Overdue

by Elizabeth Spann Craig

  As usual, he showed up early while I was still pulling out chairs. He laid down the boxes of muffins and doughnuts, greeted me by name with a hearty handshake, and then took the chair out of my hands and moved it himself. He was a big man with silver hair and a large grin. He was, I’d always reflected, the perfect politician. He could talk to absolutely anybody and find either common ground or something interesting to talk about.

  Howard finished putting the chairs out and then spotted Burton, our police chief and went over to speak with him.

  It was usually the same group of constituents who came in every week. Some of them were possibly tempted by free pastries. Others seemed to be trying to convince the mayor he needed to take action on a particular problem they faced in their neck of the woods—there was one man who always showed up to complain about his neighbor’s tree. To his credit, Howard would always act as if it was the first time he’d ever heard the story of the tree. He had the gift of making you feel as if you were the only person in the world and he had all the time to listen to you. I could see where that could be an attractive quality and maybe that was part of what Carmen had been drawn toward.

  A few people filed in, speaking with the mayor and getting muffins and juice. I turned to see Linus Truman, one of my favorite senior citizens, standing hesitantly at the door and walked over to speak with him. Linus had, until very recently, been our most private regular patron. For years, he’d come to the library daily and had a very particular pattern to his day there. He’d arrive, wearing a spotless suit and his owlish-looking glasses and sit down with the local newspaper before moving on to fiction, then nonfiction, then to lunch, before returning to the library and finishing up his day with The New York Times. Although he’d always been perfectly polite, he’d never engaged in conversation with me until Luna had gotten him to open up.

  He gave me a shy smile as I approached him and cleared his throat. “Just thought I’d see the mayor this morning while I’m in the library.”

  I said, “Would you like me to introduce you?” Considering how religiously he kept to his routine, I thought this deviation must be huge for him.

  He shook his head quickly. “No, thanks. Just here to observe. Maybe I’ll speak with him next time.”

  “And hopefully to eat some muffins.” I smiled. “Because otherwise they end up in the breakroom and I eat far too many of them.”

  I heard the mayor call my name from behind me and excused myself.

  Howard’s face was serious and he said quietly, “I’ve been out of touch the last twenty-four hours because I was out of town. A resident mentioned something about a tragedy here yesterday. Can you fill me in?”

  “Of course,” I said, taking a deep breath. Wilson would want this incident downplayed as much as possible, I knew. But from what Mel had told Luna and me about Howard’s relationship with Carmen, this might come as a shock.

  I started out cautiously, “We had a library trustee here yesterday, helping to prepare for the Friends of the Library book sale. We keep books for the sale in the basement and they needed to come up to the main floor to be placed on carts for the public to see.”

  Howard nodded. “Those are steep stairs. Who was the board member?” he asked, a note of urgency in his voice.

  I swallowed and said, “Carmen King.”

  Howard blanched and his eyes widened. “And she fell down the stairs while getting the books?”

  I shook my head slowly. “I’m afraid it’s worse than that. It did appear, at first glance, to be an accident. But the police determined it wasn’t. They’ve opened an investigation.”

  “You mean . . . murder?” asked Howard in a hushed voice as he glanced quickly around to ensure no one was moving closer. Beads of perspiration popped up on his forehead as he looked intently at me.

  Chapter Seven

  “That’s what I understand,” I said quietly.

  He paused for a moment and his color changed from pasty white to red and blotchy. He took a deep breath and said, “Do the police have any ideas in terms of who might be behind it? I mean, did you get a sense of the direction their questions were going in when they were talking to you?”

  Linus was looking at Howard and me with interest before politely lowering his eyes when he noticed I’d seen him.

  I said, “I wouldn’t say I necessarily picked up on any type of direction. I’m guessing the police use pretty general questions when they’re trying to figure out what’s happened. I was asked how well I knew Carmen and if I’d known of her having any problems with anyone here at the library or elsewhere. And about her personal relationships.”

  Howard nodded, looking down at the floor. “And did you know any of those things?” He added quickly, lest I wonder over his interest, “It’s just that this is big news for Whitby. Murders don’t happen very often here, especially in our library, which is a favorite place for everyone in town. I want to make sure the townspeople feel secure.”

  I asked, “Did you know Carmen?”

  Howard said, seeming flustered, “Not well, no. I feel badly about that. I’m trying to make an effort to get to know some of my younger constituents.”

  I smiled benignly at him to encourage him to speak more. In my head, I was thinking he’d certainly succeeded in getting to know one of his younger constituents, if what Mel had said was true.

  He continued, “We’d engage in conversation sometimes, just as you and I are now. It’s good to have a finger on the pulse of the younger folk in town. I’d like Whitby to continue being attractive to a variety of different age-groups and to find out how best to make that happen.”

  I nodded. “So you were getting ideas on that from Carmen.”

  He looked relieved. “Precisely! Aside from that, I didn’t know her well.”

  I nodded again and said, “To answer your question, I didn’t really know the answers to many of the questions. Like you, my relationship with Carmen was strictly business.”

