Titles by Jenn McKinlay
Library Lover’s Mysteries
BOOKS CAN BE DECEIVING
DUE OR DIE
BOOK, LINE, AND SINKER
READ IT AND WEEP
ON BORROWED TIME
A LIKELY STORY
BETTER LATE THAN NEVER
DEATH IN THE STACKS
HITTING THE BOOKS
WORD TO THE WISE
Cupcake Bakery Mysteries
SPRINKLE WITH MURDER
BUTTERCREAM BUMP OFF
DEATH BY THE DOZEN
RED VELVET REVENGE
GOING, GOING, GANACHE
SUGAR AND ICED
DARK CHOCOLATE DEMISE
VANILLA BEANED
CARAMEL CRUSH
WEDDING CAKE CRUMBLE
DYING FOR DEVIL’S FOOD
Hat Shop Mysteries
CLOCHE AND DAGGER
DEATH OF A MAD HATTER
AT THE DROP OF A HAT
COPY CAP MURDER
ASSAULT AND BERET
Bluff Point Romances
ABOUT A DOG
BARKING UP THE WRONG TREE
EVERY DOG HAS HIS DAY
Happily Ever After Romances
THE GOOD ONES
BERKLEY PRIME CRIME
Published by Berkley
An imprint of Penguin Random House LLC
1745 Broadway, New York, NY 10019
Copyright © 2019 by Jennifer McKinlay Orf
Excerpt from The Christmas Keeper copyright © 2019 Jennifer McKinlay Orf
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BERKLEY is a registered trademark and BERKLEY PRIME CRIME and the B colophon are trademarks of Penguin Random House LLC.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Names: McKinlay, Jenn, author.
Title: Word to the wise / Jenn McKinlay.
Description: First edition. | New York: Berkley Prime Crime, 2019. | Series: A library lover’s mystery; 10
Identifiers: LCCN 2019003811 | ISBN 9780593100035 (hardcover) |
ISBN 9780451492722 (ebook)
Subjects: | BISAC: FICTION / Mystery & Detective / Women Sleuths.
Classification: LCC PS3612.A948 W67 2019 | DDC 813/.6—dc23
LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2019003811
First Edition: September 2019
Cover art by Julia Green / Mendola LTD
Cover design by Rita Frangie
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
PUBLISHER’S NOTE: The recipes contained in this book are to be followed exactly as written. The publisher is not responsible for your specific health or allergy needs that may require medical supervision. The publisher is not responsible for any adverse reactions to the recipes contained in this book.
Version_1
In loving memory of Jen Dunbar Heth, a person my husband so aptly describes as the best of us. Through you, I learned what it means to have courage, to find big joy in small things, and to live every day with love. You were the embodiment of grace and yet greeted life’s challenges with a warrior’s fortitude. Although you didn’t want to go, you couldn’t stay, but you will remain forever in our hearts.
Acknowledgments
Big thanks to Kate Seaver, Sarah Blumenstock and Christina Hogrebe for their endless support and encouragement, as well as their invaluable input. You help make my books the best they can be and I am ever grateful. Also, I am so pleased to have such a tremendous team at Berkley—Tara O’Connor and Jessica Mangicaro. And, as always, I am thrilled to have cover artist Julia Green use her tremendous talent to make my book covers real showstoppers.
Special thanks to Detective Armstrong of the Phoenix Police Department. You were invaluable in helping me when no one else would listen. The city of Phoenix is lucky to have you.
And, as always, big thanks to my family and friends, who put up with burnt dinner, no dinner, piles of laundry, canceled plans and the occasional author meltdown with kindness, understanding and humor. I love you all—most especially Chris Hansen Orf, Wyatt Orf and Beckett Orf, who have to live with me. Poor bastards.
Contents
Titles by Jenn McKinlay
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Acknowledgments
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
The Briar Creek Library Guide to Crafternoons
Readers Guide for Gaudy Night
Craft: Tin Can Lantern
Recipes
Excerpt from The Christmas Keeper
About the Author
CHAPTER
1
Too meringue, too low-cut, holy bananas, too high-cut!” Lindsey Norris sat at the reference desk of the Briar Creek Public Library and clicked through a website full of wedding dresses. Her mother had sent her the link in an email and wanted to know what sort of dress Lindsey was thinking of wearing for her upcoming wedding. Too many choices. There were just too many. She felt herself starting to melt down, so she closed the website. She’d get back to her mother on this soon. Really, she would.
It was the height of summer in Briar Creek, and she had a good five months before the wedding. It was going to be a very small holiday ceremony out on Bell Island, one of the Thumb Islands that made up the archipelago of over one hundred islands—some were just big rocks—in the bay off Briar Creek’s shore. Her fiancé, Captain Mike Sullivan, had asked that they get married on the island where he’d grown up, and Lindsey couldn’t think of a more romantic place to say “I do.” So the location was a go. It was all the other details that were killing her.
