Lindsey had to smile. Nancy sounded as if she planned to fight off a sheriff’s posse to get their next reading-club book.
“I’ll be right back,” she said. She left the police station and turned toward the library. As always, just the sight of it made her happy.
With its thick stone walls and welcoming glass front doors, she always felt as if she were going home when she walked into the Briar Creek Library. Instead of the smell of her mother’s rosemary chicken, however, the library greeted her with the perfumed scent of old paper pressed between the hard covers of books on wooden shelves dusted faintly with lemon furniture polish.
As always, Lindsey felt all of her troubles ease once she was back among the familiar. Just seeing the names on the spines of the books was like calling hello to old friends. They had always given her solace in their steadfastness, and she valued each and every one more than she could ever say.
Ann Marie was at the front counter and glanced up with a smile. “Don’t you ever take a day off?”
“I am; I promise,” Lindsey said. “I’m just picking up my crafternoon club books. Is everything going okay here?”
“All is well,” Ann Marie said. “There was a woman in asking for you earlier. I put a note on your desk.”
“Thanks,” Lindsey said. She glanced at the clock on the wall. The library would be closing in fifteen minutes, at six P.M. “Do you need help locking up?”
“No, Ms. Cole managed to chase everyone out,” Ann Marie said. “She’s over in children’s picking up.”
“You never saw me,” Lindsey said.
Ann Marie smiled. “Roger that.”
Lindsey circled the circulation desk and hurried into the main workroom. Two of their part-time teen workers were organizing book trucks for shelving returned materials, and she gave them a wave as she went through the room to her office in the back.
Six copies of Lynn Sheene’s book were sitting on her desk. The courier for the state’s interlibrary loan service had dropped them off yesterday. Normally, the books never would have gotten here so fast, but Lindsey and Beth had a friend from grad school in the interlibrary loan office and he helped them out when he could. She stuffed them into her canvas Friends of the Library tote bag and hurried back out of the office, pausing only to grab the memo paper off of her desk from the woman who had stopped by to see her. She put it in the bag, planning to read it later. Right now, she felt the need to get back to the police station ASAP.
“Ms. Norris,” a stern voice called out. It didn’t sound like a greeting exactly, but still Lindsey was behooved to stop and respond. She noticed the teen workers were watching them, so she forced herself to smile.
“Hello, Ms. Cole,” she said.
“Isn’t it your day off?”
“It is,” Lindsey agreed.
“Then why are you here?” Ms. Cole asked. Her nostrils were flared, and her eyes were wide with indignation.
For a nanosecond, Lindsey was tempted to tell her that she was checking up on her, but she knew that would be like throwing a match at a gas can. Ms. Cole was obviously having turf issues with her, and for the good of the library, she needed to be kind even if pulling out her own tooth with a pair of rusty pliers would hurt less.
“I just stopped in to pick up the books for the crafternoon club,” she said.
Ms. Cole’s nostrils shrank as she eyed the tote bag on her arm. “Oh.”
“You seem to have everything running smoothly,” Lindsey said. “Nice work.”
Was it her imagination or did Ms. Cole puff up just the littlest bit?
“Well, I should hope so,” Ms. Cole snapped, turning away. “If you’ll excuse me, we need to start the closing procedures.”
Okaaaaay. Obviously, it had been her imagination.
“Absolutely. Don’t let me keep you,” Lindsey called after her. “Have a lovely evening.”
Ann Marie gave her a wave, and Lindsey scooted out the front door to retrieve her bike from the bike rack and head back to the police station.
She wondered how it was going for Beth. Surely they couldn’t think that a woman who spent her life doing felt-board stories, puppet shows and dressing up like Eric Carle’s very hungry caterpillar was a murderer. It was preposterous.
She thought back to the few moments that she’d stood on the dock with Sully. How long had they been there waiting for Beth? It had only been minutes, definitely not long enough for Beth to have stabbed Rick. She was sure of it. But if Chief Daniels wanted to push it, could she and Sully swear to an absolute knowledge of time passing? Neither of them had worn a watch.
