A Likely Story: A Library Lover's Mystery

by Jenn McKinlay

  Evelyn continued with the stony silence, and Lindsey felt her patience snap.

  “Judging by the fact that she owns a gun and clearly knows how to use it, I think it’s a safe bet that it was Evelyn,” she said.

  A tick of her lips was Evelyn’s only response, but it was enough.

  “I imagine she is the one who killed Peter Rosen as well,” she said. “Really, Evelyn, all to own an island? And what did she promise you, Calvin, all of the contents if you’d just help her get rid of the current residents?”

  Calvin was still clutching his chest, but his face became mottled with a red rash of shame that bespoke his guilt more clearly than a confession.

  “You killed my brother?”

  The voice was soft, no more than a whisper, but everyone heard it. All eyes turned to the doorway where Stewart Rosen stood, holding a shotgun that was aimed right at Evelyn and Calvin.

  “Stewart!” Lindsey cried.

  He looked rumpled and disheveled, but otherwise he seemed okay. In fact, compared to the last time she’d seen him, he looked surprisingly fit with a healthy color to his skin and not nearly as exhausted, plus he wasn’t humming.

  “I’m going to kill you,” Stewart said. He lifted his shotgun and pointed it at Evelyn and Calvin. It was the first time she lost her composure, and she did it spectacularly.

  “You can’t! It would be murder!” She glanced at the others in the room. “You’re witnesses. If he kills me, it is murder and he’ll go to jail for the rest of his life.”

  “What does it matter?” Stewart asked. “You’ve taken away my brother. Who do I have left?”

  “I didn’t,” Evelyn said. “I didn’t take him away, I swear.”

  “You killed him!” Stewart yelled. There was a crazy light in his eyes, and Lindsey felt her heart seize up in her chest. He was going to shoot Evelyn, and there wasn’t a thing they could do about it.

  “No!” Calvin said. “He shot himself. He committed suicide.”

  “You’re lying,” Stewart said. “Why would he do that? Why would he shoot himself through the chest?”

  “Because he was trying to hurt himself,” Calvin said. His voice broke when he continued, “Because he wanted to die slowly and painfully to punish himself for killing his father.”

  The silence that descended upon the room had the density of a shroud. For Lindsey, it was the final turn of the screw that made everything fit right and tight.

  “So, that’s what happened,” she said. She glanced at Stewart.

  “No, it didn’t! It was a boating accident. It wasn’t his fault,” Stewart said. “My brother would never take his life. He would never leave me. He was my best friend.”

  “I know this is hard, Stewart, but we have to be honest here. Too many lies have caused too much damage, don’t you think?” Lindsey said.

  He looked at Lindsey, clearly desperate to understand why his brother would commit suicide.

  “Your brother was in love with Betty Beller, wasn’t he?” she asked.

  Stewart’s lips tightened, and he nodded. “We all were. She was so different from . . .”

  His voice trailed off, and Lindsey assumed he meant his mother but didn’t have the heart to say it.

  “Stewart, I don’t know if you’ve heard, but Betty was involved with your father, and she had a child, a little girl named Gabrielle,” Lindsey said. “She grew up and had a little boy named Steven, Steven Rosen-Grant. He would have been your father’s grandson.”

  “No, he wouldn’t,” Stewart said. Lindsey opened her mouth to protest, but Stewart shook her off. “No, my father wasn’t his grandfather. Peter was.”

  “What?”

  Steven Rosen-Grant stepped into the room followed by Chief Plewicki, on crutches, and Detective Trimble.

  Stewart started at the sight of him. Standing across from each other, the resemblance was uncanny.

  “Drop the gun, Stewart,” Emma said. She glanced at Sully and added, “You, too.”

  Sully turned the handgun so that the handle faced out, and he held it out to Trimble, who checked the safety and put it in his coat pocket.

  Stewart was not nearly as cooperative. His hands shook as he kept the shotgun trained on Evelyn and Calvin. But he glanced out of the corner of his eye at his grandnephew.

