“I suppose he’ll have to work with Harvey Kirk on that,” I said.
Sally waved her hand dismissively. “No problem. Norman told me he enjoys working with colleagues. And while I don’t mean to be sexist or genderist, if there’s such a word, I like the idea of there being another male librarian in the building.”
“Do you think Harvey will agree?”
Sally shot me a questioning glance. “Why should Harvey have a problem with someone wanting to update our system?”
“Because up until now he’s been in charge of everything electronic.”
She thought a moment before saying, “Harvey sometimes comes across as a bit gruff, but I’ve always found him to be reasonable. I’m sure he and Norman will get along just fine.”
“I’m sure you’re right. Sally, I’d like to talk to you—about something else.”
Sally sank back in her chair. “You mean Dorothy.”
I nodded. “Yes, Dorothy. I was the person who found the sheet of paper with the list of people she’d been blackmailing.”
Sally frowned. “I figured it was you. Who else would go sniffing around her desk after the police were done searching for clues?”
“I suspected it long before. I’d heard rumors, and I got the feeling that she was pressuring you to give her my job when Barbara left and it became available.”
“Only I gave it to you, didn’t I?” she said.
“Not willingly,” I reminded her.
Sally let out a bark of a laugh. “You’re like a dog with a bone, Carrie. So tenacious. So determined. I suppose that’s what makes you good at what you do.”
“You mean being head of programs and events or helping the police solve murders?”
This time her laughter was genuine. “Both, I suppose.”
“I wish you’d tell me what she tried to hold over you. I won’t tell anyone,” I said softly.
“I know. But every time I think of it I feel stupid—and ashamed.”
I waited for Sally to gather her thoughts.
“I was new at the time—when she got her claws into me,” Sally continued. “I’d had experience being a librarian, even overseeing the staff, but I hadn’t had much experience with the financial side of things. I’d no sooner become director of the Clover Ridge Library than I had to present the yearly budget to the board. The previous director had left things in a mess. Her notes were a jumble. One of the aides said she used to help the director finalize the annual budget and even managed some of the other accounts. She offered to do the same for me. In return, she wanted a raise in salary. I thought she was being high-handed and presumptuous. I was insulted that she assumed she could handle me because I was young and new at the job, so I told her I could do very well without her.”
Oh, Evelyn! You got off on the wrong foot with Sally. Was this after Ernie Pfeiffer had managed to lose your savings, and you were desperate for money?
Sally drew a deep breath. “I should have taken her up on her offer or asked one of the librarians to help me, because I made my own mess of things. I left out expenses I should have included, then added in more expenses than I should have.” She sighed. “I made the mistake of telling this to Dorothy. We’d become friends, and I thought I could trust her because she acted friendly and concerned. Until one day she wanted to change her schedule and take a day off. I couldn’t do it easily and told her so. That’s when she asked if I wanted her to tell the board what I’d done to pocket some money for myself. I caved and gave her the day off. Shortly after that, she asked for money. I gave her that too.”
“But you offered me the position of head of P and E, even though you knew she wanted it.”
Sally smiled. “So I did. For one thing, your Uncle Bosco’s on the library board. When he asked me to consider you for the job, I knew I had to. And since you had the right qualifications, I offered the job to you and not to Dorothy”
“So Uncle Bosco didn’t make you give me the position.”
“Of course not. How could he?”
“But you seemed so—unhappy when you offered me the job.”
“I was. I resented his having asked me to consider you when I had serious doubts about Goth Girl.”
I laughed, remembering how I used to look when I temped as an aide in the library—purple hair, Doc Martens, dressed all in black.
“I gave you the job and finally told Dorothy off. I’d decided I wasn’t going to go on as director of this library living under the fear of her threats. I figured that if she went ahead and told them I’d embezzled funds, which wasn’t true, the board knew me well enough to hear my side of the story. And by then I had a written account of every penny spent in the library since I’d started as director.”
