The Librarian's Last Chapter (A River Valley Mystery, Book 3)

by Cynthia Hickey

  “I’ve got a copy of Mrs. Willis’s manuscript. Believe me, you want to see this.”

  “I’m leaving now.” I hung up, yanked on a pair of jeans under the large tee-shirt I wore to bed, and then slipped my feet into flats. Grabbing my purse, I was out of the house in less than five minutes.

  I made it to the school five minutes before Lynn’s prep time. The bell rang and thirty high school students barged from her class, allowing me to slip into her room. “How did you get it?”

  “Hello to you, too.” Lynn moved to a filing cabinet and pulled out a thick stack of paper. “My school laptop crashed and I had to get a new one. Seems like Estelle had the same problem a week or so ago. When they fixed hers, they forgot to wipe the drive clean. I ended up with her old one, and voila! A copy of her murder mystery. I’ve highlighted the spots I think you might be interested in.” She handed the stack to me.

  I sat at one of the desks and riffled through the pages. The first highlighted spot was about the victim, an elderly woman, being killed with a silk scarf. I glanced up at Lynn. She motioned for me to continue. Farther on in the story, another victim died of a stab wound in the heart. My heart thudded like the high school marching band drummer.

  “This is huge.”

  Lynn grinned. “I thought so.”

  “I saw Mr. Dean and Mrs. Willis arguing yesterday outside of Wanda’s Diner. Do you know what about?” I stacked the manuscript back into a neat pile. I’d take it to Bruce at the first opportunity.

  “Probably because she wants out of her contract.” Lynn sat back at her desk. “She’s convinced her novel will be a bestseller and says she can’t write and promote while working a day job. She’ll really leave the senior students in a bind if she quits.”

  I could see where that would upset him, but there really wasn’t anything he could do if she was willing to pay the fee for opting out of her contract. “Can I take this with me? I think Bruce should have it.”

  “Sure.” Lynn laughed. “I have a copy on my laptop. It’s not a bad read, really.”

  Maybe not, but the closeness of her story to what was happening in River Valley was too much of a coincidence to me. It seemed as if the woman might be killing people in the name of research.

  I shoved the stack of papers in my purse and headed to the library. Since I was at the school, I might as well check on the progress of the book fair. It was only a little over a week away. There were more fliers to count and pass out, suggested decorations to pour over, and Mrs. Grimes’s antique books still sat on the desk. What in the world was I to do with them?

  I found an empty box in the back storeroom and stacked the books inside. Hefting the heavy load, I staggered to Mr. Dean’s office and plopped the load on his desk. “These are some of Mrs. Grimes’s personal belongings. I have no idea what to do with them.”

  “And you think I do?” He leaned back in his chair.

  “I know the two of you had a relationship at one time. You’re the closest thing to family I can find. Do with them what you will.” I turned to go.

  “How did you find out?” His eyes clouded with pain.

  I glanced over my shoulder. “Secrets aren’t really secrets in a school, Mr. Dean.” I left his office and approached Cheryl’s desk. I was still curious about why she’d come to the store on Saturday morning, only to leave without saying a word.

  “Was there something you needed?” I tilted my head. “Surely you noticed the destruction of my store, yet you pranced on by as if everything were normal.”

  She paled. “There wasn’t anything I could do other than get in the way.” She handed me a sheet of paper. “Here is a list of everything for the fair. All that is needed is the tunnel to be built. Norma Rae has said she will even dress up as a knife wielding maniac. The other members of the book club will run the actual book sales. Will there be anything else?”

  I shook my head. “I’ll get Leroy started on building the tunnel this weekend. Could you put the word out that we’ll need a last minute meeting on Friday? Six o’clock in the library?”

  “Will do.” She turned and grabbed her phone.

  Effectively dismissed, I headed back to the library as a swarm of students entered the doors. A young woman who looked fresh out of college sat behind the desk. She introduced herself as the long-term substitute. I grabbed my purse and told her to call me if she needed the book fair crates moved or she could feel free to have some of the students shove them in a corner.

