by Jade Wolfe
“I can’t read your mind,” I protested.
“Thank Heavens,” she said. With a shake of her head, she disappeared.
I looked up to see a grassy area near the building’s rear doors. Three women sat there at a picnic table, and all of them were staring at me. I’d been talking to myself, as far as they could see. With a small smile, I turned away. This town already thought there was something wrong with my family, what was one more piece of evidence?
I had more important things to think about. Namely, why was Jasper’s lawyer hanging so close to Pete Shoemaker? Shouldn’t he be more concerned with Lavinia and the estate?
I decided the answer to that question might be important, so I turned on my heel and headed for the hotel. Thank goodness it was a good day for a walk.
Chapter Thirteen
I caught Lavinia on her way out of the hotel, which was a good thing, because I didn’t know her room number and I would have had to ask the clerk. The clerk, I saw when I got there, was a girl named Katlyn. I went to high school with her. She was one of the kids who ventured into the woods with Sage and the rest of us, then, when the rumors started flying, she pretended to be afraid of us. It was just kid stuff, but I knew she had a hand in spreading the rumors about our family.
It was best that I didn’t have to talk to her.
Lavinia was dressed in a dark blouse and skirt, with a bag slung over one shoulder. It looked heavy. “Clover,” she called, waving to me as she got off the elevator. “You’re just in time.”
I came over and eyed the bag. “In time for what?” I asked.
“Come. You can walk with me to the library. We’re having a small memorial.”
“Really? Here?” I’d have thought she would rather do that at home, among friends and family.
“Well, we’re going to be here for a while, it seems. Until they find out who did this, anyway.” She gave me a sad smile. “You haven’t made any progress, have you?”
I shook my head. “But I came to ask you something. Is it possible that Pete could profit from Jasper’s death?”
She thought about that as we walked down the sidewalk. “No-o-,” she said slowly. “Not in any way that I can imagine, anyway. Why?”
“He was giving a press conference a few minutes ago, and I wondered.” I turned to her as we walked. “I think he had something to do with it, Lavinia.”
She nodded thoughtfully, and we walked in silence for a while. Just before we got to the library, I worked up my nerve and asked her, “Lavinia, do you know about the rumor that Jasper was writing romance novels under a pen name?”
She chuckled. “Yes. We laughed about that a time or two. I can’t even imagine that Jasper would know anything about romance. Unless you count Bess, I suppose.” Those last words sounded bitter.
“I’m sorry. I heard the rumor and had to ask.” I pulled open the heavy library door and followed her inside.
She met Dwayne near the reception desk and he squeezed her hand. It’s all ready,” he stage-whispered. “Make yourself at home.” Then he saw me and said, “Are you here for the memorial, Clover?”
I nodded, and he ushered me to a seat in a small semicircle - right where Jasper had died. I frowned, wondering if it would have been better to use one of the private rooms for this. I took a chair on the front row. There were a few other people there, and I wondered if they were fans like my dad, or if they just happened to be in the library today and wondered what was going on. That sort of thing happened in small towns.
Lavinia smiled nervously at Dwayne, who patted her arm and led her to the table in front of the seats. She checked her watch, then began fiddling with something in the bag she’d brought with her. I wondered what was in it.
I sat and waited, along with the others. One or two more people came in and sat down, most notably William. He was dressed in some sort of long knitted vest with a ruffled shirt underneath, but that was nothing new for him. He considered himself a poet and liked to dress the part. He sat down close to me and nodded a hello, but didn’t say anything. Then, after ten minutes or so, Bess came in. She took a seat nearest the door and didn’t look at either me or Lavinia. I could practically feel the rage coming in waves from the table, so I didn’t dare look at Lavinia either.
To kill some time I turned to William. “So,” I said, leaning one arm across the back of my chair. “Where were you the morning Jasper died?”
He looked annoyed. “You’re boyfriend already asked me that. Mind your own business.”
“I don’t want to. We both know you’re capable of angry outbursts, William.”
His cheeks colored, but he didn’t look at me or answer. He stared straight ahead, in the general direction of Lavinia.
At precisely five, Dwayne, who’d been standing unnoticed in the corner of the room, cleared his throat.
Lavinia nodded to him, squared her shoulders, and faced the ten or twelve people in front of her, including me. “I trust you know why we are here,” she started. Her smile was tight and small. “I thought it would be nice to take this moment to remember my husband, the great novelist, Jasper Davenport.”
Someone sat down in the seat beside me. I looked up to see my dad. He slipped off his sweater and folded it onto his lap.
“Some of you are fans of Jasper’s work, and he truly loved and appreciated every one of you. Some of you are simply curious and possibly concerned, due to the way he met his end.” She stumbled over those words. “I understand. There is a murderer loose in your small community. I’d be curious and concerned, as well.”
She met my eyes, then let her gaze wander over the rest of the crowd. “It’s fitting - Jasper was a curious man, and this sort of thing would have been right up his alley.”
She tried to laugh, but it was a tiny strangled noise. She wiped her hand across her cheek and went on. “So if anyone has any information, please feel free to discuss it with me or the police.”
