Buried in the Stacks

by Allison Brook

  But the longer I thought about it, the more I was convinced that Dorothy had gotten things wrong. I assumed that Fred had been with her when she’d gone shopping at the supermarket the previous evening. Perhaps he’d tried to help her up when she was slipping, and she had misinterpreted his actions.

  Or maybe she’d been disoriented by her concussion or stay in the hospital. Or she associated me with murder cases. But whatever the reason, I had no business assuming someone was out to kill Dorothy Hawkins.

  I chuckled. Not that I couldn’t imagine a line of people wanting to throttle her. She was a most unpleasant person and had irritated or offended every staff member of the library at one time or another. Even though there might be several people who wanted to off Dorothy, I was convinced her mild-mannered husband, Fred, wasn’t one of them.

  Julia’s directions to their house were excellent, and ten minutes after I’d set out I was turning into their development. I hadn’t had fond memories of my cousin Randy, who used to tease me when my brother and I had spent summers at the Singleton farm, but our adult relationship was based on fond affection. Julia, his wife, was a doll, and I hoped we’d become better friends. I adored their studious eight-year-old Mark, but four-year-old Tacey was my favorite, partly because she was the only other person in Clover Ridge who could see Evelyn Havers in her ghostly form.

  I parked in Julia and Randy’s two-car driveway and reached in the back seat for the cake and the toys I’d bought for the kids. I had no sooner used the knocker than the front door flew open.

  “Cousin Carrie! Cousin Carrie!” Tacey shouted. “You’re finally coming to visit me at my house.”

  “Of course!” her father said. “I told Cousin Carrie she had to come visit us or else.”

  “Or else what, Dad?” Mark asked.

  After I untangled myself from Tacey’s embrace, I hugged the others in turn. It was wonderful knowing I had relatives who cared about me, something I’d only discovered at the late age of thirty.

  “Chocolate cake for all of us,” I said, off-loading the box to Julia. “And something for you, Mark.” I handed him the electronic toy. “And for you.” I gave Tacey the book I’d bought her.

  “I’ll read it with you later,” I told her.

  “I can write my name,” Tacey said. “I’ll write it in my book so everyone will know it’s mine.”

  “Good idea,” Randy said. He put his arm around my shoulders. “Come inside and take off your jacket.”

  “Wow! Thanks, Cousin Carrie,” Mark said.

  Julia took my jacket and hung it up in the hall closet. “Would you like a brief tour of the house?” she asked.

  “I’d love it.”

  “Living room, dining room,” Julia said, pointing to one side of the hall, then the other.

  “What a lovely home you have,” I said. The décor was modern—simple and tastefully done in taupe, with accents in teal and burnt orange.

  “The family room and the kitchen run along the back of the house.”

  Except for the sofa, loveseat, and the large TV mounted on the wall, the family room was crammed with toys. Tacey took my hand as we went upstairs to see the four bedrooms and two baths.

  “Isn’t my room pretty?” she asked.

  “Beautiful,” I said, admiring the canopied bed and the large wall mural of fantastic animals done in cheery pastels.

  “And here’s the guest room. For when you stay over,” Tacey said as we entered the room across the hall.

  The queen-sized bed had a purple and beige patterned quilt that went very well with the beige carpet. And the master bedroom was something else entirely. The bedspread and shams were a deep red with swirls of yellow and green. I would have sworn they’d be garish if I weren’t admiring them in person. The bathrooms too were unique. The kids’ bathroom was painted a bright yellow and gave the feeling of being in a boat, while the gray and white master bathroom was elegant and classical.

  “Your house is beautifully decorated,” I told Julia. “Your decorator is extremely talented.”

  Julia giggled. “My decorator thanks you.”

  For a minute I didn’t get what she was telling me. “Oh! You did this yourself. You are very talented.”

  “That she is,” Randy said, appearing on the scene. He slipped his arm around Julia’s waist. “I convinced Julia to take a few interior decorating courses and work for a company before setting out on her own.”

