Death in the Stacks

by Jenn McKinlay

  “Yeah, you don’t care,” Kim snapped. She sniffed and ran the cuff of her sleeve under her nose. “Just like everyone else. You just want to use me and abuse me and then throw me away.”

  “Robbie didn’t mean to lead you on,” Lindsey said. “I’m sure he feels terrible.”

  “If he does, it’s only because he’s soaked in beer, not because he has any feelings for me. I’m just one of the ‘mean girls.’”

  Lindsey’s eyes went wide before she thought to school her reaction.

  “Yeah, we know what you call us,” Kim said. She glanced around the parking lot as if wondering how she’d gotten there. “And to think I used to be a happily married, well-liked, upstanding member of my community, all of that. God, I hate this place.”

  A sob bubbled out of her, and Lindsey froze. She had no idea what to say or do. She suspected if she tried to hug Kim, she’d likely get punched in the face.

  “Do you want me to call your friends?” she asked.

  Kim wiped her eyes, yanked the door of her car open and tossed her handbag in. Then she rounded on Lindsey with a narrowed gaze. “Friends? What friends? I don’t have any friends.”

  Lindsey stood staring after her as she zipped out of the parking lot without even pausing to check for traffic. The bottom of her car seemed to bounce off the asphalt as she hit the curb, but even that didn’t slow her down. Lindsey turned and hurried back into the Anchor, fervently hoping she didn’t hear the sound of a crash as she went.

  That was telling. Kim didn’t feel that LeAnn and Amy were her friends, but why did she feel that way? Was Olive the glue that held the group together, and with her gone, was it unraveling? So many questions. So many suspects. And Paula missing.

  How long could Lindsey keep covering for her with human resources before it cost Paula her job? They had to figure out who had murdered Olive and soon.

  • • •

  When Lindsey and Sully arrived at her apartment, it was to find Nancy, Violet, Charlene and Beth waiting for them in Nancy’s apartment. Lindsey had let Nancy know that morning that she was moving in with Sully. She had been worried that Nancy would take the news hard. She wasn’t just losing Lindsey, after all. She was losing Heathcliff as her buddy as well.

  To Lindsey’s relief, Nancy had clapped her hands in delight and hugged her close. She was thrilled with the news. Leave it to Nancy to let the good in Lindsey’s life outshine any sadness she felt about losing Lindsey as a tenant. That was friendship. Lindsey couldn’t imagine any of the mean girls treating one another as supportively, and she felt sorry for them. They were missing out on one of life’s greatest gifts.

  “All right, I rallied the troops, and we have enough boxes to tackle your bookshelves,” Nancy said. “So you can get this move started.”

  She led the way upstairs, leaving the others to follow. They all grabbed some of the flattened boxes and climbed up after her.

  “You do have room in your house for all of her books, don’t you?” Violet asked Sully. They paused on the second-floor landing.

  “Yes,” he said. “I have a whole room that can be turned into her very own library if she chooses.”

  “Aw, that’s so sweet,” Beth said. “Aidan is converting my spare bedroom into a studio. He thinks I should continue writing my children’s books. Man, I love him.”

  Lindsey grinned. “He’s right. You should. You’re going to get published one day. I know it.”

  Beth hugged her with one arm while clutching her flattened boxes with the other. “Best friend, maid of honor and boss all rolled into one awesome package.” She looked at Sully with a beady eye. “Take care of my girl.”

  “Always,” Sully said.

  “And now I’m going to get all weepy,” Charlene said.

  Lindsey glanced over her shoulder to see Charlene fan her eyes. “It seems like just yesterday, Martin and I were moving in together. Now we’ve got three kids and a mortgage. Savor every second—it goes by so fast.”

  Lindsey looked at Sully in alarm. Kids? She’d never really thought about that before. They’d never even talked about that or marriage or any of that adult stuff. She felt panic begin to thump hard in her chest.

  Sully’s eyebrows rose as he looked at her face. He took her elbow and held her back, allowing the others to go ahead.

