A Likely Story: A Library Lover's Mystery

by Jenn McKinlay

  “Ah,” Ronnie said. “Butler to the Rosens, a mean old goat, he died of pneumonia in the early seventies. No wife or children.”

  Lindsey took a pen out of the holder on the desk and drew a line through his name. She read off two more names. One was deceased with no family, like Hargreaves, and the other had relocated to South Carolina over thirty years ago.

  “Can I ask you something?” Ronnie said.

  “Sure,” Lindsey replied as she tried to decipher the next name, which was a bit smudgy.

  “Where did you get this list and why are you asking me and not Milton? He’s the town historian. Wouldn’t he be better suited to answer these questions?”

  “You’re doing just fine.”

  “But that doesn’t answer my question,” Ronnie said. “Where did this list come from?”

  “From the paper,” Lindsey said.

  “Which paper?”

  “That is way more than a question,” Lindsey said.

  “It’s one long, extended question,” Ronnie said. “So?”

  “Fine, but I would appreciate it if it went no further,” Lindsey said. Ronnie grunted, which she took as assent. “I have a list of names from Dr. Rosen’s funeral in nineteen sixty-one, and I’m checking to see if any of these people might still be alive and be someone Stewart would have reached out to if he was in trouble.”

  Ronnie let out a low whistle. “Fifty-four years ago. That is a long shot. Okay, fire another name at me.”

  “Beatrice Beller,” Lindsey said.

  “Betty Beller,” Ronnie said. “Wow, I haven’t heard that name in years. She was the Rosens’ housemaid, a beautiful young woman both inside and out. I don’t think there was a person in Briar Creek who didn’t like Betty, especially Peter and Stewart Rosen. That was back when they would leave the island and come into town and be social. It seemed like whenever that girl left the island to run an errand, she had one or both of the Rosen boys hovering around her like puppies. Huh, I’d almost forgotten how they were back then, so funny and friendly. But Betty left to go marry a doctor, except . . .”

  Her voice trailed off, and Lindsey could tell she was slipping into the past, remembering things that had been long forgotten over the past five decades.

  “Except?”

  “Oh, sorry, I was just remembering that Betty left the Rosen household shortly after Dr. Rosen’s death,” she said. “We all knew she had a doctor boyfriend in New Haven, and we assumed she had finally decided to marry him. She was young, in her early twenties, but . . .”

  “But?” Lindsey asked.

  “But I remember seeing her leaving Briar Creek. I was working at Sammy’s Fish and Chips, before it became the Blue Anchor, as a hostess, and I remember watching her leave, thinking that she looked sad and a little lost, not like someone about to run off and get married,” Ronnie said. “Hmm, I haven’t thought of her in years and years.”

  “So, no idea what happened to her?” Lindsey circled the woman’s name. If Betty was sad about leaving, she might have been close to the family and be someone who Stewart would turn to if he needed help.

  “None,” Ronnie said.

  “How about Allison Alston?” Lindsey said. “Oh, and her husband Brent Alston?”

  “Ugh,” Ronnie said. “Who could forget them? They lived in Manhattan but came up on weekends and for long stretches during the summer. They parked their yacht smack in the middle of the bay and had the loudest, most over-the-top parties.”

  There was such annoyance in her tone, Lindsey had a feeling it was a resentment born of not being on the guest list.

  “They didn’t mingle with the locals, did they?” she asked.

  “Not at all,” Ronnie said. “They clearly thought they were above us. So rude.”

  “Did they own any of the islands?” Lindsey asked.

  “Several, but then there was a terrible scandal involving Mr. Alston and an underage girl. He went into exile in Europe, and the family was forced to sell everything, including the islands,” Ronnie said. She was quiet for a moment, and then she gasped. “Huh, I just realized the first three islands that Evelyn Dewhurst bought were originally owned by the Alstons.”

  “Interesting,” Lindsey said. She wondered if it was a coincidence worth mentioning to Emma.

