Books Can Be Deceiving (17 page)

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Authors: Jenn McKinlay

BOOK: Books Can Be Deceiving
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“How about your friend’s portfolio?” Chief Daniels asked. “Are you a good judge of that?”
“What do you mean?”
“Rick Eckman was stabbed. Your friend was carrying that big bulky case. It would have been easy for her to conceal a knife in there.”
“You think Beth had a weapon?” she asked.
Chief Daniels stared at her and then said, “Yep. Woman scorned and all that. It’s the oldest story in the book. Broad gets dumped and stabs the man. The end.”
“Did you just say
broad
?” Lindsey asked. She wasn’t sure, but she could feel her eyeballs practically bulging out of their sockets. “What decade are you living in exactly?”
“Now, everyone, let’s just calm down,” Detective Trimble said.
“I will not calm down,” Lindsey said. “This troglodyte needs to catch up to a few thousand years of evolution, come out of his cave and get a clue. Now this interview is over. If you have any more questions for me, you can contact my attorney.”
“Do you really want to play it that way?” Detective Trimble asked.
Lindsey tipped her head at Chief Daniels. “I don’t think I have a choice. I won’t help you railroad my friend just because he’s too lazy to perform a real inquiry.”
“Hey!” Chief Daniels jumped to his feet in protest. His fists knotted up, and Lindsey stood up to face him.
If he took a swing at her, she’d have him locked up in his own jail so fast he’d have whiplash.
He seemed to see the resolve on her face because he uncurled his fists and shoved his hands into his pockets.
“I’ll be in touch,” Trimble said as he rose and pushed Chief Daniels toward the door, none too gently.
“I don’t doubt it,” Lindsey said.
Once they left the library, she sank into her seat. She was so angry she was shaking. She didn’t doubt that Detective Trimble was trying to do a solid investigation of Rick’s murder, but Chief Daniels had already made up his mind that it was Beth, and he was going to do everything he could to skew the case that way.
Had she really told them to contact her attorney? Oh, dear. She supposed she could call her father and have him give the family lawyer a heads-up, but she didn’t want to worry her parents. They’d been in a state over her for the past year.
The grim reality of what she had to do settled in her chest like a stone. Without dwelling on it, she picked up the phone and dialed the number she hadn’t called in over six months, although she still knew it by heart.
“Hello?” The voice on the other end sounded achingly familiar.
“Hi, John. It’s Lindsey,” she said.
“Lindsey.” His voice wrapped around her name with ribbons of regret and longing. It caught her off guard.
“I’m sorry to call you out of the blue,” she said.
“No, don’t be,” he said. He cleared his throat.
There was an awkward pause, but Lindsey took a deep breath and forged ahead. She would treat this just as a business call. She would push aside the memories of this man as her best friend, her partner, the person with whom she’d thought she’d spend her life. No big deal, really.
“I need a favor,” she said.
“Anything.”
“Can you recommend a good criminal defense attorney?” she asked. “It’s for a friend.”
Silence greeted her request, and then he said, “The best is Kerry Sharpe.”
“Excellent,” she said. She could almost hear his brain buzzing with questions. She tried to lighten the conversation. “I always figured knowing a law professor would come in handy one day.”
“Lindsey, we need to . . .” John began, but she cut him off, “Thank you so much, John. Take care of yourself.”
“Lindsey . . .” he began but she hung up.
She replaced the phone on its receiver and let out a breath. There—that hadn’t been so bad. Yeah, right. Then why did she feel as if someone had snuck up and kicked her in the pants when she wasn’t looking?
She did a Google search on Kerry Sharpe and found the number for his New Haven office. She would pass this on to Beth later today as a just-in-case.
In the meantime, she was going to see what else she could find out about Rick Eckman. Beth had said she didn’t feel as if she knew him as well as she should have after five years. Sydney Carlisle had called him a recluse, but he had to have a past. Everyone did.
She figured she’d start with his books. She left her office and headed for the picture books. He would be filed by his last name in the
E
section. Because the children’s area was geared toward kids, obviously, the shelving was all low to the ground, giving kids access to the books.
