“That’s a relief,” she said. She gave him a quick hug, which he returned, bringing them even closer together and making Lindsey breathless. “I suppose Emma can stop threatening to drag you to the doctor herself now.”
“The station was my first stop with my clean bill of health,” he said. “Interestingly enough, they had just retrieved the contents of the Rosen safe-deposit box.”
“No!” Lindsey said. “How did they find out what bank it was in?”
“Molly has a box in the same bank, and she recognized the key,” he said.
“Lucky break,” Lindsey said.
“Not really. It’s the closest bank to Briar Creek. Just about everyone banks there,” he said.
“What was in it?” Lindsey asked. “Love letters? Family jewels? Stocks and bonds? What?”
Sully grinned at her. “You’re just a treasure hunter at heart, aren’t you?”
“All librarians are,” she said. “Books being our treasure of choice, naturally, but we’re game for anything, really.”
“Well, there were no books, family jewels or love letters,” he said. “There was, however, a codicil to Dr. Rosen’s will. In it, he states that he is the father of Beatrice Beller’s child and provides for her and her child out of the family fortune.”
“But she was, oh my . . .” Lindsey’s voice trailed off.
“She was what?” he asked. “Do you know who she is, because no one at the station had a clue?”
“She was the Rosen’s housemaid. Your family wasn’t here yet, so no wonder you don’t recognize the name,” Lindsey said. “She left the island shortly after Dr. Rosen died, and it was believed that she had a doctor boyfriend in New Haven that she was going to marry.”
“Who told you this?”
“Ronnie gave me the bulk of it, and Milton just confirmed it,” she said.
“But how did her name come up in conversation? It’s been over fifty years since she lived here,” he said. He was getting the little vee in between his eyebrows that meant he wasn’t happy.
“Funny story, true story,” Lindsey said. Sully did not look amused. She sighed. “Fine. So it occurred to me when I was working the reference desk that Stewart might look to someone from his past for support, so I searched back in the old Gazette microfilm, and I printed the list of people who attended Dr. Rosen’s memorial service. I thought there might be someone from the service that Stewart would seek out. Betty Beller was on the list.”
“We have to call Emma,” he said.
“Scale of one to ten with one being I’m fine and ten being she’s going to lock me up and throw away the key, how do you think this is going to go?” she asked.
Sully blew out a breath. “I think you’re looking at a three, but only because your information is very valuable.”
“I can live with a three,” Lindsey said. “I’ll call her now.”
They left the dance floor, and Lindsey took her cell phone down the short hall by the back exit to get away from the noise of the restaurant. Sully followed her and waited beside her while the phone rang. No one picked up, and it went to voice mail. Lindsey felt like the universe was giving her a pass.
She left a short and concise message on Emma’s voice mail about who Betty Beller was and how she had found out her information. When she hung up, Sully gave her a thumbs-up.
“You got lucky,” he said.
“Don’t I know it,” she agreed.
“Come on. I’ll treat you to dinner,” he said.
They joined the table where the crafternoon ladies sat. They were all watching Beth and Aidan, who were still dancing, and Lindsey could see approval in their eyes.
“Isn’t this wonderful?” Violet asked the group. She raised her glass of beer. “Here’s to our Beth finding herself a keeper.”
They all clinked glasses.
“No one deserves it more,” Nancy said. Then she cast a sly glance at Lindsey and Sully. “It’ll be so nice to plan a wedding.”
“Stop, just stop,” Lindsey said.
Nancy chuckled, and Lindsey shook her head. Her friends were incorrigible, truly. Mary came back to their table and took everyone’s order. She went right out to the dance floor and took Aidan’s and Beth’s orders as well.
Dinner was spent getting to know Aidan a bit better and in a much less inquisitorial way. He declared himself a Patriots fan, and he and Sully began to analyze their team’s last season. It was clear to all that as far as Sully was concerned, Aidan was a fine catch for Beth.
