The Librarian's Last Chapter (8 page)

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

“I knew as soon as the call came in that I’d find Marsha
here.” Bruce stared down at us, shaking his head. “Tell me you didn’t touch the
handle of the knife.”

“I didn’t touch it. I
didn’t even touch her.” I shuddered. Seeing more than one dead body had taught
me a few things about police procedure. I wasn’t a total imbecile.

“Can this wait until
morning?” Duane asked. “It’s been a tough night for Marsha.”

“No, it cannot.” Bruce
pulled a notepad from his pocket. “I know from prior experience that Marsha
forgets to come to the station to fill out a report, and I have to chase her
down. We’ll do it now.”

“It’s okay.” I patted
Duane’s arm. “I’d rather get it over with.”

“What were you doing
here?” Bruce poised his pen over the paper.

“I was supposed to meet
Stacy. She called and said she had something to tell me about Mrs. Grimes’s
death.” I cringed at the hard look that came over Bruce’s face.

“Did she tell you?”

I shook my head. “She had
already been stabbed by the time I found her.”

“Any glimpse of her
attacker?”

“No. I did hear a car
door slam when I was beside her. Before she died, Stacy told me I was next.”

“Next for what?”

“To be killed, most
likely.” Did I need to spell everything out for him? “Maybe the killer told her
to tell me.”

“Right before they stabbed
her in the heart. Right.” Bruce snapped his notepad closed. “Most killers don’t
warn their victims.”

“I don’t really think
Stacy had a reason to lie.”

Bruce glared at me for a
moment before speaking. “I don’t know what to think anymore. Duane, keep her out
of my way or I will arrest her for the sake of herself and this town.” He spun
on his heel and marched away.

That wasn’t the first
time he’d threatened to arrest me. By now, it was just part of the game we
played. Keeping the blanket around my shoulders, I stood. “I’d rather go home
than out somewhere to eat. I need to get into some dry clothes. Do you want to
follow me?”

“I’d follow you
anywhere.” Duane tweaked my nose. “Don’t worry about Bruce. He’s frustrated
because he can’t find the person responsible for these deaths. It does bother
me that you’ve been given a warning from the killer, though.”

That made both of us. Of
course, again, not the first time I’d gotten a warning from someone out to
prevent me from finding out their identity.

Duane escorted me to my
car, made sure I’d locked the doors, and handed me my cell phone through the
window. “Thought you might want this. Roll up the window. Love you.”

“Thanks, I love you,
too.” I’d forgotten about my dropped phone. “See you at the house.”

After setting the jeep’s
heater to high, I pulled out of the parking lot and headed for home, keeping my
eyes peeled through my rearview mirror for a dark sedan. I was so focused on
someone that might be following me that I cruised through a stop sign. A horn
blared, startling me into paying attention.

I gasped and tightened my
grip on the wheel to prevent from swerving onto the sidewalk. Lindsey screamed
and threw her backpack at me. I stomped on the brake and rushed from the car.

“I’m so sorry. I wasn’t
looking where I was going.” I could have killed my daughter!

“That’s obvious.” Lindsey
retrieved her pack from the jeep’s hood and opened the passenger side door.
“Since you’re here, you can give me a ride home. It’s the least you can do
after almost running me over.”

True. I slid back behind
the steering wheel. “I found Stacy Tate dead tonight. Well, she wasn’t dead
until after I found her, but she’s … dead.”

“Did you kill her?”

“Of course not.” Gee.
What did my daughter think of me? I steered the car back onto the road. “I got
there moments before she died. The killer had already disappeared.”

“Well, you didn’t really
like her.”

I glanced sharply in her
direction. “Do you kill everyone you don’t like?”

“No, but I don’t get in
near the trouble you do.” She huffed and bounced back against the seat. “And
I’m the teenager. Sometimes, I feel like the adult.”

Ouch. It did seem as if I
sniffed out trouble. I guess this time, I did. The first time, I was defending
Lindsey against unjust accusations. The second time, a victim had come to me
for help. This time…I’d willingly offered to stick my nose where it didn’t
belong all because of a book fair.

