He was a mild-mannered older gentleman, known throughout Briar Creek for his award-winning apple pie. Every year for the past three years, his pie had won the blue ribbon at the annual harvest festival. Lindsey had been one of the judges last year, and she could testify that his pie was the best she’d ever tasted. Truly, it had an amazing butter and brown sugar crumble crust that was top-notch.
“Hi, Mr. Chesterton,” she said. “What can I help you with?”
Of medium height, with a thick head of brown hair that was just turning gray, Mr. Chesterton favored khaki pants and dress shirts and was always soft-spoken but with a dry wit that Lindsey had come to enjoy.
“I am actually here on behalf of Mrs. Chesterton,” he said.
“Oh, all right,” she said. She put the envelope aside and gave him her full attention.
“She is an avid fan of the author Lori Wilde,” he said. “And while the online catalog says her latest book is in, I couldn’t find it on the shelf.”
“Did you try the romance section?” Lindsey asked.
“Yes, it’s not there,” he said.
“Let me look up the record and see if I can track it down,” Lindsey offered. She opened up the catalog and typed in the author’s name. She turned the monitor so that it faced Mr. Chesterton and asked, “Which title of hers are you looking for?”
“You mean is my wife looking for,” he corrected her. “That one, right there.”
He pointed, and Lindsey clicked on it. She checked the date that it had been returned to see if that would tell her where it might be if not on the shelf.
“It looks like it came back two days ago, so while it is checked in, it might not be on the shelf yet. Things have been . . . hectic, and we’re running a little behind on our shelving,” she said. “I’ll go check the sorting carts and be right back.”
“Thank you,” he said.
Lindsey hurried into the sorting area, which took up a large counter in the workroom. Sitting on stools, fine sorting trucks of books before they took them out to shelve, were two of the library’s current pages, Heather and Perry. They seemed to be in a heated discussion and didn’t notice Lindsey when she arrived.
“I’m just saying that I don’t think she did it,” Perry said.
“Well, you don’t really know what a person is capable of, do you?” Heather argued. “Remember Dylan’s mother.”
“Yes, but she was crazy,” he argued.
“But she didn’t look it until we knew she was,” Heather said.
“Only because we weren’t paying attention.”
“I’m paying attention now, believe me.”
“Ahem.” Lindsey cleared her throat, and they both jumped. “Hi. I’m looking for a romance by Lori Wilde.”
“I’m nonfiction,” Perry said.
“I’ve got genre fiction,” Heather replied.
“Excellent. Thanks,” Lindsey said. She moved to check over the cart Heather was working on. She debated not saying anything to the teens, but she just couldn’t let it lie, not if they were talking about Paula and thinking the worst.
“Got it,” she said. She took the book off the cart and said, “Mrs. Chesterton will be very happy.”
Perry and Heather exchanged a look, and Perry started to laugh.
“What?” Lindsey glanced between them.
“The romances Mr. Chesterton checks out aren’t for Mrs. Chesterton,” Heather said.
“I don’t understand,” Lindsey said.
“My mom is friends with Mrs. Chesterton,” Perry said. “They both love crime novels. Mr. Chesterton is the one who loves the romance.”
“Are you sure?” Lindsey asked. She had always thought Mr. Chesterton was more of a spy-novel guy.
“Oh yeah,” Perry said. “Watch him when he leaves. He’ll start reading before he even reaches the sidewalk.”
“Huh,” Lindsey said. “Is it weird that I think that’s utterly charming?”
“No,” Heather said. “I think it’s lovely, too.”
Lindsey smiled at her.
“Well, I don’t,” Perry grumbled. “It’s not fair making me read Jane Austen just to get you to go out with me.”
Lindsey glanced between the two. She knew Perry had been pining for Heather for a while, but she didn’t realize a relationship was in the works. She turned to Heather and gave her a thumbs-up. “Nice. What Austen novel did you start him on?”
“Pride and Prejudice,” she said. “I see a lot of Colin Firth’s Mr. Darcy in him.”
Lindsey studied Perry with his wavy dark hair, aristocratic nose and arching eyebrows. Yes, it was there just beneath the surface.
“Don’t worry,” she said to Perry. “It’s a great book, and then you can read Pride and Prejudice and Zombies, which you’ll really love.”
“Zombies? Why didn’t they put that in the first one?” he asked. “It would totally rock with zombies. I think if I read that one it should count as close enough.”
“No.” Heather rolled her eyes, and Lindsey laughed.
“Listen, guys, on a more serious note, I don’t know what you were talking about when I came in, but I want to be very clear that we don’t gossip about staff,” she said. Both teens sobered immediately. “Also, I would like it if you would believe the best in a person until there is absolute evidence to prove otherwise.”
“All right.”
“Okay.”
They both looked guilty, and Lindsey felt badly about that, but if the situation were reversed and they were the ones in the questionable circumstance, she would protect them just as fiercely.
“Neither of you have anything you need to tell me, do you?” she asked. “You haven’t seen or heard anything that causes you concern?”
“No, Ms. Norris,” Perry said.
“No,” Heather said. “Sorry about . . . you know. It’s just, I’m a little paranoid since I’ve thought the best of others before and been really, really wrong.”
