The Librarian's Last Chapter (A River Valley Mystery, Book 3)

  The Librarian’s Last Chapter

  A River Valley Mystery, Book Three

  By Cynthia Hickey

  Copyright 2013

  Spyglass Lane Mysteries

  Discover other Spyglass Lane titles at SpyglassLaneMysteries.com.

  Published in association with MacGregor Literary Inc., Portland, Oregon.

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  Acknowledgements

  To God for yet another fun book to write,

  To my husband for his never-ending encouragement,

  And to my agent for the opportunity to continue writing mysteries.

  Thank you all!

  CHAPTER ONE

  “Don’t be so dramatic, Marsha Calloway Steele. It’s not like you’re facing a firing squad.”

  It might as well be. Volunteering in the high school library isn’t my idea of a good time. How did I let my best friend, Lynn Marshall, talk me into such a thing? Wasn’t the PTO or Parent Teacher Organization enough torture ?

  I scooted farther against my bed pillows, cradling the cordless phone to my ear. “Couldn’t I do something behind the scenes where I didn’t have to deal with other parents?”

  Lynn laughed. “The librarian wants to do a big book donation rally with a book fair, snacks, everything. It’s a really big deal, and she needs your help. I volunteered you, not thinking it would be such a big inconvenience. You’re nothing but a big scaredy-cat.”

  “Yep, and proud of it.” I grabbed several dark-chocolate M&Ms and popped them in my mouth. “You know I don’t have a lot of time to volunteer. Not with the store.” Being a co-owner of Country Gifts from Heaven kept me very busy. That and the occasional dead body I tended to stumble across every few months. I’d resigned myself to accepting the gift of finding trouble.

  “Besides, Mrs. Grimes is very, um, not nice.”

  “You can manage for a week or two. We need you. Bye.” She hung up on me.

  Mrs. Grimes still had the same way of looking over her glasses and staring a person into submission as she had when I was in high school. The woman scared me, plain and simple, and now my best friend wanted me to work with the woman for two weeks?

  I should never have filled out the volunteer paperwork and been fingerprinted. All it brought me was more work.

  I crawled from bed and into the shower. If I was going to work at the library, there was no time to start like the present. Mom wouldn’t mind holding down the fort at the store for an hour or two while I found out exactly what Mrs. Grimes had in store for me.

  The hot water helped to wash away some of the apprehension, and by the time I had my hair fixed and a five-minute makeup job done, I felt confident I could handle one old librarian well past retirement age.

  Grabbing my purse off the foyer table, I headed to my blue Prius. After getting the okay from Mom to take my time, I punched in Duane’s number and set the phone to speaker.

  “Hey, sweetheart,” his voice always made my inside quiver.

  “I’m headed to the high school for a meeting. Can I bring you a coffee?”

  “Sure, and one of those apple scones. I’ll be in the coach’s office for the next half hour before my first class starts.”

  “See you in fifteen. Love you.”

  “Ditto.”

  I hung up, my face hurting from the grin that stretched my cheeks. Since we’d set a wedding date for three months’ time, I was almost afraid he might not be as excited to see me all the time. I was wrong. If anything, setting the date made our time together even more precious.

  We weren’t planning anything elaborate, just a small ceremony by the lake. River Valley had a wonderful clubhouse that overlooked the water so we wouldn’t have to worry about the weather. I actually hoped it would snow and was having Mom make me a furred shawl, just in case.

  A parking spot in front of the coffee shot beckoned as if it were waiting for me. I pulled in and cut the ignition, my taste buds eager for their first sip of a frozen mocha coffee. Duane preferred his coffee black. Blech. Chocolate made everything better.

  I ordered my usual, Duane his preference, and two scones, one apple and one cream cheese. Treats in hand, I returned to my car and drove to the school. Parking was scarce, but I found a vacant visitor spot. Hands full, I entered the front doors and signed in, collecting my volunteer badge. Ugh. I hadn’t known they’d take the picture the day I did my fingerprints and I’d had on my trusty overalls and my hair pulled back into a ponytail. Sometimes, I was just too lazy to take the time to gussy up. And, I always ended up regretting those times.

  When I reached Duane’s office, he rushed forward to keep me from dropping something. “Thanks. This will hit the spot.”

  “Crazy morning already?” I sat in a plastic chair across from his desk.

  He nodded. “School in session only a week and I already have a first string player ineligible to play the first game because of fighting.”

  “But the first game is weeks away.”

  “That the best discipline I could think of. After school detention doesn’t work for these guys. They sit and text under their desk where the monitor can’t see them.”

  I nodded and sipped my drink, knowing from personal experience how ineffective detention was. Instead of texting, we passed notes. “I’m meeting with Mrs. Grimes about helping with the book fair.”

  Duane winced. “My condolences. She’s worse than ever, but seems to be in a good mood today.”

  “I hope you’re right.” I blew him a kiss and left his office. The library was positioned across from the administration office so I retraced my steps.

  “Good morning, Mrs. Steele.” Principal Dean pushed his glasses up his nose. “Solved any murders lately?” He laughed, the sound more of a guffaw then anything.

