Shelved Under Murder

by Victoria Gilbert

  I couldn’t restrain a chuckle. He was right—my aunt’s best friend, Zelda Shoemaker, was the town’s former postmaster and a font of local gossip.

  “Besides, Lydia knows you were spending the evening with me, right? She won’t expect you back early or worry if you don’t show up.”

  “True.”

  “So let’s just have this evening for ourselves.” Richard got out and walked around to open my door. “After everything that’s happened today, we deserve it. We don’t have enough alone time as it is.”

  “That’s the jobs and stuff interfering,” I said, climbing out of the car.

  “Hmmmm … Is that all it is?” Richard gave me a searching look before leaning in to kiss me swiftly on the lips. “Come on, I’m starving.”

  As he headed for his front porch, I paused to look over the rose-vine-draped picket fence separating the two lawns. Aunt Lydia had promised I would eventually inherit her turn-of-the-century house, but I wasn’t sure if I wanted to take on the three-story Victorian. Built of fieldstone, with white gingerbread trim, a wraparound front porch, and even a turret, it was the loveliest house in town. But it was also large—my aunt and I rattled around in it like seeds in a dried pea pod—and difficult to clean and maintain.

  I switched my gaze to its neighbor—Richard’s two-story 1923 farmhouse. Although equally charming, it was a more modest structure, with a covered porch that stretched across the front but didn’t wrap around to the side. Its pale-yellow wood siding was set off by simple emerald green shutters and plain white trim. It wasn’t as fancy, but perhaps it was the type of house I’d feel more comfortable living in long-term.

  I shook my head to banish this train of thought. Richard and I had known each other for only five months. It was too soon to start thinking about living together. Or at least that’s what my rational mind told my more impetuous heart on a regular basis.

  “Coming?” Richard paused on his top porch step.

  Studying him, I once again marveled at the unconscious grace he projected with every movement. Of course, he was a professional dancer and had the perfectly toned body that went with his profession.

  I walked around the car and onto the concrete sidewalk that bisected his small front yard. I’d hit the boyfriend jackpot and I knew it. Yes, Richard was handsome, but he was also one of the nicest men I’d ever met. As I approached his front porch, I realized I had twisted the bottom of my sweater around my hand. I released my clenched fingers, silently acknowledging the cause of my stress. It was true that I loved Richard and trusted him, but I’d been burnt before. I couldn’t always banish that insidious, insecure voice in my head that whispered—why did he choose you?

  Richard waited for me to join him before crossing to open the front door. “You have that look on your face again,” he said as he stepped back to allow me to enter the house.

  “What look is that?” I walked into a front room that encompassed the entire width of the house. Although there was a traditional seating area, most of the room was devoted to a dance floor, barre, and mirrors. It was Richard’s home dance studio, the only part of the house that didn’t respect its farmhouse origins.

  “The uncertain one. Like you aren’t quite sure of my intentions.” Richard crossed to the sofa and sat down. He patted the seat cushion next to him. “So come here and let me reassure you.”

  “It’s not that,” I said, sitting beside him. “I’m a bit worried about the possibility of a local connection to art forgery or stolen paintings. Not to mention another murder. Pretty distressing.”

  I could tell by his skeptical expression that he didn’t believe this was the entire story. Which, of course, it wasn’t.

  He placed his arm around my shoulders and pulled me close. “You and that overthinking again.” His lips tickled my ear. “But yeah, stumbling over a dead body is never my idea of a good time.”

  “Poor Rachel. I wonder what in the world would make anyone want to kill her.” I swallowed hard as the image of her bloodied body resurfaced in my mind.

  “As you know from past experience, there doesn’t have to be a rational reason.” Richard’s fingers stroked my shoulder. “It’s not like your cousin’s motivations really made much sense.”

  “So true.” I pressed my body closer to Richard. There was no way I could forget the past summer and my frightening encounters with my murderous second-cousin-once-removed, Sylvia Baker. “Aunt Lydia visits her, you know. She says it’s partially because Sylvia had the grace to take a plea and spare us all testifying at her trial.”