She felt a creepy, cold-fingered tickle of unease ripple over her skin like a chilly breeze ruffling the surface of the water in the bay.
It would be too easy to blame Beth as the dumped girlfriend, she thought. Given that Beth had no witnesses other than her cats to say she was at home all night, Chief Daniels could make a case against her without even straining himself. As Sully had said, it was going to be a no-brainer for the chief to go after Beth.
The books in the tote bag banged against her side as she pushed her bike, bringing her back to the present. The weight of the books grounded her, giving her careening emotions purchase with their heft and substance. She left her bike outside the station and mounted the steps to the front door.
Nancy pushed open the door as soon as she stepped close to the entrance, as if she’d been watching for her.
“Any news?”
Nancy shook her head.
They were alone in the front room and sat on the hard wooden bench in front of the window.
“Where’s Emma?” Lindsey asked.
“She went to go get Sully,” Nancy said. “They want to talk to him, too.”
Lindsey opened her tote bag and pulled out two copies of the book. She noticed that her palms were damp, and she wondered at her sudden case of nerves.
“Thank you,” Nancy said. She looked at Lindsey and asked, “Who was it who said, ‘I’ve never known any trouble that an hour’s reading didn’t assuage’?”
“The French lawyer and political philosopher Charles de Secondat,” Lindsey said.
“Brilliant,” Nancy said and cracked open her book and began to read.
Lindsey opened her own copy, looking for the balm of a good story to take her mind off of the fact that she was sitting in a police station, waiting to be questioned.
She was never given the chance.
“Ms. Norris.” She glanced up to find Chief Daniels at the front desk.
“Yes?” she asked.
“If you’ll follow me,” he said. Without waiting for her to rise, he turned and strode toward the back of the station.
Lindsey put her book back in her bag and followed. As she passed the main desk, she couldn’t shake the feeling of doom that enveloped her like a shroud.
CHAPTER 13
The room was small and cramped with a scarred wooden table and two folding chairs. Chief Daniels gestured for her to take a seat. Lindsey sat in the chair that gave her a view of the door.
“Detective Trimble will be joining us shortly,” Chief Daniels said. He hitched up his pants. “You want anything, a glass of water or a can of soda?”
“No, thanks, I’m fine,” Lindsey said.
She saw two people cross in front of the door. She recognized Beth’s black spiky hairdo, but the other person she didn’t recognize. They were gone before she could call out to them.
“I’ll be right back,” the chief said and he exited the room.
Lindsey folded her hands on the table. There were initials carved into the distressed surface, but they were jagged and hard to make out. There was also a skull done with more finesse than the initials, but maybe that person just had better tools or more time.
There was another drawing, in black marker. It took her a moment to figure out what it was, but then she realized she was looking at the rear end of a donkey with the name Daniels spelled out in the long hair of the tail.
“Something funny, Ms. Norris?” Chief Daniels asked as he walked back into the room with a man in a suit right behind him.
“No, sir,” she said. “There’s nothing funny here, not at all, not a bit.”
The man in the suit watched her as she glanced away from the drawing on the table. With a frown, he came around to her side and studied the drawing in black marker, while Chief Daniels ducked out of the room to get another chair.
“I’d say that’s quite an accurate rendering,” he said. His voice was very matter-of-fact, and Lindsey felt her mouth pop open just the littlest bit.
He smiled at her and took the seat across the table from her. Chief Daniels returned with another chair and plunked it next to the man in the suit.
“Ms. Norris, this is Detective Trimble,” he said. “He’s with the state police.”
The detective extended his hand across the table, and Lindsey shook hands with him. His grip was firm and warm, solid without being brutish. The cut of his suit was perfect, accentuating his broad shoulders and trim waist. His black hair was cut with military precision, and the glasses he wore gave him the look of a scholar.
