Stay Tuned for Murder (34 page)

I was surprised that Rafe had gotten the information this quickly, but this is the kind of thing he always does. “Magnolia Hall? Really?” Gina gave me a curious look, and I tried to keep my expression blank.

“That’s what my source tells me. The mayor and the town’s attorney are going to bring Bobby and Shalimar Hennessey in there for an emergency meeting later today. But guess who they’re meeting with right now?”

“Trevor McNamara.”

“You knew?”

“Yes, I saw them all going into the courthouse together.”

“What do you know about him?”

“Not much. I’ve only seen him at the Seabreeze and at the library.”

“I think he’s the key to all this. He’s the one who’s inheriting Magnolia Hall. McNamara is in, and the Hennesseys are out.”

“How is that possible? Is he even part of the family?” I pictured him as the black sheep. Maybe he’d been estranged from the family and then returned to town after all these years.

“I’m not sure. The information is still coming in. Got to go. Later. And Maggie—”

“Yes?”

“Keep this to yourself.”

“You’re quite the mystery lady,” Gina said as I dropped the phone back in my purse. She gave me a curious look as we fell into step together.

“Not really. That was just a call about—about a show I’m thinking of doing.”

She smiled. “Whatever you say, dear.” I knew she didn’t believe a word of it. We walked quickly past a row of stores, and I spotted Officer Duane Brown on patrol. The crowd was dispersing fast now that the excitement was over. I wondered what the newspeople would make of the information from the time capsule and how they would spin the story.

It was bad news for Mark Sanderson and his development company. But a windfall for Trevor McNamara if what Rafe had said was true.

We’d reached the Cypress Grove Library and Gina was fumbling for her key in her purse when she gave a little gasp. “Oh, that was silly of me.” We were standing outside the staff entrance in the back, and the door was open slightly. “I was working late last night and I didn’t pull the door shut tight. That’s the second time this month I’ve done this. I’ve got to be more careful.”

“Gina, are you sure—” I felt a chill go through me. I reached for my cell phone, my heart hammering in my chest. “I don’t think we should go in there.”

“It’s nothing. Don’t be silly.” She gave me a reassuring smile. “The wooden frame is a little warped, that’s all.” She pointed to the lock. “See, it’s still locked. It’s just because I didn’t give the door a good strong pull. I must have been distracted.”

She walked inside before I could stop her, and I followed. Gina made her way through the storeroom, past the employee lunchroom, to the door leading into the main part of the library.

As I looked through a glass panel in the door, I thought I saw a shadow move across the room. My heart stuttered to a stop. In a panic, I grabbed her forearm. “Gina, stop! I think someone’s in there!” I hissed.

“Well, of course there is. Agnes Milton said she was coming in to do some work this morning, too.” She gave me a sympathetic look. “I think you’ve been working too hard, Maggie. You’re a bundle of nerves.”

She pushed through the door into the main part of the lobby. We were behind the circulation desk, and the thick carpeting masked the sound of our footsteps. I noticed that only a few lights were on and the back of the room was shrouded in shadows. It was very still except for a faint noise coming from the direction of the microfiche machine.

I put my finger to my lips and motioned for Gina to hang back. This time she took me seriously, because her face paled and she put her hand to her throat. I inched forward and saw Shalimar Hennessey down on her hands and knees, plucking at the thick carpet and cursing under her breath. What was she looking for? Surely not the microfiche ledger book. As far as I knew, that was tucked away behind the circulation desk.

At that moment, Gina took a step backward into the shelving cart. A dozen books clattered to the floor, and Shalimar’s head jerked up in alarm. For a moment, she was perfectly still, glaring at me. She reminded me of a jungle cat, crouching there. Her hazel eyes were fiery as she scrambled to her feet, pinning me with her stare.

Then I knew what had happened. It was her eyes that had driven her back to the library. Shalimar’s eyes had been an electric shade of green before Mildred’s death. But recently, her eyes had been a rich hazel color. Her natural color. One or both of her colored contacts must have become dislodged in a scuffle with Mildred and the CSIs had overlooked it. She figured this was her one chance to find the contact lens before they did another sweep of the place.