  “Not today.” I’d never liked the man. He should have retired years ago along with the librarian. Wasn’t there an age limit to working with kids? What this school needed was an up-to-date principal. Someone who knew the issues today’s students faced. Someone other than the Barbie doll of a vice-principal, Sheri Hopkins. I watched as Mr. Dean’s gaze followed the VP across campus.

  I knew her type. She was more interested in being the kids’ friend rather than authority figure. There were bound to be several teenage boys with a crush on her. Who could take her seriously with her mound of blond hair and tight skirts?

  I sighed and pushed open the door to the library, immediately taking a deep breath, pulling in the wonderful aroma of books. Large metal crates occupied the far section, book fair stuff most likely. I thought book fairs didn’t go past elementary school.

  “It’s about time you showed up.” Mrs. Grimes stepped out of the back room, her arms full of pamphlets. “I need these sorted into class amounts and distributed into teachers’ mailboxes.

  “Good morning to you, too, Mrs. Grimes. It’s been a long time.”

  She peered over the top of her glasses. “You haven’t changed much, and your daughter is a chip off the old block.”

  “Me or her father’s?”

  “Both.” She thrust the papers into my arms, almost making me drop my drink. That would have been a very bad thing. “You can sit anywhere. Put them in stacks of thirty.” />
  “I thought I was here to help with the book fair.”

  “Those are for the book fair. Open house is next week, and we need to be prepared. Families will be bringing their younger students, and they will want to buy books.” She sat at her desk, hiding behind a stack of books that looked too old to belong to the school library.

  I shrugged. I’d heard she collected antique books. Maybe she did some of her collecting while at work. It was none of my business. I grinned. As if that ever stopped me from poking my nose where it didn’t belong.

  The jingle of keys drew my attention back to Mrs. Grimes. She had a sly smile on her face as she placed a yellowed piece of paper in a drawer and locked it. She turned in a circle, the key in her hand. When she caught me looking, she ducked into the back room.

  What was in the drawer? I sipped my coffee, my attention riveted on what could be in her desk. What was so important she felt it necessary to hide the key rather than keep it on the lanyard around her neck?

  We pretty much ignored each other for the time it took me to count out the rest of the papers. When I’d finished, I told her I’d be back, and she grunted that she’d heard me. Whatever. I wouldn’t let her mood spoil my day. One more hour of volunteer time, and I’d be back at Country Gifts from Heaven. My home away from home.

  “Mom?” Lindsey stopped so fast, the boy in back of her almost fell. “What are you doing here?”

  “Volunteering in the library, didn’t I tell you?”

  “You did not. Please pretend we don’t know each other.” With a scowl, she continued on her way.

  I didn’t let her attitude bother me. She loved me, and I wasn’t about to embarrass her in front of her classmates. I hoped.

  Four teachers sat in the teacher’s lounge, assorted beverages on the table in front of them. Lynn glanced up. “How’s it going?”

  “Fine. Why is the high school having a book fair? Haven’t these kids outgrown this sort of thing?” I began slipping the assorted piles into cubbies.

  “Mrs. Grimes wants to encourage the older students to read more. She said she’ll be carrying more age appropriate books and activities.” Lynn sipped a diet soda. “As an English teacher, I applaud her efforts.”

  Another teacher, I believe she taught history, laughed. “That old bat just wants to draw attention to herself. I doubt it’ll do any good.”

  “Marsha, this is Estelle Willis, our resident pessimist and budding author.” Lynn tossed her can into a recycling bin.

  “You’ve heard what she’d involved herself in lately, haven’t you?” Estelle crossed her arms over her more than ample chest and glanced around the table.

  “I haven’t heard anything. But then, I’m stuck in the band room most of my days.” A male teacher shrugged.

  “She’s going around informing people that she’s uncovered a treasure. At our book club last night, she told us all that she found a map in one of the old books she bought. Seriously? A treasure map?” She stood and speared me with a glance. “Why don’t you see if you can get to the bottom of that, Ms. Super Sleuth?” With those words, she lumbered out of the lounge.

  “What did I do?” I set the last of the fliers in the boxes. “I’m just minding my own business.”

  “Don’t worry,” Lynn said. “Grimes and Estelle have been feuding for years.” She winked. “I think it’s over Mr. Dean.”

  “Eeew.” My few hours a week at the school promised to either be disgusting or entertaining. I’d reserve judgment for now.

  Not in a hurry to return to the library, I headed for the staff restroom. One can only stall for so long between taking care of business, washing hands, and fluffing hair. There was nothing left to do but head back to the library.

  “Marsha?” Janet Snyder, PTO president, halted me in the hall. “What can I do to convince you to join the organization?”

  “Absolutely nothing.” I continued on my way as fast as my legs would carry me.

  She scampered after me in ridiculously high heels. “Think of the benefit to the school, to your daughter.”

  “I’m volunteering time, that’s all River Valley High needs from me.” I paused with my hand on the door. “Are you seriously here to pester me?”

  “Not just you.” She shook her head. “But our numbers are shrinking.”