Lindsey nodded. She knew the feeling. She tried to quiet the uneasy voice inside of her that said she needed to be cautious with her loyalty to Paula. She glanced through the glass window that overlooked the circulation area. Paula was working beside Ms. Cole. Her face was pale and wan, and she looked as if she hadn’t slept in days.
Lindsey wondered if she should send her home to rest, but she suspected that Paula wouldn’t rest until she was no longer a suspect. She could relate.
“For what it’s worth, I know how you feel,” Lindsey said as she turned back to Heather. “But Paula needs our support now, and until we know otherwise for certain, let’s give her that. Okay?”
Heather nodded. Lindsey glanced at Perry, and he nodded, too.
“All right, I’m back out to the desk if anyone needs me,” she said.
She left the break room, cut through the circulation area just to see if everything was okay—it was—and then found Mr. Chesterton perusing the romance section for more titles. He had several written by prominent authors Delores Fossen, Holly Jacobs, and Nancy Warren in his hands, and when Lindsey handed him the book he’d requested, he added it happily to his pile.
“Well, I think this should keep my wife busy,” he said.
“Yes, that’s quite a terrific selection you have there,” Lindsey agreed. She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling. “If I find any other titles that I think she’d like, I’ll be sure to put them aside for her.”
“I know she would appreciate that,” he said. “Thank you, Lindsey.”
“My pleasure,” she said, and she meant it.
She settled back down at her desk and opened up the latest issue of Library Journal. She watched from afar as Mr. Chesterton checked out his books, and just because Perry had told her to, she found herself watching him as he left the building. Sure enough, he was read-walking his way up the sidewa
lk with the Lori Wilde novel open in his hands. Lindsey snorted. Dang, if Perry hadn’t been right. Mr. Chesterton was the romance reader. Huh.
She was halfway through an article about how to catalog self-published books when she heard a ruckus coming from the front of the library. She stood to see who was making the commotion.
Oh no, it was Olive’s three friends, Amy, LeAnn and Kim, and they looked to be zeroing in on Paula. This could not be good.
Lindsey hurriedly left the desk. She had worn heels and a skirt today for a meeting she’d had at the town hall. The meeting had been canceled, leaving Lindsey in her grown-up clothes, which were not nearly as comfortable for breaking up altercations as slacks and boots were.
“We know what you did,” Amy hissed at Paula.
She was leaning over the desk into Paula’s personal space, while Paula stood frozen, like a mouse afraid to move in front of a snake lest it strike.
“I didn’t—” Paula protested.
“Liar!” LeAnn accused.
“That’s enough,” Ms. Cole snapped at the women. “You are in a library, and I expect you to comport yourselves as such.”
Lindsey blinked. Good ol’ Ms. Cole. Only she would be more outraged that they had raised their voices than that they had accused someone of murder. If the situation weren’t so tense, she would have laughed.
Instead she used her frostiest tone when she approached the group. “May I help you?”
“Yes, you can,” Amy said. “I want her fired and arrested.”
The sheer ridiculousness of the statement made Lindsey shake her head and give Amy a squinty look. “Yeah, I’m a librarian. The whole arresting people thing—that’s more of a police matter.”
Amy ignored the sarcasm. “Why is she still here? You need to get rid of her. She could be a danger to us all.”
“Then one might suggest you leave,” Ms. Cole said.
“Why, you—”
“Stop.” Lindsey put both of her hands up as if she could ward them off by sheer willpower. “Do not harass my staff, any of them. If you have a need to use the library, you are welcome. If you do not, I am asking you to leave.”
“Our friend was murdered here,” Kim spat.
“I’m sorry for your loss. I truly am,” Lindsey said. “But coming in here and throwing accusations—”
“See? I told you so. She’s in on it,” LeAnn sniped.
“Excuse me?” Lindsey shook her head as if she was hard of hearing.
“We’ve been talking, and it seems to us that since it was the two of you who found her, it was probably the two of you who murdered her,” Amy said.
“What?!” Lindsey and Paula said together.
“See how they are?” Kim said. She wagged a well-manicured finger between Lindsey and Paula.
Lindsey gave Paula a wide-eyed look, and Paula looked back at her as if she had no idea what to say or do. When her lips trembled, Lindsey had had enough.
“I can assure you that if there was any indication that either of us were involved in Olive’s murder, we would have been arrested by now,” she said. “We haven’t been, so clearly we’re not involved.”
“Olive wanted to replace you,” Amy said. “What happened? Did she tell you she was going to have you fired so you freaked out and stabbed her?”
“No!” Lindsey snapped. She felt her heart beginning to pound in her chest, and she knew it was because half of Amy’s statement had been true. Olive had told her she was going to try and replace her.
“And what about you?” Amy turned on Paula. “Olive said she knew something about you, something she was planning to share at the dinner. Did you kill her before she could?”
“N-no, I didn’t. I swear,” Paula said.
A single tear spilled out of her eye, and Lindsey felt all of her own outraged emotion shift from herself to Paula. If they wanted to come after her, fine, but they would leave her staff alone.
