by Ellery Adams
Lucy said, “When I left, they were processing Murphy’s release papers. She has a top-notch lawyer and, until we have more solid evidence, we can’t hold Murphy.”
James figured Lucy was referring to the results of the fingerprint tests on the red cardinal. “How long will it take before she can go home?”
“Might be a while,” Lucy said and narrowed her eyes at him. “James Henry, you aren’t going to interfere in this investigation, are you?”
“Interfere? I just want to get to the truth.”
“I’ve been teaching all day. I’m still not sure exactly what happened,” Lindy said. “Only that Ray Edwards is dead. Luis says you think Murphy killed him, Lucy.”
Lucy sighed and pointed to the laptop. “Sheriff Huckabee will be on any minute, then we can talk.”
Gillian had brought a ceramic container shaped like a nut. On top sat a friendly-looking ceramic squirrel. “I thought we could use a protein boost this close to dinner,” Gillian said. She removed the lid and passed the bowl around. “This mix is full of heart-healthy omega-3, perfect for fighting inflammation.”
James saw the contents were an appealing mix of nuts and dried fruit. He took a handful and passed the bowl to Lindy.
“Inflammation?” Bennett said. “I like that. I don’t have a big gut, it’s just inflamed.”
“The news is on,” James said and turned up the volume.
The news anchor appeared with a solemn look on his face. “Talk of a new four-lane road that would link Quincy’s Gap directly to Harrisonburg was brought to an abrupt halt today. Developer Raymond Edwards of Louisville, Kentucky, whose plans to expand Quincy’s Gap had been the topic of local and national news, was found dead this morning in Cardinal’s Rest. We go live now to Sheriff Huckabee, who’s standing by to make a statement.”
The screen changed to a shot of Sheriff Huckabee inside the old brick courthouse. Beside him to his right was the United States flag. To his left, the Virginia flag. Behind him was a prominent Shenandoah County seal. Five microphones with various news outlets’ logos were positioned in front of him. James assumed reporters stood off camera.
The sheriff stroked his lush, walrus-like mustache and read a prepared statement. “Good evening. At approximately seven twenty-five this morning, this department was called to the Red Bird Bed and Breakfast in Cardinal’s Rest. Upon arrival, my team and I were directed to a top-floor bedroom, where we found the body of Raymond Edwards of Kentucky. The victim of blunt-force trauma, Mr. Edwards was pronounced dead at the scene. Edwards, aged forty-seven, was the chief executive officer of the Honeybee Heaven Farms Corporation here in Shenandoah County and owned Edwards Construction in Louisville, Kentucky. The department is treating the case as an open homicide investigation. Anyone with information is encouraged to call the tip line. I’ll take a few questions.”
“Sheriff,” a voice called out. “I’ve been told you’ve arrested Murphy Alistair for Edwards’s murder.”
The sheriff frowned. “That is not true. No arrest has been made.”
“But she’s your prime suspect, isn’t she?” another voice asked.
“Ms. Alistair was brought in for questioning, but as I said, this is an open homicide investigation. We’re looking at all possibilities.”
“She hasn’t been charged?”
“No.”
James had to strain to hear the next question.
“Sheriff, we all know that Murphy Alistair and Ray Edwards were involved both personally and professionally. Can you confirm that she was staying in the room with Edwards? That they had, in fact, been seen arguing last night? Wasn’t Edwards killed in the very bed they shared at the Red Bird?”
Sheriff Huckabee’s mustache flared and he shook his finger at the speaker. “That is speculation, pure and simple, and I will not address it.” He made as if to leave.
“Aren’t the cast members of Hearth and Home staying at the Red Bird? Will this affect the reunion?”
“I’m confident the reunion events will still take place, but right now we’re focused on this murder investigation.”
“Sheriff, can you tell us who now owns the land Edwards planned to develop? With Edwards dead, who is in charge of Honeybee Heaven Farms?”
“That’s a legal question I can’t answer,” the sheriff said and then glanced to one side. “Cyril, you want to take that?”
