Read and Gone
A HAUNTED LIBRARY MYSTERY
Allison Brook
For my dear friends and fellow mystery writers, the Plothatchers: Krista Davis, Daryl Gerber, Peg Cochran, Kaye George, Ginger Bolton, and Laurie Cass. We’ve been together more than fifteen years, plotting books and sharing the good times and the bad. I love you all!
Acknowledgments
I want to thank everyone at Crooked Lane Books who helped turn my manuscript into a polished and beautiful book. I love working with you! To my wonderful editor, Faith Black Ross, who knows just which issues need attention; to Sarah Poppe for doing such a great job promoting my series and Jenny Chen for overseeing the production end–both so responsive to my questions and concerns. To my copy editor, for her careful attention to detail, and to the fantastic Griesbach/Martucci team of illustrators for my series’ outstanding covers. My readers adore them!
A special thanks to my agent, Dawn Dowdle, for being so diligent and helpful. And a very warm and heartfelt expression of gratitude to my many readers who have told me how much they loved reading Death Overdue and can hardly wait to read Read and Gone.
Chapter One
I glanced around my cottage at the thirty or so guests laughing and chatting, and grinned. My party’s a success! They’re all having a great time! Judging by the bulging plastic bag of discarded paper plates, it was time to serve dessert. I was on my way to the kitchen to instruct Mrs. C to put out coffee and tea, when I felt a tug on my pants leg.
“Cousin Carrie, this is the bestest party! I ate sushi and lasagna and lots of other things.”
I smiled at my cousin’s four-year-old daughter, with whom I shared a secret. “I hope you left room for dessert, Tacey.”
“We’re going to sing ‘Happy Birthday.’” She shot me a piercing look. “Everyone will know how old you are.”
I winced. “Pretty old, huh?”
“Uh-huh. You’re thirty.”
I found Mrs. C, efficient as ever, covering a platter of leftover deli meats with plastic wrap. Eager to help, I removed a chocolate cake from its box and placed it on a plate.
“I’ll take care of that, Carrie. You return to your celebration,” she instructed in her Scottish brogue.
Great-Aunt Harriet hurried into the kitchen, wearing an expression of dismay.
“Carrie, dear, I thought I’d packed everything so carefully, but I left the milk at home. Our car’s blocked in, so Bosco can’t get out to buy some for our coffee.”
I’d consumed enough wine not to worry about such trivialities. “There’s at least a cup of milk in the fridge.”
“That won’t be enough. What will we do?”
I felt an arm wrap around my shoulders and breathed in Dylan’s cologne before I turned to see him standing at my side.
“I have a container of milk at the house. I’ll run out and get it.”
“Thank you,” I said, kissing him quickly.
“I won’t be long.”
He wouldn’t be. Dylan was my landlord. His mansion, as I thought of his large, elegant house, was only a quarter of a mile down the road.
When the kitchen door slammed behind him, Aunt Harriet grinned. “Dylan’s such a nice boy. And I see that he makes you happy.”
“Now, Aunt Harriet, don’t rush things. We just started dating.”
“Some things don’t take long.”
I left Aunt Harriet placing cookies on a tray and paused in the hall to gather my thoughts. I was happy—happier than I’d been for as long as I could remember. My cottage was filled with the people I cared most about in the world. All this was new to me. I’d had none of this before I’d come to stay with my great-aunt and -uncle last spring. Now I had a life filled with friends, family, and my job as head of Programs and Events at the Clover Ridge Public Library.
And I was dating Dylan Avery! Right now I was deliriously happy, but I didn’t know how long it would last. Dylan’s job took him away from home most of the time. And I knew from experience that something this wonderful usually had a limited shelf life.
My guests had broken into groups, the largest being that of my library colleagues: my best friend, Angela, and her boyfriend; my two assistants; my boss Sally and her husband; Marion Marshall, the children’s librarian; and others. They sat around the living room, laughing and exchanging stories as Mrs. C cleared the tables of paper plates and plastic cups.