  Howard flushed again and had the grace to look away. He said, “Well, perhaps Burton will find out it was an accident, after all. It must be hard to get an immediate read on these things.” He glanced over at the clock across from him and gave me a broad smile. “Thanks, Ann. And good to see you! I suppose I should make myself available to some of the other folks.”

  He walked over to the food table and immediately started speaking with a young man who seemed to have a question about finding a job.

  I poured out several cups of orange juice and set them on the beverage table. Then I walked back over to Linus.

  “He’s very approachable if you have a question or a concern,” I said in an offhand way, hoping not to run Linus out of there.

  He gave me a small smile and shook his head. “I might be more interested in the pastries,” he confessed. “That bakery is one of my favorites.”

  I chuckled. “Well, whatever the draw, I’m glad you’re here.”

  “Is attendance always this strong?” asked Linus, looking rather bemused. He took a step backward to get a little closer to the wall as a swarm of people of different ages wandered in.

  “Not always. But there are frequently a good number of attendees. I guess it’s just well-known, since the mayor has been regularly doing these meet-and-greets for years,” I said. Since Linus was still looking uncomfortable, I added, “Can I pick up some food for you? Doughnuts? Muffins? Orange juice?”

  He looked relieved and told me a couple of muffins and a drink would be good. I maneuvered my way to the refreshments table.

  A minute later, I handed the drink and muffins to Linus who gave me a grateful smile and then looked a little awkward as if wanting to both eat and carry on a conversation and not entirely sure how to manage either one.

  I was about to save him by making an excuse and walking away when he brightened and said, “Tell me what you’ve been reading lately.”

  Our common denominator was definitely books. I smiled at him and said, “What I’m reading, or what I’m suppose
d to be reading?”

  “Now I’m intrigued,” he said and happily took a bite of his apple-cinnamon muffin. He didn’t even seem to notice more people had filed in, the room had become a bit more crowded, and the mayor had gotten louder and jollier, which likely would have bothered Linus under ordinary circumstances.

  I tried to give him a somewhat entertaining version of my reading quandary. “You remember film club, of course. Well, there’s one particular patron in there who is very enthusiastic about James Joyce.”

  Linus’s eyes crinkled as he smiled. “I’m assuming you’re speaking in particular of Ulysses.”

  “Exactly. So each time I’ve seen him, which is regularly, he’s asked me if I’ve read his favorite yet. For a while, I had excellent excuses why that wasn’t so. There were special events to prepare for here at work and then there were other books I was reading. But, as time went on, those excuses started to wear thin and I decided I needed to read the book. I’m a librarian, after all.”

  Linus asked solemnly, “How many times have you had to renew it?”

  “Twice, I’m afraid. And, since that’s the renewal limit, I had to return it and then check it out again.” I confessed. “Fortunately, there wasn’t a waiting list for the book.”

  “So what are you actually reading, then?” he asked curiously as he finished off his muffin.

  “September by Rosamunde Pilcher.” I chuckled. “I read it fairly regularly and especially when I’m feeling any sort of stress.”

  Linus tilted his head to one side. “Ulysses is stressful?”

  “Oh, no. No, it’s fine, it’s just not holding my interest. There are some things going on at the library that have been stressful. So anyway, I’m now trying to hold myself to reading at least ten pages a day of Joyce’s book and then consoling myself with Pilcher,” I said.

  He nodded as he carefully threw away his paper plate and took a sip of his orange juice.

  I said, “At any rate, I’ll have some progress to report when film club rolls around again in a couple of days.”

  Linus’s expression suddenly changed to one of concern. “I read about the trustee who fell down the stairs here.” He hesitated. “I must have been at lunch when it happened. When I came back by the library, it was closed for the day. I’m hoping you weren’t one of the librarians who discovered her.”

  I gave him a smile. “Thank you, Linus. Unfortunately, I was. It was a real shock but I’m feeling a bit better today. I just feel terrible about Carmen.”

  He nodded. “I think I remember who she was. She was in here a lot, wasn’t she? And I’m in here a lot, I suppose.” He looked rueful. “She seemed very . . . efficient.”

  I was relieved Linus hadn’t put me in the position of having to once again say bad things about a deceased trustee. “She was indeed. Carmen was extremely efficient.”

  Wanting to change the subject, I was about to ask Linus what he was reading (he always seemed to be juggling several books at one time) when I heard the unexpected sound of arguing behind me.

  Linus’s eyes widened a little and I gave a quick glance behind me to see Blake Thompson, one of Carmen’s love interests, was engaged in a heated discussion with the mayor. Or, actually, he was trying to engage. The mayor appeared to want nothing to do with an argument.

  “Not here,” muttered Howard. “For heaven’s sake, man. Get ahold of yourself.”

  Blake said, “Well, when you don’t return my phone calls or emails, what am I supposed to do? At least I knew you were going to be here this morning. I don’t have a lot of choice, do I?”

  Howard quickly said, “I’ll call you later today. Not now. This isn’t the place.”

  Blake’s voice was ragged and said, “I’m going to hold you to that. Look, I’ve had a really bad last twenty-four hours. I’m not going to put up with this on top of it all.”

