Buried in the Stacks

by Allison Brook

  I smiled. “Unfortunately, it isn’t up to me, but I plan to come to the next meeting and do what I can to help the cause.”

  I thanked Francesca and retrieved my parka. I started for the door, eager to head for home, when the elderly woman who had raised the bordello question came over to me.

  “Carrie Singleton! I’ve been wanting to have a word with you for some time now.”

  “Really? Perhaps we can—”

  “Yes, indeed! My name is Shirley Klauss. I love to make handicrafts. I took every class the library offered when Barbara was in charge. From knitted toys to painted wine glasses.” She gave a little laugh. “I enjoyed them all! And now there aren’t any more.”

  “I’m glad you had the chance to enjoy them when you did, Shirley, but I’m sorry to say the classes weren’t well attended. We had to make room for more popular programs.”

  Shirley pressed her lips together and appeared to be deep in thought. I was longing to leave but hesitated to remove her hand from my arm. Suddenly, she offered me a brilliant smile. “I know! Why don’t you set up a club for knitters and crocheters? We could meet once a week. I bet that would be very popular.”

  I looked around. Except for Harvey, who was chatting with Ben and Theo, the few remaining people were saying goodbye to Francesca and Gerald. “That’s an excellent suggestion. Of course it depends on available space. Knowing our busy schedule, I doubt a weekly meeting would be possible.”

  Her grip on my arm grew tighter. “That’s too bad.”

  “Let me think about it.” I shook my arm free. “Why don’t you call me at the library next week, and we’ll talk about it.”

  “I will! You can count on me to follow through!”

  I stepped toward the door. Shirley kept pace beside me. “My friends Mary Wallace and Jeannette Robbins will be so happy when I tell them we’ll soon be meeting in the library. Mornings work best for us.”

  “I didn’t say—” I began, but she’d spun around and was walking toward another woman who had been waiting for her.

  I thanked Gerald for his hospitality, apologized because the library offer had fallen through, and followed Shirley and her friend outside.

  I breathed in the cold winter air, glad to be homeward bound. I tried to decide if coming to tonight’s meeting had been a waste of my time. True, I had been surprised to see Harvey Kirk there, and I’d be sure to mention it to John. But what had I actually learned that was of any value?

  I started driving to my cottage. It was only when I slowed down as I approached the town’s center that I realized I was being followed.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  A chill ran down my spine. Had the car been following me since I left the Bennings’s house? I drove along the Green, hoping to see someone—anyone—but it was cold, and the shops were closed for the night. Still, the area was well lit. As the car behind me passed under a streetlight, I was able to see it was large and black. I slowed down and circled the entire Green, whose four sides were each three or four blocks long. I clicked on my phone and called 911. I was surprised when Danny Brower picked up immediately.

  “Danny, it’s Carrie. A car is following me. I’m driving around the Green.”

  “I’m in a squad car a block away. Be there ASAP.”

  What is he doing answering 911 calls in a squad car? I didn’t have time to wonder further because a police siren sounded, splitting the silence. The car tailing me swerved around my car and took off at top speed. A minute later Danny pulled up beside me.

  “Are you okay, Carrie?”

  “I think so,” I said. “It was a black Mercedes sedan. I think it followed me from the Haven House meeting at the Bennings’ tonight.”

  “Catch the license number?”

  “Sorry. I didn’t.”

  Danny insisted on following me home and seeing me into the cottage.

  “I’ll drive by a few times tonight to make sure you’re safe. Call if you hear or see anything suspicious.”

  “I will,” I said, locking the door behind him.

  I sank down on the living room sofa, holding my head in my hands. I shouldn’t have gone to the meeting. No matter that I hadn’t asked a question or made a comment regarding the subject on everyone’s mind. Ernie Pfeiffer and his little group didn’t want me around. They saw me as a snoop who meant to bring the law down on them. For once, the fact that I’d helped solve previous crimes was a detriment.

  I had no idea who’d been tailing me. Gerald Benning had a Mercedes. Maybe some of the others did too. Something for the police to follow up on.