  “All right if I use my key to go in?” Nancy called from above.

  “Yeah, go ahead,” Lindsey said. “I’ll be right there.”

  By unspoken agreement, they waited until everyone was out of earshot.

  “Darlin’, are you going sideways on me?” Sully asked.

  “Huh?” she panted. “Sideways or maybe upside down. We have to talk.”

  “No, we don’t,” he said.

  “But we’ve never . . . I don’t know . . . What if . . .” Lindsey dropped her boxes and sat down hard on the steps.

  Sully kneeled right in front of her. “Hey, we don’t have to make any big decisions right now.”

  “Some might argue that moving in together is a big decision,” she said.

  “We’re not some,” he said. He studied her face. “What freaked you out?”

  “The k word,” she said.

  He nodded. She couldn’t tell if that meant he understood because he felt the same, or if he was now reconsidering their whole situation because she was undecided about procreating.

  He leaned close, until they were nose to nose and eyeball to eyeball. “The k word freaks me out, too.”

  “It does?” she asked. “But you were so happy about Mary and Ian having a baby.”

  “Of course,” he said. “A, because they’ve both always wanted kids. B, because uncle is the greatest job ever, as in you get to spoil them rotten and then give them back. And, C, Ian deserves to be tortured with a child just like him.”

  Lindsey felt her heart rate slow. Were they actually on the same page here?

  “Hey, slackers!” Beth shouted from above. “This apartment isn’t going to pack itself.”

  “Be right there,” Lindsey cried. She turned back to Sully and said, “So, if we decided we want kids, that’s okay?”

  “Yup.”

  “And if we decide we don’t want kids, that’s okay, too?”

  “Yup,” he said again. “The key, darling, is that we decide together.” He studied her face. “Are you okay now?”

  “Yeah,” she said. She was pleased to discover that she even meant it. “But clearly there are things we need to talk about.”

  “And here I thought we’d covered it with the ‘seat being left up’ and the ‘floor is a hamper’ things,” he said. He handed back her boxes as they began to climb the last flight of steps. “I’m open to discussing anything.”

  “Good, because I’m going to make a list,” she said. When he gave her a funny look, she pointed to herself and added, “Librarian.”

  Sully laughed. “I wouldn’t have you any other way.”

  • • •

  Paula did not show up for work again the next day. Her original text message saying she was taking some personal time was the only communication Lindsey had from her missing clerk. She knew Paula was avoiding being taken in for questioning, and given that the evidence really wasn’t in her favor, Lindsey couldn’t blame her. Lindsey called Paula’s partner Hannah, but if Hannah knew where Paula was, she wasn’t saying and Lindsey didn’t press the issue. That was a job for the police.

  In an effort to help, Lindsey found the paperwork that human resources demanded for an official leave of absence and filled it out on Paula’s behalf. She didn’t need to submit it yet, but in a couple of days, it would be the only thing that would keep Paula from losing her job permanently.

  Given that Paula’s absence put them a person down at the circulation desk, Lindsey left her office to go assist Ms. Cole out front. Just like it was the library d
irector’s job to plunge a toilet in case of an emergency, it was also her responsibility to step in wherever she was needed. Ah, the glamour.

  The lemon was, ironically, in shades of all yellow today, from a pale butter-colored top to a retina-searing Day-Glo skirt that Lindsey couldn’t look at directly because it made her see spots when she looked away.

  “Paula won’t be in today,” Lindsey said. “I’ll help you catch up with the backlog.”

  Ms. Cole looked at her over the reading glasses perched on her nose. “So, no luck finding the killer then?”

  “Not yet,” Lindsey said.

  Ms. Cole looked as if she was about to chastise her, and Lindsey braced herself for the terse rebuke. Just in time, a woman approached the desk, interrupting whatever the lemon was about to say. Lindsey welcomed the distraction until she recognized the buxom blonde in front of her.

  “Hello, Kili,” Lindsey said. Although she greeted the reporter, her tone was far from welcoming.