I could hear Uncle Bosco in the den, performing magic tricks for Tacey’s brother, her parents, and a few other cousins I didn’t know very well.
I walked over to the group gathered in the dining room. As soon as Jared Foster saw me approach, he put his arm around the girl he’d brought and seemed very interested in what she was saying. Jared and I had gotten pretty close when we were investigating the murders of his mother and Al Buckley. I wouldn’t call the evenings we spent with his family and friends actual dates, but I had gotten the impression that he cared for me more than I did for him. After I told Jared I couldn’t see him anymore and he realized I liked Dylan, I was sure he’d refuse to come to my birthday-housewarming party. But he must have decided to show me he could get someone else, and had brought her to the party. I was glad he’d decided to come and appreciated the many balloons and “Happy Birthday” and “Housewarming” signs adorning the cottage. Despite the change in our relationship, Jared had taken care of the decorations as promised.
“Coffee and dessert coming up soon,” I said.
“Terrific party,” Jared and Ryan’s uncle George said.
“Yes, it is,” George’s girlfriend said. “Thank you for inviting us.”
Gillian, Ryan’s girlfriend, sent me one of her perky grins. “I hope you’re planning to open your gifts soon.”
I returned her grin. “I will. It seems no one paid attention to my ‘No Gifts’ instructions on the invitation.”
“That’s because you’re an easy person to buy gifts for,” she said.
Gillian was a sweetheart. I often wondered how she could be in a relationship with hotheaded Ryan, who took plenty of verbal potshots at his younger brother when they were together. Jared never responded in kind. Could be Jared knew that Ryan envied him because he was an accountant with a well-respected Clover Ridge firm, while Ryan went from one low-level job to another.
“Carrie, you should know that people never do the expected,” Ken Talbot quipped.
“I should,” I said, patting his shoulder. I’d grown fond of Ken, Uncle George’s college roommate and the Foster family’s lawyer. Ken’s partner gazed at him with doting eyes. I was glad Ken had brought Adam, and I hoped to get to know him better.
“Carrie, come here! We’ve hardly seen you all afternoon.”
I turned. Barbara Sills, my predecessor as head of P and E until she and her husband had moved to California, was beckoning me to the library group. Trish and Susan, my two assistants, made room for me on the sofa, so I plopped down between them.
“Sally was telling me you’re doing a terrific job. I see I’m not missed at all.”
“I wouldn’t know how to run the department if it weren’t for what you taught me,” I said with heartfelt emotion.
“Carrie’s still learning, but she’s a terrific head of P and E. We’re lucky to have her.”
I blushed to hear such high praise from Sally, who hadn’t wanted me for the position at first.
“Here! Here!” They chanted as Trish and Susan patted me on the back.
The lights in the cottage dimmed as Aunt Harriet carried a birthday cake with lit candles into the dining room. Everyone stood. Dylan appeared at my side as everyone began singing “Happy Birthday.”
Too soon it was over. My guests enjoyed their cake, cookies, and ice cream as I opened my presents, mo
stly clothing and articles for the house. I doubted I’d ever use the waffle iron that Tacey and Mark’s parents had bought me, but it was kind of them to get it. My cottage, which I rented from Dylan for a ridiculously low amount, had come equipped with every imaginable appliance.
By nine thirty, most of my guests had departed. Even Mrs. C, after reminding me to leave out whatever clothes I wanted her to launder when she cleaned the cottage on Tuesday, went on her way. Soon only Uncle Bosco, Aunt Harriet, and Dylan remained.
I hugged my aunt and uncle. “Thank you for my wonderful party and for my wonderful life here.”
“I told you you belonged in Clover Ridge,” Uncle Bosco said. “You have deep family roots here. I’m glad you invited some of your cousins today. There are plenty more. You’ll meet them at the next Singleton family get-together. There’s one coming up this summer.”
Family was one of Uncle Bosco’s favorite topics. I rolled my eyes. Aunt Harriet noticed and patted his arm. “Now Bosco, leave the girl be. Can’t you see she has enough to take care of right now?”