Lindsey crouched and went past
Go, Dog. Go!
by P. D. Eastman, a classic, until she reached Eckman. They had several copies of Rick’s books. She grabbed one and checked the back-cover flap. Oddly, there was no author picture. The bio was short, stating that Rick was an award-winning author who lived in the Northeast. That was it.
Lindsey checked another book, but it had the same bio. She flipped to the front to see what the acknowledgments said. They were cryptically brief, too.
For my editor, S. C., and my agent, T. R. Thanks.
Lindsey snapped the book shut and put it back on the shelf. None of this was helpful. She really didn’t want to pester Beth, but if they were going to steer Chief Daniels in a different direction, they needed more information.
She wanted to talk to Sydney again, and Rick’s former agent, too. She wondered if Detective Trimble had already done so. Of course, he would have access to Rick’s house and all of his personal files so he may be working through a list of people in Rick’s life, and quite probably he was finding someone with a stronger motive for murder than Beth.
Still, Lindsey would feel better if she talked to someone who knew Rick, either on a personal or professional level. Then, if Beth needed to retain an attorney, she’d have some information to give them.
Lindsey glanced out the window. It was mid afternoon. The sky was blue, the air still. Maybe she would just go take a walk along the pier and see if anyone was around.
She grabbed her purse and left her office. Ms. Cole was in the workroom, bossing their teen pages around.
“No, no, no,” she said. “How many times do I have to tell you that in fine sorting, you go all the way through the Cutter number? So, obviously, 743.27 L293 comes before 743.27 R731.”
The young man looked miserable, and Lindsey had no doubt he was mortified to be dressed down in front of the other page.
“Hi, Perry,” Lindsey said as she joined their group. “I see Ms. Cole is teaching you the finer points of the Dewey decimal system.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Perry said. He looked as if he were bracing for her to yell at him, too.
“It’s a little tricky, but once you get the hang of it, it makes a lot of sense. Heather has been working for us for a long time, so if you get confused just ask her,” Lindsey said. “Right, Heather?”
Heather blushed and nodded.
“Excellent,” Lindsey said. “It’s always nice to have a mentor. Oh, and Perry, the artwork you did for the bulletin board in the children’s area is fantastic. I meant to tell you that earlier. I had no idea you were so talented.”
“Uh . . . thanks,” Perry stammered.
“Well, I’d best let you get back to shelving,” Lindsey said. “I’m sure you have them up to speed now, don’t you, Ms. Cole?”
“There’s more to learn.” Ms. Cole glared at her with her eyebrows forming a dagger’s point in between her eyes.
Lindsey had no doubt that she had just deprived her of her afternoon’s plaything. Too bad. She wouldn’t tolerate bullying on her staff.
“True, there’s always more to learn, but just like you can’t eat a five-course meal in one bite, you can’t learn an entire job in twenty minutes. Why don’t you two take this cart out and start shelving?” Lindsey asked.
“Yes, ma’am,” they said together and practically ran from the workroom in their haste to get away.
“Am I in charge of the pages?” Ms. Cole asked.
At least that’s what Lindsey thought she said. It was hard to make out her words as she was talking between clenched teeth.
“Absolutely,” Lindsey said. “And I’m sure they’re as fond of you as you are of them.”
That left Ms. Cole staring at her in confusion, but Lindsey didn’t linger. She wanted to get going before the chief or the detective or the reporter or anyone else came looking for her.
Ann Marie was working the front desk. Lindsey gave her a big smile and said, “I’m taking some personal time for an appointment. I’ll be back in a bit.”
“Okay,” Ann Marie called after her. “See you later.”
Lindsey gave her a weak smile and kept going.
The door swung shut behind her, and she shouldered her bag and headed for the pier. The lunch crush had dissipated from the Blue Anchor, and Mary was seated at one of their outside tables, enjoying the mid afternoon lull. She was reading her copy of
The Last Time I Saw Paris
and soaking up a little sunshine while she ate a late lunch.
“Hi, Mary.”
“Hey there.” Mary glanced up from her plate of cheese fries. “How’s tricks?”
“They’ve been better,” Lindsey said. “Beth has taken some time off, and I am really getting annoyed with Chief Daniels.”