  Still in a tiff that I had no excuse for, I rushed back to the parking lot. My poor attitude shamed me. Sure I was suffering from lack of sleep, but it gave me no reason to purposely antagonize people. The very people who might already want to kill me.

  Behind the wheel of my jeep, I closed my eyes and prayed for peace. God was the only one who could settle my nerves and steady my mind. Duane was right. This case was too much for me. I’d give anything to be able to back out of my impulsive decision to continue with the book fair and solve the murder.

  The prayer helped a little, but my eyelids felt heavy and sandy. Stressed out or not, I needed my cup of coffee before heading to the store. I drove to the coffee shop. I exited the jeep as Norma Rae was unlocking the front door to her tea shop down the street. I switched direction.

  “Norma Rae!” I jogged to her side.

  She frowned. “Yeah?”

  “I heard Ingrid was injured yesterday. How is she?”

  “Back at work at the station. She’s fine.” Norma Rae pushed open the door. “Needs to pay more attention to her surroundings is all. Did you need something? We aren’t open yet.”

  The chill coming off her would freeze a southern lake. “No, just checking on Ingrid. Thanks for offering to help with the haunted tunnel.”

  “It’ll be a blast.” She grinned, the smile lacking warmth. I shuddered. Goose pimples broke out on my arms, and I hurried back to the coffee shop feeling as if I’d narrowly escaped the teeth of a shark.

  Once I’d purchased my frozen mocha drink, I drove to the police station. Ingrid sat behind the counter, a white bandage around her left hand. “That looks painful.”

  “Not too bad. Are you here to see Bruce?”

  “Yes, please.” I wanted to get into a conversation with her, but how do you dig up someone’s financial woes without hurting their feelings? I sipped my drink and avoided eye contact, which wasn’t hard since she pretty much ignored me after telling Bruce I was there. After a few minutes, she told me to go on back.

  “You can get into your shop today,” Bruce said.

  “Great! But that isn’t why I’m here.” I pulled the manuscript from my purse. “I managed to get my hands on a book written by Mrs. Estelle Willis. I think you’ll be as interested in the highlighted areas as I am.”

  “I don’t read.”

  Doesn’t or can’t? I smirked. “You’ll want to read this.”

  He groaned and flipped through the pages. “Where did you get this?”

  “I can’t divulge my sources, but it’s pretty interesting wouldn’t you say?” I wiggled my eyebrows. “You can now add another suspect to your list.”

  “She’s already a suspect because she worked with the victim.” As if realizing he’d said too much, Bruce dropped the manuscript into a drawer. “Anything else?”

  “I’d like to request a police presence at the harvest festival.”

  “Afraid someone will try to kill you?”

  Yes. “There will be a lot of people there. Having the police in view will help prevent some of the shenanigans.”

  “We’d already planned on being there. Now, if you don’t mind, I’m busy trying to find a killer.”

  “Any ideas on who trashed my home and work place?”

  “Not yet, but the way you anger people, it could be anyone.”

  Very funny. I left his office and called Mom on the way to my jeep to let her know we were allowed back into the shop. She said she’d meet me there in fifteen minutes to start cleaning.


  I pulled into the alley behind the shop and stared at the back door. After the last fiasco, I was a bit apprehensive. I pulled my Taser out of my purse and kept it clutched tightly in my hand as I entered the store. Everything looked to be in the same sad state as on Saturday. Now that I wasn’t feeling as if I’d permanently injured my daughter, tears filled my eyes at the destruction.

  I shook out a quilt. Slivers of glass rained to the floor. None of the quilts or afghans could be sold until they were washed. The last thing we wanted was for someone to be cut. I stacked all the fabric goods on the counter, then started gathering anything else that was still in good condition. Everything glass was shattered on the floor in a rainbow of colors.

  Grabbing the broom, I swept the shards into a pile as Mom marched into the room. “I’ve got most of it, if you want to start washing those things.”

  “Why are you crying?”

  “I feel violated. Someone only suspects we have something they want and they’re willing to ruin our belongings in order to find it. First here, then the house. Is nowhere sacred?” Why wouldn’t the personal responsible confront me and get it over with?

