By the Book (A Gracie Andersen Mystery 2)

by Laurinda Wallace

  “It’s done.” Jim pulled off his wool knit cap and slapped it against his Carhartt’s, spraying snow everywhere. He began whistling “Winter Wonderland.” Gracie shook her head. He was a little too perky for this time of the morning.

  “There’s more wonderland on its way, according to the weather guy.” Gracie poured him a tall mug of coffee.

  “I know. Spring better come soon. I don’t how much more I can take.” He slurped the coffee and rummaged in the cabinet under the coffeemaker.

  “Sorry, but I think we’re out of cookies or anything else.”

  “I need fuel, Chief. Guess I should have picked up something at Midge’s.”

  “OK. I need a break from the computer. I’ll cook you some breakfast.”

  “Nah. I’ll be all right.”

  “No. I haven’t had anything either. It’s oatmeal, eggs, and bacon today.”

  “You talked me into it. I’m right behind you.”

  Jim sat at the kitchen bar and dug into the food with enthusiasm. Gracie smiled. It was always nice to have your cooking appreciated. Her cell phone rang just as she put a spoon into the steaming oatmeal.

  It was Terry. Max had made it through the night. Kelly had found antifreeze in his stomach contents, but it wasn’t as much as she’d feared. The clinic planned to keep him one more day to make sure.

  “Well, that’s good news for Terry,” Jim said, finishing off a third strip of bacon.

  “No kidding. That reminds me. I’d better see how Dad’s doing.”

  The cell phone went directly to her mother’s voicemail. She decided not to leave a message. Her mother would call her as soon as she saw the missed call.

  “Did you hear that news report about the Harris woman this morning?” Jim asked.

  “I did. I’d like to know what’s going on with her murder investigation though. Doesn’t seem like anything is moving.”

  “That’s what you thought last summer, and well …”

  “I know. But I did some research on that murder at Seneca.”

  “And?”

  “The reports online match what Terry told me. They don’t have any suspects at this point. But when I visited the university’s website, there was something that caught my eye.”

  “Like what?” Jim wiped his mouth with a paper napkin and turned to look at her.

  “They have an exhibition of Civil War weapons and documents. It’s been there since November, and the Woodson family is one of the donors to the exhibit.”

  “Really?” Jim slipped from the stool, taking his mug to the coffeemaker.

  Gracie looked at the muddy gray sky that seeped across the east through the kitchen window.

  “I’m wondering what the connection is between the Woodsons and the university.”

  “Maybe Roger or his dad went to school there. I can’t remember where Roger went now. He’s about four years older than us, so that was a long time ago.” Jim slurped the hot coffee, setting it carefully on a square, red crochet coaster.

  “It strikes me as pretty odd, but I’m sure the sheriff’s department will find out all about it.” She smiled demurely.

  “Exactly. I’m sure that’s what Marc would tell you. He’d also recommend that they do the investigating, not you.”

  “Right,” she answered brightly and then remembered Will’s request. “I need to run this by you before I give an answer to the library board.”

  Jim looked puzzled. “The library board? What do they want you to do?”

  “Pay the bills and handle payroll for a few weeks while they try to get a new treasurer. Whaddaya think?”

  “You have the time to do this?”

  “Not really. It’s for a few weeks, no more than that, and I don’t have to do any reports or investigate the books.”

  “It’s your decision, but I don’t know why you’d want to get mixed up in that situation.”

  “That’s what I thought. It’s not anything I need right now. Just looking for confirmation. Thanks.”

  “Well, thanks for the grub, Chief. Hit the spot. Back to the salt mines.” He rinsed his dishes and put them in the dishwasher. Then he chuckled and pointed behind her. The big black dog sat expectantly by her dish. Her soulful brown eyes gazed intently at Gracie.

  “Yes, I’ll get you something to eat. Sorry.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  She hadn’t changed since last summer, Gracie noted. Investigator Hotchkiss was obviously all business in her gray wool pantsuit. Her medium roast coffee-colored hair was short and neat, curling at the nape of her neck. There might be more silver flecks in the hair though, Gracie thought. The policewoman stopped her conversation with Sybil and looked up.

