She had someone in her office, so I mouthed that I’d be back and went to check on the various groups that were meeting. Everything seemed under control. The Civil War book club members were having an active conversation, as was the current events group. Downstairs, the afternoon movie was silent as a man crept through a house in search of the terrified girl hiding under the steps.
“How’s your investigation going?”
Startled, I spun around. I heard a familiar giggle as Evelyn materialized.
“Did you enjoy your visit to the restaurant supply outlet?” she asked.
Interesting, since I’d never mentioned it to her.
“Loved it. I’m excited about the new cooking series. I think the patrons will really enjoy it. For the cost of five dollars, they’ll watch the demonstration and sample the three or four dishes the chef has prepared.”
“I wish someone had thought to do that when I was around,” Evelyn said. “How was spending all that time with Sally?”
I grinned. “We’re friends now. She thinks I’m doing a good job.”
“You are doing a good job.”
“How do you know?”
Evelyn gave me an impish wink. “I spend a good deal of time here at the library. More than you’ll ever know.”
“Have you found out where Laura might have hidden a journal?”
“Sorry, I haven’t. I really think she destroyed any pages she might have written for fear someone would find them and read them.”
“No one seems to know who the mystery man in her life might have been. In fact, nobody seems to know anything about the two murders at all.”
Evelyn patted my arm, chilling me to the bone, which I knew wasn’t her intention. “I’m sure something will turn up. As they say in the crime shows, everyone leaves a trace of himself wherever he goes.”
“Very profound,” I muttered.
We both laughed.
“Has Dorothy been behaving herself?” Evelyn asked.
“Since you’re here so often, you must know.”
“Just because I’m invisible doesn’t mean I see everything.”
I shrugged. “We keep out of each other’s way.”
“I’m glad to hear it.” Evelyn sighed. “The poor girl is unhappy. I don’t know what’s bothering her, but I’m relieved she’s no longer taking it out on you.”
“I think she and Sally have had a falling out.”
Evelyn tsk-tsked. “I was afraid of that. Dorothy never did learn how to keep a friend. She always had to have the upper hand, which isn’t good for any relationship.”
She faded away as I knocked on Sally’s door. This time, she was free. I asked if she’d recorded Al’s presentation. She had. The police had taken the recorder and would be returning it very soon. We talked about our purchases for the chefs’ presentations, and then I told her about the programs I’d just acquired.
“They sound promising.” She stretched her arms overhead. “Drones are a hot subject, and older patrons will love the Hedy Lamarr program. She was a fascinating woman.”
I headed back to my office, pleased that everything was going so well. I opened the door and found Trish putting on her parka.
“Are you leaving? I thought your new hours are ten thirty to three thirty.”
“I’m going to the hospital.” She glared at me, her eyes glistening with tears. “Someone knocked my father down as he was unlocking the door to his apartment. He’s concussed and his wrist is broken, and it’s all your fault!”
Chapter Twenty-Six
I stumbled through the rest of the day as best I could. When Susan arrived at four, I offered to take her place at the hospitality desk, and she seemed happy enough not to ask why. At first, I told myself that there was no way my meeting with Roy that morning could have had anything to do with his being attacked. I even called the police to ask if he’d been robbed. An officer said robbery didn’t appear to be the motive. There was no apparent reason someone would want to assault Mr. Peters.
Which meant I was responsible for the attack. A wave of guilt overcame me. Trish had begged me not to meet her dad to talk about Al. She hadn’t wanted him involved. Did she know something that Roy hadn’t told me?
I tried to remember who had been in the café at breakfast. The tables and booths, even the counter, had been jam-packed with diners. The only face I’d recognized was the police officer who had come to Uncle Bosco’s house with Lieutenant Mathers after Al was killed.
I winced, remembering having to tell Roy to lower his voice as he spoke about Al. A few people had turned to stare at him, but I hadn’t recognized any of them.
That was assuming I knew the murderer or the identity of Laura’s secret lover. He might have overheard Roy talking to me about Al. I shivered. Would he come after me next?
“Hey, girl.”
I looked up at Angela’s smiling face.
“Are we still on for tonight?” she asked.
“Of course. Mac and cheese, like I promised.”
“You sure?” She studied my expression. “If you’d rather postpone—”
“No!” It came out like a shout. “I’m upset because Trish’s dad was knocked down outside his apartment. He’s in the hospital.” And it’s all my fault.
“I heard. Poor Roy. Such a nice guy. But I’m glad we’re still on for dinner.”
“Me too. See you at six thirty.”
As Angela headed back to the circulation desk, I wished I’d canceled our plans, but by the time I arrived home, I was glad I hadn’t. It would be good to have company to take my mind off things. I called the hospital to find out how Roy was doing and was told that his condition was stable. They were keeping him overnight, and he was going home tomorrow.
Somewhat relieved, I opened a bottle of merlot and sipped a glass as I prepared dinner.
What can I do to atone for my foolishness?
I should have met Roy in a place where no one could hear us talk. I should have listened to Trish.
At six thirty-five, Angela greeted me with a hug and another bottle of merlot.
“Come, I’ll show you around my new home.” I put on a smile I didn’t quite feel.