I pulled into our
driveway. It wasn’t as if Mrs. Grimes asked me to continue after her death. It
had been Mr. Dean who had made the request—my top suspect. Could he have
wanted me in harm’s way in order to keep attention off himself for some reason
I hadn’t yet thought of?

Lindsey slammed her car
door shut and marched into the house. No lights glowed from the windows,
letting me know that Mom was back in the guesthouse settling in for the night.
I really wanted to brainstorm my next move with someone other than my
sixteen-year-old daughter.

I smiled, remembering the
one person always there for me to talk to. I turned off the car lights, locked
the doors, and closed my eyes. “God, take this burden from me. It’s not my
place to hunt down a killer.” Of course, there was the fact that the killer
made contact shortly after I decided to take over the book fair, but I could
have stopped investigating. “I’ve gone and put myself in a dangerous situation
again. Please, protect me from myself and this crazy person out to get me.”

Someone banged on the
window. I screeched and tried to duck to the floorboard. I might have made it,
too, if I hadn’t had my seatbelt holding me back.

“What in the world are
you doing?” Mom pressed her face against the glass. “I thought you were dead.
It almost gave me a heart attack.”

I opened the door and
slid out. “I was praying.”

“Well, the good book says
you are to pray without ceasing and all, but when there is a killer running
around threatening you, I’d hope you’d have better sense than to sit in the
dark with your eyes closed. What’s wrong with praying in the house?” She
matched her pace with mine as I went inside.

“No one was around and I
needed some alone time.” I dropped my keys in the ceramic dish I kept on the
foyer table.

“You’re distraught
because you found Stacy dead.” Mom patted my arm. “I understand.”

“How do you know about
that already?” News traveled fast in this town. I headed straight to the
kitchen and climbed on the counter to get to my M&Ms. Silly, really. I
might as well keep them down where I could reach them. Putting them up high
didn’t dissuade me in the least.

“Duane got held up at the
field and called to ask me to check up on you.” Mom headed to the coffee pot
and filled it with water. “I wasn’t in bed yet. A body needs less sleep the
older you get.”

I told Mom about Stacy’s
last words. Her eyes widened, and she closed the kitchen curtains. “Too bad she
couldn’t squeeze in the killer’s name in there.”

“My thoughts exactly. It
had to be someone Stacy knew. I heard loud voices, then a scream. If it had
been a stranger, wouldn’t she have cried out earlier?” I popped several candies
in my mouth. “How hard is it to stab someone?”

“How would I know?” Mom
set the pot in the coffee maker. “I’m pretty sure I could do it, though. Here.”
She pulled a thick roast from the refrigerator. “Stab away.”

“It doesn’t have skin on
it. That’s the toughest part of a human body other than the bones.” I
shuddered.

“True, but it will give
you an idea.” She held out a butcher knife.

I wrapped my hand around
the handle, raised it above my head, and stabbed. There was a little more
resistance than I’d thought. If you add a layer of skin and clothing, it still
wasn’t too difficult for the average person. I gave another stab for good
measure.

“Oh. My. Gosh.” Lindsey
stopped in the doorway. “What are you doing now?”

“Your mother wants to
know what it feels like to stab someone,” Mom offered.

“Are you taking into
account that you’re most likely looking into that person’s eyes and that
they’re begging you to stop?” My daughter watched too much Criminal Minds.
“That would cause an average person to hesitate.”

So, we were looking for someone
with so much to lose that pleading made little difference to them. I set the
knife in the sink and wrapped the roast in aluminum foil. We could still use it
for sandwiches.

“I paid a visit to the
tea room again.” Mom poured herself a cup of coffee and offered me one. I shook
my head. “Norma Rae is in sad financial trouble. Although we see her and Ingrid
together a lot, the two do not get along. Norma Rae pretty much uses the guilt
trip to get her daughter to do things with her. If her business fails, she will
have to move in with Ingrid. A fate worse than death, she said.”