  I went into the kitchen and poured myself a glass of chardonnay. I drank deeply, welcoming the warm feeling that pervaded my body and helped calm me down. Smoky Joe appeared, yawning from his nap, and I gave him some treats.

  I returned to the sofa and found myself analyzing what I’d learned that night. As far as I could tell, Gerald, Ben, Theo, and Ernie Pfeiffer were the ones in charge. Were Fred Hawkins and Roger Camden involved as well? If this was the project Ernie Pfeiffer wanted them to invest in, they were. Fred hadn’t been at the meeting, but he certainly had resented my questions about the group. And Roger was too busy romancing Gillian to pay attention to what anyone was saying.

  Ernie Pfeiffer wasn’t the only one to be reckoned with. Gerald was one cool character. I’d seen how quickly he’d made a joke out of Shirley’s legitimate question. He, Ben, and Theo all did their part to make Haven House the perfect front for their moneymaking scheme. Any one of them could have broken into the cottage and left that note. I shivered. If the mayor and John and other leaders of the community couldn’t stop them, how could I?

  * * *

  I spent a restless night tossing and turning, suddenly aware of sounds both outside and inside the cottage. I left my bed two or three times to see if anyone was trying to break in. Thank goodness, Jack Norris had told me the new alarm system would be installed tomorrow, or I never would have shut my eyes.

  I called John as soon as I arrived at the library the next morning.

  “I was just about to call you. Danny told me what happened last night. No more meetings for you,” was his gruff response.

  “Any news regarding the black Mercedes? I wish I’d seen the license plate.”

  “Gerald Benning and Ben Stockton each have a black Mercedes. I’ll question them both, but we know how that will go.”

  I let out a sigh. “So we’ve nothing to go on.”

  “Don’t get discouraged. I’d like to stop by the library so you can give me a rundown on the meeting while it’s still fresh in your mind.”

  “Sure, John, and you might want to talk to Harvey Kirk while you’re here. He was there last night.”

  “Is that so? Interesting.”

  “Why do you say that?” I asked.

  “I shouldn’t be telling you this, so be sure to keep it under your hat. His ex-wife came in asking for a restraining order. She complained he got physical when she confronted him for not sending her her monthly check.”

  “Harvey? Physical?” I asked. “He can be sarcastic, but I wouldn’t have thought him the physical type.”

  “Carrie, dear, anyone can be physical when they’re desperate.”

  “High gambling debts,” I said.

  “You didn’t hear it from me. See you in an hour or so.”

  So that’s why Harvey was there last night! He must have heard about the scam and wanted to get in on it. But didn’t he realize he had to put money up front to get involved? Or maybe he simply wanted to find out about the high-stakes card games. I shrugged, realizing I had no answers.

  My cell phone played its jingle. It was Dylan, sounding jubilant.

  “The case is over! I’m flying home tomorrow for the weekend, and then I’m back here for a few days to tie up loose ends. After that, I’m coming home for good.”

  I let out a deep sigh. “I’m so glad. I’ll feel safer with you here.”

  “Are you feeling nervous about the break-in?
I spoke to Jack. The security system’s being installed right now.”

  “Thank you! Last night I went to a Haven House meeting at Dorothy Hawkins’s sister’s house. Someone followed me partway home until Danny Brower came to my rescue.”

  Dylan let loose a deep whoosh of air. “Carrie, please! Promise me—no more meetings. No more investigating.”

  “I promise. John and Uncle Bosco and the mayor are up in arms against this group, but no one can touch them. They need proof that the house is being used for other activities.”

  “They’ll get it once they start holding parties and expensive fundraisers.”

  “But then Haven House will be closed. I don’t want that to happen either.”

  We chatted a few minutes more, then I settled down to work. John came by, and I told him who had attended the meeting and what had been discussed.

  “Ben Stockton and Theodore Pruitt,” he mused. “Two shrewd characters and wheeler-dealers who stay just on the right side of the law. That’s quite a group Pfeiffer’s organized.”