A thin man who looked to be in his sixties stepped forward. Gray-haired and wearing a navy suit and bow tie, he touched his glasses, then spoke in a firm, commanding voice. “I’m Cyril Morton, attorney-at-law. The ownership and structure of the Honeybee Heaven Farms Corporation is a matter of public record. To save you converging on the courthouse to look up records, I’ll tell you that, with Edwards’s death, the majority of the shares belong to Murphy Alistair.”
Lindy gasped.
Bennett whistled.
Lucy gave James an “I told you so” look.
On-screen, the cameras were back on the news anchors, who had started talking about a developing situation in the Middle East.
James shut down the laptop and turned to the supper club members. “I want to talk to Murphy. See what she has to say.”
“Why?” Bennett asked. “That woman has done us no favors.”
James looked around at his friends. “Look, I know that Murphy is not well-liked.”
“For good reason,” Lucy said.
James nodded. “True. She lied to us about the photos she took. Her books have shown all of us in a less than advantageous light.”
“She’s condescending,” Lindy threw in.
“And cold as a cast iron commode,” Bennett finished.
“But is there anyone here,” James asked, holding the gaze of each supper club member for a moment before finishing his question, “who believes Murphy picked up one of those heavy glass cardinals and bashed Edwards in the head with it? Because that’s the blunt trauma Sheriff Huckabee was talking about, right, Lucy?”
“Yes,” Lucy mumbled.
“In Buddha’s name,” Gillian said. “The anger and the evil behind that action had to be fierce. Murphy’s a lot of things, but I don’t think she could do it.”
“Neither do I,” Lindy said. “Remember how drunk she was last night?”
James raised his eyebrows at Bennett.
“I don’t know. I want to hear what Murphy has to say.”
“She denies killing him,” Lucy told them. “She says she passed out last night, woke up this morning, and found him dead next to her. And that’s all she said. She got that hot-shot lawyer down to the courthouse real fast.”
“Dead next to her?” Lindy exclaimed. “Mother of God!”
“We need to do what’s right,” James said fervently. “Together, we’re good at investigating murders. I say we put our personal feelings aside and give Murphy our help if she needs it.”
Lucy pounded her fist on the table. “It’s an open-and-shut case, James. As soon as we get the fingerprint results back from Charlottesville, we’ll arrest her. Murphy’s going to prison for a long time, if not the rest of her life.”
“There are other people who wanted Edwards dead, Lucy,” James said. “Buford Lydell, Arthur Pritchard, perhaps. And we haven’t even considered the rest of the guests staying at the Red Bird.”
“The bedroom door was locked,” Lucy ground out. “Others may have had a motive, but only Murphy had the opportunity to kill Edwards.”
James bowed his head. He didn’t want to argue with Lucy, but she had made her mind up and James didn’t like that. There was too much at stake.
Gillian was the first to speak. “I agree with James. We might not like Murphy, but we have to put those negative feelings aside if she needs help. This community, our town of Quincy’s Gap, the place no one wanted to change, is made up of people who help one another. It’s who we are.”
“Dang, woman. When you put it that way, I don’t see as we have a choice,” Bennett said.
Lindy nodded. �
�I will help in any way I can.”
Warmth spread through James. How lucky he was to have such good-hearted, honorable friends. “Lucy, where is Murphy now? I want to talk to her.”
Lucy pulled out her phone. “I’ll call the courthouse and find out if they’ve released her. But, James, I’m going with you, do you understand?”
“Sure,” James agreed.
Chapter Eight
Gillian and Bennett left the library together. Lucy remained in the break room talking on her cell phone. Lindy placed a hand on James’s arm. “There’s something I want to talk with you about before I leave.”
“Okay,” James said. He looked around for Scott and Francis and saw them at the computer station. They’d watched Sheriff Huckabee’s statement too and now had their heads together talking a mile a minute.
“Let’s move over near the checkout counter,” James said. “I can feel a cold breeze coming in from the door.”
