy could become a voracious reader and an enthusiastic library champion. “Yes, of course, Deputy Whatley. I’m happy to. Has Willy Pelt spoken with you?”

  Jed’s expression grew more frustrated. He waved his arms with exasperation. “About what?”

  I split my attention between the two men. “This morning, Willy told me someone tried to run him over last night as he returned from a restaurant near his hotel.”

  Jed exchanged a look with Errol. The younger deputy shook his head as though to confirm Willy hadn’t reported this incident to him, either.

  Errol turned to me. “Was he hurt?”

  “Fortunately, no.” I sat back against my chair. “He said he was able to jump out of the way in time, but the event left him badly shaken. He’s convinced the driver was intent on harming him. His exact words were, ‘Someone tried to kill me last night.’”

  Jed scowled. “Then why didn’t he report it?”

  I spread my hands. “I agree he should file a report with you, but he said he doesn’t want to prolong his stay in Peach Coast.”

  Jed gave me an impatient look. “There’s nothing tying Mr. Pelt’s event to Ms. Fiona’s murder.”

  I shook my head. “I didn’t say there was. I just thought you should know about the incident.”

  “Thanks.” Jed’s gratitude was grudging.

  I continued. “However, since you haven’t spoken with Willy about his encounter, how can you know whether what happened to him is or isn’t somehow related to Fiona’s murder?”

  Jed shrugged. “Why would the person who killed Ms. Fiona want to kill Willy? What’s the connection?”

  “I don’t know. You should ask him,” I answered without inflection. “Willy said the car that tried to mow him down in the parking lot was a dark compact sedan. Jo drives a bright orange hatchback. What do Betty and Bobby drive?”

  Errol turned to Jed. “Don’t they drive dark sedans, J.W.?”

  A light shifted in Jed’s eyes as though he’d also drawn the link. “Plenty of people in town have dark cars.”

  I once again seized on his statement. “Not Jo.”

  Jed scowled. “You keep making leaps like these two events are connected.”

  “And you refuse to consider they could be.” Note to self: Replenish supply of chocolate-covered peanuts. “Maybe you could at least ask Betty and Bobby whether they’d been driving their dark sedans around town last night.”

  “If Pelt didn’t think the incident was important enough to report, why should I?” Jed stood as though to leave. Errol and I rose with him.

  I braced my hands on my desk. “Because you’re a Peach Coast deputy. Long after Willy leaves, you’ll still be responsible for protecting this town. That’s why you should consider Willy’s near-death experience important.”

  Errol turned to his partner. “She has a point, J.W.”

  I shifted my gaze to Jed. “Willy’s anxious to return to his practice, so you may want to speak with him sooner rather than later.”

  Jed arched an eyebrow. “I suppose you’re expecting us to tell you what he says?”

  “No, Deputy Whatley, I’m not expecting that.” I smiled. “But it would be nice.”

  After chocolate-covered peanuts, a hot, strong cup of coffee was my second favorite go-to comfort food. Corrinne was already in the break room when I arrived after my encounter with the deputies late Thursday morning. Our offices were next to each other, but it was the first time I’d seen her that day.

  I propped myself against the counter beside her. “How are the phone calls to the council members going?”

  “How did you know I’d been on the phone with them?” She held the carafe aloft in a silent offer of coffee service.

  I gratefully accepted. “Your office door has been closed all morning, and we’re running out of time to persuade them to support our budget increase.”

  Corrinne shook her head. Her features were tight with frustration. “I left a message for three of the council members. The other two wouldn’t commit either way.”

  I grabbed a creamer and three sugar packets. “What additional information do they need to make a dec
ision?”

  Corrinne replaced the carafe. She was cool and professional in a pale yellow skirt suit and tan stilettos. Her voice was controlled, belying the irritation snapping in her grass-green eyes. “I have no idea, and neither do they. We’ve given them a list of the events we’ve hosted in the past fiscal year, as well as the attendance, information on our monthly visitors, and the increase in our library cardholders. What else could they possibly need to know?”