A
motive for murder, maybe.
Mr. Dean wanted his affair with Mrs. Grimes kept
secret. I pulled my note taking pad from the drawer and scanned the list. The
Snyder’s had a gambling problem, or so the rumor went, and Mrs. Willis wanted
to retire and write murder mysteries. I crossed her name off the suspect list.
Her only motive for killing would be for research purposes. No one did that,
did they? How could I get a look at her manuscript?

Another few pieces of
candy went in my mouth. “Does Norma Rae strike you as a strong person? It would
take a bit of strength to choke someone.”

“Have you seen the trays
she carries?” Mom blew into her mug.

“Mrs. Willis looks like
she could strangle someone.”

“She’s fat,” Lindsey
said. “Really big. She probably can’t move fast, but I bet she’s as strong as
an ox.”

Instead of illuminating
suspects, we were only making their motivations and means stronger. “This is
going nowhere.”

“Eventually we’ll stumble
across something that will make sense,” Mom said. “You should know that by now.

“I usually figure out the
killer right about the time they kidnap me.”

Mom nodded. “We really
need to stop that from happening. You know what they say about third times.”

“That it’s a charm?”

“Hello, ladies.” Duane
waltzed into the room, kissing me, then planting a kiss on
Mom’s
and Lindsey’s cheeks. “Why so serious?”

“We’re discussing how
it’s about time for Marsha’s luck to run out.” Mom set her cup in the sink.
“She’s bound and determined to make me old before my time. As much as I enjoy
helping her solve these mysteries, she’s the only one unlucky enough to be
targeted by the killer.”

“Which is fine by me.”
Tears stung my eyes. “I couldn’t live if something happened to any of you.”

“Nothing is going to
happen to any of us,” Duane said. He glared at each one of us. “Risk or not,
Marsha goes nowhere alone. Ever.”

“It won’t matter,” Mom
challenged his stare. “She wasn’t alone when run off the road. We might as well
lock her in her room.”

Then the killer would
probably burn the house down around me. I was counting on the treasure hunt on
Saturday to clear up some things. If not, Mom could very well be right. I had a
bomb on my back and the counter was ticking down.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

I studied the piles of water bottles and granola bars. Did I
really want to close the store on a Saturday and go on a wild goose chase
across the state of Arkansas for a treasure that had been searched for by
everyone and their grandfather? Not really. It seemed more beneficial for the
purpose of finding the killer by spreading the little white lie that we may
have found a treasure.

“That backpack isn’t
going to pack itself,” Mom said, coming into the kitchen with her arms loaded
with hats. “It’s going to be a warm day so I dug these out of storage.”

“I don’t think we should
waste our time.” I explained to her my reasons.

“Good. We’re getting
behind at work.” Mom dumped the hats on the table. “When one of our
loose-lipped neighbors come into the store, we’ll let the news slip about a
map. That’s sure to draw the mice out of the cupboards.”

My
sentiments exactly.
I texted Duane to let him know Mom and I were
working instead. Since Lindsey hadn’t crawled out of bed yet, I didn’t expect
any arguments out of her. Duane texted back almost immediately saying the
timing was perfect … it was his Saturday to watch detention students and he was
having a hard time finding someone to take his place.

Men. It might’ve been a
better idea to have started looking for a replacement earlier in the week. I
changed direction and made a sandwich to take to work while I prayed my bad
mood would disappear.

Mom was right. We had
loads of work to do with the holiday season almost upon us, and I had a few
more things to line up for the book fair slash harvest festival. Right after I
made a couple of stuffed Christmas trees and quilted ornaments.

Feeling my stress levels
rising by the minute, I grabbed my purse. “See you at the store. Would you
leave Lindsey a note, please?” I dashed outside and into my jeep.

Ten minutes later, I was
unlocking the back door to the shop. I stored my purse in a cabinet in the back
of the shop and headed to the front. I stopped and surveyed the mess.

The store was ransacked.
The shattered front door mocked me. I sagged against the counter. Who would do
this? If someone had it out for me, why hurt my livelihood? I put a hand over
my mouth. What if they were still here?