“The situation is this,” Lindy began. “I’m concerned about my students. They’re not reading books. I don’t think they’re using the school library or this one at all.”
Scott and Francis approached and Lindy waved them over.
“Have the three of you noticed that high school students are coming into the library less?” Lindy asked.
Scott nodded. “For sure.”
“I agree. We don’t see the young ones in here as much anymore,” Francis said from the great height of his late twenties.
“What do you think they’re doing instead?” James asked. “Or do I want to know?”
“They’re spending all their free time posting to various social media sites,” Lindy replied. “Some of that’s okay, but I believe it’s gotten out of hand. It’s like their eyeballs are glued to their phone screens. I understand it’s the thing nowadays, but I think it’s detrimental. Phone use is banned in class, but I can’t control what they do when the bell rings.”
“We need to get them reading more and interacting with one another instead of their phones,” James mused.
“Exactly,” Lindy said. “But how? I thought you might have a suggestion, James.”
“I don’t know. I’d have to think about it.”
Scott and Francis exchanged a long look, then Scott nodded.
Francis spoke. “Scott and I have been tossing around an idea called Story Surprise. What we’d do is wrap a couple of dozen books in brown paper. Don’t worry, Professor, we’d use grocery bags to keep the budget down.”
“Then we’d write, like a hint, on the paper,” Scott said, “of what the story inside is about. Kids would have fun picking out books based on that alluring tidbit.”
“There would actually be two copies of each book. Like, I know we have two copies of Agatha Christie’s And Then There Were None, so we’d include that one for sure,” Francis said. “Then, we could have a Story Surprise party here at the library.”
“Yeah,” Scott said. “Everyone who’s participated comes in and holds up their book. They match up with the other person who’s read the same book. The two sit down and talk about the story. We’d have good snacks, too.”
Francis nodded eagerly. “Excellent snacks are critical, dude.”
Lindy hooted with laughter. “That is genius! My students will love it!”
James stopped himself from puffing out his chest with pride. “Lindy, didn’t I tell you I had the best two library assistants in the world? Scott and Francis, can you start on the project right away?”
The twins beamed. “Absolutely!” They hurried down to the end of the counter, where Scott grabbed a notebook and pen. The two then darted into the fiction stacks, talking a mile a minute.
“Those are good young men,” Lindy said, gathering her coat around her.
Lucy appeared. “Are you leaving, Lindy?”
“I’d better. Look how dark it is outside. I’m late getting supper on the table. Luis’s mother has probably taken over the kitchen while telling her son what a second-rate wife he has.”
“I hope that’s not the case, but if it is, you tell him that improving young minds is worth delaying his meal,” James said.
After Lindy left, James turned to Lucy. “Well?”
“Murphy was released ten minutes ago. She said she was going home to shower and change clothes. Then she’s headed to the Red Bird. She wants to pick up her things from there.”
James nodded. “And maybe talk to some of the actors. I’d like to question them myself. I’m going to the Red Bird.”
“I’ll meet you there,” Lucy said. “I’ve got to take my patrol car in case I get called out.”
A few minutes later, James sat shivering in the Bronco despite wearing his warmest jacket and wool scarf. While he let the truck warm up, he saw snowflakes begin to land on the windshield. He craned his neck and looked up at the tall light pole in the library parking lot. Against the light, he could see the snow coming down fast. Hoping this wasn’t the big snowstorm the meteorologist kept predicting, James pulled out his cell phone and dialed Jane.
“Hi, sweetheart. Are you on your way home?” she answered.
James resisted the urge to ask how she was feeling. “Not exactly. Did you see Sheriff Huckabee’s statement on the news?”
“Uh-huh. Excuse me a moment, James. Eliot! Don’t touch the Crock-Pot! Remember how it gets hot around the top.”
James could hear his son moaning in the background. “Is he all right?”
Jane chuckled. “He’s fine. Wants his dinner, is all.” She lowered her voice. “Now he’s collapsed onto the living room rug, clutching his stomach and saying that he’s going to die of hunger if he doesn’t eat right now. That chili you made in the Crock-Pot this morning has the whole house smelling delicious.”