  “Ernie wasn’t there last night.”

  John’s laugh held no humor. “He didn’t have to be. The meeting was just a cover—for the sake of the general public and to convince their volunteers that nothing untoward is going on. Even so, they don’t want you there.”

  “Did you find fingerprints on the note left at the cottage?”

  John grimaced as he shook his head. “The few prints were too smudged to be of any use.”

  I let out a deep sigh. “Bad luck all around. It’s occurred to me that so many of the people involved in Haven House were connected to Dorothy. Maybe the person who broke into my cottage and followed me last night is her murderer and was warning me off her case.”

  “Honestly, Carrie, I have no idea if there’s a connection. We don’t have any new leads, I’m sorry to say.”

  “Nothing on the car that smashed into hers?”

  “The paint’s been analyzed. It’s a color that was used on an old Buick almost twenty years ago. It was probably someone’s old clunker that hasn’t been registered in years. Now I imagine it’s been compacted or broken down for parts. We’ve checked MVB registrations, garages. Nothing.”

  “That’s disappointing.”

  “We’re still working the case. New information often pops up when you least expect it. Someone who saw something that night might still come forward.”

  “Dylan’s coming home for the weekend. He expects to be home for good very soon.”

  “Glad to hear it.” John stood. “Forget about solving the homicide and the evils of Haven House. You’re young. Enjoy your life.”

  He surprised me by wrapping me in a bear hug. “Give Dylan my best. Tell him I have a few leads for investigative jobs when he’s ready to start work.”

  “Will do.”

  I hummed as I opened my email folder. Dylan was coming home, and I was taking a break from detective work.

  Chapter Thirty

  Dylan was waiting for me at the cottage when I arrived home Friday evening. We hugged and talked, then went out for dinner. After breakfast Saturday morning, I put Smoky Joe in his carrier and drove to the library. While I was at work, Dylan would be in New Haven, organizing his new office.

  I studied the February calendar to see what, if any, requests the upcoming presenters might have made for the day of their programs. In honor of St. Valentine’s Day, a local romance writer would be speaking about romance in literature and reading from one of her novels. And Alfred Valdes, the chef of a well-loved restaurant a few towns away, was giving our very first cooking program the first Wednesday evening of the month. His menu: butternut squash soup, chicken medallions, and a surprise Valentine’s Day dessert. Alfred would use the demo table that Sally and I had bought some months earlier to demonstrate how each course was prepared and then serve samples of the food, which he’d make beforehand, to the thirty patrons in attendance. I hoped all would go well. Alfred said not to worry—as long as we provided the electricity to heat up the various dishes, and paper plates, plastic utensils, and napkins for the patrons.

  Shirley Klauss called to find out when the first meeting of the Knitters and Crocheters would take place.

  I laughed. “Shirley, I love your enthusiasm, but as I told you, our schedule’s very tight. There are no available meeting rooms next month.”

  “Really? But you said we could meet once a week. I told Mary and Jeannette you agreed. They’re all excited about having our own group in the library.”

  I bit back my impatience. “I’m afraid you misunderstood me. A knitting and crocheting group is a wonderful idea. I’m hoping we’ll have the space available after the library is renovated, but that won’t be for another two years. Meanwhile, I’ll try to find a morning when the group can start meeting in the spring once or twice a month.”

  “Mary and Jeannette will be so disappointed,” Shirley said.

  “Why don’t you meet in one another’s homes in the meantime?”

  “We could do that, I suppose, though Mary’s husband smokes, and Jeannette’s dogs are a terrible nuisance.”

  “And your home?” I suggested.

  “Much too small,” she said quickly.

  “I’ll let you know when a time slot becomes available for a knitting-crocheting group.”

  “Thank you so much, Carrie,” Shirley gushed. “I knew you’d come through. And if it’s at all possible, try not to make it on Tuesdays. That’s when I go to the supermarket.”

  I sighed. “I’ll do my best. Goodbye, Shirley.”

