“Seriously, it’s just a book club meeting.”
He didn’t look convinced, but left me and Mom to our devices. “I’ll drive.” Mom drove her big Cadillac like a torpedo. If Duane needed to worry about anything, it was me getting into Mom’s car.
Five minutes later we were headed to church where the meeting was held. Most people seemed to book the fellowship hall for one event or another. I’d always thought book clubs were held in people’s homes. How many members were there to warrant the big hall?
I pulled into the parking lot between the only two cars there. I glanced at Mom. “Big crowd.”
She shrugged and opened her door. “Let’s get this over with. What book are they discussing?”
I had no idea. Ingrid hadn’t said in her note. “I’m sure this is for us to get acquainted with the other members.”
“Or to grill you for information about Harriet.”
Mom was probably right. When there was a new mystery in town, I suddenly became very popular. We exited the Prius and headed up the walk.
Flowers lined the cement path. Our shoes beat out a muffled rhythm. A mockingbird serenaded from a nearby oak tree. A beautiful autumn night, and I was willingly going into a lair of nosey women to spoil the evening. What I’d rather be doing was snuggling with Duane on the couch.
“She’s here!” A shrill voice called from the fellowship hall.
Mom and I stepped into the brightly lit room. Ingrid and Norma Rae Jennings and Cheryl Wright, Mr. Dean’s secretary, grinned at us. They sat around a round table, books in front of them. What a crowd.
Ingrid stood and rushed our way. “Have a seat, ladies. We’re discussing which book we’d like to read next. October is horror month. We’re thinking about reading something that has to do with zombies.”
My steps faltered. Who were these women? I glanced at Mom. She cast me a wide-eyed glance.
“Zombies?” She mouthed.
I shook my head and sat in one of the empty chairs. Lindsey had just read a story she raved about. A zombie novella by a Spanish author. At least I knew of one title to recommend. Not that I’d read it of course. I preferred romantic suspense.
“Cheryl, would you call roll, please?” Ingrid took her seat.
Three present members and they did a roll call? When Cheryl called Harriet’s name, they all bowed their heads.
“Harriet was really looking forward to horror month,” Norma Rae said. “It was her favorite genre. That and mystery.”
I kept my mouth shut, biting my tongue to keep from saying how she’d fallen into her own horror plot. What was wrong with me? I tended to giggle or blurt out nonsense when I was nervous. It was safer not to say anything.
“Next on our agenda…we’d like to welcome our guests.” Ingrid clapped. “We’re always looking for new blood.” She laughed. “We like to inject the spirit of whatever genre we’re reading into our meetings.”
I glanced at my watch. The meetings took two hours? We’d been there less than fifteen minutes.
“Now,” Ingrid leaned her elbows on the table. “Before we get started…Marsha, tell us about Harriet’s last moments. What did she say? What did she do?”
“I, uh, hmm.” I fiddled with the silver studs on my purse. “She handed me a pile of book fair fliers and asked me to put them in teacher’s boxes.”
“True,” Cheryl said. “I witnessed her doing just that, along with a couple of the teachers. Go on.”
“She was…gone when I got back.”
“Gone? Where?” Ingrid’s brows rose. Her forehead wrinkled. “Oh!” She frowned. “Where were her belongings? We know she was cataloguing a new shipment of antique books. She told us.”
“I think those are still in the library. Officer Barnett said I could return tomorrow. Was there something in particular you were looking for?” Like a yellowed piece of paper, maybe?
“We were going to discuss reading Bram Stoker’s Frankenstein this month. Harriet said that book was in the shipment.” She sighed. “I guess that’s out of the question now.”
“I think you mean Dracula,” Mom stated.
“Oh, yes.” Ingrid’s lips thinned. “How silly of me. I’m so distraught over this whole thing.”
“Did Mrs. Grimes have any next of kin?” I sat my purse, now minus a stud from my picking at it, on the floor. “I’m sure the books should go to them.”