  “My father couldn’t have children,” he said. “When we were kids, we had the mumps and my father caught it. He had wanted more children, but he was infertile after that. Naturally, he blamed my mother. When Betty arrived, he took a shine to her, and it was clear that he thought she was his for the taking.

  “He planned to prove his fertility by getting her pregnant. He pursued her relentlessly, right in front of my mother. It soon became clear that he and Betty were having an affair. When it was discovered that she was pregnant, my mother had an episode. She was convinced my father would divorce her and leave her penniless while he started a new life with Betty. But then, my father discovered Peter and Betty in bed together . . .”

  His voice trailed off as he revisited what had to be a horrible, horrible memory.

  “What happened?” Steven asked. His gaze was intense upon his uncle’s face, as if the next words uttered would determine the course of his life forever.

  “My father went a little crazy,” Stewart said. “Even though a storm was coming, he demanded that Peter take the sailboat out with him so they could discuss this like real men.”

  Stewart flinched, and Lindsey could only imagine how terrified he must have been for his brother.

  “I went to try to talk my brother out of going,” Stewart said. “I wanted him to hide until my father’s rage passed, but when I got to his room, my mother was there. She told him that the only way they could have what they wanted was for my father not to come back. She told him, ‘You know what you have to do.’”

  “Oh no, no, no,” Steven cried, and he sank to his knees. “I didn’t know that. He never said . . . I didn’t know that he was my grandfather. I thought he was my granduncle. When Grandma Betty died last year, I found his name in her address book, so I wrote to him to let him know. I thought, uh, I thought he might care enough to get in touch with me, and he did. I didn’t tell him who I was, at first, and when I did, he told me not to use the name Rosen on my return address or his brother would get suspicious. I thought he was trying to keep me away to deny me my heritage.”

  “But you kept corresponding with Peter and discovered that the Rosens owned a very exclusive piece of real estate that was a treasure trove of stuff, so you enlisted the help of Perkins and Hodges to evaluate what you decided was your rightful inheritance.” Lindsey knew she sounded harsh, but the story being revealed was just one bit of reprehensible behavior after another.

  “Yes, Steven emailed me, saying he was Peter Rosen,” Calvin said. “By the time I figured out who he really was, we were already here.”

  “How did you figure it out?” Steven asked Lindsey.

  “You’re both from the Chicago area,” she said. “How else could Perkins and Hodges have heard of this place? Besides, neither Peter nor Stewart used computers or cell phones or tablets. How could they have emailed Perkins and Hodges? It had to be you, Steven, pretending to be Peter.”

  “I just thought it was time to collect what was rightfully mine,” Steven said. “Peter told me about the key in the music box and that his mother had hidden papers at the bank, papers about Grandma Betty. I thought if I could get to the safe-deposit box, I could prove I was a Rosen and that part of the estate rightfully belonged to me.”

  “Well, it seems your desire to redo the past is something you have in common with Mrs. Dewhurst,” Lindsey said.

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Evelyn said. “I am leaving now.”

  She made to get up, but Emma shook her head. “Sit down.”

  “But I . . .”r />
  “Shut it,” Emma said. She glanced at Lindsey and said, “Explain.”

  “Evelyn has been buying up all of the islands, but the first three that she bought originally belonged to the Alston family,” Lindsey said. “A scandal, revealed by Mrs. Rosen, cost the Alston family their fortune. I take it Allison Evelyn Alston was your grandmother?”

  “Lies, all lies! Besides, you can’t prove anything,” Evelyn said.

  “Not yet, but I really don’t think it is going to be that hard to prove that you are an Alston,” Lindsey said. “DNA swabs being what they are nowadays and all.”

  Stewart spoke up. “You don’t need to do that. Allison Alston knew her husband had squandered the family fortune, and she knew he was having an affair with a child. She tried to blackmail my mother, saying that she was well aware that Betty carried my father’s child and she was going to go public if my mother didn’t give her a large sum of money. You don’t threaten my mother.” Stewart smiled rather grimly. “She went right to the authorities and told them about Alston’s thirteen-year-old lover. I have the entire account in her diary . . . somewhere.” He looked at Evelyn with contempt. “And you look just like her.”

