by Eva Gates
Did Jay refuse? Did he tell them he’d made up his mind, and Blacklock College was not the winner?
Did he, she, or both of them lash out in anger and then slip out again and join the throngs on the lawn to sip tea and lemonade?
Before I realized it, we were turning off Highway 12 and onto the lighthouse grounds.
“Are we going to tell Detective Watson what we learned?” I asked Bertie.
“I think we should. As the good detective continually points out, we are not officers of the law and thus don’t have powers of coercion or legal resources to reply upon. What we do have is our knowledge of the people involved.”
“True,” I said.
“It might not occur to Sam to specifically ask about the state of the History Department at Blacklock College. Institutions can be notoriously closemouthed to outsiders, although there’s nothing academics like better than to gossip among themselves. Even if Sam does learn that the History Department needed the collection to stay afloat, he might not realize how much Elizabeth and Norman need their jobs. Most people are under the impression university professors live a rarified existence of study and teaching with guaranteed-for-life jobs. Give Sam a call, Lucy.”
“Why me? Can’t you do it? He gets mad when I interfere.”
She switched off the engine and turned to me with a smile. “He respects your instincts and your drive to uncover the truth, Lucy. Although he’ll never say so.”
“I doubt that very much. The man can’t stand me.”
She simply smiled at me again, and we got out of the car and went to work
* * *
Inside the library, the fake spider webs and wobbly tombstones caught my eye. “Are we still going to have Halloween?” I asked Bertie. We had a full day of activities planned tomorrow for children, teens, and adults, but in light of Jay’s death, I wondered if Bertie might want to cancel it all.
“Louise Jane’s insistent on doing two more lectures, as scheduled. Not that I much care what Louise Jane wants, but Ronald pointed out to me that the children have been excited all week about the events he has planned for tomorrow, and he doesn’t want to disappoint them. They know nothing about the death of Jay Ruddle.” Bertie looked around. “So I gave in. If Jay had died here, in the main room, I would have refused, but…”
“But,” I said, “who can say no to Ronald?”
“He’s not the best children’s librarian in the state for nothing,” Bertie said. “I didn’t hire him to turn down his recommendations.”
“They are looking forward to it,” Charlene said from behind the circulation desk. “I’ve had a few phone calls this morning, checking that everything is still on.”
“Anything else while we were out?” Bertie asked.
“It’s been fairly quiet.” Charlene reached under the desk for her ever-present iPhone and earbuds. She could hardly wait to get back to the peace and quiet of the research library and crank up her music. Why she wanted to destroy that peace and quiet with the likes of Jay-Z and Nicki Minaj, I never did understand.
But Charlene was brilliant at what she did, and although she sometimes tried to impose her musical taste on the rest of us, everyone liked her too much to object (too strongly, at any rate). “Ronald told me you went to Blacklock College this morning.”
“We were doing a bit of sleuthing,” Bertie said.
“Did you learn anything?”
“Only that they were desperate to get their hands on the Ruddle collection,” I said.
“I … uh … I have something I should probably tell you.” Charlene’s eyes flicked from Bertie to me to Charles, sitting on the returns shelf, listening intently.
“What?” Bertie asked.
“Elizabeth McArthur came into the library on Saturday when Louise Jane’s lecture was going on.”
I sucked in a breath. Bertie’s eyebrows rose. “Did you tell the police?”
“I told Detective Watson she was in here, yes, as they were trying to determine who was where when, but it has nothing to do with Jay. Not with his death anyway. She came to talk to me and didn’t go upstairs. As far as I know anyway. I told him that.”
“Talk to you? Why?” Bertie said. “And why didn’t you tell me this before now?”
“I was going to tell you, but then Jay Ruddle died, and it no longer seemed relevant. Ronald didn’t say why you were going to Blacklock College this morning, but”—her eyes slid to me—“as you and Lucy went together, I assumed you were asking questions about the death of Jay Ruddle.”
Bertie nodded.
“McArthur offered me a job.”
“Did she indeed?” Bertie said.
“She said if they got the Ruddle collection, which she assured me was as good as done, the college would hire me to manage it.”
“I don’t think Elizabeth McArthur is in the position to offer employment to anyone,” Bertie said.
“But she can strongly recommend,” I said, “if her department secured the collection.”
“If,” Bertie said.
“I didn’t turn her down outright,” Charlene confessed.
“If the collection came here, you’d be in charge of it, Charlene,” I said. “You know that.”
“McArthur offered me a considerable increase in salary over what I get here at the library, as well as a generous signing bonus.”
“Dependent on…?” Bertie said.
Charlene grinned. “Dependent on me sabotaging the Lighthouse Library’s bid and keeping them informed as to what we were up to.”
“Of all the nerve,” I said.
Bertie huffed.
“Aside from the fact that I love everything about working at this library, I’m not a snoop, even if I had some incentive to spy. Blacklock College would mean an extra hour’s commute, and I don’t need that in my life. No matter how much money they offered.”