  “Maybe we’re not the ones they need to hear from.” I contemplated my coffee as I stirred in the sugar and creamer.

  “What do you mean?” She shifted to face me.

  “I think it’s time they heard from the voters. We need to encourage our patrons to call the council to show their support for the library.”

  “That’s a great idea.” Corrinne sighed. “But how do we get them to do that?”

  “We ask. I’ll put together signage we could post around the library and fliers to distribute to patrons from the circulation desk.” My mind raced with additional ideas, including a special-notice e-newsletter and an announcement in the newspaper.

  “I’ll leave that effort in your capable hands then. Thank you, Marvey.” Corrinne gestured toward the library’s main area. “How’s the investigation progressing?”

  “I don’t feel as though I’m getting anywhere.” I swallowed a sip of coffee and a sigh. “There are several people who seem to have much stronger motives than Jo. They had the same opportunity to attack Fiona that Jo had, but I can’t persuade the deputies to even consider them as viable suspects. For some reason, they’re just fixated on her.”

  Corrinne nodded. “She represents the easiest suspect. For that reason, the deputies aren’t interested in investing time, effort, or resources looking into anyone else.”

  “That’s what makes this all the more frustrating and frightening.” I caught her eyes. “I want to thank you.”

  Her perfectly shaped eyebrows knitted. “For what?”

  “For defending me to Mayor Flowers last night when he asked you to stop me from making inquiries into Fiona’s murder. Instead of listening to him, you supported me. That meant a lot. Thank you.”

  Corrinne waved a hand dismissively. “There are no thanks necessary. Byron can be utterly clueless.”

  Again I wondered at the apparent shared history between my boss and “Byron.” “The mayor’s not the only person who objects to my interest in Fiona’s murder, though.” That was an understatement. “Why are you supporting it?”

  Corrinne seemed deep in thought as she drank her coffee. She was silent for several moments before finally giving me an answer. “Since you’ve been here, the team is reengaged. I don’t know whether that’s entirely because of the investigation, but it hasn’t hurt. In a way, your work to clear Jo’s name has also helped strengthen the library’s connection with the community.”

  “I’m glad you think so.” I didn’t know if that was accurate, but she’d been in Peach Coast since before the library’s inception. That would give her a better perspective.

  “Not everyone in Peach Coast sees the value of a local library.”

  “That still amazes me.”

  “Me too.” Corrinne shook her head and went back into her thoughts for a moment. “To convince the naysayers that yes, there is value in Peach Coast having its own library, we have to raise our library’s profile. We have to give the library a presence in the community. That’s why I hired you.”

  Getting this opportunity was like a dream come true. “I’m enjoying the work I’m doing.”

  “It shows. Even though you didn’t join our team until February, well into the first quarter, you exceeded my first-quarter expectations. And you’re on track to exceed my second-quarter expectations. Perhaps I should set higher expectations.”

  “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

  She flashed a pearly white grin. “In the four months you’ve been with us, in addition to the increased foot traffic and cardholders, our team has more energy and enthusiasm. I believe there’s more to that than the peach cobbler you’ve brought Floyd on a daily basis.”

  My face heated with embarrassment from her praise. “I don’t think you can attribute all of that to me. You’ve put together a dedicated team, and you provide great leadership.”

  Corrinne was shaking her head even as I spoke. “Before you arrived, I was terrified the mayor and the town council would shut the library.”

  I gasped. “No.”

  “Yes.” She nodded emphatically. “I’ve had too many sleepless nights over that to count. The library’s closing would’ve been devastating not just to our team but to our town.”

  “I know. The nearest library to Peach Coast is twenty point eight miles away.”

  Her eyes clouded. “Because of you, I have hope our library will continue to thrive. For that reason, I should be the one thanking you.”

  “I’m grateful for everything you’re doing as well.”

  “Just be as careful and discreet as possible. Don’t lose sight of the fact you’re investigating a murder. I don’t want you to get into danger.” Corrinne squeezed my forearm before disappearing beyond the breakroom.