Perhaps it was just his slick packaging, but Lindsey felt like he had a lot on the ball. For the first time since she’d gotten the text from Beth saying that she was being taken to the police station, Lindsey felt herself relax just the tiniest bit.
“How are you?” Detective Trimble asked.
“I’ve been better,” Lindsey said.
Chief Daniels sat down but had to push his chair away from the table to accommodate his girth. The metal chair scraped across the floor, making a screech that sounded like the chair was under protest.
Detective Trimble gave the chief a look and then pulled a pen and a small pad out of his suit coat pocket.
“We’ll make this as quick as possible,” he said to Lindsey. “We want to go over the events of the day to understand how it all unfolded. Are you ready?”
“Yes,” Lindsey said.
“Was Ms. Stanley upset after her boyfriend dumped her?” Chief Daniels asked. He leaned forward in his seat and gave Lindsey a squinty-eyed glare as if he were daring her to lie to him.
Lindsey raised her eyebrows in surprise and looked helplessly at Detective Trimble. “I thought we were talking about today.”
“We are,” Trimble said and gave Daniels a quelling glance. “When did you and Ms. Stanley decide to go out to Mr. Eckman’s island?”
“Right after lunch,” she said. “After we met with Ms. Carlisle, the editor, and discovered that Rick had plagiarized Beth’s work.”
“Allegedly plagiarized her work,” Chief Daniels cut in.
“There’s nothing alleged about it,” Lindsey said. “I’ve known Beth for years, and I know she came up with the story about the hamster ages ago. It’s hers.”
“Really? How is Ms. Stanley with a knife?” Chief Daniels asked.
Again, Lindsey turned to look at Trimble. He squinted his eyes as if trying to force back a headache.
“Chief Daniels, let’s have a quick chat in the hall, yes?” It was posed like a question but was anything but. The chief grumbled as he followed Trimble out into the hall. He shut the door after them.
From what Lindsey could hear, the conversation that followed seemed fairly one-sided. Trimble growled, the chief but . . . but . . . butted and Trimble growled some more. When they reentered the room, Daniels was red in the face and looked like he had an aspirin lodged in his throat.
“Now, where were we?” Trimble asked. He looked as smooth as ever, and Lindsey had to admire his cool.
“Beth and I decided to go out to the island after lunch,” she said. “Neither of us has a boat, so we stopped by Captain Sullivan’s to see if he could take us.”
Trimble jotted something down in his book and then glanced up at her. He gave her an encouraging smile. “Continue, please.”
Lindsey took a deep breath and told them all the events of the day as she could remember them. Daniels glowered, looking like he wanted to bust out with questions, but he managed to contain himself. Trimble took notes and nodded at her as if what she was saying was about what he expected.
When she got to the part about Beth going up to the cabin alone, Daniels looked like he was going to pop a blood vessel. He obviously wanted to focus on Beth, but Trimble gave him a look, and he slumped back in his chair in defeat.
Finally, when there was nothing more to say, Trimble handed her his card. “I’d like you to call me if you remember anything that you think might be of interest even if it seems like nothing. All right?”
“Yes.” Lindsey took the stiff white card with the state of Connecticut’s seal on it and slipped it into her pocket.
There was a knock at the door, and Emma, Officer Plewicki, opened it enough to poke her head in. “Captain Sullivan is here, sirs.”
“Excellent. Send him in,” Trimble said.
Chief Daniels openly glared at him, and Lindsey got the feeling that he didn’t like Trimble ordering his officers about.
Trimble rose when she did. Daniels did not.
“Thank you for your cooperation, Ms. Norris,” he said.
“You’re welcome,” she said. As she turned into the hallway, she bumped into Sully. “Oh, sorry.”
“Not at all,” he said and steadied her with a firm hand on her elbow.
“How are you holding up?” he asked.
“Okay,” she said, but it sounded lame even to her own ears.
“I’ve got a question for you.” He lowered his voice and leaned close so only she could hear him.