“As you say, it’s irrelevant now, Charlene, but thank you for telling me,” Bertie said. “We know Professor McArthur desperately wanted the Ruddle collection. If she’d go so far as to attempt bribery, I have to ask what else she might have been prepared to do. I’ll be in my office for the rest of the day, if anyone needs me.”
I went into the break room to put my purse away and used the landline to call Sam Watson. I got his voicemail and said I had something to tell him. It would be up to him if he returned my call or not. I wasn’t as sure as Bertie that he didn’t sometimes consider throwing me in jail for interfering with the police.
When I returned to the main room, a young mother was dumping a pile of books, so high she had to peer over the top of it, onto the circulation desk. Charlene gave the books an approving look. “The twins’ reading must really be coming along, Sue.”
Charles settled himself on top of the stack. Sue laughed and gave him a pat. “I can’t take out books fast enough to keep up with them. Ronald has been a miracle worker. I can’t imagine what those two would do without this library. Hang around the back of the convenience store, most likely.”
I eyed her books. At Ronald’s suggestion, Sue had started her sons off on books for reluctant readers—short, fast-paced stories aimed specifically at teenage boys, many to do with the world of sports or adventure travel. Their taste was now expanding, and the stack included a few young adult detective novels. The topmost book was You by Charles Benoit. Exactly the thing that would appeal to potentially rebellious boys like Sue’s two. She plucked the latest Barbara Early cozy mystery off the returns cart. “And one for me. The day has finally arrived when I actually have time to read.” She sighed happily. Charlene gave Charles a nudge. He didn’t move, so the nudge turned into a shove followed by another, stronger one. He stood—or rather sat—firm.
“Come here, you.” I picked him up, thus giving him exactly what he wanted. If he could grin, I’m sure he would have.
When the door closed behind Sue and her pile of books, Charles went in search of someone else to admire him, and Charlene headed upstairs.
One o
f our library regulars, Mr. Snyder, an elderly man whose wife had died some months ago and whose children lived out of state, sat in the comfortable wingback chair in the magazine alcove, reading. Charles leapt onto his lap and curled himself into a purring ball. We knew Mr. Snyder came in for the company, under the pretext of reading magazines, and he was always welcome to do so. A man in his mid-forties, dressed in grimy jeans and a flannel shirt, with broken nails and work-worn hands, typed slowly and awkwardly with two fingers on the public computer.
“Are you finding what you need, Mr. Jones?” I asked him.
He looked up and gave me a grin that showed two missing teeth. “Slow and careful, Miss Lucy. Like you told me. This here machine’s not so scary once you get the hang of it.”
“Let me know if I can help with anything.”
The role of libraries is changing rapidly in these modern times, and one of the things we’re most proud of is providing a community for the lonely and a place to access public resources for the down-on-their-luck.
I’d barely settled myself behind the circulation desk, when we had unexpected visitors. Julia Ruddle came in, followed not only by Greg and Theodore but Anna and Dave. Anna wore a knee-length, tight-fitting, neckline-plunging red dress. A heavy gold necklace was around her throat, and matching earrings in her ears. She tottered across the marble floors in red stilettos with four-inch heels. Dave was dressed in a rumpled, pale blue shirt and beige trousers that had not seen an iron since they’d left the factory.
Julia looked at me. She jerked her head and opened her eyes wide, sending me a signal of some sort, but I failed to read it.
I stood up. “Hi. Welcome everyone. What brings you here today?”
“I thought Anna and Dave would like a tour of the lighthouse,” Julia said.
I snuck a peek at Anna. She looked as though she would like nothing less.
“Did you get moved into the Ocean Side okay?” I asked.
“Yes, we did.” Anna stifled a yawn. Charles leapt onto the desk, and she fell back with a screech. “Good heavens, what on earth is that creature doing here?”
“This is our library cat, Charles,” I said. “He’s very friendly.” As if to prove me a liar, Charles arched his back and spat.
“I cannot abide cats,” Anna said.
“Looks like the feeling’s mutual,” Julia muttered under her breath. She gave Charles a hearty pat.
“I hope I am not going to get home and find my clothes covered with cat hair.” Anna sniffed. “I am highly sensitive.”
“Wow!” Dave said. “That’s quite the model ship you have there.” He hurried over to the Rebecca MacPherson. “Look at this incredible detail, honey.”
Theodore suppressed a shudder as he turned away. I wasn’t the only one who noticed: Greg’s eyebrows rose.
“If I must.” Anna tapped her way across the floor and peered at the little model. “It’s full of holes. Good heavens, are those skeletons?”
“Fantastic, isn’t it?” Dave said.
“Dave and Anna would love to see the view from the top,” Julia said.
“I sure would!” Dave said.
Anna said something in Russian. It might have been “Are you kidding me?”
“It’s not as high as it looks,” Julia said. “Only two hundred or so steps.”
“The first hundred and ninety are the worst.” Greg said.
“Allow me to escort you.” Keeping his eyes firmly away from the model ship, Theodore gave Anna a small bow. “I myself am well acquainted with the history of the lighthouse and this stretch of the coast.” His fake English accent was back, and he’d tied a paisley cravat at his throat. I suspect the look he was attempting was jaunty, but instead the cravat threatened to choke him.