  “Last year I decided to go for it after checking out the school systems within a half hour’s drive and discovering there were no vacancies for early primary teachers.”

  “I didn’t realize you used to teach.”

  Julia nodded. “For three years. Before Mark was born. I enjoyed teaching, but I love decorating houses. I was lucky to get a part-time job with Markham Designs here in town. Right now I work two days a week. I’ll be putting in a full week when Tacey starts kindergarten in the fall.”

  I was filled with admiration for Julia. Much as I’d always liked her, I’d always viewed her as just Randy’s wife and Tacey’s mom. I knew she wanted us to be good friends, and I was determined to do my part in making this come about.

  Dinner turned out to be a very casual event, which suited the five of us just fine. Julia and Randy were easy-going parents, and both Mark and Tacey were well-behaved and used to holding up their end of the conversation. I was surprised when our appetizer turned out to be ceviche, but the kids finished their portions of shrimp, scallops, and calamari marinated in lime sauce in record time. They each ate most of their avocado salad and meatballs and pasta, then dashed off—Tacey to watch TV and Mark to play with his new electronic game.

  We three adults finished our main course at a more leisurely pace.

  Randy said, “I heard Dorothy Hawkins took a bad fall at the supermarket last night. Cracked a few ribs.”

  “And injured her ankle. I visited her at the hospital this morning.”

  “I didn’t know you were such great pals,” he said. “According to Uncle Bosco, she pulled a few dirty tricks when you started your new position.”

  “That she did. Since then we’ve struck a truce. Not that we’re great buddies. I visited her on behalf of the library staff.”

  “She’s nobody’s favorite,” Randy said. “We have friends who live on the same block. They tell us Dorothy’s filed complaints with the town against some of their neighbors for various offenses.” He laughed. “I wouldn’t be surprised if someone tried to knock her down last night, hoping she’d stay down for the count.”

  “Randy!” Julia exclaimed. “What a thing to say! We’ve had enough murders recently to last us till the next century. Besides, Dorothy is a very capable research librarian. She helped me get books from other libraries that I needed for my decorating classes—books they usually don’t lend out.”

  “She is an excellent research librarian,” I agreed. “If only she had a sweeter disposition.” And didn’t blackmail people into doing what she wanted.

  “Well, I hope Dorothy recovers soon,” Julia said. “But I’m upset by another library matter that hits closer to home.”

  “What is it?” I asked.

  “I’ve noticed that several homeless people have taken to hanging out in the library. I’ve no complaints if they stay in the reading room, but they get bored and wander around. When I picked up Mark the other afternoon, a scruffy-looking guy was talking to him and his friend. Neither Marion nor Gayle was in sight.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” I said. “They both must have had something important to take care of in the office. They make it a point not to leave the children alone.”

  “Regardless, I don’t plan to bring Mark or Tacey to any more programs unless I can stay with them the entire time.”

  At that point both Tacey and Mark came into the dining room, asking when cake was being served. We cleared the table, and Julia made coffee.

  After we had our dessert, I helped Julia clear the dishes. I stopped in the bathroom
before my drive home. Tacey was waiting for me when I stepped outside.

  “Can you bring Miss Evelyn when you visit us again?”

  I knelt down and held her close. “Honey, Miss Evelyn can’t leave the library. You know that.”

  Tacey nodded. “I know, but I want her to come to my house.”

  “I’m sure she’d love to.”

  Tacey sighed. “I haven’t seen Miss Evelyn in a long, long time.”

  “Maybe Mommy will bring you to the library soon. Then you can see her.”

  “I hope so.”

  I hugged everyone goodbye amid promises to get together again very soon. I drove home slowly, my head filled with various thoughts: Dorothy’s fear of her husband, the disruptions the homeless people were causing in the library, Tacey missing Evelyn.

  It had taken Tacey awhile before she had realized Evelyn couldn’t eat the cookies she kept offering her. Julia had been concerned that her daughter had an “imaginary friend,” but once Tacey realized that I also saw Evelyn and I explained that Evelyn was on a different plane and couldn’t eat our food, she stopped mentioning Evelyn in front of her mother. Still, Tacey wanted Evelyn to visit her in her home. Interesting, how the mind worked, even in a four-year-old girl.

