I stepped off the trail toward the embosser, bending down to get a better look. Yep, that was definitely the library’s embosser. A thread of navy blue fabric caught on one of the screws flapped in the wind … and was that blood on the side?
My heart thudded in my chest as I reached out to pick it up …
“Stop right there! Put your hands in the air, stand up slowly and turn around!”
Chapter Nine
A steely gray glare coming from the broad shouldered behemoth who was holding the gun on me rooted me to the spot. Adrenalin shot through my body as my mind registered a chiseled jaw, trim waist and sheriff’s uniform.
Sheriff’s uniform?
Augusta was the sheriff here, and this guy sure as heck wasn’t Augusta.
“Who the hell are you?” I probably should have asked more nicely, but I was mad … and a little scared.
His left eyebrow quirked up and I thought I saw a smile tease the corners of his lips.
“I might ask you the same,” he said, his eyes shifting to the embosser still lying on the ground. “What are you doing here and what is that you were bending over?”
Panic lapped at my stomach as I considered how to explain exactly what I was doing there. I certainly couldn’t tell him I was looking for the murder weapon since I wasn’t supposed to know there even was a murder.
“Meow!”
I shot the cat a grateful look. “My cat … I was here looking for my cat.”
As if on cue, Pandora trotted over to my side and rubbed her face against my leg.
Relief washed away the panic as a familiar figure came around the corner—Augusta.
“Willa? What’s going on here?” Augusta looked from the behemoth to me, her brow wrinkled in confusion.
“You know her?” Behemoth asked.
Augusta sighed and holstered her gun. “You can put your gun away, Striker. It’s my sister.”
“Who the hell is he?” I asked Augusta, gesturing toward Striker with my chin. I still had my hands up because the behemoth was still pointing his gun at me.
“This is Eddie Striker.” Augusta nodded toward Striker. “He’s the sheriff over in Dixford Pass. I asked him to help out since I don’t have much experience with homicides.”
“Homicide? So Lavinia was murdered.” I tried to sound surprised.
Augusta shifted on her feet. “Yes, I suppose I can tell you since it’s going to come out sooner or later. The medical examiner determined she was hit on the head with something. That probably didn’t kill her, but it stunned her and the push down the stairs finished her off.”
“Poor Lavinia,” I said.
Augusta narrowed her eyes at me. “So, just what are you doing here behind the library?”
“What are you doing here?” I asked, wondering if they’d come to the same conclusion I had and were also looking for the murder weapon.
“I asked first,” Augusta replied.
Striker was sliding his eyes back and forth between us, an amused expression on his face. I was not so amused that he still had his gun aimed at me.
“Pandora ran back here and I was trying to get her,” I lied. Was I in store for some bad karma for lying to my sister? Probably.
“Are you sure that’s all it is?” Augusta looked at me suspiciously. “I know how you have a habit of sticking your nose into investigations.”
“Can I put my hands down?” My arms were starting to hurt, plus I wanted to avoid addressing Augusta’s comment. It was true, I did have a habit of investigating on my own from my years of training as a crime journalist.
“Yes,” Augusta sighed.
“No!” Striker shot Augusta a look.
I held my hands halfway up, my eyes wavering between the two of them.
“She could be a suspect. I caught her bending over that.” Striker nodded toward the embosser.
“What is that?” Augusta walked over and bent down to inspect it.
“It’s the embosser from the library. I saw it when I came back here after Pandora. I was going to pick it up and return it to the library when King Kong over here tried to shoot me down.” Another lie … bad karma was coming my way for sure.
Augusta took a plastic bag out of her pocket and deftly bagged the embosser without ever touching it with her fingers.
“Did you touch this?” She held the bag up in front of my face.
“No.” At least I wasn’t lying that time.
“Okay, I think we can let her go,” Augusta held her hand up to squelch Striker’s protest. “Striker, she’s my sister. She found Lavinia and called it in.”
“She found the body and now I catch her bending over the murder weapon? In Dixford Pass, she’d be my number one suspect,” Striker said incredulously.
“I’ll vouch for her. Let’s take this to the lab. I think I see blood on the corner.” Augusta turned to walk away and Striker reluctantly lowered his gun and followed. When they got to the corner of the building, Augusta half turned back toward me.
“Willa, you can put your hands down now,” she shot over her shoulder. “Oh … and don’t leave town.”
***
I walked to the parking lot, Pandora trotting at my side with a satisfied look on her face.
“Well, looks like we found the murder weapon,” I said to her as I started the Jeep.
She ignored me, curled up in the passenger seat and went to sleep.
I thought about the murder weapon as I drove home. I couldn’t really picture the perfectly-coiffed Ophelia smashing Lavinia on the back of the head with the embosser, but she was the only lead I had.
The embosser had blood on it. There was no doubt in my mind it was the murder weapon. I remembered the thread of navy blue fabric that was caught on one of the screws.
Was the fabric already on there or could it have come from the murderer?
Who else would have been in the library that morning and why? Did Lavinia have any enemies? Or was the intruder after something in the library, anyway? What would someone want in a library? All that was in there were books, and as far as I knew, none of them were valuable. Could there be something else of value in the library?