  I hazarded a look at Blake and saw he looked just as ragged as he sounded. Carmen’s death had apparently really thrown him for a loop. I suspected he was wearing the same clothes I’d seen him in the day before.

  “I’ll call you, Blake,” said Howard in a calm voice. “Now, can you let me get back to my event, please?”

  A moment later, I saw Blake striding out of the room and Howard chatting lightly to some of his constituents.

  I turned back to Linus who said quietly, “That was interesting. An unscripted moment from the mayor.”

  I nodded and replied in my best, quietest, librarian voice, “You’re right. We don’t usually see the mayor at anything but his very best.”

  Linus was still subtly watching the mayor, his large eyes taking him in. “I have to wonder what that might have been about. I ordinarily wouldn’t have thought those men would have business together.”

  I thought about Blake’s connection to Carmen. I wouldn’t have put the two of them together, either. I shook my head. “It’s a mystery.”

  Linus seemed ready to change the subject. “What’s going to be featured at the next film club meeting?”

  I smiled at him. “Might I be able to convince you to go?” Linus was definitely interested in most of the movies we showed at the library. Fortunately, I’d been able to present a great range of films and had terrific recommendations not just from other librarians, but from the club members, themselves. But I knew he had grown so used to his daily routines that it made it hard for him to join up with a group—any group—even for short periods of time.

  Linus quickly said, “You know I’d enjoy it. It’s just fitting it into my schedule. But I like hearing about it.”

  “Don’t ever feel under any pressure to come. That’s the nice thing about this particular library group—it’s so laid-back. Except, maybe, when it comes to following up on book recommendations,” I added wryly. “And I thought it might be fun to add a little mystery to the mix this month. We’re going to watch that old noir classic: Laura.”

  Linus’s eyes brightened. “An excellent choice. I’ll have to see how things go that day.” He turned to toss away his orange juice cup and then said, “Think I’ll head over to periodicals to read for a while. Good to see you.”

  I was watching the mayor again and didn’t notice when one of my nemeses entered the room. Zelda Smith was an older lady with henna-colored hair who lives in my neighborhood. She seemed to have an unerring radar when it came to tracking me down. I’d wistfully hoped she hadn’t spotted me and that I could stand in an inconspicuous place in the room, but then I saw her eyes narrow as they locked in on me.

  One of Zelda’s goals in life was to get fresh blood on the homeowner association board, which she headed. I had to hand it to her: no matter how many times she might be turned down, she always ended up asking me again. Or asking me to reconsider. The problem was I was still trying to simply carve out personal time. Once I had a little free time from the demands of the library, I figured I could take on volunteering for the homeowner association board. It was a day I wasn’t looking forward to. The board was reportedly fractious and there were lots of politics involved in terms of approving neighbors’ requests. I braced myself and swiftly flipped through my catalog of excuses as Zelda squared her small shoulders and headed my way. As she stood in front of me, the smell of cigarettes (she was a notorious chain-smoker) automatically made me glance at her hands to ensure she hadn’t brought in a contraband smoke into the hallowed grounds of the library. She hadn’t.

  “I was hoping I’d run into you, Ann,” she said in her gravelly voice, eyes like bullets.

  I held back a shudder and managed a rather sickly smile. “It was probably a good bet I’d be here. As I’ve mentioned, I spend a lot of time here.” This was to counteract any pending requests for my participation on the board.

  “Yes,” said Zelda in a dry tone, “I’ve observed that. I’m guessing it cuts into your social life quite a bit, doesn’t it?”

  This was more than I’d hoped for. Zelda was finally catching on that I didn’t have much time for anything outside of work.
“Exactly!” I agreed quickly.

  Zelda tilted her head, looking thoughtfully at me. “Dating and whatnot? That’s not really happening, is it? No special friend?”

  I thought we were going off on sort of an odd tangent, but I was so relieved not to have Zelda asking me again to join the homeowner association board that I happily nodded. “That’s right, unfortunately.” Although the pickings could sometimes be slim in Whitby, too. There were a lot of nice young men . . . it was simply that they were dating nice young women.

  Zelda looked satisfied with her brief interview of me. “That’s precisely what I’d gathered,” she said briskly. “Which is why Kevin will be the perfect choice for you.”

  I blinked at her. “Kevin?” I asked in dawning horror.

  “My nephew,” said Zelda, narrowing her eyes again in irritation. She glared at me as if I hadn’t been paying attention, although I was quite sure I had been riveted on her, waiting for the chance to refuse any board invitations. She continued, “You understand I would only ask the highest caliber person to go out on a date with him.”

  I was still trying to piece together exactly what she was talking about but alarm bells started ringing at the word date. “Naturally.” I frowned in confusion.

  “I am a little worried about your lack of civic engagement,” she said severely.

  “I always vote,” I stubbornly answered. Why was I arguing? Why wasn’t I telling Zelda in no uncertain terms that I wasn’t wanting to date anyone now? Not, unless, by some happenstance, Grayson was suddenly free. And suddenly interested.

  “I mean on the neighborhood level.” Zelda pursed her lips.