The Librarian's Last Chapter (A River Valley Mystery, Book 3) Page 9

  I’d forgotten about my drenching, but now I shivered with a force hard enough to clank my teeth together. “I got caught on the field.”

  Duane set me on a bleacher than raced away, returning seconds later with a stadium blanket. He wrapped it around my shoulders, and then pulled me close. “I’m sorry I didn’t get here sooner. I tried, but one of the boys needed his ankle taped, and—”

  “It’s okay. I should have texted something more than I need your help. We need a code word or something for when it’s imperative you get to me.”

  He sighed. “Considering your talent for finding danger and dead bodies, I guess we do.”

  “Danger. That’s all I’ll say or text.” I laid my cheek against his chest and breathed deep of a musky cologne and a manly scent that was all Duane I closed my eyes to the sight of Stacy’s body being wheeled from under the bleachers.

  Who would write about River Valley’s simple lifestyle now? Who would alert the town that another murder had been committed? Tears burned their way down my frigid cheeks. Poor Stacy only lasted a day in the sleuthing business. I must keep my guardian angel working overtime.

  “Bruce is coming.” Duane whispered in my ear. “I’ll stay right here while he badgers you.”

  “Thank you. He’ll be less of a jerk if you’re here.” I opened my eyes and straightened.

  Bruce resembled a bandy rooster all puffed chest and squinty eyes. It did bother me that I kept the poor man on his toes with the trouble I got into, but must he look at me as if it were all my fault?

  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?” N
ews 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.”