  I sighed and ducked into the library. Mrs. Grimes wasn’t at her desk. Good. I’d have a few minutes of peace before she gave me something else to do.

  When thirty minutes passed and there was no sign of her, I decided to check the back room. After all, the woman had to be pushing seventy years of age. Maybe she fell asleep.

  Sure enough, she sat at a battered old desk, her face resting on the wood. “Mrs. Grimes?”

  Her head lolled to the side. She’d been strangled with her floral scarf.

  CHAPTER TWO

  After checking for a pulse and not finding one, I backed out of the room and slammed the door. How did I constantly find myself in these messes? I peeked through the window at the poor woman, and then rushed to the phone on her desk to ring the office manager.

  “This is Sarah.” Her nasally voice made me cringe. Sarah Boatwright, an attractive woman in her mid-thirties had the voice of a saw.

  “This is Marsha Steele. Mrs. Grimes is dead.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Dead. In her storeroom.” My pulse pounded in my head.

  “But the bell is about to ring?”

  “Seriously?! Are you insane? Call the police.” There might be a door separating me from the corpse, but that wasn’t nearly enough of a barrier. Not that I expected Mrs. Grimes to turn into a zombie and chase me down the hall, but still.

  “No, I mean, the library is about to be flooded with students.” Sarah sighed. “You have to block the door. I’m making the call to the police now.” She hung up.

  I replaced the receiver and spun in a circle. Block the door with what? I wasn’t big enough or strong enough to hold out thirty-five teenagers. The book fair crates. I sprinted across the room and pushed. The thing weighed a ton. I put my shoulder into it and pushed with my legs. Inch by excruciating inch, I managed to block one of the double doors. How much time did I have?

  I rushed to move the second one, getting it into place as the bell rang. Moments later, someone banged on the door. I leaned against the crate to catch my breath, realizing then that I was now blocked in with a dead body. My legs refused to hold me, and I slid to the floor.

  “Mrs. Grimes? Why’s the door locked?” A girl’s voice drifted through my barricade.

  “Something is blocking the door.” A boy said. “Me and a couple of the guys can push it open.”

  “No!” I lunged to my feet. “You can’t come in. There’s been a, uh, toxic chemical spill. Yeah.”

  “In the library? Who is this?”

  The crates moved. How was it possible that a couple of kids could move what took me a superhuman strength to budge?

  “Go get the principal.”

  “Are you holding Mrs. Grimes hostage?”

  “Yeah, that’s it.” Silly kids.

  Soon shouts that Mrs. Grimes was in the hands of a terrorist vibrated down the halls. I shook my head and leaned against the crate. I pulled out my cell phone and pressed in Duane’s number. It went to voice mail. Of course he won’t answer during class.

  “Mrs. Steele?” Principal Dean knocked on the door. “I need you to let me in.”

  Finally, help had arrived. I shoved against the crate until it moved just enough for him to squeeze through.

  “The police are on their way,” he said. “I need to unlock the side door so they can get in.”

  There was a side door? I could have gotten out at any time. No, that would have left the poor librarian alone.

  He glanced at the store room door as he made his way to another door behind a bookshelf. Finished, he stood next to me. “She’s in there?”

  “Yes. Strangled with her scarf.”

  “Are you sure she’s de
ad?”

  “Of course I’m sure. I wouldn’t have called the front office if she weren’t.”

  “What about the students?”

  “We sent the ones outside the door to the gym.” Mr. Dean rubbed his chin. “I’m not sure how to proceed here. We’ve never had a murder at the school before. Assaults, yes, but no one has ever been killed.”

  “The police will handle it. I’ve had experience with these things.” Right. I usually ended up in harm’s way with someone holding a gun to my head.

  “That’s right. Our resident mystery solver.” Mr. Dean tried to smile, and failed. Instead, the attempt looked more like a grimace.

  “I should have known Marsha would be here.” Bruce Bennett, our very own Barney Fife, waltzed into the library with an officer I’d never met. “This is Officer Bradford, the rookie on our force.”

  I already felt sorry for the guy. No one should have to work that close with Bruce. “Nice to meet you, I think. She’s behind that door.”

  “Mrs. Steele found her,” Mr. Dean said.

  “Of course she did.” Bruce opened the door, and the four of us stared at the body. He exhaled deeply and waved the rookie in first. “Check out the scene. Where is that ambulance?”

  Not that she needed one, but I guessed it would be better if she left covered by a sheet rather than the student body getting a glimpse of her face. My hands shook, and I grabbed the teacher rolling chair.

  “Don’t touch anything.” Bruce shook his head.

  “I’ve already touched the door handle, the desk over there and this one, the phone, and those two crates. Oh, yeah, and her neck.”

  “For crying out loud, Marsha. What are you doing here anyway?”

  “Volunteering to help with the book fair.” I guess my time would be finished now. No librarian, no book fair. Unless … I glanced at the locked drawer. What if someone killed her for what was in that drawer?

  No, Duane would kill me. Still, I couldn’t help but wonder ‘what if’, especially after hearing the conversation in the teacher’s lounge. People thought Mrs. Grimes had something of value and experience had taught me that some people thought that a good enough reason to kill.