  They ran through the rest of the names, and Ronnie was helpful with all but two of them, as she didn’t know what had become of George Marzkie or Philip Carver.

  Lindsey circled their names and put question marks beside them. She thanked Ronnie for her time.

  “You’ll let me know if you find any of these people, won’t you?” Ronnie asked. “I’d be curious to know what happened to some of them, especially that George Marzkie. If I remember right, he was a hottie.”

  Lindsey smiled. “I’ll let you know.”

  She stared at the list in front of her. All of these people had been close enough to the Rosen family to attend Dr. Rosen’s service. Some were their house staff, some were neighbors, some were people of their elevated social set, but had any of them kept in touch after Dr. Rosen’s passing?

  Tragedy had a way of making people flee the scene, as if the death of Dr. Rosen or the paralysis of Peter Rosen were contagious conditions that could be spread by human contact. Lindsey wondered if the Rosens had found themselves even more isolated in the aftermath of Dr. Rosen’s tragic death.

  She glanced at the window that overlooked the bay. She could just see a few of the islands, rising out of the silver body of water as if they could glide across the smooth surface and relocate anyplace they wanted. She wondered if Peter or Stewart had ever wanted to relocate or leave their island. What might their lives have been like if they had?

  Lindsey walked to the Anchor mentally reviewing the list. It seemed to her that the person most likely to have kept contact with Stewart was the housemaid Beatrice Beller. According to Ronnie, she had been young, so she would only be in her seventies now. Maybe, just maybe, Lindsey would be able to find her.

  As she stepped into the Anchor, she saw the crafternooners had poor Aidan surrounded. He was a bit wide-eyed, and Lindsey wondered if he’d feel more comfortable if she tossed him a picture book and a puppet, so he could tame the crowd.

  “Now, Aidan, can you tell us a little bit about yourself?” Violet asked.

  She was perched on one side of him while Nancy bookended him on the other. The poor bastard had no chance at escape. Mary was standing beside the table with her tray tucked under her arm, while Charlene and Beth sat across from the others. Lindsey noted that Beth was biting her thumbnail.

  She gently pushed her friend’s hand away from her mouth. When Beth glanced at her, she whispered, “You told me to stop you if I saw you biting.”

  “Yeah, thanks,” Beth said. She tucked her hands under her arms to keep herself from chewing.

  “How’s it going?” Lindsey asked.

  “Well, he hasn’t run away—yet,” Beth said.

  Lindsey glanced across the table and noted that Aidan was discussing his upbringing on a farm in the Berkshires. Both Nancy and Violet were nodding, while Charlene was making notes on the memo app on her phone.

  She met Lindsey’s gaze and said behind her hand, “I’ll be doing some fact-checking later.”

  “Ever the reporter,” Lindsey said.

  She glanced at Aidan and saw that a fine sheen of sweat had popped out on his brow. Poor guy. The jukebox in the corner was quiet, so Lindsey strolled over and popped in some quarters. Interrogations were always better when put to music. As a honky-tonk tune about drinking came on, she moved behind Aidan’s chair and tapped him on the shoulder.

  “Come on, big fella. Dance with me,” she said.

  The man catapulted out of his chair as if she’d thrown him a life preserver. Little did he know, he had just passed one of Lindsey’s tests. Even if the man couldn
’t dance for beans, the fact that he went willingly to the dance floor was a check in the keeper column. Of course, he was probably just relieved to escape his jailers. Still, he went.

  “Lindsey,” Violet huffed. “We were just getting to the good stuff.”

  “You’ve had your turn. Besides, I’ll bring him right back,” she said. She leaned close to Beth and said, “Cut in about halfway through the song.”

  Beth nodded and smiled as Lindsey stepped into Aidan’s arms and they began to work their way around the tiny dance floor. Okay, two checks in the keeper column. He was no Joaquín Cortés, but he wasn’t squashing her toes either.

  “Thank you,” Aidan said. “I’m not usually easily intimidated, but the ladies are . . .”

  “Intense?” Lindsey asked.