We’d gotten as far as the living room when I burst into tears. Angela sat me down on the sofa and pulled out a tissue from her pocketbook.
I blew my nose. “Roy’s in the hospital because of me.”
“What do you mean?”
“I met him at the Cozy Corner Café to find out what Al might have told him regarding Laura Foster’s murder. They were good friends and poker buddies. Turns out, Roy doesn’t know who Al suspected. Still, he tends to speak loudly when he gets excited, and he was excited talking about the two murders. The killer must have overheard us and followed Roy home to warn him not to talk about the case.”
Angela handed me the glass of wine I’d left on the coffee table. “That’s one hell of a conclusion to come to based on a conversation in a public place.”
I gulped down the rest of my wine. “I’m not overreacting. The murderer probably lives in Clover Ridge. Trish told me not to talk to her father about the case, but I ignored her wishes.”
“Why did you talk to Roy? Aren’t the police investigating?”
I shrugged. “I suppose. And getting nowhere. Jared Foster and I decided to investigate on our own, but we’re not doing much better. The only thing we found out is his mother was having an affair at the time she was murdered, but she didn’t leave any clues about the man’s identity.”
“Maybe Laura’s lover was a woman and that’s why she kept it secret,” Angela said. “Lesbian relationships were less acceptable fifteen years ago.”
“I never thought of that.”
“I admire you and Jared for trying to solve these cases. Roy talked to you because he wants the same thing.”
I sniffed. “I guess.”
Angela put her hand on my shoulder. “But after what happened today, maybe it’s best to stop asking questions about the case—at l
east for a while.”
“You’re right. I still feel awful about Roy and Trish. I hope she’ll forgive me.”
“She will. I know how much she loves working with you. And Roy’s a tough old dude. He’ll be fine.”
I wiped away my tears and felt considerably calmer after having shared my story with Angela. I poured her a glass of wine, and we talked and laughed through our salad, mac and cheese, coffee, and dessert. Later, as we sat in the living room gazing out at the river, she let out an enormous yawn.
“I’d better leave before I fall asleep on your sofa.”
I walked her to the door, and we hugged good night.
“Thanks for dinner.” Angela stifled another yawn.
“See you in the morning. Thanks for listening to me.”
She waved her hand. “Don’t be silly. That’s what friends are for.”
I hummed as I stacked the dirty dishes, glasses, and pots in the dishwasher and turned on my first wash. The machine—an expensive make—purred as it cleaned. I puffed up the living room sofa pillows and then got ready for bed.
Telling Angela that I felt responsible for Roy’s attack had helped me move past the familiar black holes of guilt and self-pity. I should have arranged to meet him privately, but I wasn’t an ogre with evil intentions. I was terribly sorry he’d been hurt and grateful he would heal.
Angela’s my friend, and Sally’s fast becoming one, I realized with some amazement. Drifting from one place to another, I’d never really bothered to make friends because I knew I’d be moving on. I was beginning to understand that friendships were an essential part of life. Friends supported you when you were upset. Friends shopped together, ate together, and shared good times and bad.
The phone rang, jarring me from my reverie.
“Hello.” I wondered if it might be Aunt Harriet or Jared.
Silence.
“Who’s there?” Perhaps it was one of those pesky callers trying to sell me something.
“Is this Carrie Singleton?” The voice was muffled. I couldn’t tell if the speaker was a man or a woman.
“Who wants to know?”
“Someone who wants you to mind your own business, or you might end up in the hospital or worse.”
“Who is—?”
The line went dead.
My heart thumped against my ribcage. Two people had been murdered. Roy had been assaulted. If the killer were to break into my cottage, no one would hear me scream. I wished I had a dog to warn me if someone was about to smash a window or break down the door.
I called Uncle Bosco. He sounded tired. “Hi, Carrie. Everything all right?”
I glanced at the clock. It was twenty to eleven. Past their bedtime. “Sorry. I didn’t realize how late it was.”
He chuckled. “Feeling a little nervous on your own? That’s natural after staying with us so long. You’ll be fine. The windows and doors have strong locks.”
“Good night, Uncle Bosco. Talk to you soon.”
“Night, honey.”
I hung up, wondering if I should call the police. But somehow, I didn’t think Lieutenant Mathers paid much attention to prank calls. Besides, the caller had threatened to hurt me if I continued to play detective, and I had no intention of doing that.
I jumped when the phone rang again.
“Yes?”
“Carrie, it’s me, Jared. Sorry for getting back to you so late, but it’s the first chance I’ve had all day.”
“That’s all right, but I can’t talk long. I’m about ready to go to sleep.”
“Then I won’t keep you. I wanted to tell you that you were right.”
“About what?”
“My dad and Helena. They’ve become friendly. Dad’s kind of taken her under his wing. Not something he usually does.”
“You mean they’re dating?”
“Sort of, I guess.”
“I’m sorry, Jared.”
“Yeah, I know. My stupid brother thinks I’m making a big deal out of nothing. He says it’s Dad’s life and he should do what he likes.”
“Maybe it’s a passing phase,” I said.
“Let’s hope.”