  I turned onto the private road that ran through the Avery property. As I drove past Dylan’s manor house on my way to my cottage, I was overcome by a longing to see him. In the short time we’d been a couple, our relationship had gone through a rocky phase, but now we were back on an even keel. Soon Dylan would be living in Clover Ridge on a permanent basis. I hoped our relationship would deepen and that eventually we would get married—a totally new concept for me. Up until recently, I’d doubted that, given my dysfunctional background, I’d ever be part of a loving family like Julia and Randy’s—able to raise happy, healthy kids like Mark and Tacey. But falling in love with Dylan and getting to know my father and seeing him in a different light had given me hope. Maybe I’d end up being “normal” after all.

  Chapter Four

  Evelyn was waiting for me when I unlocked my office door Monday morning. “How is Dorothy? Is she in pain? Please tell me everything. I need to know how she’s doing.”

  I’d never seen Evelyn this agitated—wringing her hands as she paced the short distance between my desk and the one Trish and Susan shared. “Yesterday morning I overheard Sally telling Gayle that she had to spend a few hours working at the reference desk because Dorothy had taken a bad fall and was laid up in the hospital. Later on, when Max was setting up the chairs for the concert, Sally mentioned you’d gone to visit her. What happened, Carrie? How did she end up in the hospital?”

  “She’s all right, but it was a bad fall. She has a badly twisted ankle, some cracked ribs, and a bit of a concussion from hitting her head. Nothing fatal, though …”

  “Though …” Evelyn urged.

  “Dorothy acted kind of strange when her husband came into the room. As though she were afraid of him. She told me he’d pushed her to the ground outside the supermarket … that he wanted her to die.”

  To my surprise, Evelyn burst out laughing. “Fred kill her? That’s difficult to imagine. He adores Dorothy, though most people can’t understand why.”

  “When I met him in the hospital, he struck me as genuinely thoughtful and caring toward Dorothy. I didn’t pick up any hostile vibes. Still, it’s not like Dorothy to be easily frightened.”

  Evelyn nodded in agreement. “It must have been the drugs talking. As I remember, Fred always treated her better than she deserved.”

  “But what about her fall?” I asked. “She got pretty banged up from simply falling on some ice.”

  Evelyn cocked her head at me. “My dear, people can break all sorts of things when they fall down on ice.”

  “She said there was an icy patch,” I said.

  “And knowing my niece, she was in a hurry, as usual.” Evelyn tittered. “And she is something of a klutz.”

  Clearly, Evelyn’s spirits were much improved, so I ventured to say, “We would have heard by now if Fred had managed to finish her off in the hospital, so it’s safe to assume she’s alive.”

  “Let me know how she’s progressing, Carrie,” Evelyn said, frowning to let me know she didn’t appreciate my little joke.

  “Will do,” I promised as she vanished from sight.

  The phone rang, demanding my attention. It was a patron named Carol Dixon, who had just returned from a trip to Vietnam and Cambodia and wanted to offer a slide show one evening in the library.

  “Nice to hear from you, Carol. We’re pretty well booked up for the next few months,” I said.

  “Could you check to see if you have a free evening in April or May? My husband and I would love to share our experience with our friends and neighbors.”

  I’d learned it was best to take care of calls like this on the spot whenever possible. “I’d be happy to check the calendar. I can call you right back, or you can hold if you prefer.”

  “I’ll hold, if that’s okay.”

  Carol and Stanley Dixon. Their names sounded familiar, so I knew Trish or Sue must have mentioned them. I riffled through the cards of past presenters and the invaluable comments that Barbara, my predecessor, had left me. There it was: “Well-informed if a bit stuffy. Might be best to limit the next program—and there will be a next program—to an hour.”

  Next, I pulled up the schedules for March and April. There was a six o’clock slot available on a Thursday in late April. That meant an hour’s presentation since a craft class was scheduled in that room at seven thirty.

