“Yes?”
“Some were from patrons telling me how much they enjoyed the Halloween party.”
“I’m glad. I thought it went well.”
“Everyone who called wanted me to know how much they like having you as our new head of programs and events.”
“Really?” I felt myself grinning. “I’m happy to hear that. I am trying to do a good job.”
“I know you are.”
“But?”
“There is no ‘but’!” Sally shot back at me.
“You don’t seem happy with me. If I’ve done something you don’t like, I wish you’d tell me.”
Was that fear I saw flicker across her face? “I think you’re doing a good job, Carrie. Believe me, I have nothing but good things to say about you. And that’s what I told the board yesterday.”
“I’m glad to know that.” I looked directly into her eyes and held her gaze. “Then why do I get the feeling you don’t approve of me? Is it because my uncle is on the board, and he was the one who proposed you hire me for this position?”
Sally looked away. She shook her head vehemently. “I thought that at first, but you proved you were right for the job.”
“Is it Dorothy? I know she doesn’t like me.”
“Of course not!” Sally shot to her feet. “I must get back to work. I said what I came to say.”
I watched her leave, pleased with her good report but still in the dark as to why she didn’t like me. Was Dorothy holding something over her, something Sally didn’t want the rest of us to know?
I spent the rest of the morning adding to my list of chefs who worked within a thirty-mile radius. I composed an e-mail asking if he or she would be willing to give a cooking demonstration at the library. I required that the menu—listing three or four dishes to be prepared in amounts large enough for forty attendees to sample—be sent to me three months before the demonstration. The menus could be seasonal: cookies and candies for Valentine’s Day, something green for St. Patrick’s Day, or holiday desserts for Easter and Passover. The meals could be ethnic or simply the chef’s favorites.
Angela tapped me on the shoulder, startling me. “I thought we were meeting at the back door at noon.”
I glanced at my watch. It was seven minutes past twelve. “Sorry. I got caught up in my latest project.”
When I told Angela what I’d been doing, she was full of enthusiasm. “That’s a terrific idea.”
“If the chefs are willing to come. It’s wonderful publicity for their restaurants.”
“Every business—every art and creative institution and organization—requires publicity and promotion,” Angela said.
I laughed. “I’m beginning to realize there’s a business side to everything.”
“Even the library.”
We had a pleasant time chatting over our sandwiches and sodas at the Cozy Corner Café.
As we walked back to the library, Angela said, “I’m glad we’ve become friends. Before, I had the feeling you weren’t planning to stay in Clover Ridge. I didn’t want to get too close and then lose you.”
“You were right. I almost didn’t take the position, but my aunt and uncle convinced me to give it a try.”
“And you’re doing one hell of a job,” Angela said. “Now, if only you could do something about the Dorothy problem.”
I grinned. “I may have come up with a solution after all.”
We stopped in the ladies’ room. Angela left while I was rummaging through my pocketbook in search of my hairbrush. A minute later, the door opened, but I didn’t bother to look up until whoever had entered was halfway into one of the four stalls.
Dorothy! I grinned as I prepared my attack.
She frowned as she walked to a sink.
“Hello, Dorothy.”
No answer.
“I know you’re the one who smashed my car window.”
“Prove it,” she snarled.
“Your Aunt Ev saw you do it.”
Dorothy scrubbed her hands without looking at me. “You’re crazy. My aunt’s dead. She died six years ago.”
“I know. But she often visits the library, and I’m one of the few people who can see her. She saw you smash the window. I expect you to pay for it. Three hundred and fifty dollars will do it.”
“I’m not paying you anything.”
“Evelyn’s very disappointed in your behavior,” I said, amazed at how calm I sounded. “She hoped you would have outgrown your childish tantrums by now.”
“You’re lying.” Dorothy let out a derisive snicker. “You can add that to your list of offenses.”
“What offenses are you talking about?”
“Stealing the job that should have been mine! You only got it because your uncle’s on the library board.”
