“The computers?” Julie repeated, looking a little dumbfounded. “Uh, sure.”
“May I see it?”
“What’s this about?”
“A police matter.” No way did he want this getting back to Kate unnecessarily. No reason for them both to burn ulcers worrying about this guy’s ulterior motives.
Julie grabbed a binder from the end of the counter. “We have really strong filters on our system. The kids aren’t supposed to be able to access anything bad.”
“It’s nothing like that,” he assured.
“That’s a relief.” She flipped open the binder to the bookmarked page. “This is where people sign in. Summer is our busiest time. Lots of kids waiting to get on, so each one is allowed half an hour.”
He began copying down the names, none of which, at first glance, set off any alarm bells.
“Want me to just photocopy the pages for you?” Julie spoke up.
“That’d be great.” Tom shoved the binder back across the counter, wracked by sudden doubts this lead would pan out the way he’d hoped.
She snapped open the binder rings, pulled out two pages, then frowned.
“What’s wrong?”
“A page must be missing.” She pointed to the first entry at 11:00 a.m. “We open at 10:00, and like I said, we always have lots of people vying for the computers all day.” She flipped back another page. “It’s not here.”
“Do you happen to recall who came in first thing this morning?”
“Actually, I didn’t come in until noon. I’ll ask Barb.” Julie disappeared through a door marked for employees only, and it occurred to Tom that the text message could have been sent from a staff computer too. According to the tech rep he’d talked to on the phone, the network assigned the final sequential digit of the IP address in the order the computers logged on to the system, which meant the same computer could be assigned several different IP addresses over the course of the day, depending on how many times it’d been rebooted.
At the circle of computers, a teen called over his friend and pointed to something on the screen. They then traded places.
Clearly, identifying his text writer wasn’t going to be as straightforward as he hoped.
Julie returned a moment later with his copies. “Barb says they had a problem with the computers this morning. No one got onto them before 11:00.”
“Thanks. Could you tell me who had access to staff computers today?”
“That would be Barbara Owens and Mrs. Peabody and me. Oh, and we always have a couple of student volunteers, but they don’t go on the computers. Anything else I can help you with?”
He scanned the sheets she’d given him. None of the names meant anything to him. As much as he hadn’t wanted to worry Kate with this latest development, he’d have to ask her to look them over. “A few of these are signed with only initials. Can you tell me who they are?”
“Yeah, our regulars—all kids. Tony Trace, Susan Leonard, Nikki Kite, and . . .” Julie tapped her pen on the counter as her gaze drifted to the far wall. Finally she shook her head. “Not sure who PL is.”
Another librarian joined them. “Hey Barb, do you know who PL is?”
Barb glanced at the log book entry Julie pointed to. “Pedro Lopez, maybe. He comes in pretty often. Not usually on a weekday, though.”
Pedro, yes! Kate had said the kid made her nervous. Tom snatched up the papers and hurried to the door. “Thanks!”
As he jogged back to his car, he reviewed potential scenarios. Kate had said Lucetta was hanging around outside the meeting room this morning . . . listening in? She could’ve asked her nephew to send the incriminating text. But why?
He’d assumed their letter writer and texter were one and the same. But how would either Pedro or Lucetta come up with all that semi-believable dirt on the mayor, let alone know his personal cell phone number? Unless . . .
Maybe Lucetta knew King’s housekeeper. The help always knew everybody’s dirt. Maybe they were really only after the mayor and figured Kate’s name, as a research scientist, carried the authority needed to convince the paper to print their letter.
Yeah, he’d like nothing more than to believe Kate was an unwitting victim here, but his gut told him that was wishful thinking.
Then again, employers were always underestimating the intelligence of their house staff, and from his experience, the staff always knew exactly what was going on. Maybe the mayor’s housekeeper decided the town should know too and elicited Pedro and Lucetta’s help.
Sliding into his car, Tom glanced at the dashboard clock. Lucetta might already be on her way to Kate’s for their cleaning spree. If Lucetta was behind both the counterfeiting and these messages, who knew how she’d react if Kate provoked her with a barrage of questions.
He turned in the direction of Kate’s house. With any luck, Lucetta’s nephew would give her a lift like he had the other day, and Tom could question them both at once.
Ten minutes later, Tom knocked on Kate’s door for the third time. He’d seen her bedroom window blinds close as he pulled up to the house. She was in there.
The door edged open and Kate appeared behind the screen door, her red hair mussed, one eye squinted closed. “What are you doing here?” Pain tinged her voice.
He tugged open the screen door. “What’s wrong?”
“Migraine.” She plodded to the sofa and laid down, pressing an ice pack to the back of her neck.
“Can I get you a pain pill or something?”
She rolled her head his direction. “I’ve already taken all I’m allowed.” She curled onto her side and moaned as if she’d been suddenly punched. Her breathing came in short gasps.
He dropped to his knees at her side, feeling as if he’d been punched too. “Try to take deep breaths.” He picked up the ice pack she’d let drop and held it to the back of her neck. If hearing about the fate of her father’s arresting officers had done this to her, then he really didn’t want to mention the mayor’s text message.
Her breathing evened out. “Thank you,” she mumbled.