It was at the end of the meal when Lindsey checked her phone that she saw she had a voice mail. She knew without checking that it would be from Emma. She gestured to everyone that she had a call to take and went back to the hallway where she could hear the message.
“Lindsey, it’s Emma,” the message began. “Thanks for the details on Betty Beller. Good work. Really, you should consider a career as a detective.”
Lindsey cringed as Emma was not making the least effort to hide her sarcasm.
“Seriously, when questioned, our suspect Mr. Rosen-Grant identified Betty Beller as his grandmother, giving him a solid motive to murder the two men who had control of an estate that according to the codicil, he had a right to. Looks like we’ve found our murderer. If you could bring that list of names by the station, that would be great. Bye.”
The call ended, and Lindsey glanced up to find Sully watching her.
“Was she mad?” he asked.
“More like moderately annoyed, judging by her sarcasm,” Lindsey said. “And yet, she still wants the list of names, so I can’t have done too badly.”
“So, why the long look?” Sully asked.
“Because they’re going to arrest Steven Rosen-Grant for the murder of Peter Rosen,” Lindsey said. “And I’m not sure he did it.”
Lindsey delivered the list of names Emma had requested the following morning on her way to work. The place was quiet with only Molly Hatcher at the front desk. The rest of the cubicles were empty.
“Morning, Molly,” Lindsey said. “It’s quiet in here today.”
“It sure is,” Molly said. She was a robust brunette with a big, booming voice and an equally loud laugh, the contagious sort that made you laugh with her even if you didn’t hear the joke. But today she seemed subdued.
“Everything all right?”
“Yeah, they’re taking Mr. Rosen-Grant to the courthouse for a preliminary hearing,” Molly said. She lowered her voice and added, “He hasn’t said anything about Stewart’s whereabouts.”
“Is that the theory?” Lindsey asked. “That he killed Peter and Stewart so he would inherit the estate?”
“It’s one of them,” she said. She frowned. “He’s not very likable. He’s bitter and definitely angry, but—”
“You don’t see him as a killer,” Lindsey said.
Molly shook her head. “Which is stupid, because it’s not even based on fact; it’s just a gut feeling.”
“I know what you mean,” Lindsey said.
She thought back to the Rosen house when she’d been running for her life from Steven, but in hindsight she couldn’t help feeling like he hadn’t intended to hurt her so much as catch her. Upon learning that Kirkland was a cop, his first reaction had been to demand he arrest Sully and Lindsey. If his intentions had been bad, wouldn’t he have run or attacked Kirkland or something?
She shook herself free from the thought. There was no way to tell what a person would do for money. Robbery, murder, it was impossible to know what sort of heinous act a person could commit when they felt they were owed a better life and had no qualms about taking it by force. Steven Rosen-Grant could be a coldhearted psychopath and needed to be treated as such.
“I guess it’s up to the courts now,” Lindsey said. “I have the list of names that Emma asked me to drop off.”
Sh
e opened her handbag and was digging around its dark interior when the sound of a car backfiring broke the quiet of the office. Only it didn’t backfire once but three times in rapid succession and was then followed by the screech of wheels on pavement.
“Lindsey, get down!” Molly yelled, and she grabbed Lindsey’s arm and dragged her to the floor behind her desk. At Lindsey’s bewildered expression, she said, “That was gunfire.”
“Oh, oh no!” Lindsey said.
“Stay down,” Molly ordered. She popped up on her knees and peered over her desk. She grabbed the radio from its holder on her desk and spoke into the mouthpiece.
Lindsey held her breath as Molly asked for a response. Shortly after there was a voice, and Lindsey pushed out a breath when she recognized it was Emma’s.
“There’s been a 10-71 in the parking lot,” Emma said. The radio chirped, and a buzz of static sounded. “We’re at Code 6. I repeat, Code 6.”
“Damn it, I’m still new at this,” Molly said. “What’s a Code 6?”