  “A smidge,” he said, and Lindsey laughed.

  “You clearly have a gift for understatement,” she said.

  He smiled, and Lindsey decided right then and there that he was A-OK. His smile reached his eyes, and in their warm gaze she saw just the sort of good guy Beth deserved to have in her life.

  “I know about Beth’s ex Ernie or Rick or whatever his real name was,” Aidan said.

  “Ernie.”

  “She deserves so much more than that,” he said. “I’m trying to convince her to start writing again.”

  “You are?”

  “Yes, she’s too brilliant not to be published,” he said.

  “Done and done,” Lindsey said and stopped dancing. Her decision was made. Aidan was perfect for Beth.

  “I’m sorry, what?” he asked.

  “Excuse me, may I cut in?” Beth asked as she stepped up beside them.

  “Absolutely,” Lindsey said. “And I’m going to call the dogs off. You’ve got a good one here.”

  Beth grinned. “I think so, too.”

  Aidan looked bemused, and Beth tried to give him a stern look, but it was belied by the twinkle in her eyes.

  “But I’m still taking it slow,” she said to him.

  Now Aidan smiled at her, looking just as smitten, and said, “We’ve got all the time in the world.”

  Beth practically swooned into his arms, and Lindsey went back to the table feeling satisfied that her best friend was going to be just fine.

  “He’s a keeper,” she said.

  Violet, Nancy and Charlene all nodded.

  “After reviewing the facts, we have come to the same conclusion,” Nancy said.

  They all turned to look at the dance floor where Beth and Aidan were staring into each other’s eyes.

  “Who is Beth dancing with? Do I need to break that up, or should I say break him up?”

  Lindsey turned back around to see Ian standing beside their table, looking like he was ready to crack some skulls; well, Aidan’s, at any rate.

  “No, no, we checked him out,” Charlene said. She held up her smartphone. “I even did a background check. He’s good.”

  “Background check?” Violet asked.

  “I had a friend on the New Haven P.D. check for warrants, arrest history, et cetera,” Charlene said. “He’s clean.”

  “She kind of scares me,” Nancy said to Violet.

  Violet nodded and then looked at Ian. “Stand down.”

  “Could I intimidate him just a little?” Ian asked. “You know, set their relationship off on the right note?”

  “Of fear and terror?” Mary asked as she joined them. “No.”

  Ian looked about to argue, but she jerked a thumb at the bar, letting him know where he was needed. Ian wasn’t so easily chased off. He paused to plant a kiss on Mary’s lips and look into her eyes as a slow smile spread across his face.

  Lindsey thought back to the other evening when she and Sully were here and Sully said he had a feeling that Ian and Mary were up to something. She hadn’t paid much attention at the time, but now she wondered.

  There was a reverence in the way Ian looked at his wife that hadn’t been there before. He’d always been besotted with Mary and was quite charmingly vocal about it, but this, this was different.

  His hand slid across her flat stomach, and Mary put her hand over his for just the briefest moment. Lindsey gasped. When Mary turned to look at her, she turned it into a hacking cough, which wasn’t much of an act given that she had managed to suck some of her own spit into her windpipe and was choking on it.

  “Are you all right, Lindsey?” Mary asked.

  Lindsey nodded as her eyes watered up and she forced herself to stop coughing. “Frog in my throat.”

  “Well, come on and dance it out.”

  Lindsey turned to find Milton standing there, holding his arm out to her.

  “Are you sure you’re up to it?” she asked and pointed to the small bandage on his forehead.

  “Of course,” he said. He waved away her concern as if she was too silly to be taken seriously.

  “Where’s Ms. Cole?” she asked.

  “Still annoyed with me,” he said. “I’m hoping some time apart will soften her feelings.”

  “Well, don’t give her too much space,” Lindsey cautioned. “One thing men never seem to understand is that when a woman is done, she’s done. There’s no going back.”

  “Understood,” he said. “I’m giving her space, but I’m also sending flowers and chocolates. I’ll woo her back.”