A murmur moved through the people behind me, but I didn’t turn around.
Lavinia paused, took a deep breath, and stood up straighter. “Meanwhile,” she said, “I have an offering, of sorts. Dwayne, could you come up here, please?”
Dwayne startled, then came around to her side with a shy smile. She handed him the heavy bag. “I can’t do anything about my husband’s death, but I can fix this one small thing. Dwayne, please accept my apologies for what happened here.”
He bent his head and looked inside the bag, then, with a gasp, caught her up in a hug. She was so startled that she squealed.
He put her down and pulled out the dictionary. Well, not the dictionary - that one was still evidence. This was a replacement. He looked at it, then looked at her, as close to speechless as I’d ever seen him.
“My husband loved words,” she said with a sniff that threatened tears, “and he would be upset about the damaged dictionary. Please take this for your curation.”
“Thank you so much,” Dwayne said. He bowed graciously, but I could see from here that his hands were trembling with excitement. He patted the bag and carried it reverently away toward the table in the corner, where he could put it with the rest of the collection. I watched his shoulders as he rearranged the other things to make room for it.
Lavinia appeared to be finished speaking, but unsure how to end the event. Finally, she said, Again, I thank you all for coming and I know my husband would have loved to meet you.”
With that, she turned and walked toward the doors.
I started to follow her, but then held back. “I didn’t know you were coming here,” I said to Dad. “If I hadn’t seen Lavinia at the hotel, I wouldn’t have known about this at all.”
“She didn’t exactly advertise it. I don’t blame her.” Dad tucked his sweater around his arm. “Who wants to face a lot of people when your husband just died?”
“I guess,” I said, looking around. My eyes caught Bess Gabriel’s face and I wondered what she was angry about. Why had she shown up, anyway? Surely she got t
he hint and knew that she didn’t have any ties to the Davenports now. Before I could mention it to Dad, we were interrupted by William. “I’m glad you could come,” he said, shaking Dad’s hand.
My father nodded without saying anything. He didn’t like William much and being the gentleman he is, he kept his opinion about William to himself.
“So...was this your idea or Lavinia’s? I asked him.
“Well, hers. I helped her, though.”
“How?”
He looked around and didn’t answer me. I followed his gaze and realized he was looking at Bess. I recognized the expression on his face. Uh-oh.
He had the same swooning adoration he showed when I first came to town. “William, do you like Bess?” I asked. I managed to keep most of the amusement out of my voice.
He spun away. “No, of course not - she might have killed my favorite author, in case you didn’t know.”
I shrugged. “Well, I don’t really believe that. I bet you don’t either.”
“You don’t know anything about me, Clover. Stop talking now.” He shook his head like there was a fly buzzing around his ears and walked away before I could say anything else.
I caught movement from the corner of my eye and turned just in time to see Bess Gabriel slipping a paperback book off the shelf. She glanced over her shoulder, then put it in her bag.
I headed that way. “Still stealing books?” I asked.
She screeched and nearly dropped the bag. I wished she had, so that maybe the book would fall out.
“No. Why would I steal ratty old paperbacks?” she asked.
“I don’t know - why did you steal them from Bill Bagly, and maiming the poor guy in the process?” I snapped back.
Dwayne was at my elbow in another moment. I could have sworn he felt a disturbance in the force around his library. “Is something wrong?” he asked me.
I gestured toward Bess. “I think Jasper Davenport’s assistant is stealing books from your library, Dwayne.”
Boy, if I was wrong there’d be some apologies to make. But I knew what I saw, and what I saw was Bess stealing books.
I glanced at the shelf. Romances. Of course. I bet I knew the author’s name, too.
“That’s ridiculous,” she said. “Why would I steal books?”
Dwayne looked back and forth between us, unsure what to do now. He didn’t really have the authority to do anything. It wasn’t like he could demand to search her bag. The most he could do was ask her to leave. At the moment, he wasn’t sure what to say or who to believe.
“Look,” I said to him, pointing toward the space where the book had just been. Very near by it on the shelf were two other spaces. I wondered if she had those, too.
Dwayne looked.
“I think, if you’ll check, Dwayne, that those books haven’t been checked out.” I glanced at Dad. “I also think you’ll find that those books were written by Marjorie Happenstance.”
“Well, I know they haven’t been checked out.” He seemed insulted. “This shelf was complete this morning.”
Ah, I’d forgotten about Dwayne’s eagle eye when it came to his stacks.
“Unfortunately, we retire these romances fairly often so that new ones come into circulation. I don’t remember the author of these.”
“Well, you are all wasting my time,” Bess practically shouted. “I’m leaving.”
She spun away and slammed directly into my dad, who was coming over to see what all the commotion was about. They both fell on their behinds. Dad grunted. I ran to help him up.
“What’s this all about?” he asked, rubbing his hip.
Bess was still on the ground. I could see William headed our way from across the room. He probably thought that I pushed her.
Dwayne put a hand to his mouth at the collision, but then he turned his head and bent down. I watched as he picked up Bess’s bag and the book that fell out of it.