  “If you’re looking for Terry, she’s upstairs,” Sybil informed her.

  “Thanks.” Gracie jogged up the winding staircase and found Terry staring into space in her office. Sable trotted out to greet her, tail wagging.

  “Hey, girl,” Gracie said quietly, scratching her ears. “Terry, are you all right? Are you OK? You’re not looking so good.”

  “I’m all right.” Terry brightened visibly as she scratched Sable’s neck. She laid her muzzle across Terry’s thigh, enjoying the attention.

  “I stopped by to let you know I’ll help out with paying the bills for a few weeks. A very few weeks, please. As long as I don’t have to do anything else.”

  “Absolutely. That’s great! Thanks, Gracie. You don’t know what it means to me. You’re a real friend.”

  “Well,” Gracie blushed. “I’m happy to fill in.” She glanced back at the landing and whispered, “What’s Investigator Hotchkiss talking to Sybil about?”

  “I’m not quite sure, but it has to do with Jack’s whereabouts the night that … you know. And where he was last night.”

  “ Really,” Gracie said.

  Terry shrugged and sorted through the files on her desk. “He’s not a nice man, and he certainly didn’t like Alice. He hates Max.”

  “That’s a little scary. Is he still working here?”

  “Yes, but he makes me nervous. He ... he’s … he watches me.” The librarian shuddered. “Here’s the payroll and invoice files.” She bent over, pulling out the bottom drawer of the desk. “And the checkbook.” She handed the manila folders to Gracie while reaching into the desk’s bottom drawer. “I’ve initialed all the invoices to be paid. You just have to stop by the bank and sign the account card.”

  “All right. I’ll look these over and get caught up then.” Gracie scanned the contents of the files while she stood. She inched toward the door hoping to catch some of the conversation below, but the voices were too low.

  Gracie attempted to glide nonchalantly down the stairs, but managed to trip over her own feet on the last two treads. She caught herself and landed on one knee onto the tiled floor. It wasn’t her best entrance, or exit for that matter, but it did get a puzzled look from the investigator. Excusing herself, she rushed out the door.

  Chapter Twenty

  Just as she adjusted the seatbelt in the idling SUV, her cell phone buzzed. The number that appeared on her caller ID told her it was the kennel calling. She hoped there wasn’t a problem. She’d been gone way longer than anticipated. Answering the call, Jim’s tone was irritated.

  “Gracie, where are you?”

  “Sorry, Jim. I’m still at the library. What’s going on?”

  “The library? We’ve got a line out the door and need you back here.”

  “I’m on my way. Sorry.”

  “Well, Cheryl’s swamped. How long will it take you to get here?”

  Gracie swallowed hard. Jim was full on angry. What was eating him?

  “Ten minutes. Tell her I’ll be there in 10 minutes.” She tapped the phone’s screen to end the call. The radio announcer began the local news report as she pushed down on the gas pedal.

  “The investigation into the murder of local CPA Alice Harris continues,” the reporter began. “Autopsy findings confirm that death was caused by a kn
ife wound to the chest.”

  “As if that was a question,” Gracie retorted to the voice emanating from the dash.

  “Roger Woodson is now a person of interest in the case, as stated by the Wyoming County Sheriff’s Department media relations director, Maritza Lopez, in a press release today.”

  Gracie clutched the wheel and whistled. “A person of interest,” she repeated.

  “Woodson’s attorney had no comment for the press. The investigation continues, and several residents from Deer Creek are being questioned.”

  She whistled again. “Holy cow! Why would he kill Alice though?” She asked the radio. But the announcer was already giving details of a car accident off Route 20A just west of Warsaw.

  The kennel was still going at top speed when Gracie arrived back in the office. Cheryl looked frazzled and a little out of sorts. Jim looked extremely cranky.

  “Finally. We really need you here, Gracie. It’s absolutely crazy,” he snapped.