“That reminds me. Ryan’s girlfriend called. She’d like us to go out with them Saturday night.”
“That’s why I’m calling. Dad wants all of us to go out for dinner Saturday night.”
I paused to work out what he was saying. “All of us? You mean you and me, Gillian and Ryan, your dad and Helena?”
“That’s the idea.”
I didn’t respond. I was being backed into a corner, and I didn’t like it.
“Please say you’ll go.” He expelled a deep sigh. “It’s my father’s business if he wants to date Helena, but I don’t like her. It would help if you were there.”
“Jared, I don’t feel comfortable having dinner with your family. I mean, we’re not a couple like Gillian and Ryan.”
“For God’s sake, Carrie. It’s only dinner!”
I was making a big deal out of it? But then again, it wasn’t as if I had something important to do instead. “All right, Jared. I’ll be your plus one on Saturday night.”
“Thanks, Carrie. I don’t want to force my family on you, but my dad rarely asks Ryan and me to get together socially. I’d hate to turn him down.”
“Where are we eating?”
Jared laughed. “Due Amici. Dad likes the place too.”
“I love their food, so I’m looking forward to that. And I like Gillian a lot.”
“And me?”
I squirmed. “Of course you. That goes without saying.”
“I wonder how she puts up with Ryan,” he mused.
I’d wondered the same thing but thought it impolite to say so. “It should be an interesting evening.”
We chatted a few more minutes and then said good night. As I brushed my teeth, I reviewed my relationship with Jared. As far as I was concerned, we were friends with a common goal. Lately, we’d been spending more time together socializing than sleuthing. I wasn’t comfortable about it because now I knew for sure that I wasn’t into him romantically. I had to let him know before I found myself attending more Foster family dinners.
I climbed into bed, glad that my conversation with Jared had helped me almost forget the distress caused by the anonymous call. I would stop questioning people about the murders—at least in the immediate future.
I drifted off to sleep wondering why I hadn’t told Jared about the threatening phone call.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
I woke up Friday morning, struggling to recapture my dream, but all I could remember was a meowing cat. Good thing it was only a dream, I told myself as I hit the snooze button. My life was complicated enough.
I must not have heard the snooze alarm, because I’d overslept twenty minutes. Twenty minutes lost, when every second counted! I showered and dressed and then hurried into the kitchen for a quick breakfast. As I sipped the last of my coffee, I heard it again—the plaintive cry of a cat. Only this was no dream. I shrugged into my jacket, grabbed my pocketbook, and went outside to investigate.
I put my pocketbook on the passenger seat of my car, turned on the heater, and then slowly walked around the cottage, both curious and afraid of what I’d find. I loved cats and dogs but hadn’t lived in one place long enough to consider keeping a pet. Once this cat caught sight of me, it would probably take off if it was feral. However, it was probably hungry and smart enough to have come to a house in search of food.
I’d come full circle when I saw it—a half-grown gray kitten with a bushy tail. It was sniffing the front tire on the driver’s side of my car. I crouched down. “Here, kitty. Psst, psst.”
The feline stared up at me with huge green eyes. He—I decided it was a male—was beautiful! “Where did you come from?” I crooned as I stepped closer.
He spun around and raced toward the cottage. I glanced at my watch. I had to leave now or I’d be late to work. A better idea would be to go inside and bring somethin
g out that the kitten could eat after I left. Frantically, I made a mental sweep of my supplies. I had some mac and cheese left over, but I didn’t think he’d like that. I knew cats really didn’t drink milk because it could give them diarrhea. My best bet was to buy some cat food on my way home tonight.
I opened the car door, welcoming the warmth emanating from the heater. A flash of gray flew over my feet and climbed onto the headrest of the passenger seat. I reached for him, but the little devil was too fast. He jumped onto the back seat.
I stepped out and pulled open the back door, hoping the kitten would get out of the car. Instead, he jumped back onto the headrest of the passenger seat.
“You’re making me late!” I got behind the wheel and clicked my safety belt into place. I left the door open, hoping he’d take the hint and exit. Instead, he stared at me. “Meow,” he complained.
I suddenly remembered the granola bar at the bottom of my pocketbook. I unwrapped it and broke off a tiny piece, which I placed in the palm of my hand. I smiled as the kitten climbed down the seat to sniff it and then take it in his mouth. I broke off another piece and let him eat that too. Then I put the car in gear and set off for work. When I stopped for a red light, I broke the rest of the bar into small pieces and watched him devour them.
“You were very hungry.”
He stared at me and then curled up into a ball and went to sleep.
What am I to do with you? I hate to leave you in the car while I work, and I can’t bring you into the library. Sally would have a fit.
By the time I pulled into the library parking lot, I’d decided to leave him in the car. I’d tell Sally I had to rush home because I’d left the oven on, drop the kitten off near the cottage, and buy cat supplies on my way home. He had a fur coat and was sure to survive until then.
But Smoky Joe, as I was beginning to think of him, had other plans. I’d no sooner opened my door when he scampered out. He scurried under an SUV parked in the next row. I followed after him when a car with two library aides pulled into the lot. Good thing they were engrossed in their conversation and weren’t curious as to why I was peering under an SUV.
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