I reached for my cell phone, but she was too quick. In an instant, she closed the space between us and pulled a gun from her purse. Even though my thoughts were racing, I noticed that it looked like one of the antique weapons from her husband’s collection. It was like a ladies’ gun, a derringer. Was it loaded? Silly question. How could it not be? And what was she going to do to us?

My heart thudded in my chest, and an icy chill ran down my spine.

“Shalimar, don’t—,” I began, and I heard a muffled sob from Gina.

“Shut up!” she shouted. She put her left hand to her forehead, her brow furrowed, her mouth twisted in despair. “I need to think. I’ve got to figure this out!” Her voice had a crazed, almost pleading note to it, and she waved the gun in the air, finally pointing it right at my chest. She took a few steps toward me, walking in a straight line, the way a cat does when it’s going to attack a small rodent.

Gina stretched her arm out, as if to ward her off. “Why . . . why did you bring a gun, Shalimar?”

Shalimar gave a high-pitched laugh and waved the gun in the air. “Oh, this thing? Bobby left it at a gun dealer’s to be appraised and he asked me to pick it up when I came into town.” Another maniacal cackle. “Pretty funny, isn’t it? I never thought it would come in handy. Good thing he was stupid enough to forget it was loaded.”

“You’re just making things worse for yourself, Shalimar,” I said, forcing myself to be calm. My mouth felt dry, and I struggled to keep my voice steady. Moving very slowly, I pushed Gina into a chair at the circulation desk and positioned myself in front of her. “We know you’re here because you’re looking for your contact lens.”

She stared at me, breathing hard. “You do?” She looked wildly around the room. “How did you—” She paused, licking her lips. “Okay, you know about the contact lens. That makes it easier. I know I lost it somewhere around here, but where . . .” Her voice trailed off. “I’m not leaving here until I find it. And if I have to kill you two, so much the better.”

“The cops have already found the contact lens, Shalimar.” She took another step toward me, her expression faltering. I improvised quickly. “It was over there, in that potted palm. I’m afraid the game’s over.” I paused, watching her. Her face sagged, and she leaned against the counter. “They know you killed Mildred,” I said in a low voice. “The best thing you can do right now is turn yourself in.”

“Maggie’s right,” Gina said, her voice surprisingly level. “Please put the gun down before someone gets hurt. There’s still time to do the right thing. You can turn yourself in.”

“Shut up!” Shalimar shouted, her face contorted. “I told you I need to think.” She raised her left hand to brush her hair out of her eyes. “I think the best thing is to get you two down in the basement,” she said, her words clipped.

Off to the left, I saw a slight figure enter the front door of the library. He was in a semicrouched position, moving slowly, clasping a gun in two hands like someone on a SWAT team. I knew I had to keep Shalimar talking to distract her. I strained to make out who it was, and then it dawned on me.

Opie!! Officer Duane Brown was on the scene. I nearly cried with relief. But what in the world was he doing here?

“Shalimar, you really don’t want to do this. Listen to me. I have no idea why you killed Mildred, but you need to turn yourself in and let the police sort this out.” I managed to keep the quaver out of my voice.

Shalimar’s face clouded, and when she spoke, her voice was hardly a whisper. “But I didn’t kill Mildred,” she said slowly. “I swear I didn’t.”

“Then who did?” I asked. The question hung in the air between us.

“It was Bobby,” she said, a flash of fire returning to her voice. “I came inside to talk to Mildred and to look through those stupid old spools on the microfiche. Bobby was waiting in the car. He was positive Mildred had found a copy of Paley’s will. She said she didn’t. When I went outside and told Bobby that she couldn’t help us, he went inside to talk to her.” She was staring straight ahead, and her voice had a flat, robotic quality. “He thought she was lying. Maybe even holding out for money.” She gave a little sigh. “He was only inside a few minutes when he came running out and told me to hit the gas. It wasn’t until we were halfway home that I realized he’d killed her.” This time her voice rose half an octave and ended in a sob. “He’s the killer. Bobby, my own husband.”

Shalimar still had the gun in her right hand, but then she let her arm drop slowly to her side.

