“I’m working on it too, actually,” I let her in on the secret. Maybe she would volunteer some information?
“Well, that is nice to hear, my girl.” She reached out and took my hand into her old, weathered, wrinkly one. “Such a nice girl, dearie. And look at that bright red hair! Now, is there a Mr. Sunshine?”
A nervous laugh bubbled up my throat. I didn’t know if it was weirder that she wanted to know if I was single or that she remembered my name. “I’m not married, no, ma’am.”
“Oh, that’s a shame, my dear. Marriage is the most wonderful institution God ever created—next to the church, you know. Of course, you’re a little pudgy to find a husband now. You might want to work on that.” She patted my hand as though her simple suggestion was likely to change my life.
I wasn’t a stranger to strangers offering unsolicited dieting and weight loss advice. I’d been a fat girl my whole life, and for some reason people thought my weight was a public matter. Ten years ago, I would have run home crying if someone said that to me, but I was older and wiser in my forties. Plus, I was beginning to think this woman was a little off her rocker, maybe. If that was the case, she probably wasn’t the mastermind behind the Bryce Beach Bandit. Which only pointed the finger of blame more solidly in Camille Steyer’s direction!
“Back in my day, you got married when you were under twenty, mind you. If you didn’t have a beau by twenty-one?” she rambled on. “Well, then, you were probably destined for spinsterhood. I was one of the lucky ones, of course, but then again, I was beautiful back in the day. And I had a lovely figure. Always turned the fellas’ heads. Didn’t hurt that my daddy had a lot of money. He was the mayor back then, you know.
“I probably could have been the mayor if I’d wanted to, dearie. But my husband wouldn’t hear of it! He’s passed on now, of course. But Mr. Monroe had very traditional ideas about what women should do with their lives, and it involved cooking, baking, cleaning, and child birthing. I did plenty of those things in my day, my dear. Of course, we always had a housekeeper and a cook. And my two little ones had a nanny. But—”
She went on and on and on. I didn’t think she had any heirs, but I didn’t want to pry. Besides, I was going to be late for work if she kept on yapping. However, I tried to listen carefully because she knew a lot about the town, and maybe she’d reveal something valuable, something that might provide some insight on the case.
“That mayor of ours, what’s his name, Bull or something equally ridiculous? I don’t trust him or that tart of a wife any farther than I could throw them. They aren’t good Christians, you know!”
“They’re not?” I gasped, surprised that the conversation had turned to them when Camille was still my primary suspect. I was definitely all ears now. “They go to church every Sunday.”
“Well, have you seen the hems on that woman’s skirts? She gives the whole town a free peep at her goods, my dear. It’s obscene, I tell you. And that man. Well, everyone knows he’s running around on her with Francesca down at the Bryce Beach Boutique. He’s a notorious philanderer. You know he got his high school girlfriend in trouble and had to marry her, and then he cheated on her with the new wife. My son Charlie was in his class. He can tell you all about it—”
“Did you see Mayor Steyer and his wife at the gala on Saturday?” I knew for a fact she did because I saw them talking. She, of course, had looked perfectly agreeable and happy to speak with them then.
“I did, my dear. And that dress the wife was wearing…it was a little much, wasn’t it?” She shook her head. I had to laugh at how she always called Camille “the wife” instead of her name. “Now you, on the other hand. You wore red, did you not?”
She definitely had a better memory than I’d given her credit for. Maybe she wasn’t off her rocker?
“I did wear red,” I confirmed, equal parts afraid and excited to hear her fashion critique.
“That dress was flattering to your figure. You should wear that type of waistline more often. It de-emphasizes the hips.”
Welp, we were back to discussing my body. How fun! Not.
“Well, you looked mighty lovely,” she continued, “even if redheads aren’t supposed to wear red. That’s an outdated notion, anyway, dearie.” She nodded as though she was a world-renowned fashion expert. This coming from a woman who was still wearing dresses from the Carter administration.