“I asked Mrs. C to make up a package of leftovers for you to take home. You ordered enough for twice as many guests.”
After some fussing, my aunt and uncle departed with several bags of food, and I had Dylan all to myself.
He drew me close for a deep kiss. Finally he pulled away. “I wish I could stay, but I have to get some shut-eye.”
“I know. The limo’s picking you up at four forty-five for your early morning flight.”
“Clever girl.” He stroked my cheek with his finger. “We’ll make up for it when I’m home again.”
“When will that be?”
“Christmas weekend definitely. Next weekend if we’re lucky.”
We. How I loved the sound of that small, two-letter word. “All right. I won’t nag.”
“I’m sure you have plenty of work to do, getting the library ready for the holiday programs.”
“As if that makes up for it.” I gave him a gentle push. “Go on before I pull you back. Then you won’t get away till morning.”
After Dylan left, I opened my bedroom door and turned on the light, waking Smoky Joe, who’d been fast asleep on my bed. He opened his green eyes and stretched his lithe, half-grown body, flicking his bushy tail in the air before jumping down to greet me.
I knelt down to scratch behind his ears. “You must be hungry since you finished all the treats I left you.”
I carried his litter box back to the mudroom next to the kitchen, then brought his dishes into the kitchen to refill them with food and water. I watched him devour his late meal, purring as he ate.
“Everyone asked for you,” I said, “but the cottage was too crowded for you to run around as usual. And while you’re generally well behaved, I was afraid that seeing all that food might tempt you to jump on tables.”
He lifted his head to stare balefully at me, then returned to his meal.
“Anyway, you’ll see most everyone who came to the party at the library tomorrow.”
Though it was only a few weeks ago that Smoky Joe had turned up at the cottage, crying for food, it seemed he’d been a part of my life much longer. Through an odd sequence of events, I’d ended up bringing him to work with me that morning. The gray beauty proved to be the most sociable of felines. When Sally asked me what I thought he was doing in the library, I told her he was our new library cat. Thank goodness she liked the idea, and now I brought him to work with me every day. The patrons loved making a fuss over him, and Trish had written an article about him, which would appear in our next newsletter.
I was charged up with emotion and energy, too restless to settle down. I changed into my nightgown, then plopped down on the living room sofa and flicked through the TV channels. I paused briefly to watch the Sunday night news, but nothing caught my interest. I sat down at my computer in the spare bedroom, which I’d set up as my office, and read my latest emails. A few were from people I’d just seen, who had written to tell me how much they’d enjoyed my party.
I glanced down at the list of who had brought what that Angela and Gillian had thoughtfully made as I’d opened my presents. I’d send out thank-you notes very soon, but not tonight.
Eventually the excitement of the day caught up with me, and I grew sleepy. I got into bed and slipped beneath the covers and switched off the nightstand lamp. I smiled as Smoky Joe nestled against me as he too settled in for the night.
A sound woke me. I jerked upright to a sitting position. Smoky Joe was gone. Someone was in the cottage!
“Who’s there?”
Nothing.
For a moment I thought Dylan had decided to surprise me after all, but the illuminated numbers of my digital clock said three thirty, an hour and a quarter before his departure for the airport.
I turned on the lamp and surveyed the bedroom. Nothing seemed out of place. Why would a thief travel all the way to a cottage on a private road? I had nothing of value.
My heart began to pound. No one would hear me if I screamed. Dylan was in the Avery mansion a quarter of a mile away.
“Help!” I shrieked at the top of my lungs.
“Shh.”
“Who are you? What are you doing here?” I screamed as a man appeared in the doorway.
“Caro, it’s me.”
Caro. The only person who called me that was my father. I stared at Jim Singleton, for that’s how I thought of him these days. I remembered him as a handsome man—tall and slender with good, even features. Now he looked haggard and grubby, with a beard of several days’ growth.
“Don’t you know your own father?”