Click click click.
Lindsey turned around to see a bat fluttering through the book stacks. She was a pretty big bat. With large ears pointing up from a wide headband and enormous pale gray wings made out of an old bedsheet and some wire, she fluttered her outspread arms while holding a mango in one hand. She also had merry eyes and shoulder-length dark brown hair and answered to the name of Beth Barker. She was the Briar Creek children’s librarian, and she was leading a parade of toddlers and their parents through the library, all fluttering their “wings” and making clicking noises.
Lindsey propped her chin o
n her hand as she watched the little bats flutter by. She met Beth’s happy gaze and said, “Practicing your echolocation, Stellaluna?”
Beth grinned and said, “Naturally, then it’s back to the bat cave to read Nightsong and Bat Loves the Night.”
“Flutter on,” Lindsey said.
“Will do. Don’t forget crafternoon is today,” Beth said. “We’re making tin can lanterns. And for the food, I ran with the Chicana theme since we are discussing The House on Mango Street.”
“Can’t wait. I love that book,” Lindsey said. Which was true, plus she had also seen the food that Beth had brought for lunch, and there were quesadillas, mango smoothies and flan. There was just nothing better than flan on a hot summer day.
“Okay, little bats,” Beth said. “Let’s get back to the cave. Click click.”
Lindsey watched as Beth led her colony of bats and their parents back to the story time room. Then she glanced at the circulation desk to see Ms. Cole watching the commotion over the top of her reading glasses. Nicknamed “the lemon” for her occasional puckered disposition, Ms. Cole had come a long way since Lindsey had been hired as the library director several years ago. Instead of chastising Beth, she simply heaved a put-upon sigh, which was encouraging.
The lemon had lightened up on late fees, beverages in the building and the exuberance of the story time regulars, but the one policy on which Ms. Cole did not bend was noise. She was a shusher of the first order, and Lindsey was surprised she hadn’t hissed at Beth to keep it down. Instead, Ms. Cole put her left index finger over her left eyelid as if trying to prevent it from twitching. Lindsey glanced down at the top of her desk to keep from laughing.
“Excuse me.”
Lindsey turned her head to see a man standing at the corner of her desk.
“Hi, may I help you find something?” she asked.
“I hope so,” he said. He sounded worried.
The man was middle-aged with just a hint of gray hair starting at his temples. He was wearing a short-sleeved collared shirt in a muted plaid with navy pants and brown shoes. He looked to be somewhere in his mid to late forties, but his forehead had worry lines going across it and his blue eyes looked concerned.
“Well, let’s give it a try,” Lindsey said. She gave him a reassuring smile. “Tell me what you need.”
“I grow roses,” he said. “But I’m new to this area, and I’m not sure that my garden can survive the drought we’re having. Do you have any books on growing roses specifically along the shoreline or in drought conditions?”
“Thanks to our local garden club, we have an excellent collection on that subject,” Lindsey said. “I’ll see what’s available.”
“Thank you,” he said.
Lindsey searched the online catalog, limiting the results to the items that were currently available. She found three books on roses, but they weren’t specific to the region. Still, they might have something in them about dealing with drought conditions. She noted the call numbers and then did a quick check of the local community webpages that they had bookmarked on the reference database by organization. She found several local gardening groups and one that specialized in roses. She swiveled the monitor on its base so her patron could see it.
“We do have some books in, but they aren’t specific to the area,” she said. “However, there is a local rose club, and I am sure they can help you with your concerns about the current drought. Would you like me to write down their contact information for you?”
“Yes,” he said. “Thank you. This is great.”
Lindsey smiled. She took a piece of scratch paper and wrote down the name of the chapter president and her email address and phone number. She handed that to the man and then rose from her seat and said, “Let’s go see what’s on the shelves.”
As she led him through the stacks of books, she asked, “So, you’re new to Briar Creek?”
“Yes, my wife and I just moved here a few months ago,” he said. “Just in time for me to plant a rose garden, but then this dry spell hit.”
“It’s a bad one,” Lindsey said. “I’ve only been here for a few years myself, but the locals tell me that they’ve never seen anything like it.”
“I hear the town is planning to ration water,” he said. The lines in his forehead deepened.
“There has been some preparatory talk about that, Mr. . . . um, I’m sorry,” Lindsey said. “I didn’t introduce myself. I’m Lindsey Norris, the library director.”
She held out her hand. The man stared at her and then her hand for a moment, and she wondered whether she had offended him.
“Aaron,” he said. “Aaron Grady. It’s nice to meet you.” He clasped her hand and gave it a firm squeeze before letting go.