“Stay out of the area,” Emma said.
“11-40?” Molly asked.
“No, 11-42,” Emma said. “We’re all okay.”
Molly sagged against her desk. “I’ll stand by.”
“Roger that,” Emma said.
“What was all that?” Lindsey asked.
“11-40 is ‘advise if an ambulance is needed,’” Molly said. “11-42 means no.”
“So, they’re okay?”
“For now,” Molly said.
In moments, the radio sounded again. Lindsey looked at Molly’s hand when she turned up the volume. Her fingers were shaking. Lindsey glanced at her own hands and found they were trembling, too.
“Detective Trimble and I are in the transport wagon with our suspect and headed to the courthouse,” Emma said. “Officers Kirkland and Trousdale are patrolling the parking lot. Wait for them to give you the all clear before you leave the building.”
“Roger that,” Molly said. She put the mouthpiece back in its holder.
“Maybe we should move away from the window,” Lindsey said.
“Good idea. How about some coffee? We can wait in the break room.”
Lindsey nodded and followed Molly back into the station where they holed up in the windowless break room, sipping coffee and trying to calm their nerves.
From the clock on the wall, Lindsey could see that fifteen very long minutes passed before Officer Kirkland joined them.
“The parking lot and the surrounding area are clear,” he said. He yanked his hat off and tossed it on the table. Frustration poured off of him as tangibly as the steam coming off the fresh cup of coffee Molly handed him.
“Where’s Officer Trousdale?” Molly asked.
“Out front, checking the security cameras to see if they picked up the shooter,” he said. He looked at Lindsey. “I’ll escort you to the library just to be on the safe side.”
“We heard three shots fired,” she said. “Any idea who they were aiming for?”
“Oh yeah,” he said. “They were definitely trying to take out Steven Rosen-Grant.”
Molly and Lindsey exchanged a glance. Why would someone try to kill the suspect in Peter Rosen’s murder?
“Stewart,” Molly said. “Maybe it was Stewart out to avenge his brother’s death.”
“Well, thank God he’s a lousy shot,” Kirkland said.
“We don’t know that it was Stewart,” Lindsey said. “It could be someone else.”
“I’m sorry, Lindsey, I know you’re fond of Stewart, but who else would have a motive?” Molly asked.
“I don’t know,” Lindsey admitted.
“Look at it this way. If it was Stewart, at least he’s alive and wasn’t murdered like his brother,” Kirkland said. “Now all we have to do is find him.”
“Because we’ve had so much luck with that so far,” Molly said.
“Yes, but it’s different now,” Kirkland said. “He won’t be in hiding if he thinks the man who was out to kill him has been caught, right?”
Lindsey listened to their debate and chewed the bottom of her lip as she thought it over. She wouldn’t believe that Stewart was the shooter. She just wouldn’t. It had to be someone else, but who?
Kirkland walked her to the library even though she insisted she was fine on her own. They were both quiet, and she noticed that Kirkland was scanning from side to side as they walked. It was a relief to reach the familiarity and safety of the library.
“Will you let me know when you hear from Emma?” Lindsey asked. “I want to know that they’re okay.”
“Absolutely,” Kirkland said. He looked uncomfortable for a moment but then said, “If Stewart should come to the library, I know you’ll call the station right away.”
Lindsey met his gaze, and she knew he was not making a suggestion but rather giving her an order. She nodded. She could respect his position.
“I will,” she said. At his flat stare, she added, “I promise.”
Officer Kirkland left, and Lindsey turned and went into her office. The adrenaline was wearing off, and she desperately wanted to put her head on her desk and take a power nap. She was just sinking toward the desk’s surface when there was a knock on her door.
Milton stood there, looking concerned. “Is it true? Was there a shooting at the police station?”
Lindsey gestured for him to enter. “It’s true. No one was hurt, and the shooter got away, but the police believe that he was aiming for Steven Rosen-Grant.”