  Cheryl had the phone in one hand and a Pomeranian in her lap. “Yes, we have room for two more dogs today. We’ll reserve two runs if you can get them here by 3:00.” She pushed the button on the phone to end the call. “If you can hold Tiger, I need to get the Stroud’s dogs. They just drove in from Florida, and they want to pick them up right away.”

  Gracie scooped up Tiger, whose tiny tongue flicked out to lick her face. She gave him a quick hug, and he snuggled into her neck.

  “Why is it so busy today?”

  “Because you’re not here,” grumbled Jim.

  “Sorry. I’m really sorry. Time got away from me. Now where do I need to start?”

  “You have three grooming appointments waiting for you and three owners who are anxious to pick them up before the next snowstorm. You’re holding the first appointment.” Jim’s eyes were steely with frustration and his tone uncharacteristically sharp.

  Gracie turned for the grooming room, and the phone began ringing again. She tucked Tiger under her arm, reversing directions to answer it. The caller was Marc. She could expect a visit from Investigator Hotchkiss in the next few minutes. Before she could argue with him that it was an inconvenient time, he ended the call. She sighed and hung up the phone. The feed truck along with the Stroud’s minivan pulled into the driveway. Jim was already out the door to meet the Hillside Feeds truck. Even though she was anxious to talk to the Strouds, that would have to wait. It was back to the grooming room for her to beautify two Pomeranians and a Schnauzer. She heard Cheryl handing the dogs off to Polly and Howard.

  Gracie kept her nose to the grindstone, making the investigator take a seat in her office, while she finished up in the grooming room. The only interruption she allowed was a call from her mother. Her father was being released in the late afternoon, and Tom was taking both of them home. That was the only tidbit of good news she’d had for the day. Slipping the grooming apron off, Gracie entered the office unhurriedly, in an attempt to gain the upper hand on one of her more un-favorite people.

  “Mrs. Andersen, this won’t take long.” The woman looked over reading glasses at Gracie. The disdainful look reminded her of her fifth grade teacher, Mrs. Wilcox. She’d gotten a lot of those looks that particular year. All Investigator Hotchkiss needed was a chain clipped to her glasses to complete the teacher look. A black notebook and pencil were ready on Gracie’s desk. Haley lay contentedly at the investigator’s feet. Apparently she’d passed Haley’s inspection.

  “I hope not. The kennel is very busy today, and we’re quite short-handed. I gave my statement at the library already.”

  “I just need to go over a couple of things. Especially about the recent events regarding Ms. Castor.”

  “Like her dog being poisoned?”

  “Yes and the other things … a note, dead bird, and slashed tires. Do you have any idea who might want to threaten her?”

  Gracie hated to start pointing fingers, but Jack’s reaction to Max and his general attitude toward Terry couldn’t be dismissed. “It would have to be Jack Greene, I’m afraid. He sure doesn’t like her, but I think it’s because she got the librarian job instead of his wife, Sybil.”

  “Enough to threaten her or do something about it?”

  “I’ve known Jack a long time. He’s not a friend or anything, but I have seen his bad temper. He was a little scary the morning we found Alice.”

  “Did Terry say anything about the university where she worked and what happened?” If Terry had been followed from Seneca, it was probably time for the investigator to know about it.

  “She did mention it.” The policewoman took off her glasses and put them on the desk. “We’re following up with the local police.”

  “Can you give her some protection or something? Her tires are slashed one night, and the next night her dog’s poisoned. It doesn’t take too much imagination to see what might happen next.”

  “It’s escalating quickly. Very quickly. We’re patrolling the library area more often, as well as her residence.”

  “Well, that’s something. I wanted her to stay here, but she won’t. But I’m not sure she’s thinking all that clearly.”

  “If you could get her to stay with you that would be a better idea.”

  “She’s had nothing but awful things happen in Deer Creek since the night of the fire. It makes you wonder about that fire.” Gracie swung her gaze to the computer screen to check the next day’s schedule.

  “We are looking at the reports on the fire again to make sure of the results.”