I grabbed the broom
behind the counter. There weren’t a lot of places to hide, but I wasn’t taking
any chances. A hand grabbed my arm. I whirled and swung, slamming the broom
against my daughter’s shoulder.

She yelled and sagged to
her knees. “Why did you hit me?”

“What are you doing
here?” I dropped next to her, my gaze sweeping the room. “Where were you?”

“In the bathroom. When I
heard someone trashing the store, I hid. I tried to call the police but my
phone is dead.” She clutched her shoulder while tears coursed down her cheek.

“I’m so sorry.” What if I
would have hit her in the head? What if I broke her collar bone? I was a
horrible mother. Who hits their child with a broom handle?

“I’ve been coming in
early on the weekends to work on a present for your wedding day.” Lindsey
scooted against the counter. “While I was in the bathroom, I heard someone come
through the back door. No one but family has a key to that door. I thought I’d
be safe.” She glared at me through her tears. “Boy, was I wrong.”

“I’m so sorry.” I dropped
the broom and wiped away her tears with my thumbs. “Let me call Bruce and I’ll
get you to the hospital. Why today? We had plans.”

“I figured I’d be back
before you got out of bed.” She rocked back and forth. “It doesn’t pay to be
nice to you.”

I stood and grabbed the
phone off the counter and dialed Bruce’s personal number. “There’s been a break
in at Country Gifts, and I’ve injured my daughter. We need you.”

He sighed. “I’ll be there
in five minutes.”

After I hung up the phone
I sat next to Lindsey and wrapped my arms around her. She yelped and scooted
away. “Don’t touch me.”

While we waited, I paced
the floor, taking in the destruction. Hand blown glass ornaments crunched under
my feet. Quilts lay in piles on the floor. The consignment corner shelves were
empty, its contents strewn. It could have been a warning…instinct told me
someone was looking for something. How stupid to think I’d hide something of
importance among the merchandise.

Bruce pulled into the
parking spot in front of the store, lights blazing. At least he hadn’t run the
siren. He exited the squad car and approached the store with one hand on the
gun at his skinny hip. He used a rag to open the front door. Locked. He glared
at me.

I shrugged and rushed to
let him in. I was used to his looks. “Sorry.”

“Anything missing?” he
asked.

“I have no idea.” I
gestured around the shop. “It’s a total disaster. Mom and I will be out of
business for a few days,” if there’s even anything of value left to sell.”

Speaking of Mom, she
rushed through the back door. “What in heaven’s name…Oh, sweetie.” She plopped
next to Lindsey. “Were you attacked?”

“Yes. By Mom.”

Mom whirled. “Why would
you strike your daughter?”

“It was an accident. I
thought she was the intruder.”

“You’re a menace.” Bruce
brushed past me. “Do you want me to call an ambulance?”

“No.” My shoulders
sagged. “I’ll take her to the hospital myself as soon as you’re finished here.”

Bruce pulled out his
infernal notepad. “Why did you suspect your daughter to be the culprit?”

“She came up behind me.”
I crossed my arms. “I’d just seen the store and grabbed a broom in case the
guilty person was still here. It was a reflex action. She said she was hiding
in the bathroom while the store was being trashed.”

He nodded. “You didn’t
see the person responsible?” he directed at her.

“No. They didn’t say
anything. I heard the glass break and almost came out, but then I could tell
they were throwing things around.” She sniffed and, using the wall for support,
slid to her feet. “I think there was more than one person, but I’m not sure.”

“What makes you think
that?”

“The footsteps sounded different.
These walls are pretty thin. It’s actually kind of embarrassing if you need to
use the restroom when customers are here.”

Bruce raised his
eyebrows. “Let’s stay on topic, shall we?”

“Make it quick, Bruce. My
daughter is in pain.” Yes, it was my fault, but there was no sense in making
her suffer longer than necessary. We should have gone on the treasure hunt.

Officer Bradford joined
us and set to work taking notes on the condition of the store. Personal
experience had taught me that the store would be closed for a few days while
they did their investigation. No need for us to be fingerprinted. We were
experienced at how the legal system worked. Our prints were already on file.