  Lindsey smiled. Milton had been the town’s resident bachelor for years after his wife passed. Ms. Cole was the first woman to give him a challenge instead of chasing him. She didn’t doubt that Milton would work his magic on the spinster sooner or later.

  He held out his arms in a very formal posture, and Lindsey mimicked him, keeping a few feet between them while they danced.

  “And now to my real purpose,” Milton said. He lowered an eyebrow at Lindsey in a chastising look. “Why didn’t you come to me with your list of names?”

  “Aw, what? Did Ronnie blab?” she asked.

  “It’s not her fault,” he said. “We met up at our seniors’ yoga class, and she asked me if I knew whatever happened to George Marzkie.”

  “Do you?” Lindsey asked.

  “Yes, but that’s beside the point,” he said. “Why didn’t you come to me?”

  “Because I didn’t want you to get hurt,” Lindsey said.

  “Asking me questions isn’t going to cause me harm,” he said.

  “Well, I didn’t think staying late in the library was going to cause you any harm either,” she said.

  “I understand,” Milton said. “But I am the town historian.”

  “All right,” Lindsey said. “Where is George Marzkie?”

  “Last I heard, he left town to go join a commune in upstate New York in the early seventies, and no one’s heard from him since.”

  “What about the other guy on my list, Philip Carver?”

  “Dead,” he said. “No family left behind.”

  Lindsey nodded. That seemed to happen quite a lot to the people the Rosens knew. She wondered if that meant something or if she was just getting pessimistic.

  “There was one other person that Ronnie didn’t know what happened to,” Lindsey said. “She said she was a young woman who worked as a maid for the family but left shortly after Dr. Rosen passed.”

  “Ah yes,” he nodded. “Betty Beller, a lovely girl with such a sunny disposition. She grew up in Hotchkiss Grove but lived on Star Island with the Rosens while she worked there. She left the area to get married.”

  “Do you think there’d be a record of her marriage in the historical society?” Lindsey asked. “I know they used to keep clippings of all the residents’ big life events in the genealogical file.”

  “There might be, because she did live on one of the islands for a time, but there might not be, because she moved away,” he said. “I can certainly look.”


  “Thanks, Milton,” she said. “By any chance did Ronnie mention that the first three islands that Evelyn Dewhurst bought were originally owned by the Alston family?”

  “No, she was a little fixated on finding George,” he said. “I think she’s having visions of a grand reunion.”

  “Oh, well, do you think it’s just coincidence that those are the islands Evelyn acquired?”

  Milton pursed his lips and then shook his head. “I can’t think of any connection off the top of my head, but who knows. I don’t generally believe in coincidence.”

  “Me either,” she said.

  “I’ll do some checking at the historical society,” he said.

  Lindsey studied him, and her concern must have shown in her face.

  “I promise I’ll be careful,” he said.

  “It might be prudent not to talk to anyone about it,” Lindsey said.

  The song on the jukebox rolled into a slow one, and she glanced over to see Beth and Aidan slow down to continue their dance. Lindsey noticed that Aidan pulled Beth close but in a respectful hold, with his hand on the middle of her back, and he leaned over her, once again in that protective way he had that spoke more than words that he considered Beth something special and dear.

  “They make a fine couple,” Milton said.

  “They really do,” she agreed.

  They turned to leave the dance floor and found Sully striding toward them.

  “I have a feeling your dance card is about to get filled,” Milton said with a smile. “I’ll be in touch.”

  Lindsey watched as Milton and Sully exchanged greetings, and then Sully was opening his arms and she was moving into him as naturally as a river rolls into the ocean.

  “Are you sure you’re up to dancing with that bump on your head?” she asked. “Sheesh, what does it say about me that both of my partners are recovering from head injuries?”

  “That you choose rough-and-tumble sorts of men. Don’t worry, I won’t bust too big of a move,” he said. He pulled her close, and she inhaled that particular bay rum scent that was all Sully. “Besides, I have a doctor’s note that green-lights me for all activity save maybe skydiving.”