“Do you really believe that for a minute?”
“Of course! I’m an excellent reference librarian. Ask anyone.”
“That doesn’t qualify you for programs and events. Even if your best friend’s the library’s director.”
That hit home.
Dorothy’s face expressed anger and pain. “Sally had to give it to you. Because of your uncle.”
“I have the right qualifications.”
That stopped her, but only for a minute. “I would have done a great job.”
“Sally tells me I’m doing a great job.”
Dorothy’s expression was murderous as she strode toward the door. I ran around her and blocked her from leaving.
“I want your sabotaging to stop. And I expect you to pay for my car window.”
“Get out of my way.” She tried to shove me, but I held my ground.
“Evelyn told me to tell you it’s time to stop believing the grass is always greener in someone else’s life.”
Dorothy dropped her hand and stared at me. “What did you say?”
“She told me you stole Cathy Perkins’s crayons in second grade because they were nicer than yours. Then you tossed them in the garbage.”
Dorothy’s mouth fell open.
“And you told Billy Evers that Marigold Truman had a disease because he’d invited her to the junior dance.”
Now her eyes bulged with fear. “No one but Aunt Ev knows that. How did you find out?”
“She told me.”
Dorothy’s head dropped to her chest. “How could she?” she whispered.
“Because she’s disgusted with what you’ve been doing to me. For the longest time, she was afraid you’d murdered Laura Foster.”
“But I didn’t!”
“That’s what I told her.”
“How did you—?” Dorothy jumped away from the door as someone pushed it open and entered the bathroom. Marion and I exchanged greetings. I held the door for Dorothy and followed her out.
“I think we understand each other.”
Without waiting for her answer, I hurried to my office.
Chapter Nineteen
Jared dropped my heaviest suitcase on my new bedroom floor and then went to gaze out the window at the river beyond. He let out a whistle. “What a view! How did you manage to snag this cottage?”
“I know the owner.” This was as true a statement as any.
“I’d give anything to live in a place like this.” His eyes went from the low bureau lit by an antique lamp with a copper base to the pair of watercolors on the wall next to the closet. “And you say it comes furnished? Do you mind my asking what rent you’re paying?”
“Dylan’s giving me a special rate. He’s an old friend of the family.”
Jared’s eyes popped open in astonishment. “You’re not talking about Dylan Avery, are you?”
“Yes, why?”
“Wow!” Jared paced the floor, seemingly oblivious to me and our surroundings. “I’ve never spoken to him, since he’s a few years older than Ryan, but everyone knew the hotshot quarterback of Clover Ridge High. He was supposed to go to one of the major football universities on scholarship, but it turned out he didn’t go to any of them. No o
ne knew where he went after graduation. It was like he fell off the face of the earth.
“Then a few years ago, his parents died in a car accident while on vacation out west. Dylan came back to Clover Ridge—some people said from Europe—and moved into the family home on the river. Is it close by?”
“Not far.”
“Hey!” Jared pointed a finger at me. “He lives in the white mansion we passed on the way here, right?”
I hesitated. “Yes.”
“It’s impressive. But why the mystery?”
Though Dylan had never said so specifically, I sensed that he didn’t want people knowing he was an investigator for an insurance company. I didn’t want to hurt Jared’s feelings, so I put the onus on Dylan. “Dylan’s kind of a private person. He travels around a lot.”
“Did he say what kind of business he’s in?”
I shook my head.
Jared’s eyes lit up with excitement. “I heard he works for the FBI on all sorts of exciting cases.” He sounded like a ten-year-old talking about his favorite baseball player.
“I wouldn’t know.”
“I don’t suppose he’d tell you if he was in the FBI.”
I glanced at my watch. “Let’s unload the rest of my things. We still have a huge shopping trip ahead of us—if you’re still game.”
“Of course I’m game. In fact, I drew up a list of staples you’ll want to keep on hand.”