Norma Rae shook her head. “Not that she spoke of. At our last meeting, she spoke of a treasure. We assumed she meant the books. I think the books should go to the members of this club. After all, we were her dearest friends.”
“We’re getting off track,” Cheryl said. She tapped a pencil on the papers in front of her. “We’re supposed to be discussing our next read.”
I gave them the name of the book Lindsey read. They agreed it would be perfect. Mom said they should go ahead with Dracula, but the idea was shot down. Cheryl said it would be too painful to read page-after-page of a book that would only remind her of Harriet.
Thoroughly confused, I chewed the inside of my lip, wishing for my M&Ms. The club members spoke of mourning Harriet, but their actions showed anything but. The Jennings ladies were more interested in Harriet’s antique books. Cheryl was absorbed by the choosing of their next read. The fact that Harriet had supposedly mentioned a treasure hadn’t escaped me, either. Money was always a big factor in murder. In fact, it had been the motive for the first mystery I’d found myself immersed in.
Did any of these three women have need for a large sum of money? Of course, the treasure could actually be one of the old books. Antiques were worth quite a lot in some circles. Besides searching for a key, I’d be online tomorrow looking up the worth of Harriet’s latest shipment. If I could find a motive for her murder, I might be able to find the culprit, without putting myself in harm’s way.
After snacks of too tart lemonade and stale cookies, Mom and I said our goodbyes and headed for the car. Behind the wheel, I stared at the open door of the fellowship room. “That was the strangest meeting.”
“What did you expect?” Mom hooked her seatbelt. “They’re all a bunch of kooks more interested in books than the fact one of their friends was murdered.”
“So you picked up on that, too.”
“Of course. I’m not blind.”
“What do the Jennings women do?”
“They own a tea room on Main Street.” Mom glanced at me. “Why?”
“I’m not sure. Something about the books doesn’t ring true.” I turned on the ignition and backed from the parking spot. “I’m probably paranoid, but any time the subject of money comes up after someone died, I get suspicious.”
“Don’t be silly. It’s a book club. Of course they’re interested in old books.”
“The first morning I volunteered, I caught Mrs. Grimes locking up what appeared to be an old sheet of paper. What if the treasure she found is exactly that? A treasure map.”
“They don’t exist.”
“Says who?” I pulled onto the highway and headed toward home.
“Says anybody who’s ever gone looking for one. I know you want to solve Harriet’s death, but no one at that meeting seemed to have a motive. I’d look at the people who worked with her.”
“The teachers?”
Mom nodded. “She had a tendency to make people mad.”
True. I remembered when I’d gotten in trouble for losing a library book my senior year, and Mrs. Grimes threatened to keep me from walking at graduation until the book was found or replaced. Mom had been livid.
Headlights appeared in my rearview mirror. I tilted the mirror to get the glare out of my eyes. Why did people insist on keeping their brights on when other cars were around.
Who would want to kill a librarian on the verge of retirement? My suspect list was endless if I included the teachers. I supposed I’d have to include at least half of the student body. It wasn’t just parents she irritated.
A ram on the Prius’ bumper sent the car skid
ding. “What the heck?” I pressed the gas and glared at the car behind us.
Mom turned to glance over her shoulder. “They’re tailgating a little too close.”
“You think? They just rear-ended us.” I readjusted my mirror and continued to increase our speed. The car kept pace. “Can you make out who is behind the wheel?”
“I can’t even tell what color the car is.” Mom tightened her seatbelt. “You’ve done it again, Marsha. Gotten us into a fix.”
“I haven’t even started investigating yet.”
“No, but folks around here know you will. It’s only a matter of time.” She screamed as the next jolt threw her forward.
The screech of metal on metal set my teeth on edge. I gripped the wheel and did my best to keep us on the road. “Now would be a good time to start praying.”
“I already have.” She fumbled in her purse. “I’m calling Leroy.”
“You should probably call the police.”
“I want to talk to my husband before I die.”
I rolled my eyes. “We aren’t going to die.” I bit my lip at the next jarring jolt and skid onto the road’s shoulder. I wanted to talk to Duane. Feel his lips on mine, his arms around me.