“Did you see anything unusual at the party on Saturday?” I changed the subject. Maybe she had seen Camille sneak off to the offices right before the Bible was stolen and the money disappeared. It would be quite amusing if Camille implicated her, and she implicated Camille.
“That dark-haired, vampire-looking woman you were with, the one in the purple dress. You were with her and a blonde,” Mrs. Monroe said, her voice taking on a bit more of a tremolo quality than her normal elderly lady voice.
“Evangeline Dupree?” I narrowed my gaze as I stared her down, waiting for her to elaborate. “What about her?”
“She is pure evil, that woman,” the widow hissed. Then she looked all around herself, as though a spirit might appear out of thin air and snatch her up in its icy grip.
“Pure evil?” I couldn’t help but chuckle. “Evangeline is a grumpy cataloguer, but she’s not pure evil.”
“You should stay away from her, dearie. You are the light, and she is the dark. The deep, dark abyss. The evil abyss.” Now she was scaring me with her wide, round eyes and wavering voice.
I was quickly reverting to my earlier off-the-rocker theory now.
“She stole the Bible,” Mrs. Monroe insisted. “Mark my words. She is using it in her witchcraft!”
“What?” First of all, I was pretty sure Evangeline was standing right next to Molly when the glass display case shattered. And she was just as shocked as everyone else.
Natty the Dog was straining against his leash, ready to move on with the rest of his morning walk. I’d already watched him pee on the library’s property, and I was afraid at this point if I didn’t let Mrs. Monroe get back to it, he’d leave us a nice, stinky present right beside our entrance. What a way to welcome patrons to the library, huh?
“That’s an interesting theory, Mrs. Monroe,” I said. “I better let you get back to your walk now. It was nice talking to you.”
“You too, dearie!” Her face brightened as though she hadn’t just called one of my best friends a witch. “If you want any diet recipes, let me know! I have a great cookbook you can borrow.”
Alrighty then. “Um, thanks. Have a good day!”
I briskly passed by her, my footsteps pounding into the sidewalk before I reached the library steps. Then I raced up them and into the building, wondering if I would burst before I could go share with Evangeline what Willa Bryce Monroe said about her.
I headed directly back to the technical services office area, letting myself in with my key this time. After marching straight to Evangeline’s cataloguing lair, I found her door closed and the office light off. My eyes darted around the open area with its cubicles in the center.
Linda O’Neal, wearing a plaid skirt with a denim jacket (of course), came out, shaking her head. “Who’re you looking for this time, Sunny?
I cringed at her use of my solely-father-approved nickname. “Sunshine,” I corrected her. “Have you seen Evangeline today?”
“Nope, sorry. With her and Jada gone, it’s quiet back here. Then again, when the cat’s away, the mice will play!”
I wasn’t sure what tech services workers considered “playing.” Maybe ripping the little perfume samples out of the magazines before shelving them? Having book cart races? It didn’t look like anything at all was going on back there. Ah, maybe that’s the point.
I weaved my way back into the main part of the library, toward the circulation desk. I glanced past the counter to the office area where Tom and the other reference librarian, Jessica, had private offices for when they weren’t at the reference desk.
Barbara entered the area from t
he circulation desk, carrying a hefty stack of books. She set them down on a cart and sighed. “You’d think with as many books as I lift a day, I’d be stronger.”
I smiled at her self-deprecating humor, but then I remembered why I’d rushed back there. Of all the library staff members, Barbara was the most likely to know where someone was or be up on the latest happenings. “Have you seen Evangeline today? She’s not in her office.”
“No, actually, I think she called in sick.” Barbara turned and called out to the circulation desk worker. So much for being quiet in the library! “Hey, did you answer the phone when the cataloguer called in?”
I heard a mumbled response but didn’t catch what she said.
“Yeah, she’s sick today,” Barbara repeated.
Weird. She didn’t even tell me. I’d have to text her later to check in on her. “Alright, thanks for letting me know.”
“Sure thing. How’s the sleuthing going?” Her lips tilted up into a crooked smile, and it was painfully obvious she was patronizing me.