“All right,” she whispered, wondering what could be so urgent. Did he know something? Was she not supposed to say something to the police? Did he suspect who the real killer was? What?
“Tell me the truth. They didn’t use the rack, did they?”
His voice was teasing, and she knew he was trying to jolly her out of her nerves. She gave him a small smile.
“It’s worse than that, I’m afraid.” She lowered her voice, trying to make it sound ominous.
“No. Say it isn’t so,” he said, faking a look of horror.
“I’m afraid it’s . . .” she began, but he interrupted, “No, don’t say it.”
“Thumbscrews,” she said.
He clapped both hands to his cheeks and widened his eyes. His look of dismay was comical, and this time Lindsey felt a full-on grin break across her face.
“Captain Sullivan, if you’re ready?” Chief Daniels snapped from inside the room.
“Oh, better go,” Sully said with a grimace.
“Good luck,” she said. Then she wiggled her thumbs at him, and he gave her a quick wink before the door shut behind him.
CHAPTER 14
Not surprisingly, sleep eluded Lindsey like a cat that did not want to be found. She tried tightening and loosening each muscle in her body from her feet to her head. It didn’t work.
She got up and heated some milk. It needed chocolate; better yet, it needed to be Sully’s hot chocolate.
She shuffled back to her bedroom and opened her window so she could hear the waves crashing on the beach. The air blew in cold, and she had to add another blanket to her bedding. She tossed and turned, but the bedsheets put up a pretty good fight, alternately strangling her and slipping across the bed to leave her cold.
After her breakup with her ex-fiancé, when she had packed up her things and moved to Briar Creek, she had discovered that she was prone to insomnia. Back then she had spent the sleepless nights watching old Hollywood musicals, falling asleep to the cheeky beat of Carmen Miranda working it in her ruffles and fruit hat.
Mercifully, that phase had passed, and as she settled into her new home and job, the sleepless nights had become few and far between. Until now, at any rate, and somehow she didn’t think a musical extravaganza was going to help wipe the imprint of Rick Eckman’s dead body out o
f her mind.
She gave up the wrestling match with her covers and grabbed her bathrobe off the foot of her bed, pulling it on as she headed out to the living room. She switched on the small lamp by her leather recliner and debated whether she should read or knit. She knew if she was knitting she would be thinking, which was the main reason she couldn’t sleep. She pulled her copy of The Last Time I Saw Paris out of her bag and opened it to page 1.
With any luck, Lynn Sheene’s words would lull her to sleep before much more of the night passed. The living room was chilly, so she pulled her favorite afghan over her legs. It was one large granny square crocheted in a rainbow of colors made from her Gram’s leftover skeins and hanks of yarn. Her grandmother had made it for Lindsey when she was a teenager, and Lindsey had taken it with her on every move, from leaving home to college, to apartments on her own, to her shared life with John, and now it was with her still, outlasting several boyfriends and one fiancé. It was like wrapping herself in a cinnamon-scented hug from Gram every time she used it, and she cherished that.
She yawned as she opened the book and took that as a good sign that she was beginning to relax. She was well into chapter 3 when the book slipped from her fingers and she burrowed into her chair with a soft snore.
Lindsey woke up with a crick in her neck. It took her a moment to stretch the kinks out of her back and wipe the sleep fog from her brain and remember why she was asleep in the recliner.
She reached down and scooped up the book, which had fallen to the floor. She found her bookmark wrapped up in the afghan and carefully marked her place and set the book on the table.
Today was Sunday, so the library was closed. She wished it were open so she’d have something to keep her busy. She glanced at the clock. It was past ten, so Sunday service was well under way. She supposed it was just as well. She wasn’t sure she was ready to face the entire town and the rampant speculation about yesterday even in a house of worship.
She wondered how Beth was faring. She and Nancy had taken her home in the Mustang after their time at the police station. Lindsey had offered to spend the night, but Beth assured her that she’d be okay. Nancy thought she was still in shock, but they let her go after making her promise to call them if she needed them.
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