“It’s no-meat. I found the recipe online.”
“I can’t wait to dig in myself. You’re spoiling me. I may have to appoint you cook after our little girl is born.”
“You know I’ll do anything to help out. Listen, honey, Murphy is headed for the Red Bird to get her things. I want to go down there and talk to her in person, hear what she says happened last night. I’m not at all convinced she killed Edwards.”
“I know you and Murphy were close at one time.”
“We were, but I’ve come to believe that none of my other relationships worked out because I was still in love with you.”
“Oh, James Henry, I’ve never loved anyone besides you. I love you more every day. Go talk to Murphy and see what you can find out. I swear I think you’re a police investigator in a librarian’s clothes.”
James couldn’t help feeling proud that Jane thought so, but he knew the success he’d had with past murders was all due to teamwork with the other supper club members. “Okay, if you’re sure.”
“Mom!” Eliot howled.
“Young man, mind your manners!” Jane told their son. “James, I see snow coming down. Drive carefully and you can tell me all about what Murphy says when you get home.”
“Can I bring you anything?” James asked.
“Like ice cream?” Jane said and laughed. “Thank you, but no.”
After exchanging “I love yous,” James disconnected the call and got on the road south. Pleased that the snow wasn’t sticking to the roads and making them slick, he made good time. He parked next to Lucy’s patrol car outside the Red Bird and walked to the front door, then glanced back to make sure the Bronco’s lights were off and groaned. Deputy Keith Donovan’s black Camaro was parked at an obnoxious angle on the opposite side of the parking lot. “Great,” James muttered.
Inside, Donovan stood at the entrance to the living room with his legs drawn apart in a cowboy-like stance. He turned his head at James’s arrival and glowered. “Looking for food? Rats try to get in places they don’t belong when it’s cold outside.”
“I’m certain you’re an expert on the subject, but I’m here to meet Lucy.”
The tall redhead curled his lip. “Thought you were married now. Besides, s
he’s over there by the sofa, mooning over Sullie. Like he cares. Can’t take his eyes off Amber Ross, the makeup gal. Don’t blame him. I wouldn’t mind some alone time with her myself. Heck, that author, Valerie Norris, would do if Amber’s not available.”
James told himself that Gillian would advise him not to waste his energy on taking offense at Donovan’s remarks. He looked past the aggravating deputy into the red-themed room.
In one corner, a card table had been set up. The Hearth and Home actors—Brandon Jensen, Joel Foster, Amber Ross, Valerie Norris, and a tubby man who James recognized as Doug Moore—sat around the table playing Monopoly and talking as they had in the show. At the end of every episode, the children and their parents would play the board game and discuss whatever life issues had cropped up during the evening’s show. This always ended with conflict resolution and lessons learned combined with life-affirming and hopeful messages. James figured this grown-up photo shoot would mean a lot to fans and reunion attendees.
A photographer adjusted what looked like huge white umbrellas with bright lights, then called out, “Okay, everyone, play the game like in the olden days and smile at one another while I get these shots.”
“Woof! Woof!” Doug Moore answered.
Brandon, wearing what James thought looked like a very expensive blue sweater that complemented the actor’s eyes, said, “What’s Doug doing now?”
Valerie, her blonde hair up in a French twist, stylish glasses perched on the end of her nose, looked at Brandon and rolled her eyes. “Doug’s got the dog piece. He said he’d only bark throughout the game.”
“Woof!”
“Do I have time to check my lipstick?” Amber asked.
Joel said, “It’s perfect, don’t worry.”
“Still the peacekeeper, eh, Joel?” Brandon remarked. He lifted his left arm and stretched so that his sleeve raised a couple of inches. A gold watch glistened in the bright light.
James wondered if Brandon was the most successful of the actors post-show and what he did for a living now. Or, maybe, since Hearth and Home repeats still aired on cable channels, the actors received hefty residuals.
The sound of the front door opening and closing behind him caught James’s attention.