  Evelyn paled.

  “Is anyone else getting a headache?” Emma snapped.

  “Sit down. You’ll feel better,” Trimble said.

  “I’m not sitting down,” she argued. “Stewart, lower your weapon or I’ll shoot you myself.”

  Stewart turned to look at her, and his face was one of utter despair. “Maybe that would be for the best.”

  “No, please, no,” Steven cried. He looked beseechingly at his uncle. “All of this is my fault. Mine. Peter told me that he was responsible for his father’s death, that he could have saved him when he fell overboard but he chose not to. I thought he had robbed me of my grandfather. I was so angry. I told Calvin, thinking we could use it as leverage to force him to give us items out of the house, but then Calvin came to town and met Evelyn, and she . . .”

  “Convinced you to use his guilt against him, to drive him to suicide, leaving only Stewart, who would also die from, what, a horrible accident? Then the property would be yours,” Emma said. She looked at Steven as if he were a worm that crawled out of her apple.

  “No, I never meant for him to kill himself. I never meant for any of this to happen,” Steven protested. “I just wanted to finally belong somewhere, to have a piece of what was supposed to be my life.”

  “It’s true,” Calvin said. “Driving Peter to commit suicide was her idea.” He jerked a thumb in Evelyn’s direction. “She badgered him and berated him until he was a sobbing mess, and then she put the gun in his hand. I didn’t know until after he killed himself that that had been her plan all along, and by then, it was too late.” He gestured to the gun Sully had handed to Trimble. “That’s the gun he used to end his life. She had me take the gun so it would look like Stewart murdered his brother. She thought that would be a nice way to get rid of the two of them. One dead and one in jail.”

  “It should have been two dead.” Stewart lifted the shotgun and pointed it at his own head.

  “No, Stewart, don’t!” Milton yelled.

  “Why not?” Stewart asked. “What do I have to live for?”

  “You have a nephew,” Milton said. “And he needs you. If you do this, you’ll destroy the one thing Peter left behind for you.”

  Stewart glanced at Steven, at the face so like his brother’s. He studied the younger man as if looking for a sign. Steven rubbed the tip of one of his ears just the way Lindsey had seen Stewart do when he was stressed.

  Lindsey held her breath, hoping Stewart saw it, too, and recognized something in the gesture that reminded him of himself or Peter.

  Stewart nodded and slowly lowered the shotgun. Lindsey let out a pent-up breath as Emma hobbled forward and gently took the gun from his hands. Sully’s hand was at her back, and Lindsey sagged against him as she realized all of the danger had passed.

  “I think it’s time to move this over to the station,” Trimble said. “Clearly, there is still much to be sorted. Kirkland. Trousdale.”

  The two officers came into the room from outside. They cuffed both Evelyn and Calvin and led them from the room. Emma and Trimble gently led Steven and Stewart in their wake.

  At the door, Emma turned around and looked at Milton, Sully and Lindsey.

  “Go get yourselves something to eat and then report to the station. We have a lot to discuss.”

  They watched as she turned away, and Milton said, “Is it just me or did she not seem that mad? Maybe we’re not in that much trouble.”

  “Oh yes, you are!” Emma shouted over her shoulder right before the door slammed shut after her.

  It was Beth’s turn to bring the food for their Thursday crafternoon. Since she had been a bit scatterbrained lately, Lindsey had her phone and was ready to call in a couple of pizzas for express delivery. She needn’t have worried.

  When she arrived at the room, it was to find Beth not wearing her usual story time outfit but rather a pretty blue cardigan over a matching shell with a gray flannel pencil skirt and knee-high black leather boots. Lindsey gave her an impressed look, and Beth grinned.

  “Dinner date after work,” she explained.

  “Is it officially getting serious?” Violet asked.

  “You mean have we popped out the big L word yet?” Beth asked. All of the ladies gave her their undivided attention. “No.”

  “Whew,” Nancy said. “I am delighted that you have found a nice man, but there is no need to rush things.”