Milton’s gray eyebrows shot up on his forehead. Lindsey knew he was thinking the same thing that had occurred to her and Molly, but like Lindsey, he rejected it.
“It wasn’t Stewart,” he said. He sat in one of the chairs opposite her desk.
“I don’t think so either, but it would sure help if Stewart would appear so we knew he was all right and so we could prove that he’s innocent.”
“The shooter has to be someone who would gain by Steven’s death,” Milton said.
“Could it be someone from his life in Illinois?”
Lindsey glanced at the door to find Sully there with his arms crossed over his chest, studying her. There was a look of relief on his face that told her more than words just how much he cared about her well-being. She smiled at him.
“It’s possible, but I don’t know how we could prove that,” she said.
“You could check the Illinois newspapers,” he suggested.
“Are you suggesting I butt in?” Lindsey asked him in surprise.
“You won’t listen to me if I tell you not to,” he said. He pushed off of the doorframe and took the seat beside Milton.
“If you can’t beat ’em, join ’em, eh?” Milton asked.
“Something like that,” Sully said.
“I’ll check the papers in Illinois to see if he’s mentioned, but I can’t help but feel like this is connected to Steven being a Rosen,” she said.
“In what way?” Milton asked. “I thought we agreed that we didn’t think it was Stewart.”
“I don’t, but isn’t it convenient that Peter Rosen has been murdered, Stewart Rosen is missing and possibly dead and now the only other heir to Star Island was almost shot and killed?”
“So, you think it is someone who wants the island,” Sully said. “And they’re willing to kill to get it.”
Lindsey shrugged. “I’m just saying it’s possible.”
“Who?” Milton asked, and then he blinked. “Wait. That makes more sense than you know.”
Sully and Lindsey both turned to him.
“After we talked about how odd it was that Evelyn Dewhurst had bought the three Alston Islands first, I did some research on the Alston family,” he explained. “Turns out one of the reasons Alston lost his fortune was because of Mrs. Rosen.”
Sully leaned fo
rward. “Do tell.”
“She was the one who outed him for his relationship with a thirteen-year-old girl. He fled the country with the young girl, leaving his wife penniless. She had to sell everything just to survive.”
“How does that tie the islands to Evelyn Dewhurst?” Lindsey asked.
“I can’t prove anything,” Milton said. “There was no documentation, and we’d have to use other sources to verify, but . . .”
He paused, and Lindsey gestured for him to continue.
“Alston’s wife was named Allison Evelyn,” he said.
“So, we’re thinking long-lost relative?” Lindsey asked. “There seem to be a lot of those cropping up. I’d feel better if the name was more unusual, like Philomena or Clarissa.”
“Maybe it was just coincidence that Evelyn picked those three islands, or maybe there is something about those islands and the Rosen island that she is fixated on,” Milton said. “Like size or shape or location.”
“That’s a good angle,” Sully said. “I can’t think of a similarity off the top of my head. They all have different houses, they’re in different locations . . . No, I’m not seeing a connection.”
The three of them were silent for a moment. Lindsey could feel an idea forming in her mind. It was a bad idea. It was fraught with risk and danger, and she had promised herself she would not do anything that might get someone hurt. Still . . .
“I think we need to draw the shooter out,” Milton said. Lindsey glanced at him. He was reading her mind.
“If they shot at Steven thinking he was the last heir, then all we need to do to tip their hand would be to announce that a new heir has been found,” Sully said.
“How’d you know that’s what I was thinking?” Milton asked.
“Because I’m betting that’s what all three of us were thinking,” Sully said. He raised an eyebrow when he glanced at Lindsey. “Am I right?”
“Looks like great minds do think alike,” she said. “The gossipy article you mentioned got me to thinking: if we could get something into tomorrow afternoon’s issue of the Gazette about a newly discovered heir to the Rosen estate, we might be able to pique the killer’s curiosity.”
A Likely Story: A Library Lover's Mystery Page 22
