They finally saw me and waved. I waved back and watched them enter the library. I felt sick at the thought of leaving Smoky Joe here in the parking lot, where he might get hit by a car. I caught sight of him under the SUV. He saw me and ran under another car. I couldn’t do this all day! But I could ask Max and Pete to try to catch him. Both custodians were kindhearted men.
With a heavy heart, I headed for the library door. As I was pulling it open, Smoky Joe made a dash across the lot. I reached down and scooped him into my arms. His body felt relaxed. “You silly boy,” I crooned. I grinned when he began to purr.
Thank goodness I made it to my office without meeting anyone. I exhaled a deep sigh of relief as I closed the door behind us. At lunchtime, I’d buy some cat food in town, then drive Smoky Joe back to the cottage. And do my darnedest to see that he didn’t escape in the next three hours.
While he climbed over my desk and Trish’s, sniffing at everything, I ripped up an old newspaper and put the pieces in a shallow carton. I lifted Smoky Joe and set him down in the box. “That’s where you go while you’re here,” I told him and laughed out loud as he started to pee.
“Such a good boy!”
Smoky Joe must have thought so too. After a bit more exploring, he settled down at my feet and went to sleep. All would have gone well if Angela hadn’t stuck her head in to say hello.
“What was that?” she asked as Smoky Joe made a beeline out the door.
“A cat. And now he’s loose in the library!”
“I know it’s a cat. What’s he doing here?”
“I’ll explain later,” I said over my shoulder as I ran out to see where Smoky Joe had gone.
A patron must have known what I was after because she was laughing. “He went thataway,” she said, pointing to the children’s room. I thanked her and hurried there, hoping Smoky Joe hadn’t wreaked too much havoc. Not every child liked animals. Some were downright afraid of them.
I stopped short and took in the scene before me. Gayle was reading a story to a group of pre-K kids sitting cross-legged in a semicircle around her. At least, she had been reading, judging by the book resting on her lap. The half dozen children, including Tacey, were making a fuss over the gray kitten weaving his way among them.
Smoky Joe didn’t protest as I lifted him into my arms, but the children complained loudly.
“Sorry to have disturbed you,” I said.
Gayle waved a hand. “Cats are always welcome, especially sweet ones like him.”
“His name is Smoky Joe.” He started to purr as I raised him onto my shoulder.
“Please bring him back again, Cousin Carrie,” Tacey said. Which gave me an idea. Smoky Joe wasn’t afraid of the children or being in the library, for that matter.
“Maybe I will,” I said.
Just then, Marion’s office door opened. She and Sally came into the big room. Sally and I stared at one another.
“A cat in the library?” she said.
I took a deep breath. I felt a hand on my shoulder. I turned, glad to see Angela beside me. “Sorry. I should have discussed it with you first. This is Smoky Joe.” I was relieved that my voice had remained steady.
“Why is he here?”
“Because Smoky Joe would make a wonderful library cat. He’s friendly. Ask the children.”
Sally opened her mouth, but I couldn’t hear her over the cheering.
“Lots of libraries have cats,” I said. “The patrons adore them. Many cats live in the library, but I’ll bring Smoky Joe home with me at night.”
“He does seem like a lovely creature,” Marion said, petting him.
Smoky Joe purred louder.
“Well, we could give it a try,” Sally said reluctantly. “You should have checked with me first, Carrie, before bringing him in.”
“Sorry,” I said.
“I suppose he’ll need food and kitty litter. Call Max and tell him what you need. He’s going out to buy supplies later this morning.”
“Thanks, I will.” I spun around, eager to be off.
Angela kept pace beside me as I headed for my office. “That was a stroke of genius! I thought she was going to hand you your head for bringing a cat into the library.”
I laughed. “I saw how much the kids loved having Smoky Joe near them.” I scratched his head. He looked up and yawned. “And I saw how much he enjoyed them. He’s a stray that likes being with people. He’ll be the best library cat around.”
“He’s the only library cat around,” Angela said. “Are we still on for lunch?”