“I heard he’s decided she’s the murderer,” Mary said. “What an idiot. How is she holding up?”
“As well as can be expected,” Lindsey said. “At least Violet is going to sub in for her story times.”
“Yeah, that’s a nice knot on your head,” Mary said. Lindsey sighed and Mary continued, “Don’t take it too hard; story time just isn’t your gift.”
“You can say that again.”
“Story time just isn’t . . .” Mary began but Lindsey cut her off, “I get it.”
Lindsey glanced down the pier to see if the water taxi was in. The sun glinted off of its bright canopy, and she felt like this was confirmation that her crazy idea was a good one.
“Is Sully kicking around?” she asked.
Mary lifted a brow and studied her for a second. “He just finished lunch. Why?”
“Oh, no reason, really,” Lindsey said. “Hey, I’m going to stretch my legs. I’ll be back.”
“Uh-huh.” Mary gave her a dubious look, and Lindsey knew full well that she’d be asking her brother what this was about later. That was fine with Lindsey. She just didn’t have time to explain right now.
She waved and hurried off toward the boat office on the other side of the pier. The rough-hewn planks, worn from years of sun and sea, were uneven beneath her feet, and she was glad she had on a pair of low-heeled boots.
She saw Sully, sitting on a bench outside the office. He was reading the sports page of the newspaper, which looked fragile in his large, square hands. The sun glinted off of his mahogany hair, making the red more pronounced. He was what her mother would have called a dangerously attractive man, the kind of man a woman made bad decisions over.
Luckily, she had spoken to John today. With the bitter taste of that breakup still in her mouth, it was easy to shake off Sully’s good looks and focus on the task at hand.
“Good afternoon, Captain,” she said.
He glanced over the top of the paper at her, and she admired the way his bright blue eyes crinkled in the corners. She shook her head—okay, maybe it wasn’t quite so easy to ignore his good looks.
“Hi, Lindsey,” he said. “What brings you out from the book stacks?”
“The weather,” she said. “Isn’t it a lovely day?”
“Very,” he agreed. He was silent, watching her, and she had a feeling she didn’t fool him, not even a little bit.
“I thought it would be a great day for a boat ride,” she said. “Do you have a small boat that I could rent just for an hour or two?”
“No,” he said.
She raised her eyebrows. “Why not?”
“They’re all out,” he said.
She glanced at the pier. It did seem to be empty of boats, except for the taxi.
“Could I rent the water taxi?” she asked.
“No,” he said. “But if you need to go somewhere, I can take you.”
Lindsey toed the rough plank at her feet while she considered. She didn’t know Sully that well, but she liked the way he had handled that first day out at Rick’s, and he had been wonderful when Nancy had been so vulnerable, and he did make a mean cup of cocoa. She believed he was okay, but then it wasn’t like she had a lot of choices.
“Well?” he asked. “Have you decided?”
“Decided what?”
“Whether you trust me or not?”
“Yes,” she said. Their eyes met, and his crinkled in the corners again when he grinned at her.
“So, we’re off to Gull Island?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said. “And it goes without saying that we tell no one.”
“Then why say it?” he asked as he stood. He folded the paper and tucked it under one arm.
“I’m a librarian,” she said. “Very detail oriented.”
“Can’t argue with that.”
He poked his head into the office, and she heard him tell Ronnie he was taking a fare out to the islands. She didn’t hear Ronnie’s response, but it must have been okay, because he shut the door and led her down the pier to the boat.
As if by unspoken agreement, they spoke little on the trip out to the island. and Lindsey let her mind wander over the events of the past few days. Rick was dead, Beth was a suspect and the more questions she asked, the fewer answers she seemed to have.
“What are you hoping to find out there that the police missed?” Sully asked.
They were passing the Ruby house, and Lindsey glanced at the burnt-out hull of the cottage that remained. A shiver traveled down her spine as she thought of the poor family left behind.
“I don’t know,” she said. “Something that will prove Beth didn’t do it.”
“Pretty tall order,” he said.
Didn’t she know it. They traveled the rest of the way in companionable silence. Lindsey marveled at the way Sully navigated the islands. She figured he must know every rock and narrow channel by heart.

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