  “I’m glad she chose that route, but she did murder three people, so I can’t say I’d be as forgiving as Lydia.”

  “I agree and keep telling her it isn’t necessary, but she says Sylvia’s still family, even if she’s justifiably serving a couple of life sentences in the state pen.”

  “Lydia is one of a kind. As is her niece.” Richard’s fingers traced a line from my shoulder to just under my ear.

  I shivered with delight. Despite my best intentions, when Richard touched me that way, I instantly melted. But … “You said you were hungry.”

  “I didn’t say for what.” He turned me toward him and kissed me until the image of the horrible scene we’d witnessed earlier faded from my mind.

  When he finally released me, he sat back and helped me readjust my rumpled sweater as his gray eyes studied my face. “But here I am, being a very bad host. I did promise you dinner. Any preference? I’ve got salad stuff and some sandwich makings.”

  “Um, I don’t know. A salad would work, I guess.”

  Richard rose to his feet. “Help me chop?”

  “Sure.” I leapt up to follow him down the hall.

  “I need to tell you something anyway,” he called over his shoulder as he stepped into the farmhouse-style kitchen.

  “Oh, is that why you were taking me out tonight? Wine and dine me and then drop the bad-news bomb?”

  Richard paused at the tall oak table that served as his kitchen island and turned to face the double-door refrigerator. “No, I’d call it unfortunate news. Now”—he pulled open the fridge doors—“I’m going to rustle up some vegetation. Grab a couple of knives and two cutting boards. You know where they are.”

  “Are you certain you trust me with a knife when you’re sharing bad news?” I joked as I collected the requested items.

  “It’s not that bad.” He dumped leaf lettuce and other vegetables on the table. “Just disappointing. Besides”—he picked up the extra knife—“I’ll be armed too.”

  “Ah, a duel is it?” I shook my knife at him. “En garde.”

  I caught his swift grin as he bent his head to focus on tearing some leaf lettuce into bite-sized pieces. “I’m not into armed combat, but if it’s hand-to-hand grappling you want, I’m certainly up for that later.”

  Which made me blush as red as the tomato I was dicing. “Now you’re just being provocative. So, for penance, spill your unfortunate information. Might as well—this day can’t get much worse.”

  “I think it’s already improving, but okay.” Richard tossed the leaf lettuce into a large wooden bowl sitting on the table and reached for a stalk of celery. “Remember a few weeks back, when I had to go out of town to set one of my pieces on the Ad Astra Dance Company?”

  “Yeah. You said they’re performing it for some sort of benefit thing.”

  “It’s a charity that provides money for dancers who’ve fallen on hard times. The organization gives out cash for things like rent and groceries when dancers are sick and injured. Insurance won’t cover that stuff and, anyway, a lot of dancers don’t even have coverage. I like to support the effort, especially because I’ve been in those particular shoes once or twice.” Richard expertly sliced the celery into bite-sized pieces. “Well, in this piece the lead male part is very challenging…”

  “Because you originally choreographed it for yourself?”

  “Yep.” Richard tipped his cutting board over the bowl, dumping the cel
ery on top of the lettuce. “I thought it would be fine, as their lead dancer is great. The understudy has really struggled, but it’s only three performances, so I didn’t think he’d have to go on. Then I got a call last night from the artistic director. He said the lead has broken his foot and the understudy just can’t handle the piece.”

  I looked up to meet Richard’s apologetic gaze. “So now you have to fly up there and perform the part yourself.”

  “It’s for charity,” he said. “And only three nights, so I won’t be gone that long.”

  I used my knife to sweep my bits of tomato into the bowl. “But it’s next weekend, isn’t it?”

  “That’s the unfortunate part. I know I promised to help you with the library table at the Heritage Festival, but…”

  “It’s okay.” I grabbed a green pepper and forcefully sliced it in half.

  “It isn’t.” Richard tapped his knife against the cutting board. “Hey, look at me. I really am sorry. I know how you hate manning that sales table.”