In one smooth movement Officer Brown rushed forward and knocked the gun to the floor. As Shalimar whirled to face him, hands outstretched, her nails aiming for his face, he said coldly, “You really don’t want to do that.”

And just like that, it was over.

Everything happened very fast then. Gina clutched her hand to her throat, her face pale, looking as if she might faint. “Take deep breaths,” I told her. “Deep, slow breaths. You’ll be fine.”

She gave me a watery smile. “Thank you, my dear. You’re very brave.”

Brave? I was shaking like a leaf, my heart hammering in my chest.

Rafe turned up then with three uniformed officers. Shalimar was taken into custody. Nick Harrison walked right into the library behind the cops, until they spotted him and shooed him out the front door. He grinned and put his hand to his ear, in a call-me gesture.

Gina Raeburn quickly regained her composure and was remarkably calm after what she called her near-death experience; she asked Rafe if that “fine young officer” could be commended by the city. Opie blushed bright pink and insisted he was just doing his job.

Rafe gave me one of his unreadable looks and said he’d get up with me later. I think he was relieved that I hadn’t been shot with that doll-sized pistol, but Rafe plays his cards close to his chest and it’s impossible to be sure.

My cell chirped just then, and I glanced at the readout. Vera Mae.

“Are you alive, sugar?”

“I’m here,” I told her. “Did you hear what happened here at the library?”

“I surely did, hon. I heard you tell Ms. Raeburn you were going to head over there, and then I realized you might be following Shalimar. She was hightailing it away from the square, and I knew something was up. I had one of my ‘feelings,’ you know?”

“Yes, I do,” I told her. Vera Mae has the “feeling” that something dire is going to happen at least once a week. Naturally, her worst fears are never realized—at least, not usually—and they’re forgotten.

“So that’s why I called him,” she said, breaking into my thoughts.

“Who?” I glanced at Gina Raeburn. One of the officers had brought her a paper cup of water and she seemed relaxed, with color in her cheeks. I knew she was going to be okay.

“Why Rafe, of course,” Vera Mae said. “I told that boy something was up and that he needed to get over there quick.” She paused. “He takes my feelings real serious, you know.”

I had to smile, in spite of the fact that I’d nearly been shot. “I’m sure he does, Vera Mae.”

“So he sent that nice young Officer Brown to investigate and said he’d get over there himself as soon as he could.”

“Ah, it all makes sense now.”

“Maggie, can you get over to the station? Cyrus wants to do a news feature on you, and we need a couple of sound bites. This is going to be even bigger than the time capsule ceremony. Cyrus wants to do some promos and run them all day long. That is, if you feel up to it, sugar,” she added as an afterthought. Ironic. My terrifying ordeal in the library would be a ratings bonanza.

Did I feel up to it? I felt a little shaky and weak at the knees, plus my heart was still pounding. I longed to have a cup of coffee and go home and curl up on the sofa with Pugsley.

And then Vera Mae said the words that made me pull myself together and rush right over to WYME.

“If you don’t feel up to it, hon, Chantel said she’d be glad to step in and host your show today. She said she had a vision that Shalimar was going to be arrested and she’d love to have the chance to talk about it with your listeners.” Vera Mae chortled with laughter. “Not that Cyrus would let her, but I’m just saying she offered, sugar.”

Chantel had a vision and figured she was going to get away with hijacking my show? Hah. Not in a million years! “I’m on my way,” I said through gritted teeth. “And tell that chick to get her own show.”

It was nearly six o’clock when I finally went down to the Cypress Grove PD to give my statement, and to see Rafe. He was waiting for me in his office, leaning back in his desk chair, his hands behind his head.

“Maggie,” he said, jumping to his feet. The way my name rolled off his lips, it sounded like a caress. He crossed the room and grabbed me by my upper arms and rested his cheek against mine, just for a second. It was so fast it was almost subliminal. I think he would have drawn me into a tight hug, but the door to his office was wide open and people were milling by. “How come you always end up in the thick of things?” he whispered into my ear before releasing me.

“Just lucky.” I smiled at him.

He grinned and motioned me to his visitor’s chair. “Want some coffee?” He gestured to a pot that I knew had been brewing brown sludge all day long.