Lindsey smiled and continued along the shelves until she reached the gardening section. She followed the Dewey Decimal numbers until she found books specifically about roses. The three books the online catalog had listed were there, as well as two more that she hadn’t seen. She pulled them from the shelf and turned to find Mr. Grady right beside her. He was a bit too close, making her feel crowded, so she eased back a step. Instead of looking at the books she was holding, he was staring intently at her, with his hands down by his sides.
She’d had this sort of patron before, and they always amused her. They asked for books and she showed them the books, but when she took the books off the shelf, they didn’t reach for them. They just stood there. Lindsey often wondered whether they thought she was planning to read the books to them. She usually broke the stalemate by forcibly pushing the books at them.
“Here you are,” she said. She handed him the stack, keeping the most recently published book so that she could check the index. She flipped to the back and scanned for the word drought. The book referenced several pages on it, so she opened the book to those pages and skimmed the content. It listed different methods to maintain roses in a drought situation and even included a watering schedule. She handed Mr. Grady the open book and said, “This one looks like it will answer your question.”
The lines that had been deepening on Mr. Grady’s forehead eased and he gave her a closed-lip smile as he took the book and studied the pages.
“This is perfect,” he said. “Thank you so much, Lindsey.”
“You’re welcome,” she said. “Let me know how it goes, and if you have any more questions, I’m happy to help.”
He smiled at her again, and Lindsey turned and headed back to the reference desk. She was relieved one of the books had answered Mr. Grady’s questions. She always felt like it was a win when she could get a patron the answer they needed.
Back at the desk, she found Laura Hogan waiting for her. She was a tiny little thing but had the biggest heart in Briar Creek. She came in every week with her dog, Buck, and together they helped elementary school students who were struggling with learning how to read. Buck was a reading-therapy dog; essentially he sat on the floor with a student and listened while the child read aloud to him.
Buck was a beautiful black and brown dog with long legs and the softest ears Lindsey had ever felt. He was great friends with her dog, Heathcliff, and the two of them cavorted and carried on when they met up at the dog park. As soon as Buck saw Lindsey, he started wagging his tail and let out a small whimper.
“Sorry, Buck,” she said as she scratched his ears. “Heathcliff isn’t here. It’s just me.” She glanced up at his human, who was smiling at her. “Hi, Laura, how are you?”
“Great, I’m looking forward to today’s reading,” she said. “We’re halfway through Gregor the Overlander, and I can’t wait to hear what happens next.”
“The room is all set up,” Lindsey said. “I’ll just walk you over and unlock it for you.”
“Thanks,” Laura said. She patted her thigh, and Buck fell in beside her as they crossed the library to one of the study rooms. Lindsey unlocked the door and
pushed it open.
“Lindsey!”
They both turned to see Mr. Grady hurrying toward them. Buck’s ears went back and he growled low in his throat. Laura grabbed him by the collar and held him still.
“Weird,” she said. “He’s never done that before.”
“He’s likely more used to children,” Lindsey said. She stepped forward and intercepted Mr. Grady so Buck wouldn’t get more protective. “Yes, did you have another question?”
“Yes, actually,” he said. He looked sheepish as he clutched the rose books to his chest. “I don’t have a library card. Is it possible for me to check out these books?”
“Absolutely,” she said. “I’m sorry—I should have explained. To sign up for a card, we just need proof of your local residence, and then Ms. Cole at the circulation desk will sign you up and you’ll be able to check out.”
“I can do that,” he said. He gave her a small smile and then backed away, watching her as he went.
Lindsey turned back to Laura and Buck. “Can I get you anything? Coffee? Water? Dog biscuit?”
“Coffee would be fantastic,” Laura said. “But no treats for Buck, thanks. He’s on a diet.”
“Coming right up,” Lindsey said.
She turned and headed for the staff break room. She grabbed a cup of coffee for Laura and a bowl of water for Buck. By the time those were delivered, her desk replacement, Ann Marie, had arrived, and Lindsey went to the back of the library, where her favorite activity, Thursday crafternoon, was held.
She brought her well-loved copy of The House on Mango Street, in which she’d stuck several sticky notes to mark the particularly pertinent passages she wanted to share. As she pushed open the door, she found that she was the last to arrive.
Beth was standing behind the table, dishing out quesadillas, while Nancy Peyton and her best friend, Violet La Rue, were seated on the couch, holding full plates. Paula Turner, one of the circulation attendants, was pouring out the smoothies while Mary Murphy, Lindsey’s soon-to-be sister-in-law, was standing with her baby, Josie, on her hip. Mary was swaying back and forth in her mama’s stance while trying to eat. Lindsey headed right for her and held out her arms.
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