  I glanced up and noticed the worry lines creasing his forehead. “Don’t give yourself wrinkles. It isn’t that big of a thing. I mainly wanted you there as a buffer against Melody Riley. She’s so bossy. It’s her way or the highway. I was worried we might clash if we had to spend a whole day together.”

  “So you wanted me to run interference?”

  I cast him a smile. “Something like that. I knew you could charm her much better than I ever could.” I dumped the chopped green pepper into the bowl. “How about we just add some shredded cheese and call it a meal?”

  “Sounds good. I think I may even have some hard-boiled eggs we can toss in for extra protein.”

  “Works for me,” I said, as he turned back to the refrigerator. “And seriously, I really don’t mind about the festival thing. I know you can’t leave that company in the lurch, especially since the production benefits a charity. I’m actually more upset that I can’t be there to support your performance, but you know I can’t get away during the festival.”

  “Jobs always get in the way of life, don’t they?” Richard tapped an egg against the side of the bowl and expertly peeled away the shell. “Anyway, I just want you to know that I hate letting you down. I like to keep my promises.”

  “But you’re keeping one by dancing for the company, so I think that counts.”

  “Thanks, but I’m not sure it’s enough. Disappointing you makes me feel lousy.” Richard placed the peeled egg on the cutting board and examined it as if it held the answer to some existential question.

  I circled around the table and threw my arms around his neck. “Let me see what I can do to change that.”

  Richard dropped the knife onto the table as I stood on tiptoe to kiss him.

  “You do realize this means another delay with dinner,” he said before his lips met mine.

  * * *

  After we finally finished our salads, Richard and I moved back to the sofa in the front room, supposedly to watch a movie, although I had to admit we saw very little of it.

  “There is one more thing,” Richard said as I sat up and stared at the end credits rolling over the large television screen mounted on the opposite wall.

  “What’s that?” I brushed back my mussed hair.

  Richard rubbed at his jaw. Uh-oh, this is not just a minor problem. I sat up straighter.

  He was staring at a point somewhere over my shoulder. “It’s about the dance performance. I was told something else last night that I thought you should know. Just so you don’t hear about it later and wonder. Anyway, apparently the lead female dancer they planned to feature is under the weather too, so they had to get a sub. And the only dancer available who knew the part well enough to step in at the last minute was Meredith.”

  “Wait—Meredith as in Meredith Fox, your former fiancée?”

  “Yeah, that one.” Richard’s abashed expression would’ve been humorous if I hadn’t been so taken by surprise.

  “That could be tense.” I bumped his knees with mine. “You never spoke to her again after she ran off and married someone else, did you?”

  “No. So it might be an awkward reunion. But I don’t want you to worry.” Richard leaned in and clasped my hands. “It’s not like I have any lingering romantic feelings for someone who ditched me without a word.”

  I blew a strand of tangled hair away from my face. “Oh, I’m not worried about that.”

  Strangely, I wasn’t. I knew Richard well enough to trust that he wouldn’t chase after someone who’d jilted him. Nor would he mess around with a married woman.

  “She’s married, and you’ve moved on, so I’m not going to get jealous, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

  “I’m not really worried.” Richard caressed my fingers. “I just didn’t want you to hear about it through a review or something and wonder why I didn’t tell you.”

  “You won’t have a problem dancing with her?”

  “No. I’ve danced with plenty of people I’ve disliked without it affecting my performance. Anyway, I don’t carry a grudge against Meredith. She actually did me a favor.” He released my fingers to brush the recalcitrant lock of hair behind my ear.

  “Can I ask a question, though? If it’s too personal, just say so, but I’ve always been curious.” I stroked the side of his face before dropping my hands back into my lap. “It’s just a puzzle. You believe in love so much, yet I’ve never gotten the feeling that your relationship with Meredith was really that … substantial.” I took a deep breath before continuing. This was something that had nagged at me for a while, but I’d never worked up the courage to broach the subject before. “Correct me if I’m wrong.”