“I don’t see why not. Max will be bringing him food, so he won’t go hungry till I take him home tonight.”
An hour later, Sally stopped by my office and handed me a camcorder. “A police officer just returned it. Now you can watch the video of Al’s presentation—what I managed to get.”
“Thanks so much, Sally.” With all the excitement over Smoky Joe, I hadn’t thought about the murders all morning.
She reached over to scratch Smoky Joe’s head. “How is he adjusting?”
We both looked at him stretched out on Trish’s desk. “Very well. He ate a small can of the food Max bought.”
“Where did you get him?”
My pulse began to race. Would she tell me not to bring him when I told her? “He wandered over to the cottage, probably from one of the nearby farms. I’ll make sure he gets his shots.”
“Do that.”
“Would you rather I not bring him in until then?”
Sally shook her head. “I know cats, and this one looks healthy. Just take him to a vet as soon as you can. The patrons are all asking about him.” She grinned. “I think you can let him venture out among the stacks this afternoon for a short while.”
She left, and I turned on the camcorder. My heart leaped with anticipation as the camera scanned the audience chatting and noshing on cookies and coffee. I looked carefully but didn’t spot anyone placing the poisoned cookie on Al’s plate. In fact, the table didn’t appear until Al stood beside it, munching his snack.
I watched with an ache in my heart as he asked the audience for anecdotes about Laura. I listened to Ryan’s outburst and Helena’s unexpected disclosure. When Al fell ill, the video ended.
So much for that. I placed the camcorder on my desk to return to Sally.
Trish came in at eleven and made a big fuss over Smoky Joe. I asked how Roy was doing.
“He’s fine. In fact, he was feeling pretty important when I drove him home this morning.”
“Why?”
“When he told the nurses why he was attacked, they treated him like a hero.”
“I’m glad to see you’re not angry at me any longer.”
Trish shot me a level look. “Dad said I wasn’t to blame you for the attack. He’s sorry he couldn’t be of more help. He’s glad you and Jared Foster are trying to find the killer, since he doesn’t expect the police to catch him or her anytime soon.”
“I’m afraid Jared and I have reached a dead end. We have no clues, no witnesses. Nothing.”
Trish nibbled her lower lip. “It’s hard to believe someone could kill two people and get away with it.”
The rest of the morning, we worked in harmony on various projects. I was grateful that Trish was no longer mad at me, but it bothered me that Jared and I had gotten nowhere in our investigation.
At twelve thirty, after Trish reassured me repeatedly that she was capable of keeping an eye on Smoky Joe while I was gone, I returned the camcorder to Sally and then stopped by the ladies’ room before meeting Angela at the back door. We were having lunch at a new Chinese restaurant a few miles south of town. As I drove, I told her about the previous night’s anonymous phone call.
“How awful! You must have been terrified.”
“I was, but the person won’t harm me if I stop investigating. Which is exactly what I’m doing because we’ve hit a dead end.”
The Chinese restaurant was in a strip mall. It was dimly lit, with booths along
both long walls. A peaceful setting, especially as only four or five booths were occupied. I ordered chicken and broccoli. Angela ordered duck. As we ate our hot-and-sour soup, she told me a funny story about her boyfriend and his mother.
“You really like Steve’s family,” I noted.
“I do. I think they’re nuts, but every family’s nuts in its own way.”
“I guess.”
I must have sounded down because she asked, “Don’t you like Jared’s family?”
“I like his uncle George. I hardly know his father, and his brother’s an angry cannon about to go off at any minute. I think Jared’s a great guy, but I don’t feel that special spark. Spending time with his family isn’t my priority.”
“Is there someone else you’d rather be dating?”
My ears grew warm. “Maybe. But he’s not interested in me that way.”
We stopped at the pet shop in town, where I stocked up on cat food, kitty litter, and a litter box. The sales clerk seemed very knowledgeable about cats, so I asked her to recommend a veterinarian.