  “Good. If someone did follow her from Seneca, maybe that will help track him down.”

  The investigator nodded and continued writing. Since she was so congenial, Gracie delicately broached the topic of Roger Woodson.

  “Mr. Woodson is cooperating,” the investigator answered, snapping her notebook shut.

  “Oh. Well, that’s good. From the radio report, I thought he might be under arrest by now.”

  “No. He’s not. It’s an active investigation, Mrs. Andersen.” The woman placed the reading glasses in a black case.

  “Right. I understand.”

  “Just one more question. Did you know if Sybil Greene had an argument with Ms. Harris the day before the murder?”

  “No! I mean, I don’t know. Sybil and Jack were unhappy about her losing out on the job. They both blame Alice for the board hiring Terry.”

  Cheryl knocked on the doorframe, her hands full of catalogs and envelopes.

  “Excuse me, but here’s the mail.”

  “Thanks, Cheryl. We’re finished anyway. Right, Investigator?”

  “We’re finished. Thanks for your cooperation. Let me know if you remember anything that might help.”

  “Sure thing.”

  The policewoman pulled on a black wool, double-breasted car coat, patted Haley’s broad head, and left. Gracie let out her breath slowly. That encounter was vastly different than last time, when she’d practically been accused of killing her own uncle. At least she hadn’t been accused of anything so far today. But it sounded like the Greene’s were under the microscope. She racked her brain, trying to remember any comments she’d heard between Sybil and Patti.

  The familiar sound of dog food hitting metal bowls signaled the nearness of closing time. Dogs were yipping and barking with anticipation. She heard snatches of Jim whistling “Frosty the Snowman.” Her cell phone buzzed, and she answered quickly when she saw it was her mother.

  “Gracie, I wanted to let you know that we’re finally home.”

  “Good. Is Dad feeling OK?”

  “Better. He has strict orders about medicine and his delinquent behavior. I think he’ll shape up now. He doesn’t want to spend any more time in a hospital bed.”

  “I’m sure he doesn’t. I’ll be over tomorrow to see him. I’ve got a bunch of things to catch up on at the kennel.”

  “That’s perfectly fine. He’s going right to bed.”

  “Uh, I’ve gotta go, Mom. Jim needs some help feeding tonight. I’ll see you to
morrow.

  “All right.”

  She’d need to get online and continue the research she’d started on Seneca University. But then there was Jack and Sybil. Jack had a bad temper, but he’d been over the top the morning they’d found Alice. Maybe there was a reason for that.

  Cheryl carried in the cash tray from the register as Gracie placed her phone on the desk. Cheryl had already run a calculator tape on the day’s receipts.

  “I think that’s it, Gracie. We did pretty well today. Oh, Marian called. She plans to come in tomorrow afternoon. She’s feeling a lot better.”

  “That’s great, but do you think she’s really over it?” Gracie wasn’t so sure you got rid of the flu that quickly.

  “I don’t know, but Marian sounded better than when she called yesterday.”

  “All right, but I don’t want any of us to catch it. I’ll talk to her tomorrow when she comes in.”

  Cheryl shifted her weight from side to side, looking like there was something else she wanted to say.

  “Something wrong, Cheryl?”

  “No. I was just wondering about Terry and the murder. Some pretty awful things happening.”

  “You’re right about that. I’m not even sure myself what’s going on.”

  “Howard Stroud mentioned that the police had called him to talk about the policy the Woodsons have on the Civil War collection.”

  “Really?” Gracie glanced at her watch and took the bundle of receipts from Cheryl. Cheryl’s narrow face was drawn; her brown eyes were troubled. “There’s something else going on—right?”

  “I don’t want to cause trouble, but I think we need to talk about Jim.” Cheryl sat in the closest chair, biting her lower lip.

  “OK,” Gracie said, thrusting the envelope of checks and cash into the small safe under her desk. “What about Jim?”

  “Well …” She paused, biting her lip again. “I guess I don’t appreciate you getting involved in what Jim and I do after work.”