  “They let Cleopatra out of the back yard and locked up the cats in the bathroom. I could have lost my dog.” I sniffed.

  “At least they haven’t started shooting at you.” Mom took the broom from me. “Go sit down for a minute. I’ll finish up.”

  “No, I need to stay busy.”

  “Marsha, you’re on your last nerve. Sit down and drink your fancy coffee for fifteen minutes. Get a hold of yourself. There’s plenty of work to be done.”

  I nodded. She was right. Once everything was cleaned up, maybe I wouldn’t feel so assaulted. I sat in a rocking chair. “We need a security system.”

  “Leroy already has an appointment to have one installed here and at the house.”

  What a special man my mother had married. Almost as wonderful as the one I’d soon be wed to. I sipped my drink and rocked, turning again to prayer to calm me. A few minutes later, peace washed over me and I moved to help Mom restock the shelves with what we could. I flipped the sign on the window to open and propped the plywood covered door wide.

  We could do this. Reopen, continue living, and catch a killer with no respect for life or property. The continue living was my favorite part.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Coffee in hand, I glanced at the calendar and groaned. The night of the book fair was approaching way too fast. Through the kitchen window, I could see several two by four studded boxes which Leroy would attach as rooms and hideaways on the huge tunnel he’d found somewhere. The tunnel actually looked like a large ventilation tube. He said with flickering lights and eerie sounds, along with rooms and scary characters, we’d have high school students scared to tears.

  I shook my head. I wanted the kids to have fun, not scared out of their wits. But, if Lindsey’s excitement was anything to go by each time she spotted Leroy’s progress, the attraction would be a hit. I knew one thing…I had no intention of entering the tunnel.

  “Good morning.” Mom entered through the back door and headed right for the coffee pot.

  “You love this kitchen, don’t you?” Although the guest cottage, Mom and Leroy’s home now after they gave the big house to me, had a small kitchenette, Mom still made regular trips to the house to cook and brew her coffee. “You can move back in. This house is too big for just Lindsey and me.”

  “No, no.” Mom waved away the words. “After you’re married to Duane, you may want to expand your family.”

  At the age of thirty-five, I doubted it. “I still think it’s silly when you love this place like you do.”

  “I’m close enough.” She pulled out a chair and joined me at the table. “You looked deep in thought when I came in.”

  “I’m trying to put the pieces of this puzzle together. None of our suspects have done anything to take suspicion off them. Also, did you notice how lopsided the kitchen drawer where I keep my notes is? I think the killer has seen the list.” Which means they could suspect we’re closer than we actually are. My family was in danger. I was in danger. “Maybe you and Leroy should take Lindsey on a small trip.”

  After the last mystery, they’d purchased a motor home for the times they wanted to travel the country. I’d feel better if they were far away from here for the next week or so.

  “And miss all the fun? No thanks.” Mom’s smile didn’t disguise the worry in her eyes. But, she was a trooper and only God reaching down and holding her still would keep her from helping her only child.

  “Where do we go from here?” I got up and retrieved my clipboard from the broken drawer.

  Mom wiggled her fingers to see the sheets of paper on the board. “Well, rumor has it that Janet and Brad Snyder paid off their gambling debts with help from his parents and are attending Gambler’s Anonymous, so I think we can take them off the list.” Mom penciled a line through their names. “There’s also word that Officer Wilson is dating Ingrid Jennings. That doesn’t necessarily make him a suspect, it only shows he has no sense.”

  I laughed. “Where do you get your information?”

  “The craft club, where else? Actually, this time, Betty Larson called me. She and the ladies have been snooping.”

  God bless those silver-haired women. “What else?”

  “Sarah Boatwright, the high school office manager quit after a dispute of some kind with Cheryl. Now, Cheryl is the office manager. Should we be gossiping this way?”

  My hand stilled with the coffee cup halfway to my mouth. “I hadn’t thought of it as gossiping. I thought we were solving a murder.”