Lindsey moved forward until she was looming over the three women. Now she was glad she’d worn heels—go figure.
“Back off,” she said.
“We have every ri—”
“No, you don’t,” Lindsey said. “You have no right to speak to my staff or me like that. Now, you will leave on your own, or I will call security and have you escorted out of the building in handcuffs if need be.”
The three women glanced at one another. They were clearly unsettled by Lindsey’s firm tone.
“Fine, but this isn’t over,” Amy snapped. She turned on her heel and led the way out of the building.
As soon as the doors whooshed shut behind them, Lindsey collapsed onto the circulation desk. She’d had to face down a few patrons in her time, but never ones accusing her of murder.
After a few beats, Ms. Cole asked, “We have security?”
“No,” Lindsey admitted. “But they didn’t know that.”
A rare smile lit up Ms. Cole’s normally stern countenance, and she said, “Well played.”
Lindsey was still processing that when Paula stepped forward. She handed Lindsey an envelope and said, “I had a feeling this sort of thing was going to happen. I won’t let it happen again. Thanks for taking a chance on me, Lindsey, but I quit.”
13
“What is this?” She opened the envelope and noted that it was a letter of resignation. “Paula, no, please don’t.”
“I’m sorry. I just can’t face that every day,” she said. “Everyone’s going to think I killed Olive, and I didn’t.”
“We know that,” Lindsey said. “And we won’t let anyone accuse you of anything so vile.”
“You can’t stop gossip,” Paula said. “It’s vicious and mean, and people thrive on it.”
“You’re right, and it’s a pity,” Ms. Cole said. “It’s difficult to stop gossip but not impossible.”
“You have a suggestion?” Paula asked her.
“Yes, you keep your head held high and a stiff upper lip, and you forge on, showing no emotion. Bullies always look for a weakness to exploit. If you don’t have one, then they can’t touch you.”
Lindsey couldn’t argue with this sound advice. She could not imagine anyone being stupid enough to try and bully Ms. Cole. She was a force of nature, and her stern demeanor alone scared the patrons into behaving.
Paula, however, was a different employee altogether. She was friendly and approachable and took her time with people, determined to get them what they needed. As public servants went, she was one of the best.
“She’s right,” Lindsey said. “You shouldn’t give up what you love because someone is trying to drive you out.”
“I appreciate that,” Paula said. “But the situation is complicated. Every time I help someone, I wonder if they think I’m a killer. It’s only a matter of time before you’re asking for my resignation. This will save us both the awkwardness.”
“Now why would I go and do that,” Lindsey asked, “when you haven’t done anything wrong?”
“Because like those ladies who were just in here, people will expect it, probably demand it,” Paula said. She rose from her seat, looking like she was getting ready to leave the library for good.
Ms. Cole and Lindsey exchanged an alarmed look. Ms. Cole snatched the letter out of Lindsey’s hand and tore it into tiny pieces.
“Hey!” Paula protested. “You can’t do that.”
“Looks like I just did,” Ms. Cole said. “Your resignation is refused.”
Lindsey had no idea what to say. If Paula wanted to quit, could Lindsey really force her to stay? Ms. Cole clearly had no issues with doing so.
“But—” Paula stared at the lemon wide-eyed.
“Paula, you have nothing to worry about,” Ms. Cole said.
Paula cast her a dubious look that expressed her opinion that the lemon was an encyclopedia shy of a full set without
her having to say so.
“You don’t,” Ms. Cole insisted. “Lindsey will find out what happened to Olive Boyle.”
“What? No!” Lindsey balked. “I don’t do that anymore.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” Ms. Cole frowned at her. “Of course you do.”
“No, I made a vow after I almost got my head blown off that I would not be a buttinsky anymore,” Lindsey protested.
“That was then and this is now,” Ms. Cole said. “Things have changed. This is one of your staff who needs help. You have to step up. It’s what you do.”
Ms. Cole looked bewildered, as if she couldn’t reconcile the image in her head of Lindsey being an investigator with the woman before her saying “no” and looking all professional.
“But I—” Lindsey wanted to argue. She wanted to insist that she couldn’t do this, but one look at Paula’s distraught face and she felt her resolve crumble like a cookie dunked in milk. “All right, well, I don’t suppose it would hurt anything if I asked a few questions.”
“Woo-hoo!”
Lindsey spun around to find Robbie standing behind her.
“How long have you been standing there?” she asked.
“Long enough to know that you’re back in the game,” he said. He rubbed his hands together, looking eager to start with the detecting.
“No, no, no,” she said. “You’re getting that look in your eye, and the answer is no.”
“Oh, come on,” he argued. “Look at the poor girl. She’s scared out of her wits. You have to help her.”
He gestured at Paula, who was watching the two of them with a decidedly hopeful glint in her eye. How could Lindsey refuse to help one of her staff? She couldn’t.
“Fine,” she said. They all smiled, so she felt compelled to add, “But if there is a hint of danger, even a mere suggestion of it, I am tapping out.”
“Absolutely,” Robbie said. “That is a perfectly reasonable response.”
Lindsey stared at him. She did not trust his happy little grin, so she added, “I mean it.”
Death in the Stacks Page 10