  “Agreed, you want to enjoy the salad days as long as you can,” Charlene said.

  Lindsey listened to the women advise her friend while she went to check out Beth’s spread. The huge loaf of soda bread with raisins and caraway seeds drew her to it with a power that was almost magnetic. Several wedges of cheese, some rolled meats, a selection of fruit, vegetables and dip rounded out the offering.

  “I just have to ask, who chose Anna Karenina for our book this week?” Beth asked. “I mean, are you trying to scare me off of relationships?”

  “I thought a romance would be a nice change up since we did a mystery last time,” Violet said. “Besides, it is such a romantic story when Anna chooses Count Vronsky.”

  “But the ending,” Beth protested.

  Mary joined Lindsey at the table. “So, how are you since the hullabaloo last week?”

  “I’m fine,” Lindsey said.

  She had been so busy giving statements and such after everything had been revealed at the historical society the previous Wednesday that she hadn’t had much time to catch up with her friends. Still, she remembered that evening at the Anchor and how attentive Ian had been to Mary.

  “I think the question is how are you?” She met Mary’s gaze and noticed that her friend looked away quickly before looking back at her.

  “You know, don’t you?” Mary asked. She glanced at the others to make sure they weren’t listening.

  “I suspect there are glad tidings coming from you and Ian whenever you choose to share them,” she said.

  Mary smiled. “Does Sully suspect?”

  “He thinks you’re up to something, but I don’t think he has a clue what it is, yet,” Lindsey said.

  “We’re just waiting for the twelve-week mark,” Mary said. Her eyes twinkled. “Just a few more weeks to go. You don’t mind keeping it quiet, do you?”

  “Keeping what quiet?” Lindsey asked with a wink. Then she grinned and gave her friend a tight squeeze. “I’m thrilled for you.”

  “Thanks,” Mary said.

  “Hey, you two, what’s going on over there?” Nancy asked. “Were you planning on joining us?”

  “Sorry, I was just wrestling the butter away from Mary,” Lindsey said.

  “Well, do tell us what your thoughts
on Anna Karenina are while you’re at it,” Violet said.

  “Love is a train wreck,” Lindsey said.

  The ladies all laughed, and she was relieved not to have given away Mary’s wonderful news. A baby! How amazing. Now she could go out and buy all of her favorite children’s books, and maybe she’d even try her hand at knitting again and make a baby blanket.

  “Do we have enough brown paper for our craft project?” Charlene asked.

  “Yes, I brought a roll of it, donated from the hardware store,” Nancy said. “When Shelley heard we were making a blind date display out of the books, she was more than happy to help.”

  Since the paper flowers had proven so popular in the library, Lindsey had strong-armed the crafternooners for another library project. This time they were wrapping books in brown paper and writing short descriptions on them, with a drawing if they felt so inclined, and then they were going to put them on display in the library in a “have a blind date with a book” display. Beth had come up with the idea, and Lindsey thought it was charming and the perfect antidote to the end of February winter blahs.

  “So, did I tell you who I saw in town at the post office in daylight?” Violet asked. She waited barely a second before forging ahead. “Stewart Rosen, with his grandnephew, Steven.”

  “They’ve been in to the library quite a bit as well,” Lindsey said. “I think they are enjoying getting to know each other, and Kevin Perkins has stayed on to help them sort the house.”

  “I’m so glad he had nothing to do with the whole sordid mess,” Violet said. “I like him.”

  “What’s going to happen to Evelyn and Calvin?” Beth asked.

  “Emma says they are facing multiple charges of trespassing, harassment, assault and attempted murder. It was Evelyn who shot at Steven,” Nancy said. “I don’t think this is going to end well for her. The town council is already trying to see if they can force her to sell her islands.”

  “Can they do that?” Charlene asked.

  “I don’t know, but they’re sure going to try,” Mary said.

  The conversation moved from the recent events that had captivated the town, back to Anna Karenina, over to whether it was supposed to snow, and on to Beth gushing about Aidan and the plans they had for their shared story times.