  “True.” Mom shrugged. “But after this, I need to find a way to curtail the information the craft ladies give me. I don’t care to know everyone’s dirty laundry.”

  Neither did I, but in this case, it seemed a necessary evil. “We still have plenty of suspects. Does anyone in particular stand out in your mind?”

  “Mr. Dean moved his secret affections from Mrs. Grimes to Estelle Willis pretty quick. Doesn’t make him a killer, though, just cold-hearted.”

  “I gave him the antique books yesterday. From Mrs. Grimes’s journal, it was plain to see she cared about him. Why would he kill her though? It wasn’t as if the information of their relationship would affect anyone if it became common knowledge.”

  “I thought he was your top choice.”

  “He was. Now, I’m not so sure.” It was just a feeling I had, but the pain in the man’s eyes when I’d given him the books haunted me. There had to be a reason they’d kept their love a secret. “Mrs. Willis is writing a book that parallel’s the murders. She’s my top choice now.”

  “It’s possible she wrote the chapters after hearing the details.”

  “Maybe. I still think it warrants a conversation with her.” Now to find a way to bring up the subject without the woman knowing I’d read her manuscript. “We’d better get to work.” I also needed to find time to separate the latest fliers into stacks of thirty and staple a flier of the fair activities to each page. The days weren’t long enough for everything I needed to do.

  Although I was bound to love whatever Duane came up with for our honeymoon, I prayed it was something that took us away from here for at least a week. No more murders or mysteries for me.

  “Why don’t you take the time to go see Mrs. Willis and I’ll open the store?” Mom said. “You’ll be back before any rush.”

  “Today’s the day the women from the retirement center go shopping.”

  “They don’t come until ten.” Mom took my mug and set mine and hers in the sink. “I’ll be fine until then.”

  “Okay.” Maybe I’d find something to say to the woman by the time I arrived at the school. It was time to light a fire under the rear end of each suspect. The thought gave me chills.

  While Mom headed toward the store, I headed for the school, pulling into the lot as Duane got out of his truck. The sight of him brightened my day, and I honked.
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  He turned with a grin and met me half-way across the parking lot. “Hey, beautiful.”

  “Hey, handsome.” I lifted my face for a kiss. “Careful. We might get busted for PDA and have to spend a day in detention.”

  He cradled my face in his hands. “I’m willing to take that chance.” He kissed me long and thorough before pulling back. “What are you up to?”

  I explained about the manuscript. He frowned as I talked. “I guess you’ll be safe here at the school, but then I want you to head straight to the store. I don’t want you or Gertie to be alone at any time. Understood?”

  “Yes, and I’m in total agreement. I’d stop all this if I could.”

  He nodded. “I know, but you’re in too deep now. It shouldn’t be too hard to find a way to bring up the subject of her book. Everyone knows she’s writing one.” He glanced at his watch. “She has prep first hour. You can probably catch her in the teacher’s lounge.”

  “Thanks.” We walked into the school together, then parted ways. I tossed a wave to Cheryl, now in the small office manager’s office. She already looked more harried than usual.

  As Duane thought, Estelle was in the lounge, her laptop open on the table. I pretended to be busy studying the teacher’s cubbies. I should have thought to bring something with me to look like work. As it was, it was obvious I was hovering.

  “Did you want something?” Estelle sighed. “You’re making it hard for me to concentrate.”

  “Actually, yes.” I pulled out a chair and sat across from her. “I’m thinking of writing a book, and you’re the first person I thought of.”

  She snorted. “Everyone wants to be a writer. Go ahead, ask your questions.”

  “What genre are you writing?”

  “Murder mystery.”

  “Where do you get your ideas?” No sense in beating around the bush.

  “From life.” She crossed her arms. “Somehow, I get the feeling you already know all this.”

  “Some of it.” No point in lying. If Estelle is the killer, she already knows what I know. I bit my bottom lip. How could I bring up the subject of Mrs. Grimes and Stacy? “What sort of research do you do? I mean, if you have someone stab someone, how would you know what it was really like unless you’d actually stabbed someone?”