“It’s going great! Thanks for asking.” I forced a smile, and that was enough to send her scurrying off to whatever task she was trying to accomplish.
Evangeline is sick? She seemed fine yesterday. I’d have to ask Molly if she’d heard from her.
The hair! I suddenly remembered as I was walking toward the offices on the back wall. Between Tom’s office and Jessica’s was the workroom where we’d counted the money at the gala. I patted my purse, where I’d put the hair in a baggie so I could easily compare it to any specimen I collected here. I glanced around to make sure I wasn’t being watched. One of the advantages of having an understaffed library was that there wasn’t anyone around to catch me snooping in the workroom.
Scoping out that room from top to bottom, I gave it the old Sherlock Holmes treatment—the only thing missing was an old-fashioned magnifying glass. And, to my great disappointment, I didn’t find a single hair or any other clue that would help me solve the case.
Scrubbing my hands in the restroom across the hall from the back entrance to the offices, I tried to buoy my sinking heart. I wasn’t sure why I was so invested in the idea of finding the smoking gun—er, hair—but I was. I feared Susan was probably correct about the police. Once the case went cold, they would stop looking. And if Camille Steyer was our thief, they’d never even think to bark up that tree.
“Alright,” I told myself—out loud, because I talked to myself on occasion, “I should just go get some work done.” I had a backlog of new YA books to shelve, and I wanted to create a summer reading display. It was only May first, but these things took time, and I wanted it to be perfect. I also wanted to come up with some sort of summer reading incentive that would bring my YA peeps inside the building. If my job was on the line, I wanted to prove to Susan that I could bring patrons in and that we had a substantial YA footprint. In other words, I was looking for a miracle.
I noticed Anna Cooper browsing the new additions shelf—the one I needed to update.
“Hey, Anna!” I greeted her, entering the YA space like the cheery ray of Sunshine my parents intended me to be when they gave me such a ridiculous name. “Shouldn’t you be in school?”
“We’re off today,” she answered, not even glancing away from the books. It was like her eyes were glued to them, and she couldn’t tear them away. Sigh. She and I understood each other. Two peas in a pod. “The teachers had some sort of professional development day.”
“Gotcha.” I glanced around the space, wishing more teens came to the library on their day off from school. This place should be packed on a day like this! Maybe if we recovered the gala donations, I could order some video game consoles? That would surely be a hit.
I turned back to Anna. “I’m pretty sure you’ve read all the books on that shelf, but I have some new ones I was getting ready to put out.”
She turned to me with huge, sparkling eyes, her mouth practically salivating at the prospect of shiny, glossy new books. It was like she was an addict, and I was offering her a fix. Not that I know anything at all about drugs, but that’s how it works, right?
“Really?” Her whole face was lit up.
I was pretty sure I’d made this kid’s day. Maybe her whole week.
“Yes, ma’am! Come here, and I’ll show you what I’ve got.” I beckoned her with my index finger, and she followed me over to my desk like she was in a trance. I unlocked my storage closet and wheeled out the cart of new books I’d been hoarding back there, waiting for the start of the month.
She licked her lips, collecting the drool, as she started to peruse the spines of the books, all lined up in a neat row with their dust jackets shiny and new. She pulled one off and scanned the blurb on the back, her lips spreading into an excited grin. By the time she was done, she had chosen four of my eight new books.
Only eight, I lamented. We really needed that money so I could get some new books for summer. And video game consoles, apparently.
“These are awesome!” she squealed as she set them down on my desk. Then her enthusiasm withered away like leaves on a tree in November. “I heard what happened on Saturday night.” She turned her head toward the lobby, where the empty space that had once held the Founders’ Bible looked so barren and ugly. A spotlight shone down on the empty tile floor from the chandelier above, further highlighting the depressing sight.
“Yeah, we’re pretty bummed.” I downplayed it…a lot. No need to get this teen all depressed, right?
“Is it true they stole all the money that was donated?”