  Richard leaned back against the arm of the sofa. “You aren’t wrong. Our relationship was just this thing that happened. We liked some of the same things, had enough sexual attraction to enjoy each other, and were thrown together a lot. So I guess you could say we simply fell into a relationship. To be perfectly honest, even though we were engaged, I never actually proposed.”

  “What? You mean to tell me the world’s greatest romantic didn’t go down on one knee, surrounded by banks of flowers and strains of mood music, to present his beloved with a ring?”

  A smile twitched Richard’s lips. “Nope. Actually, I can’t even remember how it happened. We’d moved in together, more as a convenience than anything else, and then people started asking when we were getting married and we said, ‘Oh, someday,’ and then it was like everyone just assumed we were engaged, so … we were.” Richard shook his head. “But we would never have actually walked down the aisle. I know that now. Fortunately, Meredith saved me the trouble of breaking up with her, which was bound to happen eventually.”

  “You sound awfully sure of that.”

  “I am. Think about it, Amy. Even if Meredith hadn’t left me and I hadn’t moved here, I would’ve had to visit Taylorsford to oversee the maintenance on this house or check on my renters. And since you live next door, I would’ve met you, sooner or later. And then”—his bright gaze swept over me—“I would’ve felt compelled to immediately call off my engagement.”

  “You don’t know that,” I said, running my fingers over one of his well-muscled arms. “If you were still engaged, you might not have noticed me.”

  Richard laughed. “Silly girl.” He pulled me into an embrace. “I would’ve noticed you no matter what. And fallen in love with you, because … because I was always going to love you. All we had to do was meet. Honestly, I’m grateful to Meredith. She spared me the pain of being the bad guy.”

  I rested my head against his shoulder. “Okay, if we’re being totally honest, maybe I am a teensy bit worried about you working with her again. Just because she can really dance. So she can share something with you that I can’t.”

  Richard stroked my hair. “Dancing is my profession, sweetheart, not my whole life. I love it, but at this point I’m realistic about stage-based relationships. They don’t last, most of the time. Perfor
ming with other people is usually just that—performing. When we work together, Meredith and I will have a lot of physical contact, but trust me, that won’t have any effect on how I feel about her.”

  “So long as she gets to dance with you and nothing else,” I murmured, nestling closer to him.

  “Not to worry,” Richard whispered in my ear. “There’s only one woman I want for everything else, and she’s right here.”

  Chapter Five

  Although we usually alternated Saturdays, Sunny and I had both agreed to work the next day. Our plan was to take turns covering the desk while the other person supervised any Friends of the Library who showed up. We had hoped for more than our usual contingent of volunteers, as the Heritage Festival was only a week away and there were stacks of donated books and other items that needed attention.

  But after hearing about the murder and Sunny’s friendship with the victim, Aunt Lydia volunteered to take Sunny’s place so that my assistant could have the day off. She’d even recruited Zelda to help sort and price donations.

  “I just hope Sunny can get some proper rest today,” Aunt Lydia said as she pulled another pile of colorful paperbacks from a donation box. “I’m sure she’s pretty shaken up.”

  “Poor thing. Not that it was any picnic for you either, Amy. But at least you weren’t friends with the deceased.” Zelda placed the cobweb-festooned carton she’d lifted down from a top shelf on the workroom table and brushed something from her dyed blonde curls. “Now tell me this—who brings in donations without wiping down the boxes? This looks like it was just dragged out of someone’s attic.”

  Standing in the open workroom doorway, I glanced over at my aunt and her friend. Although the library was quiet that morning, I still had to keep an eye on the circulation desk. “That’s my fault. Someone donated that box last year, right after the sale, and I just stuck it up there. Guess the spiders have been busier with their work than I’ve been with any cleaning.”

  Zelda plucked a bit of spider silk from her neon-pink blouse. “You should get some of those volunteers to dust in here.” Her light brown eyes narrowed as she examined the stacks of books on the table. “Speaking of which, where are these so-called Friends this morning? I thought they were supposed to help with this project.”