“What did you say that author’s name was, Clover?” he asked me.
I could see it from here. “Marjorie Happenstance.”
“That’s mine,” Bess screeched, almost pulling William down with her instead of letting him help her up. “Put it back.”
Dwayne ignored her and flipped through the book. He pressed his lips together, closed the cover again, and held it with both hands. “This book belongs to the Wilder Public Library,” he said. “I’m calling the police.”
Bess went pale and scrambled to her feet, brushing William to the side. “Please don’t do that,” she said, reaching for either his arm or the book - I wasn’t sure.
Dwayne pulled up to his full height - which was considerable - and stepped out of her reach with his book. “This is the second time you people have desecrated my poor library,” he said. “Either leave immediately, or I will call the police.”
He bent to pick up her bag and checked it for more books. Apparently there weren’t any. He handed it to her. “Get out.”
She hesitated, her eyes still on the book, then gave up and stomped toward the door.
“Weird,” William said.
“What?” I asked.
He shrugged. “You’d think if she was going to steal books, she’d steal Davenport’s novels - they’re going to be worth a fortune now that he’s gone.”
My gaze met Dad’s over his shoulders. Was he thinking what I was thinking? “We need to find Dante,” he said.
I nodded and we left together.
Chapter Fourteen
Dante was in his office, digging through files on his computer. His office was a small, windowless room with just enough space for his desk, his body, and stacks of paper in every corner. I didn’t know what the papers were - work, I assumed - but they were dusty. I sneezed twice when the opening door disturbed the dust. “Did you know that Jasper never got into legal trouble?” he asked when we came in. “Not even a speeding ticket.”
I ignored that and pulled up a chair. Dad leaned against the cluttered desk.
Dante must have realized that something was wrong - Dad and I never came to his office together. “What?” He paused, but before I could answer he jumped in with, “Is this about dinner? I know, I’m eating there too much. I can start paying for it, if you want.”
We froze and stared at him. He looked terrified, like a little kid with a monster under his bed. It would have been cute if I knew what he was talking about. “Please don’t make me stop,” he said. “I love dinner at your house.” His gaze bounced back and forth between Dad and me.
“We...aren’t going to make you stop coming to dinner,” Dad answered slowly. It was almost a question, the way he said it. He looked at me.
I just shrugged. I didn’t know what Dante was talking about, either.
“We came to tell you that you need to take a second look at Bess Gabriel,” I said.
He looked visibly relieved. “I have. And a third, and a fourth...”
“She tried to steal Davenport’s romances from the library,” Dad said.
Dante nearly laughed at that. “Really?”
We nodded in unison. “It was almost blatant. She did it right in front of us,” Dad said with a head shake that was more amazement than anything. “Some people.”
I smiled. “Anyway, William said something else that caught our attention. He said that Davenport’s books would be worth a fortune now.”
Dante shook his head. “I don’t follow - you said she was stealing the romances.”
“Right. I think that means they’re about to break the news that Jasper was secretly the author.”
“So Pete’s press conference earlier...”
I leaned forward in the creaky metal chair, “Was a trial run. I think he was setting himself up as the...” I used air quotes, “’spokesman’ for Jasper. That gives him authority when it’s time to tell the world about the books.”
“Oh,” Dante said, nodding as he thought it through. That was one of the things I liked about Dante - he followed my line of thinking really well. “That’s very sn
eaky, but it makes a lot of sense.”
“I know.”
“So you think he’s going to break the news of the romances soon, and then they’ll be worth even more than his regular books?”
“Yep.”
“And you think he and Bess are gathering them up before they break the news?”
“I would, if I were them. Then it’s pure profit.”
Dante sat back in his chair and tapped his pen against the keyboard of his laptop. “OK. I can see it. But Clover?”
“Yeah?”
“That still doesn’t tell us who killed Jasper.”
My mouth dropped open. “Well, no. But it had to be him, right? He’s a man, he stood to profit, and -.”
“And none of that means he killed Jasper.”
I shook my head in frustration. “He has motive now. You said that’s all you needed.”
Dante looked at me. “Why are you so sure it’s him, Clover?”
It was my turn to be uncertain. “I can’t really answer that. Call it a hunch, but I know it was him.”
“Well, that won’t put him in jail.”
“I know,” I grumped.
“I mean, for all we know it was this mysterious lawyer. Just because we didn’t see him, doesn’t mean he wasn’t around.”
I hadn’t thought of that.
Dante turned to Dad. “What do you think?”
Dad shrugged. “I’m just an old guy who liked the man’s books. I don’t have a clue. But I think money is a good motive, so have you two thought about a collaboration? Maybe Bess and Pete planned to kill him together.”
I remembered Lavinia saying that they were a couple, at least in secret. “That’s possible. If she’s helping him gather up all these books, then she might have helped him plan the whole thing.”
Dante nodded. “See? This might be more complicated than we thought. Also, was Lavinia in on it? Even a little bit?”
I shook my head, then sneezed again. “I don’t think so,” I said, sniffling. “You need a window.”
“I know.”
“She is acting just like a grieving window would, and I don’t think she’s faking it.”