I nodded. “Yeah, but the police are working on recovering it.” I scanned each of her books and printed out the due date slip, sliding it under the cover of the book on top.
She sighed. “I put ten bucks in that donation box.”
That was like a stab through my heart. She was only thirteen, so I was sure ten dollars was a significant amount of money for her, showing how she revered the library and wanted to support my efforts. “I’m so sorry, Anna. Here, do you want me to pay you back?” I reached for my purse in the closet I’d unlocked earlier.
“Oh, no, of course not. I just was hoping it would go to buy more books.” Her face brightened a little. “Hope the police come through for us.”
I liked how she used the word “us.” Our entire community had been robbed. I wished I had more faith in the police, but Chief James seemed so dispassionate when he was in here on Monday. And he seemed convinced that one of us had betrayed the library.
I looked around the first floor as Anna scooped up her books and stuffed them in her bag. Barbara and one of her staff members smiled at me from the circulation desk. Tom, across the floor in the adult area, was busy helping a patron at the reference desk. Molly was doing a story time for preschoolers by the big windows overlooking the courtyard.
My colleagues were good, honest, hard-working people. They loved the library. They weren’t traitors!
“Hey,” Anna said, pulling my attention away from my thoughts. She rearranged her long braids over her shoulder, smoothing them down against her tawny skin like she was a little nervous to say whatever was on her mind. “I just remembered… I promised to tell you that my older sister Liz is looking for a summer job. She’s a wiz with computer stuff, like she even won some big hacking contest. It was in the paper and everything. So if you need any help with your website or anything tech-related around here…she’d be thrilled to work here. And she’d probably be a lot cheaper than other tech people since she’s only sixteen.”
I smiled at Anna, who was so kind to look out for the library’s tech needs and her sister’s need for a job. Though maybe she just wanted her big sis out of her hair for the summer; it was hard to say.
“That’s good to know, thanks. If we have the funds for something like that, I’d definitely consider hiring her. Can you have her send her resume to me?” I handed her one of my business cards with my email address.
She tucked it into one of the new books she’d c
hecked out. “Thanks, Ms. Baker. I’ll let her know.”
“Enjoy the books, Anna!”
Her bright grin from earlier returned full-force. “I will!”
Nine
Thursday, and I was no closer to solving this mystery. I’d thought about trying to tail Camille Steyer, see if I could figure out what she’d done with the money and/or Founders’ Bible, but I had an appointment in the afternoon, and I was pretty sure it would be hard for someone with my stature and hair color to sneak around stealthily. If I was going to make a habit of sleuthing, I probably needed to invest in some disguises.
“Hey you!” I called across the quiet library, crossing toward the children’s section.
“Hey you!” Molly called back, her head tilted and a bewildered look on her face. “I was looking for you yesterday before close, but you’d already left for the day.”
The dad in the corner trying to pick out a book with his son shot me a dirty look. Yeah, yeah. Librarians are supposed to be doing the shushing, not the patrons. I was well aware. It was remarkable how many times I’d been shushed during my library career.
“I had a doctor’s appointment yesterday and needed to leave early,” I explained, lowering my voice. “But I texted last night and didn’t hear back from you.”
“I went to bed early, and just got in this morning, so I figured I might as well talk to you in person.”
“Gotcha. Well, we need to chat.”
“Yes we do,” she agreed. “You first.”
“Evangeline,” I breathed out.
“Yeah! What’s her deal? She never replied to my text!” Molly’s petite features scrunched up with dismay.
“Mine either. Barbara said she called in sick yesterday, which isn’t like her at all.” Just putting that together made chills dance up my spine. I hadn’t ever known her to be sick, in fact, and I’d been working with her for ten years. I’d known her even longer than I’d known Molly.
“According to Tom,” Molly said, her face pinched with concern, a mirror of mine, “the only time Evangeline has missed work that wasn’t for a vacation day was the day her divorce was finalized, and she had to go to the courthouse to sign the papers.”
Dangerous Curves Boxed Set 1: 3 Cozy Christian Mysteries Page 8