“So did I.” I grinned. “We can compare notes.”
Jared retrieved my other suitcase from the back seat of my car, along with the plant Aunt Harriet had insisted I needed. I grabbed a carton of books I’d stashed in his car and followed him back inside. Ten minutes later, all my possessions were inside my new home.
“Let’s have some coffee before we set out for the supermarket,” I said.
“Good idea.”
I’d packed coffee, milk, and a bag of brownies in a small carton. I filled the coffeemaker and then joined Jared at the kitchen table. I watched him devour two brownies before opening a subject weighing on my mind.
“We haven’t made any progress in our investigation. Any ideas what to do next?”
“No, though I’d love to know the identity of my mother’s lover.” He cringed at the word. “She might have told him if someone was threatening her.”
“I understand the police questioned Dorothy Hawkins about her death.”
“They did, once they got wind of how Dorothy was treating Mom, and got nowhere. She claimed she was home with her husband that night, and he backed her up. They didn’t find any evidence that she’d been to my house, so they couldn’t hold her.”
“Dorothy wasn’t at Al’s presentation, so I think we can assume she didn’t kill him either.”
Jared frowned. “Maybe her lover killed her.”
“Maybe he did.”
We finished our coffee and brownies and climbed into Jared’s car.
“I almost forgot. My uncle George came to spend the weekend with Ken. He invited Ryan and me out to dinner tomorrow evening. Ryan’s bringing his girlfriend. I’d love to have you come too.”
I was about to claim I had too much to do and then thought better of it. Here was my chance to question three people who had been close to Laura.
“Sure, Jared. I’d like that.”
“Great!” His face lit up with pleasure. “I’ll let George know and get back to you after I find out which restaurant and the time.”
We headed back toward Clover Ridge. I pulled out my to-buy list and read it aloud. Jared handed me a paper with his suggestions. I selected a few and jotted them down.
We went through the supermarket and then stopped at the drugstore to buy first-aid items like Band-Aids and bacitracin. Then we paid a visit to the local hardware store to pick up a few flashlights and basic tools. Our last stop was a liquor store, where I bought a few bottles of Chardonnay, my favorite wine. I was exhausted when I climbed back into the car.
Jared helped me unpack and then kissed me good-bye. “I’ll leave you to settle into your new home.”
“Thanks. You’ve been a great help.”
He grinned. “That’s what friends are for. See you tomorrow.”
When he was gone, I walked through every room to claim it as my own. I opened my laptop on the small desk in the second bedroom and read my e-mail. That done, I went into the living room and gazed out at the river.
The cottage was lovely, but it was also very isolated. It was only five, and the evening loomed ahead of me. I wished Dylan were home, simply to know someone was close-by. Was this why the rent was so cheap? Because no one wanted to live this far from town without a neighbor for miles?
Don’t be silly. You’ll get used to it.
My phone rang, sending a jolt along my spine.
It was Uncle Bosco. “Hi, there. How are you settling in?”
“All right, I suppose. Jared helped me move everything in. Then we went shopping.”
I must have sounded forlorn because he chuckled. “And now you’re feeling abandoned.”
“Well . . .”
“Your aunt and I don’t want to intrude, but if you’d like company—”
“I’d love company!”
“In that case, we’ll come right over. I suppose you haven’t had your dinner yet.”
“No, though I have plenty of food here.”
“I’m sure you do, but we’ll stop in town and bring dinner. Italian or Chinese?”
“Chinese, I think.”
“Chinese it is. Give me your address. I’ll put it in my GPS.”
I gave him my address, along with general directions in case they got lost.
“Sounds easy enough. See you in about an hour, Carrie.”
I hurried to the kitchen to set the table. There were two sets of dishes in the cabinets. I chose the more casual set—lovely pottery dishes with a colorful pattern. I found crystal wineglasses over the dishwasher.