“What have you been
getting into, Marsha? Anything you haven’t told me?” Bruce speared me a glance.

“No, we haven’t even
started to spread any—” Oh, no.

“Any what?” His face
reddened.

“Nothing.”

“I can tell from the tone
in your voice it’s anything but nothing. Don’t make me call Duane.”

Oh, the man played dirty.
“We were going to spread a little rumor around town that we’d found a treasure.
You know, to flush out the bad guy.”

“You enjoy starting
fires, don’t you?” He shook his head. “Don’t forget what I said about meddling
in my investigation.”

How could I? He brought
it up every time we were in close proximity with each other. “I haven’t.
Spreading rumors isn’t against the law.”

“Why do you insist on
putting yourself in danger? Do you have a death wish?”

“Of course not. Can we go
now?”

“Not yet. Have a seat
over there while we look around.”

“There’s no one else
here.”

“We’ll be the judge of
that.”

I rolled my eyes and sat
in a rocking chair next to one Lindsey claimed. Mom’s eyes flitted from one
corner of the room to the other. No doubt she itched to start cleaning and
taking inventory. I felt the same way.

Tears escaped and I
rubbed my face on the sleeve of my blouse. Crying wouldn’t solve anything. Only
time spent in prayer and a brainstorming session with the family would divulge
any results. Mom’s hands might be aching to hold a broom, but my fingers
hungered over wanting a pen and sheets of paper. Two people, possibly.

I stared out the window
toward the street. Kids, maybe? It was quite possible the break-in had nothing
to do with Mrs. Grimes’s death. If it did, what
suspects
did we have that were pairs? Norma Rae and Ingrid, Janet and Brad Snyder, those
were the only ones. All of
whom
could have walked up
to Stacy on the football field and not raised an alarm in her mind.

Of course, the killer
could have hired a couple of teens to wreck the place. River Valley didn’t have
many wayward youth, but there were a few who fancied themselves big city
gangers. How could I find out? Lynn had already promised to try and get
information from the high school teachers. I doubted she’d want to question the
students.

They probably wouldn’t
talk to her anyway. If students behaved as they did when I was in school, not
many young people saw teachers as a confidant. Especially when breaking the
law. Maybe Duane could put feelers out with the football team.

I straightened at the
sight of Sarah Boatwright staring through the shattered door. Our gazes met for
a second before she marched down the sidewalk. Curious. Why hadn’t she asked
how we were?

Lindsey moaned. “I’m
thirsty.”

I leaped to my feet and
rushed to fetch her water from the refrigerator in the back. Enough was enough.
I grabbed a bottle of water and my purse,
then
rushed
to where Bruce studied a footprint outside the back door.

“This yours?” he asked.

“No.” The shoe print was
larger and the sole was smooth. The shoes I currently wore had a geometric
pattern on the bottom. “I’m taking Lindsey to the doctor. She’s in pain and I’m
not having her wait any longer. You know where we are if you need us.”

“Right. Put your foot
next to the print but don’t touch the dirt.” He pointed.

I hovered my foot over
the print. I’d been mistaken. They were the same size. So were Mom’s and
Lindsey’s. Mom was wearing ballet flats and Lindsey Converses. “It could be
Mom’s print. Mom?”

She came outside and
Bruce had her do the same thing he’d asked me to do. Then he had her step in a
soft patch of dirt a few feet away. The prints didn’t match.
Finally,
a clue.
I met Bruce’s gaze over Mom’s head. We were looking for a woman.

“Don’t go and do anything
stupid, Marsha.” Bruce jangled the handcuffs on his belt. “You may now take
your daughter to the doctor.”

“Well, thank you very
much.”

Mom bent over the print
that didn’t belong to any of us. I joined her, not really knowing what I was
looking for but something about the print seemed off.

The toe of the right foot
was deeper. “Are we looking for someone who is pigeon-toed?”

Mom shrugged. “I’m not an
investigator, but you can bet I’ll be studying people’s shoes more than usual.”

So would I. We were
getting close. It was a race between us and a killer. Who will find who first?