  “I can offer you a six o’clock slot for one hour in late April,” I told Carol.

  I gave her the date, to which she readily agreed. When she asked for a fee of three hundred dollars, I explained that the library didn’t pay patrons who shared their experiences such as this, and asked her to please fill out the form that she could download from our website and send it to me.

  I answered some email and made a few phone calls until Trish joined me, followed by Smoky Joe wanting his mid-morning feeding. Trish’s eyes gleamed with excitement as she hung up her coat.

  “War zone in the reading room!” she announced.

  “Oh no! Not Jimmy Belco from the shelter again.”

  “Yep. He and a pal got bored looking through the same magazines they’ve probably seen one hundred times already. They crumpled up sheets of paper they took from the wastepaper basket and started lobbing them at each other. Patrons got pissed and complained, and things got out of hand.” Trish glanced at me sideways. “Sure you didn’t hear the noise?”

  I shook my head. “I think this room is soundproof.”

  “Max and Pete came running from wherever they were working and broke it up. Sally called the police. It’s not in our custodians’ job description to break up fights.”

  “No, it isn’t,” I agreed. “Did someone come down from the station?”

  “Danny Brower arrived just as they got things under control. I figured it was time to stop being a looky-loo and earn my keep.” Trish grinned. “You don’t want your right-hand gal turning into a slacker, do you?”

  I chuckled. “Fat chance of that happening.”

  I brought Trish up to date on what needed to be done, then left to check on the aftermath of the incident in the reading room.

  Patrons milled about in small groups, conversing in low tones. I caught sight of Danny Brower, the police department’s rookie officer, leading Jimmy and another young guy out through the front entrance. As far as I could tell, they weren’t in handcuffs. I was about to enter Sally’s office, when the door swung open, and out walked the older homeless couple who had been with Jimmy Belco the day he’d gotten into a shouting match. Doris and Henry Maris. Henry seemed befuddled, as if he wasn’t sure what was happening. His wife, on the other hand, was clearly upset.

  Though we’d never spoken, Doris must have known that I worked in the library, because she latched onto my arm. “Please help us!
”

  “I don’t know how I can.”

  Her grip grew tighter. “Sally says Jimmy can’t come back here, but you have to help make her understand. Jimmy’s a fine young man and doesn’t mean to start trouble. He promised to behave, only he has a short attention span—”

  “I’m sorry, but I’m sure Sally explained the situation,” I said, cutting short her plea. “The library’s for patrons who want to read or take part in our programs. Jimmy’s been upsetting the other patrons.”

  “It’s because we brought Trevor,” her husband said. “We promise not to bring Trevor here again,”

  “Yes, Henry, that’s right!” Doris said. “It was a mistake letting Trevor come with us.” She turned to me. “But he had nowhere to go today, and Jimmy swore they’d behave.”

  I wanted to hug them both and tell them everything would be all right. Only nothing in their lives was all right. “I wish I could help, but there’s nothing I can do.”

  I ducked into Sally’s office, leaving Doris and Henry murmuring to each other.

  Sally was sitting at her desk, holding her head. “I need an aspirin.”

  “Where is Danny taking them?”

  “I have no idea,” Sally said as she rummaged through her drawers. She pulled out a bottle of aspirin and swallowed two without the benefit of water. “I feel sorry for all of them—having no home to call their own—but they’re not welcome to hang out in the library if they can’t behave.”

  “Were they all once Clover Ridge residents?” I asked.

  “I don’t know about Trevor, but Jimmy and the Marises were. Jimmy has a bad case of ADHD. He had trouble getting through high school, then holding down a job. He moved to Florida with his parents a few years ago but eventually came back here, working occasionally and sleeping in the shelter.”

  She shook her head. “Doris and Henry are as middle class as you and me. At least, they were until Henry’s decline, when they lost their store and had to sell their home for a song because they couldn’t pay their mortgage. They went to live with their son, but that didn’t work out. And suddenly they had nowhere to go.”