“So she had nothing more to hold over you,” I said. “Then what were you arguing about the day before she was murdered?”
Sally grimaced. “I don’t know why it took me so long, but after I shook myself free of her threats, I realized that Dorothy must have done the same to other people, probably people I know. And sure enough, after her first accident—falling down or being pushed down outside the supermarket—I ran into Lillian Morris, who used to work here and had been a friend of Dorothy’s. When I told her Dorothy was laid up after a fall, the woman said, ‘It couldn’t have happened to a nicer person.’ I asked her what she meant, and she told me that she had once told Dorothy about a petty crime she’d committed. Dorothy had demanded money from her and threatened to tell the head of the library at the time. Lillian said she’d paid up but warned Dorothy she wouldn’t again, and Dorothy never bothered her again.
“When Dorothy came back to work, I told her I knew what she’d been doing. She merely laughed and asked how I planned to stop her. I said I’d go to the police. She stormed out of my office. That was the last time I ever saw her.”
I nodded, trying to take it all in. “Did you tell this to John Mathers?”
“I did. John asked me if I recognized certain initials, and I was able to help him with a few—with people who once worked here and former friends of Dorothy’s.”
“Harvey Kirk was one of Dorothy’s victims,” I said. “What on earth did Harvey do? Play computer games when he should have been helping patrons?”
“Harvey’s a compulsive gambler. Sports are his downfall, especially football. He’s lost a lot of money over the years. He’s gone into debt. His wife left him.”
“I had no idea,” I said. “Do you know what Dorothy was holding over him?”
“I’d rather not say, Carrie. It’s not my secret to share.”
I nodded. “Fair enough.”
I headed back to my office, wondering if anything Sally had told me shed new light on Dorothy’s murder. Or murderer.
“Harvey often gambles online when he should be working,” Evelyn said, suddenly manifesting at my side. “Dorothy found out and started looking up online gambling sites. When his name appeared as a big winner, she decided to add him to her list.”
“Thank you,” I murmured as someone called out my name.
I looked up. Doris Maris was waving to me from a chair in the reading room. I hurried over to her, feeling a bit guilty. I’d been so busy, I hadn’t had a chance to speak to her in the past few days.
“I wanted to thank you for asking your uncle to look into a facility for Henry. He’s settled in nicely, and they’re taking good care of him.”
I squeezed her hand. “I’m so glad.”
“It’s such a relief not to be worrying about him.”
“And what about you? How are you doing?”
Doris sighed. “I’m managing. The good thing is, the shelter has hired a counselor to place us in permanent homes.” She gestured to the woman sitting across from her. “Now that Henry’s being cared for in his residence, Shondra and I are hoping to share an apartment in the spring.”
I smiled at the woman, who glowered back at me. I hoped Doris wasn’t making a mistake, planning to room with someone so angry.
�
�We’ll have to share a bedroom, but I suppose we’re not in a position to ask for more,” Shondra said.
Doris touched Shondra’s arm. “Not to worry. We’ll work it out.”
Shondra seemed to soften before my eyes. “I know.”
“And they want us to work at least fifteen hours a week,” Doris said. “As long as it’s not in a factory, I look forward to having a job.”
Shondra sent her a cocky smile. “You’ll do fine, Doris, wherever they place us. And we’ll have plenty of time to watch our TV shows.”
“Or we can spend time in Haven House when we’re free,” Doris said. “This is the best thing that’s happened to us. It’s the reason why we now have Mary, our counselor. She’ll also be working in Haven House, once the renovations are completed.
I chatted with them a few minutes longer, then wished them well and left. I was happy that Henry was being cared for and that Doris would soon be leaving the shelter. Haven House was such a marvelous venture. I wished that providing the homeless a place to spend their days were its only purpose. With all the rumors and innuendoes about the place, it was time I did some actual digging to see what facts I could unearth about the project.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Ken Talbot sounded happy to hear from me when I called him Monday morning.