I pulled into my driveway and walked into the house like a zombie, exhausted from thinking.
As usual, Pandora sped ahead of me, making a beeline for her dish.
“Are you hungry?” I asked the obvious as I searched in the cupboard for her favorite food. “You deserve a special treat, since you led me to the murder weapon.”
I studied the cat as she ate. She had led me to the murder weapon, which was rather odd. But who was I to talk about odd? I talked to ghosts and that wasn’t exactly normal.
I wished Lavinia’s ghost would appear now. I had some questions for her. Maybe if I called her out?
“Lavinia?” I ventured.
No one appeared.
“Lavinia, I have some questions that might help solve your murder.”
Still nothing. Darn ghosts, appear when you don’t want them to and then they aren’t around when you need them.
I opened the fridge to rummage for something to eat and spied Elspeth’s apple pie—the perfect supper for a crazy day like today.
I cut an extra-large piece and topped it off with vanilla ice cream. Sitting at the table, I stretched my leg out on the chair and dug into the pie. The apples practically melted in my mouth, the sugar and cinnamon tantalizing my taste buds. The crust was perfectly crunchy and Elspeth had sprinkled it with large sugar crystals for an extra boost. The slightly melted ice cream added the perfect creamy complement.
I finished the pie and brought the plate to the sink, suddenly feeling exhausted. Limping up the stairs, I threw on pajamas and slid into bed with a good book about a pirate in 1820s England.
Pandora positioned herself at the foot of the bed. Her greenish-golden eyes glowed in the dark, watching me as I fell into a deep sleep.
In my dream, I was taken aboard a pirate ship against my will. Not that I minded, though …
the pirate looked kind of like Striker and I vaguely remember half-hoping he would ravish me like the pirate in my book had ravished the heroine. It was incredibly real and I slept deeply without moving a muscle.
So deeply, in fact, that I would never have noticed if someone snuck in and did a thorough search of my house and barn.
Chapter Ten
I got to the bookstore early the next day. Pandora settled into her cat bed in the window and I started sorting and putting away the books that had accumulated, which included a boxful from an internet auction I’d won and a pile of old books I’d picked up in my travels.
Inside the box was a wonderful set of five poetry books bound in rich brown leather with gold leaf on the edges of the pages. I carefully carried them to the poetry section and made room for them on the shelf at eye level.
“I shall tell you with a sigh, the poetry section needs some bulking up.”
I gasped, momentarily startled at the voice in my ear, then turned to see the ghostly figure of Robert Frost at my side. The poet’s ghost often hung around here in the poetry section where I had quite a collection of his books—he’d lived in New Hampshire while writing many of his poems, and his books were quite popular here.
I scanned the shelf critically. “You know what, Robert? You’re right. These shelves are practically bare.”
“Oh, and you could use some more historical books, too,” a voice piped up several aisles down in the history section. I recognized the ghost as that of Franklin Pierce, the only US President from New Hampshire. He hung around here, too.
I had no idea why they choose to hang around in the bookstore, but they seemed like nice guys. At first, it was a little off-putting, but once I got used to them, I realized they could actually be good company … except when they were arguing or being mischievous. You wouldn’t expect it from such proper gentlemen, but I’d seen them run off giggling after knocking a book off a shelf in front of a customer, just to startle them.
Anyway, they were both right. I did need to get some fresh stock.
I remembered that both Barry and Maggie had called about books they’d picked up for me. I’d been so busy trying to find Lavinia’s killer, I hadn’t had time to go pick up the books. Well, I’d just have to make time.
“Did someone call me?” Lavinia materialized in the middle of the aisle.
“Sure, now you show up … where were you when I was calling you at my house?”
Lavinia straightened, eyeing Robert and Franklin. “Well, now, we ghosts can’t be at your beck and call, you know. There’s lots to do on the other side.”
“Are you going to introduce us?” Franklin raised a brow as he glided toward me.
“Where are your manners?” Robert asked.
I introduced them all and they swirled misty greetings to each other. I guess ghosts didn’t just shake hands.
“Anyway, did you need something?” Lavinia asked.
“I was wondering if there was anyone who had a grudge against you. You know … who might have wanted you … dead.”
“No one. I don’t think it had anything to do with me,” Lavinia said. “They were in the library before me. It must have been something in the library.”
“You mean you were murdered?” Franklin’s eyes widened. “My dear, how … exciting.”
“Yes, do tell us all about it.” Robert drifted toward the end of the aisle and Lavinia followed, the three of them fading away as they chatted about Lavinia’s murder.
“At least she won’t be bugging me today,” I said to Pandora as I unlocked the door and turned the shop sign to ‘Open’.
Slipping back behind the counter, I set about examining the rest of the books. I was almost done when the bells over the door jingled. I looked up in time to see Hattie, Cordelia, Josiah and Bing come in, carrying the usual Styrofoam cups. Josiah had gotten mine this time and he pushed it across the counter toward me.
I flipped the plastic tab and took a sip, the bitter coffee warming my veins.