“Why would I recognize you?” I asked. “I haven’t seen you in years.”
“I’m sorry about that. I meant to contact you sooner, but things kept cropping up.”
“Things,” I spat. “Burglaries. Heists. Don’t come any closer!” I shouted as he stepped toward me.
Smoky Joe chose that minute to amble into the room. He stopped to rub his face against my father’s leg. Jim bent down to stroke his flank. “Good-looking cat. Come from around here? There was a farm nearby that had bushy-tailed cats.”
Instead of answering, I slipped on my bathrobe and strode past him. He followed me into the living room, where I switched on a lamp and remained standing. My father surveyed the room with a practiced eye.
“Nice place. Does it still belong to the Averys?”
“Dylan lives in the mansion. His parents are dead.”
My father sank down on the sofa and stifled a yawn. “And you’re head of a department at the local library. I’m proud of you.” His grin stopped my heart for a moment. As a kid, I would have done anything for one of his grins!
“Really? You have a funny way of showing it.”
“No matter what you think of me, I keep track of your life.”
“Sure you do,” I jeered. “The library’s newsletter is online for anyone to read. How did you find me?”
“I hung out behind Bosco’s house. Heard him and Harriet talking about your party. Happy Birthday, by the way. Thought I’d wait an hour or two. Make sure everyone was gone.”
I threw him a look of disgust. “You waited till three in the morning to wake me from a deep sleep? Why all the secrecy?”
“Well, darlin’, some people are looking for me. I thought it best to wait until now to see you.”
“How did you get in?”
“Your kitchen door lock isn’t very secure. Do you have anything to eat, by the way? I haven’t had dinner. Or lunch, for that matter.”
Jim sat down at the kitchen table while I made up a plate with slices of turkey and ham. I also warmed up a huge piece of lasagna in the microwave. He ate quickly and neatly as usual. My father was a thief, but he believed in good clothes and good manners. When he asked me to serve him more, I knew he probably hadn’t eaten since yesterday.
“Coffee?” I asked.
“Please. Black, two sugars.”
“As always,” I
murmured before I could stop myself. I was annoyed that I’d kept his habits close to my heart.
He shot me a grin. “You remembered.”
“Why are you here?” I asked as I slipped a French roast pod into the Keurig.
“I need your help, Caro.”
I swallowed. Whatever he wanted meant trouble.
“Do you know Benton Parr, the jeweler?”
“I’ve met him since he’s on the library board with Uncle Bosco. And I’ve spoken to him a few times on the phone. He’s giving a talk Tuesday evening on ‘Gems: How to Tell the Real from the Fake.’”
“I know he is.” Jim suddenly sprang to his feet and paced the length of the kitchen. “What do you make of him?”
I shrugged. “He seems pleasant. Dresses well. He’s strongly in favor of the new addition to the library.”
“Benton Parr’s a thief!”
I started to laugh but immediately froze when I caught his furious expression. “We nabbed seven million dollars worth of perfect loose stones. My retirement fund. Parr took the lot for safekeeping. I’ve tried contacting him several times this past month, but he refuses to answer my emails and calls.” He patted my shoulder as he gave me a rueful smile. “Caro, I’m afraid I need to ask you to act as a go-between and retrieve my share of the stones.”
Chapter Two
“You want to involve me in one of your crooked deals that could land me in prison?” My voice rose with every word. “How could you—your own daughter?”
“Caro, listen. All I’m asking is—”
“Why did you come here? I want you to leave.” Tears sprang to my eyes. Angrily, I scrubbed them away.
Jim tried to touch my arm, but I moved out of his reach. “All I’m asking you to do is talk to Parr. Tell him I’m here to set up a meet and collect what’s mine. Then let me know what he says.”
“What’s yours!” I said bitterly. “How did you get like this?”
His eyes filled with sadness. “It’s a long story, Caro. I’ll tell you someday.”
“Don’t tell me. I don’t want to know. I wish you’d never come back into my life.”
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