The next ram sent us farther off the road. Mom yelped and dropped her phone. She fumbled with her seatbelt.
“Do not take off your seat belt.” I yanked the steering wheel in an attempt to keep us from sliding into the ditch. If we stopped, we were at the mercy of the person behind us.
“I can’t reach it.” She stretched for the phone.
“Hello? Gertie?” Leroy’s voice came from the phone on the floor.
“Call the police!” Mom bent to put her mouth as close to the phone as possible. “Someone is trying to kill us.”
“Where are you?”
“The road from church. Tell Duane that Marsha loves him.”
Oh, good grief. Another yank of the wheel and we spewed gravel. The tires spun, finally gaining traction and propelling us back onto the highway. I wanted to fist bump to our success.
The car behind us slowed, then shot forward. My head snapped back from the impact. My hands released their hold on the wheel. We spun. The massive trunk of an oak tree loomed in front of us.
“Tree!” Mom covered her eyes.
I closed my eyes and crossed my arms in front of my face.
CHAPTER FIVE
I opened my eyes to the sound of sirens. “Mom?”
“I’m still here.” She tugged at her seatbelt. “Barely. The belt cut off my breathing for a second. Are you all right?”
“I think so.” All my joints worked at least. A pain shot through my chest. We’d both sport bruises by morning.
The front of my car sat against my knees. The steering wheel twisted upward. I guessed it could’ve been worse, but I loved this car. The insurance company would total it for sure. I blinked back tears, thankful to be alive, and unhooked my seatbelt. I shoved against the door. Stuck tight.
“Stay still, ma’am.” A paramedic who didn’t look older than my daughter stuck his arm through the now non-existent window and patted my shoulder. “We’ll have you out in a jiffy.”
“Free my mother first.”
“Oh, no, dear. You first. I’m fine. I think I’ll take a nap while we wait.” Blood dripped from a cut on her forehead.
“Don’t fall asleep, ma’am,” handsome paramedic said. “You might have a concussion.”
“I did hit my head on this window.” Her side window sported a round concave in the glass. A spider web of cracks radiated from the center.
While the paramedics cut us out of the car, I leaned back against the headrest. Where was the car that ran us off the road? They could have killed us while we were unconscious. My blood ran cold. I no longer wanted to know Mrs. Grimes’s secret. Mom and I could have been killed.
“Gertie!”
“Marsha!”
I turned my head. Duane and Leroy raced down the embankment. Now that my hero had arrived, I let the tears flow. I didn’t have to be strong. Duane’s shoulders were big enough for both of us.
He reached in the window and cupped my face. “Are you all right?”
“I think so. My knees are jammed against the front of the car, and the seat belt cut into me, but other than that, I’ll live.”
“Thank, God.” He leaned in and kissed me before the paramedics shoved him aside.
Mom was out and folded in Leroy’s arms. He escorted her to a waiting ambulance. They’d most likely make us stay overnight for observation. I sighed. I’d seen the inside of a hospital too much over the last year. I really need to rethink this mystery solving hobby of mine.
The emergency personnel pulled me from the car and handed me over to Duane. My legs collapsed, and he scooped me into his arms. “You should be a gurney,” he said.
“This is so much nicer.” I cradled my head in the curve of his shoulder.
The news van pulled up and I hid my face from Stacy and her stupid camera. She teetered after us on yellow stilettos. “What happened? Can you give us a comment?”
Duane shouldered past her. “Leave us alone, Stacy. Now is not the time.”
“But this is news.” She jogged alongside us.
“Not today.” He carried me to the waiting ambulance, and set me on a gurney next to the one Mom was on. After one more kiss, he stepped back. “We’ll meet you at the hospital.”
I nodded and kept my gaze on his until the doors closed.
*
Mom and I were assigned to a joint room. Once the doctor’s checked us over, Mom with a concussion and me with swollen knees, they allowed Duane and Leroy to join us. Both men stood at the foot of our beds, crossed their arms, and glared.