“I’m glad I found you in the office,” I told him. “Are you free for lunch today? My treat.”
“Turns out I’m free at noon for an hour or so. To what do I owe this honor and pleasure?”
“I want to pick your brain, but I can’t afford your lawyerly rates.”
Ken laughed. “Carrie, dear, you’re always free to pick my brain. Tell you what—I’ll come by the library for you at noon and whisk you away to one of my favorite restaurants, but only if you agree to be my guest.”
“How can I refuse the best offer I’ve gotten all day?”
Hours later I stepped into Ken’s low-slung Porsche and clicked on my seat belt. “Where are we off to?”
“A cozy Asian restaurant that serves everything from Thai to sashimi. Adam and I go there at least once a week.”
“Sounds good to me.”
We chatted about the people we knew in common—the Foster family and Ken’s college roommate, George—until he turned into the parking area of a strip mall of shops. I spotted the restaurant immediately.
“Asian Fusion! I’ve heard about it. My friend Angela loves this place.”
“Well, if you love it, you can ask Dylan to bring you back here for dinner.” He cocked his head. “If you guys are still dating.”
“We sure are,” I said, climbing out of the car. “Dylan’s still involved in a case for his old boss. He’s opening up an office in New Haven in the near future—as a partner in the agency.”
“Good for him and good to know,” Ken said as we walked toward the restaurant’s entrance. “Sometimes I need an investigator to check out a few places or people.”
The host, a smiling Chinese gentleman in his sixties, led us to the only empty booth in the place, which was off by itself in a corner. All the tables were occupied as well.
“I asked for this booth so we can talk about whatever you like,” Ken said.
I slid onto the cushioned seat and stripped open the paper covering on the wooden chopsticks. “I like it here,” I said, admiring the red and gold Asian décor and figures set on black walls.
“You’ll like the menu even more,” Ken said.
The menu was so extensive and appealing, it took me awhile to choose what to eat. I finally settled on an avocado salad and negimaki—strips of marinated beef rolled around scallions. Ken ordered soup and an order of sashimi. The young waitress, who hardly spoke English, brought us tea. I sipped, feeling both energized and relaxed.
“So,” Ken said, “what’s on your mind? Does it have anything to do with Dorothy Hawkins’s murder?”
I smiled at his keen observation. “I couldn’t say—though, oddly enough, some of the people I want to talk to you about are related to Dorothy.”
I told Ken about Haven House and how I’d gotten involved in the project.
“I heard that a few people in town planned to turn that run-down house around the corner from your aunt and uncle’s place into a center for the homeless.”
“That’s right. They bought the house at a rock-bottom price and got some start-up funds from the state. They’re raising money through fundraisers, like the dinner dance I went to this past weekend.”
“Interesting,” Ken said, munching on a few dried noodles our waiter had placed on the table.
“Remember Gillian Richards, who used to date Ryan Foster? She’s working as a volunteer for the project—same as me.”
“Gillian Richards,” Ken echoed. “Nice girl. The best thing that happened to Ryan in years. I’m not surprised she broke up with him. Ryan has yet to learn to control his temper and to keep a job. Right now he’s in Florida, working in a restaurant.”
“I’m fond of Gillian,” I said, “but she has no sense when it comes to men. Ryan was bad enough, but this past Saturday night she spent the evening dancing and making goo-goo eyes at Roger Camden. She couldn’t have cared less when I told her he has four kids and was just separated from his wife.”
“Roger Camden,” Ken said slowly. “Why do I know that name?”
“Did you ever represent him?”
“No, I don’t think so.”
“He’s Dorothy Hawkins’s brother. Lives in the area.”
“Of course! Jerry Benning’s brother-in-law. A good looking guy. Smooth talker. Isn’t he kind of old for Gillian?”
“I’d say. So you know Gerald.”
“I know every lawyer in and around Clover Ridge. Benning and I run into each other in court and other places.”