  “Shirley Klauss?” Evelyn said. She’d appeared as soon as I’d disconnected the call, and perched on the corner of Trish and Susan’s desk.

  “That’s right. She wants to have a knitters and crocheters group meet in the library when and how often it suits her.”

  Evelyn laughed. “Shirley’s one of the reasons Barbara stopped offering crafts programs at the library. Once she broke three wine glasses during a wine glass painting class. Another time she spilled paint all over another woman’s project.”

  “I don’t think she can do too much harm at a gathering of knitters and crocheters,” I said. “She proposed the idea last night at the end of the Haven House meeting.”

  “Did you learn anything new?” Evelyn asked.

  “Not really, but I gather that two men—Ben Stockton and Theo Pruitt—are involved with Gerald and Ernie.”

  Evelyn clutched her throat. “Gerald, what on earth have you gotten yourself into?”

  I stared at her.

  “There have always been rumors that Ben has ties to organized crime.”

  “That is worrisome,” I said. “Your nephew Roger and Gillian were at the meeting, behaving like two lovebirds.”

  “The idiots.”

  We both laughed. “And Harvey Kirk was there too.”

  “Really? The other day he was pecking away on his computer,” Evelyn said. “He sure got annoyed when a patron interrupted to ask for help.”

  “What was he busy doing?” I asked.

  “Gambling. What else? He looked unhappy most of the day but was beaming by the evening. I think it was Tuesday night.”

  “Ah,” I said. “He must have raised enough money to buy his way into the group,” I said. “I wonder how he knew about it.”

  “He’s invested with Ernie before,” Evelyn said.

  “I’m afraid my investigating days are over. I got a second warning last night. Someone from the meeting was following me home until Danny scared them off.”

  “Oh no! We can’t have that.”

  Evelyn disappeared as my cell phone rang. It was Ken.

  “Hi, Ken. Find out anything about the Haven House group?”

  “I did a little poking around. A pal of mine knew the old man who used to live in the house on Garrett Street they’re now calling Haven House. He left it to a nephew who lives in California and couldn’t wait to unload the property. When two Clover Ridge residents made an offer, he too
k it and agreed to sell it to the Lennox Corporation.”

  “Thanks, Ken. Just as we thought. You’ll be happy to know I’m off the case. I’ve been warned off, and I’m not taking any risks.”

  “Good idea, Carrie. Let the officials handle this.”

  I chuckled as I disconnected our call. For someone who was off the case, I’d spent the entire morning gathering information.

  * * *

  Saturday night, Dylan and I enjoyed a leisurely romantic dinner at a restaurant on Long Island Sound. He told me about the case he’d just completed, and I brought him up to date on everything I’d learned about the investigation into Dorothy’s murder and Haven House.

  “Interesting how the people closest to Dorothy are involved in this Haven House investment,” Dylan said when I’d finished.

  “I thought so.”

  He reached over to run his fingers along my cheek. “But I’m glad you’re out of the picture. I don’t know what I’d do if anything were to happen to you.”

  Sunday morning we got up early and drove to Dylan’s new office in New Haven.

  “I love the feel of the place,” I said, admiring the newly painted walls and gray carpet, the modern wooden desk, and two tall cabinets waiting to be filled. “So bright and sunny.”

  “I need a bookcase and a desk for my secretary. I thought I’d get your input on choosing them.”

  “Have you hired a secretary?”

  “Not yet. My advertisement goes online and in the local paper next weekend.”

  I turned to beam at him. “It’s really happening! You’re starting out in your new office next week.”

  Dylan grinned. “And I get to spend my free time with you. Until you get bored having me around.”

  I slipped my arm through his. “Hah! Fat chance of that happening.”

  We stopped in a few office furniture stores until Dylan found exactly what he wanted. He ordered office supplies to be delivered the following week. I liked shopping with him, discussing the pros and cons of various items. It felt comfortable, as though we’d been doing it forever. This must be what it’s like when couples furnish their first home together.