“What have you two gotten mixed up in now?” Leroy glanced from Mom to me. “I thought you went to a book club meeting at the church.”
“We did,” I said. “The car that ran us off the road appeared halfway home. We didn’t do anything to warrant the attack.”
“Where have you been nosing around?” Duane pulled up a mint green vinyl chair.
“No where. Really.” I raised the bed to a sitting position. “The ladies at the club asked about the antique books that Mrs. Grimes just got in, but that’s all. I haven’t spoken to people at the school about anything other than the book fair.” Yet. “Obviously, someone knows something I don’t, but they think I know.”
He shook his head. “That doesn’t make sense.”
“Neither does someone running us off the road.” Usually this type of danger came when I’d dug more into the mystery. Had I inadvertently said something I shouldn’t? Stumbled across a clue I couldn’t identify?
“Visiting hours are over.” A nurse in scrubs that matched the furniture in the room bustled in. “You may return tomorrow at eight.”
Duane frowned before leaning over to plant a kiss on my lips. “Get some rest. We’ll be here to pick y’all up in the morning. Love you.”
“I love you, too.” Tears welled. My entire body ached. I didn’t want him to go. Stupid hospital rules.
Once the men left, Mom turned on the television. “Might as well watch the news. See if they captured one of our most embarrassing moments.”
“Excuse me?” I turned my head to glare. “I did my best to keep us on the road. I’m the one without a car now.”
She grinned, the white bandage on her head a striking contrast to her auburn hair. “I know, sweetie. Just making sure you still have some fire left in you. So, what are we going to do now? I know there’s a plan whirling in that brain of yours.”
“I’m going to find out who did this. It’s got to be the same person that killed Mrs. Grimes.” I switched to lying on my side so I could see her better. “Do you think my reputation has preceded me?” After all, I’d barely scratched the surface of the murder. Someone was running scared very early in the game.
“I’ve no doubt.” Mom tapped her fingers on the bed rail. “Suspects number in the hundr
eds, you know. The book club,” she counted off on her free hand. “The bunch of looky Lou’s in the store, the high school staff…the students.”
“I think we can scratch off the elderly ladies, don’t you? It would take some strength to choke someone.”
Mom looked insulted. “I could choke someone if I wanted to. All you do is tighten the scarf, then tighten some more, then—”
“I get it.” The thought of my mother killing someone disturbed me. I supposed anyone from the age of fifty to seventy still had enough power to dig in their heels and hold on to a silk scarf. Still, it was hard to digest. Maybe the pounding in my head kept me from thinking clearly.
“We need to find out who Harriet’s enemies are, and I don’t mean people who just dislike her. Someone hated her enough to kill.”
“Or wanted something she had.” My mind clung to the fact there was a clue in the locked drawer that would answer some questions. I had to find that key or a way to jimmy the drawer open. Tomorrow was Friday. I’d head to the school as soon as Duane picked me up. “How much are antique books worth?”
“Some are worth hundreds of dollars, why?”
“That’s the only thing of value I know Mrs. Grimes had. You don’t think she has a fortune stashed somewhere, do you? Maybe she let it slip to someone?”
“Maybe.” Mom shrugged. “We need to narrow our suspect list down to a manageable few.”
“I have a PTO meeting tomorrow night. I’ll ask around.”
“And put another target on your back.”
“How else are we supposed to find out anything? You can’t ask the group that rents the back room for their crafts. They’ve never mentioned knowing Mrs. Grimes, and you know they gossip about just about anyone.” A few months ago, Leroy had built on a back room for us which we rented to crafty women. That little good deed almost got me killed.
“True, but a couple of them consider themselves sleuths. It doesn’t hurt to have other folks poking their noses around.”
“No, but if someone else is already nervous, it puts other people besides ourselves in danger.” I couldn’t do that to the women. Most of them were old enough they lived in the retirement homes.
The Librarian's Last Chapter (A River Valley Mystery, Book 3) Page 3