He brushed a strand of hair from her cheek. “I guess you canceled your plans with Lucetta?”
“Oh, no. I forgot. I need to call—” She pushed herself up to a sitting position and instantly clutched her head.
Tom nudged her back down and set the ice pack on the end table. “I’ll take care of calling her.” The questions he needed to ask Lucetta would be better handled in person, but not until he was sure Kate was going to be okay.
An old pickup rattled up the road as he pulled out his phone. “Looks like we’re too late. I’ll go out and let her know what’s going on.”
Lucetta was already to the porch by the time he stepped outside. “Oh!” She jolted back a step. “I didn’t expect—”
“I’m afraid Kate will need to reschedule.”
Pedro started to pull away.
Tom flagged him. “Hold up, Pedro. Your aunt’s going to need a ride,” he called out over the rumble of the kid’s noisy muffler. “Kate’s ill,” Tom explained to Lucetta, walking her back to the truck. “She’s sorry she wasn’t able to notify you before you made the trip out.”
“This happens,” Lucetta said in broken English.
Tom paused with his hand on the truck door, keeping her from climbing in. “Before you go, do you happen to know who keeps house for the mayor?”
“No, he looking for a housekeeper?” she asked eagerly.
So much for that theory. “Not that I know of, no. I thought perhaps you might know who works for him.”
“No, I not know many people.”
He darted a glance Pedro’s direction to see if his reaction gave anything away, because listening to Lucetta’s choppy English, Tom realized it was unlikely she’d written the letter to the editor. “How about you? You know anyone connected to the mayor?” Tom asked Pedro through the open passenger window. A sickening combination of diesel fuel and rotten food wafted from the interior.
Pe
dro shook his head. His hands didn’t tighten around the steering wheel. Not a single muscle so much as twitched at the question. Either he was a gifted liar or he had nothing to do with the mayor’s text message.
“Were you on one of the computers at the library this afternoon?” Tom asked directly.
The kid snorted. “You kidding? The boss never lets us out early.”
“It’s nice of him to let you use the company truck to drive your aunt. Didn’t he let you leave work earlier this week to pick her up?”
His eyes narrowed. “What’s with all the questions?”
From the corner of his eye, Tom noted that Lucetta began to squirm. Anxious to get away, he could understand. But was it because he’d gotten too close to the truth? The only thing keeping Pedro from taking off was waiting for Tom to let his aunt inside the truck. Tom clasped the door handle as if to open it for her.
“I need to talk to anyone who used the library computers today. One was signed out to a PL. The librarian said that was you.”
“Not today. Ask my boss. I didn’t leave work until 5:00.”
Tom opened the door. “Yeah, I’ll do that.”
Lucetta slid Pedro a nervous glance but avoided making eye contact with Tom. An ingrained reaction to the police? Or did she mistrust her nephew as much as he did?
As they pulled away from the curb, an animated discussion erupted in the pickup’s cab. But was Pedro vehemently shaking his head because he was innocent, or guilty? Tom text-messaged Hank. Pedro probably had no idea his boss was the father of the chief of police. They’d know soon enough if Pedro could’ve been in the library this afternoon or not.
When Tom turned back to the house, Kate stood at the front door watching him through the screen. “What were you talking about with Lucetta and Pedro for so long?”
He shrugged as if the conversation was no big deal. “I had a few questions.”
A smile played on her lips. Surprising, considering how dragged out she’d been only minutes ago. Her pain medicine must have kicked in. “You know I can always tell when you’re hedging.”
He held in a smile. Could she read him so well? He changed to a subject he was willing to talk about. “How’s the head?”
“See.” She wagged her finger at him. “Like that. You’re hedging.”
With a chuckle, he urged her back inside. As much as he’d rather not worry her about the text message, he did need her to look at the list of names Julie photocopied for him. Besides, her friend was bound to mention his being at the library. He squinted at Kate. Was that what had prompted her to come looking for him? Had Julie already given her the inside scoop?
This time Kate plopped into an armchair instead of sprawling onto the sofa. “Is that what brought you here? You wanted to talk to Lucetta?”
Busted. He grinned. “That bother you?”
She rolled her eyes. “Julie called. What’s going on? This have anything to do with the counterfeiting? She said Pedro was one of the names on the list you took.”
“No, nothing to do with the counterfeiting.” At least no connection that he could see, unless she’d been right about that being an attempt to set her up too. He might be able to build a case for criminal harassment. He sat on the edge of the sofa and unfolded the pages of names. “The mayor received a text message along the same vein as that letter to the editor. It originated from one of the library’s computers. Any of these names stand out to you?”
She glanced at the top page. “What do you mean by stand out?”
“Are you familiar with any of the people, in either a positive or negative way?”
“What’s it got to do with me?”
He shifted the top page so the two lay side by side. There was no easy way to soften the blow. “The sender used your name.”
Her sharp intake of breath made his heart hitch, especially when she immediately began pressing her fingertips to her temple again.
“The mayor knows you didn’t send it. But we don’t have a good handle on the sender’s motive. Is he just trying to rattle the mayor and thought using the name of someone at the research center—you—would work the best? Or is he really trying to get you in trouble?”