The waitress brought my salad and Ken’s appetizer. We picked up our chopsticks and started eating.
“Gerald Benning’s one of the main proponents of Haven House. So is Ernie Pfeiffer,” I said between bites.
Ken laughed. “I’d never have figured on those two working together. Pfeiffer’s as crooked as they come. Hard to believe he’d shell out money to help the homeless unless he has an ulterior motive.”
“The homeless will only be at Haven House during daytime hours. I heard Ernie and his crew intend to use the building for high-stakes card games and parties.”
“That doesn’t sound like Benning,” Ken said. “For all his faults, I’ve never known him to do something illegal. Basically, he follows the straight and narrow—from the way he dresses to his politics.”
“Tell me about his faults,” I said.
“I don’t like the man, so whatever I say is tainted by my sentiments,” Ken said.
“Maybe you don’t like him because of what you know about him.”
“He’s a snob and a social climber, and he’s driven to make his mark. Any controversy in Clover Ridge, he makes his voice heard at every town hall meeting. I don’t think he really cares what he’s promoting as long as people notice and ask him to represent them. Benning’s out to make a name for himself. He ran for mayor a few years back but never got anywhere.”
I chewed on a mouthful of avocado and lettuce as I thought. “I’d like to know how Ernie Pfeiffer plans to use Haven House once the homeless leave for the day.”
Ken sent me one of his stern lawyerly looks. “Carrie, I know what a curious mind you have, but I’m advising you—don’t get involved. Tell John Mathers what you’ve heard, and let him handle it. For all you know, he’s aware of Pfeiffer’s plans. But plans mean nothing. Keep in mind, John can’t do anything until these shenanigans actually take place. It will be months before the renovations are complete and Haven House opens for business. Right now it’s in pretty bad shape.”
“Okay,” I said, trying to sound meek.
Ken didn’t fall for it. “I’m serious, Carrie. It’s fine to talk to me about this, but don’t go around questioning people involved in Haven House. Ernie has his s
pies. You don’t want to make the man your enemy.”
I shuddered. “What do you mean?”
Ken’s expression grew more solemn. “A few people who complained about losing money via one of his get-rich schemes were sorry they did. One man’s car was damaged; someone else’s garden shed was set on fire. They soon got the message.”
“I had no idea he’d go that far,” I said.
Ken smiled. “There’s nothing for you to worry about as long as you don’t go around asking questions about Pfeiffer or Haven House. I’m not saying be an ostrich and bury your head and your concerns in the sand, but tell John what you suspect and leave the detecting to the police. Ah, here comes our waitress with our main course.”
Ken’s warning had frightened me, as he’d meant it to, but I was too hungry not to pay my lunch the attention it deserved. My beef dish was delicious. I offered a piece to Ken, and he gave me a piece of salmon sashimi, which was excellent too. When Dylan came home for good, this was one of the first restaurants I wanted us to visit.
Ken asked me if any progress had been made regarding Dorothy’s murder investigation.
“Nothing, really, though they found a list of people she’d been blackmailing for money. Ernie Pfeiffer may very well have been on that list,” I said.
“Really?” Ken chuckled. “There were many things you could say about Dorothy, but she sure had plenty of nerve.”
“She used the money she’d extorted to add to her vase collection. I happened to see them when I visited her after her fall.”
“A vase collection, eh? We all have our weaknesses.”
“What’s yours?” I asked.
“Buying good wine,” he answered quickly. “I find I spend hours perusing wine reviews before I order a case.”
We finished our meal and drove back to the library. I thanked Ken profusely for the lovely lunch.
He reached over to kiss my cheek. “My pleasure, Carrie. I’ll do a little checking and let you know what I can find out about Haven House.”
“Thank you. Give Adam and George my best,” I said, referring to Ken’s partner and his former college roommate. I’d gotten to know George Ruskin when I helped his nephew, Jared Foster, solve his mother’s murder.
Buried in the Stacks Page 18