  “I’m looking for Paula Turner,” Kili said. She tossed her blond hair and leaned on the counter as if she planned to adhere herself to the furniture until she got what she wanted.

  “Paula isn’t here.”

  “Then where is she? I checked her apartment and talked to her landlord. No one seems to know where she’s gone. To me that screams of a murderer on the run.”

  “Oh, for Pete’s sake,” Lindsey snapped. “Could you be any more of a hack?”

  Kili gasped and reared back as if Lindsey had slapped her.

  “I’ll have you know I have won awards—”

  Ms. Cole snorted, interrupting her tirade.

  “I have!” Kili insisted.

  “Not really the point,” Lindsey said. “Listen, I am sorry I called you a hack, that was rude, but you’re going for the easy suspect by tracking down Paula, and you know it.”

  “I happen to know about her past,” Kili said. “I haven’t gone on air with it yet because I wanted to give her the opportunity to explain.”

  “Very big of you,” Lindsey said. “I imagine it is also due to the fact that it’s based on rumors and innuendo.”

  “Maybe,” Kili said, admitting nothing.

  “You could do that,” Lindsey said. “You could deliver half the story with lots of speculation, but wouldn’t it be better to be a real investigative reporter and get the whole story?”

  Kili stared at her for a moment. “I’m listening.”

  “Paula didn’t murder Olive Boyle.”

  “Says you.”

  “I happen to be right,” Lindsey said.

  “And, yet, you can’t prove it, can you?”

  “I will.” Lindsey made her voice sound firm. It was the voice she used when going into battle at budget meetings.

  “All right,” Kili said. “I’ll hold off on the story on one condition.”

  “Name it.”

  “We investigate together, and if we don’t find a more viable suspect than Paula, you give me an exclusive interview as the employer of the murderer.”

  “Done.”

  Ms. Cole drew in a breath, as if she didn’t approve of this maneuver, but what choice did Lindsey have? A deal with the devil was about the only thing she hadn’t tried.

  “So, if not Paula, emphasis on the if, then who do you think killed Olive Boyle?”

  “Her ex-husband, his wife, her half sister, one of her friends, one of the people in town she tangled with,” Lindsey said. “It’s a long list.”

  “No, it isn’t,” Kili said. “Her husband had no reason to kill her, and neither did his wife—”

  “That we know of,” Lindsey interrupted.

  “Yes, Olive was difficult to several townspeople, but does that warrant killing her?” Kili asked. “I read the police report from that night. The only reason you found Olive at all was because her friends came back to the library looking for her when she didn’t show up near their car. How could one of them have murdered her if they were all together?”

  “The last time anyone saw Olive Boyle was just before the auction closed,” Lindsey said. “That was a half hour before the event ended. Any of her friends could have killed her and met up with their group without arousing suspicion.”

  Kili stared at her. Lindsey could see she was mulling over this news, turning it around in her mind as if to study it from every angle.

  “What were the women wearing?” Kili asked.

  “Relevance?”

  “Bloodstains,” Ms. Cole said. “Did any of the friends have bloodstains on their clothes?” Both Kili and Lindsey looked at Ms. Cole in surprise. She shrugged. “It’s not brain surgery.”

  Lindsey turned to Kili. She frowned in concentration, trying to remember what the other women had been wearing. The only one she could picture clearly was Olive in her beaded black dress. The others were fuzzy at best.

  “I’ve got nothing,” she said.

  “Really?”

  “Sorry,” Lindsey said. “Kind of had my mind on other things.”

  “All right, say I agree that the friends warrant looking at. How do you suggest we go about that?”

  “Divide and conquer,” Lindsey said. “I’ll dig into Kim MacInnes’s background and see what I can come up with, and you can start with LeAnn Barnett. Whoever finishes first can then look at Amy Ellers.”

  “What are we looking for?” Kili asked.

  “A reason to murder Olive Boyle,” Lindsey said.

  “Duh, I was looking for something a little more specific.”

  Lindsey blew out a breath and wondered if she was crazy, trusting Kili at all.