It would be a while before Aunt Harriet and Uncle Bosco arrived, even if they didn’t get lost. They were older, and everything they did took more time. I switched on the outside lights and went into my bedroom to start unpacking my clothes while I waited.
I analyzed my feelings toward Jared as I folded my underwear and nightgowns in the drawers of the double dresser and hung my blouses and pants in the closet. I liked him, and I certainly appreciated his help today, but I could never be in a serious relationship with him. His psychological development had been stunted—and no wonder. His mother had been murdered, his father had been distant, and his older brother was a hothead. I gave a bark of laughter. His family was even more dysfunctional than mine. I wasn’t attracted to him. Still, he’d proven to be a good friend in so many ways. We were both determined to solve the two homicides. He’d invited me to dinner tomorrow night, where I hoped to learn more about the last days of Laura’s life.
I uncorked a chilled bottle of Chardonnay and sipped. Delicious! A few minutes later, my aunt and uncle arrived, laden with packages.
“I see you didn’t get lost.” I kissed them.
“I used my GPS,” Uncle Bosco said. “Besides, I remembered coming out here to a big bash the Averys threw—what was it, Harriet, fifteen years ago?”
“More like twenty, dear.”
Uncle Bosco placed the bag holding our dinner on the kitchen counter. Aunt Harriet set down a bottle of wine and one of her cakes beside it. I gave them a quick tour of the cottage. We stood in the living room, gazing out the window.
“It’s too dark to see the view, but the river’s right outside.”
“Lovely—and so beautifully decorated.” Aunt Harriet rubbed the fabric on the arm of the sofa. “If only it weren’t so isolated.”
“Harriet!” Uncle Bosco said in his warning voice.
“Well, Dylan’s here some of the time.” But not now. “And his handyman has a cottage nearby.”
Uncle Bosco came to join us after checking the doors and windows. “The locks are strong and of
good quality.”
“I can always get a dog for protection,” I joked.
“That might be a good idea,” Aunt Harriet said.
“Let’s eat,” Uncle Bosco said, “before everything’s ice cold.”
We ate our soup and then shared the three main courses we always ordered: chicken with broccoli, shrimp in lobster sauce, and duck with vegetables. We finished the Chardonnay, and I brewed a pot of decaf coffee.
Aunt Harriet’s cake was a lovely pumpkin bundt cake filled with nuts, dried cranberries, and chocolate chips. There was enough for the next few weeks. I planned to cut it up and freeze it in small portions.
We moved to the living room. Uncle Bosco dropped into the leather lounge chair. Minutes later, he was snoring. Aunt Harriet and I looked at each other and giggled.
“I’m so glad you decided to come by tonight,” I told her.
“We almost didn’t call. We thought Jared would still be here, and we didn’t want to intrude.”
I waved my hand. “There was no intruding. I’ll see Jared tomorrow night. His uncle George is in town visiting Ken Talbot. He’s invited his nephews to dinner. Since Ryan’s bringing his girlfriend, Jared asked me to come along.”
“That Ryan.” Aunt Harriet frowned. “He gave his parents a rough time. Always getting into trouble. I suppose he’s settled down, since we haven’t heard very much about him in recent years.”
“What kind of trouble?”
“Breaking car windows. Climbing up to the water tower to paint all kinds of nasty signs. It’s amazing he didn’t end up in reform school.”
“Really?” I was shocked. “From what Jared said, I thought he was upset because his parents weren’t getting along.”
“Could be the reason, but he showed signs of it early on—stealing candy from Candies and Sweets.”
“He was very belligerent toward Al Buckley the night Al gave his presentation.”
Aunt Harriet chortled. “That’s because Al brought him down to the station more than once.”
“I had no idea. Jared’s not like that at all.”
She smiled. “He was the good child.” She scrutinized my face. “Are you two . . . ?”
“We’re just friends.”
Uncle Bosco roused himself with a loud clearing of his throat.
Death Overdue Page 15