  She’d left me speechless. Her kind words and support had overwhelmed me. But thinking back to her warning for my safety, I recalled the person creeping around my home early yesterday morning, and my chair, which had been tampered with yesterday afternoon. She didn’t want me to get into danger?

  Too late.

  “You’re early.” I greeted Spence with a pleased smile as I hurried to meet him in the library parking lot late Thursday morning. Although I was five minutes early, he’d still been waiting for me.

  He returned my smile as he straightened from his steel-gray hatchback. In his lightweight gray suit, sapphire shirt, and maroon tie, he looked camera ready. “Nolan doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”

  I started to respond to Spence’s observation about his friend when he opened the passenger side door for me. That was disconcerting. I was accustomed to opening the door for myself. I glanced at him before getting into his car. Having him close the door for me was even more disarming. I lost my train of thought.

  “Thank you for coming with me to speak with Nolan.” I buckled my seatbelt as Spence settled behind the wheel and strapped himself in. “You said you’ve known him for decades.”

  “We’ve served on a few community boards and organizations together. That’s how we became friends. He’s a good guy.” Spence pulled out of the parking lot and merged with the virtually nonexistent traffic on Peach Blossom Boulevard.

  Through the side window, I gazed at the little stores, restaurants, and service shops that created the colorful scenery. They looked like they could’ve been transported from a Walt Disney sound stage. Even after four months, this shopping district still charmed me. Each building’s pale stone or brick façade was perfectly coordinated to complement the others. The landscaping was meticulously tended to tie the group of storefronts together. The result was a picture-perfect and cohesive small town business district instead of a collection of individual stores and enterprises. I kept waiting for the sense of enchantment to fade—and fervently hoping it never did.

  “Nolan had a solo practice for years before he formed a partnership with Fiona.” I studied the clean, spare lines and angles of Spence’s profile as I spoke.

  “You’ve done your homework.” He tossed me a glance before returning his attention to the road.

  “Has he ever spoken with you about Fiona?”

  Spence was silent for a beat or two as though searching his memory. “Nolan doesn’t talk much about his work. I think it’s out of respect for his clients’ and Fiona’s privacy.”

  “I hope he’s able to give us information we can use to help Jo.” I returned my attention to the passenger side window. My gaze lingered on the view of
the young sugar maple trees that edged the sleepy red brick sidewalks. “I checked in on her right before meeting you. Customer traffic at her store is still down.”

  “It’s going to take a little while for people to feel comfortable enough going into the bookstore.” Spence’s voice was troubled. “It’s not just that someone died there—it’s how she died.”

  “You’re right.” But I heard again the tension in Jo’s voice. Everything—the drop in business revenue, the police investigation, and the fact someone had been murdered in her store—was taking a toll on her mentally, emotionally, and physically. “I wish there was something I could do to help ease her stress.”

  “You’re doing everything you can to clear her name.”

  “We’re doing everything we can.” I studied his profile again. “I’m grateful for your company, and not just because I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t be able to find Nolan’s office on my own.”

  Spence chuckled as he came to a four-way stop sign. “Is your sense of direction really that bad?”

  I met his eyes. “Yes.”

  Spence waited his turn before moving through the intersection. “How did you get around New York? It’s a hundred times the size of Peach Coast.”

  “Actually, New York City is just a little more than twelve point four times the size of Peach Coast.”

  He gave me a dry look. “I was exaggerating, Marvey.”

  “But I’m serious.” I turned excitedly on my seat to face him. “I was surprised New York wasn’t even fifteen times the size of this town. I think the reason it appears so much bigger is New York City has greater than eight point six million people more than Peach Coast.”

  “I’m sure you’re right.” His midnight eyes laughed at me.

  I gave a mental shrug. I was used to that reaction from people who thought my attention to geographic statistics bordered on the obsessive. “I’ve always been interested in geography, especially distances and times. I’m fascinated by how far apart people are and what it takes to bring them closer together. I think that’s even more important to me now that I’m so far away from my family.”