Kate traced her finger down the list of names. “Most of these people are kids. I recognize quite a few of the family names from church, but aside from PL, which I assume is Pedro, I don’t really know any of them.”
“You can’t think of any reason why one of these people might have a grudge against you?”
She frowned. “No. The only person who’s been annoyed with me is Verna’s son when I refused to help him send her to a nursing home. But now that she’s in one, I can’t see him still being irritated with me.”
“And his name’s not on the list.” Pedro was still the most viable suspect, unless maybe one of these names meant something to the mayor. “You’re sure there’s no one else?”
“Not on the list.” She closed her eyes and massaged tiny circles in the center of her forehead.
“Someone else has a grudge?”
Her breath seeped out in a weary sigh. “Yeah, Molly Gilmore.”
9
After work Thursday afternoon, Kate finally got to the nursing home to see Verna. She’d planned to drop in Wednesday after work, but Tom had sidelined that plan when he’d insisted she revisit every last name on the library list for possible motives. Apparently Pedro’s alibi had been solid, and the mayor hadn’t raised a single red flag on any of the names either. Tom had been skeptical of her suggestion that maybe Molly Gilmore paid someone to incriminate her, but in the end, he’d visited every person on the list to judge for himself. And he still didn’t know what to think.
Drawing a deep breath, she shoved the disturbing possibilities from her mind. The fragrance from vases of mixed flowers scented the air, but not quite enough to dispel an underlying liniment odor. In the main floor common area, a health care aide helped a frail woman into a chair next to a sunny window.
Kate smiled at the memory of Tom fussing over her on Tuesday night because of her headache. She couldn’t remember the last time anyone had fussed over her. She had to admit it had felt pretty nice. Much nicer than his all-business focus of last night’s visit.
Outside the home’s locked wing, Kate peered through the window at the lost souls wandering the halls or sitting in wheelchairs mumbling to themselves. Her heart sank. How horrible for Verna to go from the freedom of living in her own home to being restricted from even stepping outside without supervision. Sure, the Alzheimer’s patients needed security, but not Verna. She’d been a little confused was all.
A nurse pushed open the door and waved Kate in. “Mrs. Nagy is in the common room at the end of the hall.”
Kate admired the woman’s cheery voice, considering the sad state of her patients.
“Kate,” Verna squealed the instant Kate stepped into the sunny room.
Two other patients dozed in their wheelchairs. A TV flickered in the corner.
Verna rose, more sprightly than Kate had ever seen her, and beckoned her to a couple of lounge chairs by the picture window overlooking the grounds.
Kate pulled her into a warm embrace. Verna still felt too frail, but her face had filled out. “You look wonderful. This place must agree with you.”
“The food is good.” Verna’s blue eyes lit. “Best I’ve had in a long while. Never bothered much with cooking after my Robert died.”
Kate sat in the seat across from Verna. “Didn’t Lucetta cook for you?”
Verna wrinkled her nose. “I never much cared for her spicy dishes.”
“So you like it here?”
“The nurses are nice.”
“You think you’ll be happy here?”
Verna spread her palms wide. “The Good Book says to learn to be content whatever the circumstances.”
“You look content.”
“I’ve had more visitors in the few days I’ve been here than the whole last month at home,” she said, but Kate did
n’t miss the fact that Verna hadn’t really answered any of her questions.
Kate let her gaze drift to the manicured lawn and flower gardens outside the window. “The grounds are beautiful.”
A faraway look flitted across Verna’s face. “It reminds me of our old farm.”
“I didn’t know you used to live on a farm.”
“Oh, yes. It’s out by old Mrs. Brewster’s place. Overgrown now, I imagine. Robert and I used to love to go there for walks, especially along the stream. It’s a lovely spot. Has some rare animals and plants too, because of how the hills protect it.”
“Wow. I’ll have to drop by there and explore sometime. Who owns the property now?”
“I do. My Robert always said we’d donate it to the town as a park when he passed on.” Her voice turned wistful. “But I hadn’t wanted to part with it just yet.”
“That’s understandable.”
Verna grew quiet, her gaze drifting as if her thoughts had carried her to the property she loved. Her forehead creased, the smile slipping from her lips. “Don’t suppose I’ll get out there much anymore. I best talk to the mayor.”
Kate almost suggested Verna let her lawyer take care of it, but she supposed her son would see to that.
Verna shook off her sudden melancholy and rubbed her hands together like a child anticipating a treat. “How’s my Whiskers?”
“He misses you.” The night of her migraine, Tom said he’d found the poor thing meowing at Verna’s door. Kate couldn’t believe she’d forgotten about him in her rush that morning. From the way Whiskers had twined around Tom’s legs last night, he’d clearly become the feline’s hero.
“The poor thing.” Verna’s fingers stroked the armrest as if kneading the cat’s fur. “I should be home soon.”
Kate frowned. Did Verna not understand this was a permanent move?
Verna nodded as if she’d read her thoughts. “The doctor checked on me today. He’s so pleased with my improvement. Said I should be able to go back home if I don’t suffer another setback.”
Blind Trust Page 11