Back at the library, I stopped in the ladies’ room before returning to work. I was putting on lipstick when I heard the ping of a text message. I grinned as I read: “Mail has arrived. Sorry I snapped at you the other evening. Don’t want you to answer my phone because I’ve a few tough characters working for me. I wouldn’t want any of them to upset you. Talk to you later.”
Later!
As I exited, I nearly collided with Dorothy. For a moment, we stared at one another.
“Sorry,” we said at the same time.
She held a large book in her outstretched hands as if she didn’t want it to dirty her blouse. I didn’t blame her. The cover appeared old and dusty. The History of Jewelry, it read.
“Where did that come from?” I asked without thinking.
Dorothy pointed to the wall behind her. “From the attic. Now I’m all dirty, thanks to you.”
I stared at the wall that I passed several times a day. “The attic? What attic?”
Dorothy laughed. “Didn’t Sally give you a proper tour of our library? Behind the panel is a staircase to a small attic we use for storage. It used to be part of the underground railway for runaway slaves.”
“I didn’t realize the building was that old.”
“There are lots of things you haven’t realized.” Dorothy took off at top speed.
Smoky Joe was asleep when I returned to the office. When he woke up, I fed him another small tin of cat food and some kibble. After he used his litter box, I carried him out to the main reading area, where a few patrons were reading magazines and newspapers.
I was afraid he’d disappear into the stacks, but I needn’t have worried. He walked up to chair where an elderly man was reading a newspaper. When the man merely glanced at him and returned to the paper, Smoky Joe advanced to a woman reading a knitting magazine. She bent down to pet him.
“That’s Smoky Joe, our new library cat.”
“Hi, Smoky Joe. Welcome to the Clover Ridge Library.”
And so it went. Half an hour later, I carried him back to my office, where he promptly fell asleep on Trish’s desk.
Evelyn paid me a visit as I was getting ready to leave at five. Susan was on duty at the hospitality desk, so there was no chance she’d catch me talking to myself, as it would appear to anyone but my little cousin Tacey. But then, anyone else—including Sally—would knock first, and I could always claim I’d just put down the phone. She made a fuss over Smoky Joe, laughing delightedly when I told her how he’d come to be our library cat.
“That was quick thinking. Good thing you and Sally are friends now.”
“Don’t you look spiffy,” I said.
She was wearing a gray silk blouse and a darker gray cardigan over black trousers, with a long string of pearls and matching pearl earrings.
“You like?” She grinned at me.
“I like.” Someday I’d have to ask Evelyn where she kept her wardrobe of clothes and jewelry—along with hundreds of other questions—but there never seemed to be time.
“Are you looking forward to the weekend?”
I frowned. “I’m going out with Jared and his family tomorrow night.”
“I thought you liked the boy.”
“Of course I do. Jared’s a good person. But he’s a boy, while . . .”
“Someone else is a man,” she finished for me.
To change the subject, I said, “I bumped into your niece this afternoon. Literally, I mean. She was bringing a book down from the attic—I imagine for a patron.”
“Dorothy’s very good at finding resources for our patrons. She’s an excellent reference librarian. It’s her people skills that need work.”
“I never knew this building had an attic.”
Evelyn laughed. “Our hidden room. The last several years, it’s been used for storage. Sally mentioned wanting to assign some of us to clear it out but somehow never got around to it.”
I felt a surge of excitement. “What was it used for before it became a storage place?”
“Nothing, really. There were some tables and chairs if a staff worker wanted a few minutes of privacy. Hardly anyone chose to go up there.”
“What if someone wanted to write in private?”
“You mean, what if someone wrote in private and kept what she wrote up in the attic?”
* * *
I thought about my conversation with Evelyn as I drove home. The idea that Laura might have hidden her journal in the library’s attic was a very distant possibility. For one thing, I had no idea if Laura ever went up to the attic. For another, this all happened fifteen years ago. Even if she’d hidden her journal, I had no idea where to look. Judging by the book Dorothy was holding, the place was dusty and jam-packed with old books and God knew what else.