“Are you going to Lavinia’s service tomorrow?” Hattie asked.
Lavinia materialized, peeking around the edge of one of the bookshelves, her ear cocked to hear the conversation.
“Yessuh,” Josiah said. “I hear there’s no viewing.”
“Nope, the family didn’t want it.” Cordelia said. “Said they were being hounded enough by the press now that it’s been deemed a murder.”
“Did you know that, Willa?” Bing turned to me.
“I just found out,” I said, watching Lavinia make motions of her nose growing like Pinocchio telling a lie.
“Is something wrong over there?” Hattie leaned forward in her seat, looking toward the spot where Lavinia was. Of course, she couldn’t see her.
“No, I just noticed the books are out of order. I’ll have to straighten them later,” I said.
“Well, anyway, it’s all over town about the murder,” Hattie continued. “Who do you think did it?”
Yes, Willa. You’re the crime journalist,” Josiah cocked his head at me. “Who do you think did it?”
I shrugged. “I’m at a loss. You guys know the townspeople better than I. Do you have any idea who would want to hurt Lavinia?”
The four of them shook their heads.
“I don’t.”
“Can’t think of a soul.”
“Everyone liked Lavinia.”
“Maybe it wasn’t about Lavinia,” Cordelia said. “Maybe she just got in the way.”
Hattie frowned at her sister. “In the way of what?”
“Someone who wanted to take something from the library,” Josiah said.
“But there’s nothing, ‘cept old books in there.” Cordelia wrinkled up her face and turned to me. “None of those books have any value, do they?”
I shook my head. “Not that I know of.”
“Not the books,” Josiah said. “There are some valuable bronzes in there.”
“Oh, you mean that bust of Franklin Pierce?” Cordelia asked.
“That one’s not worth much. The real treasures are the ones by Frederick Remington.”
“You mean the horse ones?” Hattie asked.
Josiah nodded. “Most people think they are replicas, but I’m pretty sure a few of those are originals. I remember back in sixty-five when Idris Bates donated them to the library. It was quite a to-do back then. ‘Course, as the years have gone by, people have forgotten about them.”
I looked at Josiah, open-mouthed. Although my area of expertise was antique books, I’d picked up enough information on general antiques to know that an original Remington bronze bust could be worth hundreds of thousands. Heck, even the good replicas are worth thousands.
“I don’t remember ever noticing the busts in there,” I said.
“Most people don’t. Over the years they got shuffled around.” Josiah turned to Bing. “Bing, you remember those don’t you. I seem to recall even back then you had an interest in bronzes.”
Bing nodded. “Now that you mention it, I do remember. I did have quite a collection of bronzes in my younger days, but I don’t collect them anymore. Never had a Remington, though.”
I remembered that Bing had an extensive collection of antiques, many of which he’d acquired from various parts of the world where he’d performed as a magician. He’d been collecting since he was a boy. When I was young, I used to love to go to his house and look at all the old stuff. He had a treasure trove of items stuffed in the attic, basement and barns. It was no surprise he’d collected a bronze or two in his day.
Josiah looked back at me. “You younger people wouldn’t remember. They weren’t worth nearly as much at the time they were donated, so no one paid much mind to what happened to them and they got moved downstairs.”
Downstairs … where Lavinia’s body was found.
“Gosh, I had forgotten all about those,” Cordelia said.
Hattie looked at the group solemnly. “Maybe someone else remembered about them and broke in to steal them.”<
br />
“… And Lavinia stumbled across them and they killed her!” Cordelia added.
“Were any of the statues missing from the library?” Josiah asked me.
“I’m not sure, but you can bet I’m going to find out,” I said.
“Well, then, I think I’ll be on my way.” Josiah pushed himself up from the couch. “I’ll ask around about the bronzes and let you know if I come up with anything.”
“Us, too,” Cordelia and Hattie chorused, then gave each other a knuckle tap as they rose from the couch.
Bing got up with the others. I noticed he’d been unusually quiet.
“I wish you’d be careful if you are going to look into this, Willa,” he said as he followed the others out the door. “There’s a killer on the loose and now that the police are on it, it might be best to leave it to them.”
“I’ll be careful,” I promised.
Bing looked like he was going to say something else, then he must have decided better of it as he turned and disappeared out the door.
Chapter Eleven
I finished sorting through the rest of the box, then left a message for Barry letting him know I’d be out to his place tomorrow to pick up the books he was holding for me. Maggie was in New York on a buying trip, so I’d have to wait until she got back to pick up the books from her.
It was a slow day, but between inventorying the new stock and putting the books on the shelf, I’d made a few sales, one of which was a book on US Presidents. I wondered how the buyer would feel if he knew Franklin Pierce was standing behind him nodding his approval as I rang up the sale.
I was taking a break in one of the purple chairs when the bells over the door jangled and Pepper came in, holding a tray of tea and finger sandwiches.
“It’s slow over at the tea shop, so I left Camilla in charge and brought you some lunch.” She set the tray on the table and sat beside me.
Ghostly Paws (Mystic Notch Cozy Mystery Series) Page 5