  “None of those women shed a tear when Olive was found dead,” Lindsey said. “If the friendship was genuine, wouldn’t they have been more upset? I suspect they were friends with Olive out of necessity, not affection. If that’s true, then what was Olive holding over them to keep them in line?”

  “Interesting angle,” Kili conceded.

  “Report back in later today,” Lindsey said. When Kili didn’t move, Lindsey bugged her eyes at her and made a shooing motion with her hands.

  “Fine, I’m going,” Kili snapped. “But I’m telling you right now: if we don’t find anything suspicious on the friends, I am going after Paula Turner with everything I have.”

  She stepped back from the counter, jutting her chin up in the air like she was some sort of tough guy. Then she walked out of the library with a swagger that was completely unwarranted.

  “Do you really trust her?” Ms. Cole asked.

  “Not even a little,” Lindsey said. “But what choice do I have? Emma is going to lose patience with Paula’s disappearing act. I’m afraid she may put out a warrant for her arrest if she doesn’t surface soon.”

  “Let’s hope Kili’s a better investigative journalist than she is a person,” Ms. Cole said. “Otherwise, it will be easy for her to pin the murder on Paula and spin the story so that it sounds like Paula is a guilty fugitive, and you’ll be forced to give an interview to support that theory.”

  Lindsey felt her heart clutch in her chest. Poor Paula. She did not deserve this. It was a risk pulling Kili into the investigation, but Lindsey couldn’t do it alone, and it was pretty clear that Robbie was now going to be of little or no use to her when it came to the mean girls.

  She finished checking in all of the books in the drop. Then she did a scan of the library to make certain that everything was as it should be. The ficus in the reading corner looked a little droopy, so she wandered over to it to stick her finger in the pot and see if it was dry. Honestly, she had no idea when she’d watered it last. Plant care was yet another thing they hadn’t really prepped her for in library school.

  The soil felt desert dry. Lindsey went to fetch a pitcher of water, and while she was tending the plant, she glanced out the window to enjoy the view of the island
s out in the bay before going back to her office. It was a clear, crisp autumn day, and the sunlight sparkled on the ocean while the seagulls rode the breeze, ducking and diving into the water as they foraged for a meal.

  Lindsey saw a crowd gathering in the gazebo that stood at the edge of the narrow park across the street from the library. It only took her a moment or two to recognize the motley crew as the hat-shop-owning Londoners who were visiting Briar Creek.

  She watched as the handsome Andre Eisel crouched on one knee. His smile was a slash of white teeth against his bronze skin as he smiled at Scarlett, the redhead, while holding an expensive-looking camera up to his face. She was wearing a confection of powder blue on her head, and she strutted, striking ridiculous poses as he snapped off pictures.

  The other two women, Fee and Viv, also took turns posing while the remaining men, Nick, Harrison and Alistair, stood nearby, sometimes jumping into the photos with the girls or just patiently holding on to the ladies’ fabulous hats while they took in the beauty of the islands. She watched as they pointed out the boats docked all along the pier. Briar Creek and the Thumb Islands really were a boater’s paradise.

  She wondered if they were using the natural backdrop to shoot advertisements for their hat shop. Maybe it would go on their webpage or in a print catalog. The thought made her smile. They had said at the dinner that Andre was a professional photographer. How fortunate for them . . . or perhaps for Paula.

  It hit Lindsey then. Andre had been taking pictures the night of the dinner. He had covered the event, the speeches, the dancing and the auction.

  Lindsey left the ficus and hurried into the back room. She left the watering can on her desk and grabbed her coat. She had to go talk to him. She had to see if he’d kept his pictures from that night. If he had, it was highly possible that he’d gotten a shot of the killer.

  21

  Lindsey yanked on her jacket as she dashed across the street. Luckily, today had been a boots, slacks and sweater sort of day, so her mobility wasn’t hampered by a skirt and heels.

  “Hi!” she cried with a wave. The group had left the gazebo and was walking toward the docks, probably to take more pictures.