It would take weeks for me to explore every nook and cranny of the attic. When, in my busy workday schedule, was I supposed to do this?
During lunch hours. And I’d come in early the days I worked evenings.
Aunt Harriet called on my cell phone. She laughed when I told her about Smoky Joe, who was purring away beside me. “I’m calling to remind you that Thanksgiving’s less than two weeks away, and I expect you to come to dinner.”
“Of course. Where else would I go?” I realized how tactless that sounded and began to apologize.
She let loose a rousing chuckle. “Don’t be silly, Carrie. Of course I expect you to be here. I invited some of your cousins, but they’re all going to their various in-laws for the holiday. Is there anyone you’d like to invite?”
“I can’t think of anyone. Angela has a large, close-knit family, and I’m sure Jared will want to be with his father and brother.” I wasn’t at all sure about that, but inviting Jared to my aunt and uncle’s would send him the wrong message.
“I’ve invited John and Sylvia Mathers, since their three children live out of state.”
“Lieutenant Mathers?”
“Of course. The Mathers are good friends of ours.”
“I had no idea.”
Aunt Harriet sighed. “I should have extended my invitations earlier. Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday. I love preparing the turkey, sweet potato casserole, and cranberry sauce. And baking at least three desserts. It’s the one time I enjoy being surrounded by people.”
“I’ll let you know if I think of anyone to invite.”
“What about Dylan?”
“Dylan?” My heart began to thump. “I’ll invite him, though he might not be home then.”
“That would be nice, dear. He no longer has any family here in Clover Ridge.”
“I thought you didn’t like Dylan,” I said.
“Bah, that was your uncle remembering the bad time when the farm was failing. Dylan’s father took advantage of a good opportunity, as anyone would have. Besides, I always liked that boy.”
“He was Jordan’s friend.”
“Exactly.”
The house phone
rang as I was unlocking the front door. “Hello.”
“You sound out of breath,” Dylan said.
“I just arrived home.”
“I thought I’d catch you in after a busy day at work.”
“It was busy enough. How was your day? Make any progress on your case?”
“Some. I’m hoping to tie things up soon.”
“Well, that’s an enigmatic response,” I said, amazed that I was having a teasing conversation with Dylan.
“I work in an enigmatic profession.”
We both laughed.
“Did you know the library has an attic?” I asked.
“I don’t think so. Why, is that important?”
“I’m not sure, but I intend to find out.” My heart started to race as I remembered Aunt Harriet’s invitation. “Will you be home for Thanksgiving?”
“There’s a good chance. Why? Need a break from sending me my mail?”
“Aunt Harriet asked me to invite you to dinner.”
“Did she? I remember your aunt is one awesome cook.”
“That would be great—if you can make it,” I stumbled, suddenly tongue-tied. “She’ll be glad.” And so will I.
“I’ll call to let you know my traveling plans soon as I find out. Tell Aunt Harriet thank you. Gotta go.”
I set down the phone, feeling a grin spread across my face. Dylan had called as he’d said he would. Maybe he was interested in me after all.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
As I’d expected, the attic was dirty and crammed with boxes of books piled helter-skelter on the floor, on tables, and on top of one another. Tall bookcases lined the walls but were impossible to reach unless I started moving cartons. Where to put them? I barely had room to stand. I opened a box and sneezed from the debris flying into my nostrils. How Dorothy had found the book she’d been looking for was beyond me.
Minutes later, I climbed down the stairs, relieved to be breathing unpolluted air. I went about my usual day—introducing the Saturday afternoon movie, catching up on e-mails and phone calls until I left at five. I wasn’t happy about my failed venture in the attic.
At home, I fed Smoky Joe and then turned the radio to a light rock station and poured myself a glass of Chardonnay. I wasn’t looking forward to the evening. I was going to have to tell Jared we’d reached a dead end as far as finding clues or evidence was concerned. The killer was either very clever, very lucky, or both. As for us . . .
Death Overdue Page 21