“Greg’ll go too,” Julia said.
“I will?” Greg said.
“Not necessary,” Theodore said.
“Off you go, everyone,” Julia said.
Theodore held out his arm and, with a roll of her eyes and a mighty sigh, Anna slipped hers through it.
“Last one to the top’s a dirty rotten egg.” Dave set off. “Come on, Greg, race you.”
Eight feet clattered on the iron stairs, some with considerably more enthusiasm than others. Four additional feet, of the feline version, followed, faster and much quieter.
“Teddy!” I called, “don’t let Charles onto the walkway.” He was a cat, yes, but I still worried that he’d leap off the railing after a passing bird.
“There’s a walkway!” Anna’s voice faded away as she made the first turn.
Julia let out a long breath. “Anything for a moment’s peace.”
“How’d your breakfast go?” I said.
“Fine. Why do you ask? Oh, you mean breakfast with Anna. Didn’t happen. I wasn’t going to wait until ten at any rate, so I ordered room service when I got up at six. Just as well. The lawyer my grandfather’s company arranged for me arrived this morning, and I spent some time with him. Anna called around noon, apparently having totally forgotten about meeting me. She didn’t forget to move into the Ocean Side, though.”
“Why did you bring them here?”
“I have to do something with her. She wanted to meet for lunch, and I countered by suggesting an outing. At least Dave’s keen.”
I glanced around the library. Mr. Jones stabbed at the computer and printed off reams of paper. Mr. Snyder had finished with his sports magazine and had gone on to Country Living. A few patrons browsed the shelves, but no one needed my attention at the moment. Bertie was in her office; Ronald, upstairs in the children’s library, preparing for today’s after-school program; and Charlene had buried herself in the rare books room.
“Do you want to talk about it?” I asked Julia.
“About my mother?” She gave me a wan smile. “She and my grandfather didn’t see eye to eye on raising me.”
“Last night she said he kept her away from you. Is that what happened?”
She nodded. “Nothing was ever said, and I was too young when my father died to understand, but children have a way of finding these things out eventually. My grandfather was absolutely furious when my parents married. He wanted my father to take over the business from him, and my father wanted to be a musician. Granddad indulged him for a while, or so I’ve been told by some of the staff over the years…”
I assumed she meant maids and gardeners, chauffeurs, and the like.
“… thinking he had to get it out of his system. But, instead of eventually settling down, my father married Anna, and he lived the rest of his far too short life in her wake. Then he died. My grandfather blamed her for that.”
“Why?”
“My father was killed in a car accident. They were in London. Anna had been fired from her latest gig that afternoon, and she went on a huge bender. My father drove around the city trying to find her. He eventually did, and he managed to talk her into coming back to their hotel. Where I, apparently, waited with a hotel babysitter. After I turned twenty-one, I managed to get a copy of the police report, unknown to Grandfather. There’s no suggestion my father had been drinking that night, but he suddenly pulled out of his lane straight into oncoming traffic. Grandfather was convinced he’d been fighting with Anna, and either she distracted him or grabbed the wheel. And so my father died. My mother was unharmed. Underlings were sent to London to retrieve both my father’s body and me. Anna had to travel back to America in economy class. We never lived under the same roof again, but Grandfather gave her an allowance for many years. I suspect that allowance was conditional. The condition being that she’d stay away from me. Which is what happened. She sent me presents on my birthday and Christmas, usually arriving late. We met a handful of times, but always as part of an organized outing. A Broadway show, a trip to the zoo, or an art gallery, followed by lunch in a restaurant. Grandfather’s driver would take me to meet her and pick me up after. She’d kiss me on the cheek and say how beautiful I was becoming, and then walk away.”
�
��That’s incredibly sad.”
Julia’s eyes wandered to the spiral iron staircase. “Just as well. I don’t think Anna’s the mothering type.”
“Still, she came to be with you when she heard that your grandfather died.”
“Maybe I’m the suspicious sort, Lucy, but I have to ask why. Two years ago, when I turned twenty-five, the allowance he was giving her ended. I don’t think she has much in the way of financial support. Her career isn’t going well, to say the least. I follow her activities on the Internet sometimes. She’s incredibly talented. They say when she was a teenager, she was considered the most promising violinist of her generation, but she can’t get much work anymore. No one in the classical music world will trust her. If she does happen to land a gig, it usually ends in tears and temper tantrums.”
“What about Dave? Can he support her?”
She shrugged. “I’d never even heard of him before last night. He doesn’t look like a man with money, but these days you can’t always tell, can you?” She stared off into the distance. A tear formed in the corner of her eye. “It would have been nice to have had a mother.” Her voice was very low.
Charles returned from the climb to the top and leapt onto the desk. He gave a soft meow and stretched out a paw toward Julia. She wiped her eyes and scooped him up. She held him close, and he comforted her.
I felt myself smiling. If Charles believed in Julia, then I would too. “Your parents were both musicians. Do you play?”
“Oh, no. Perish the thought. You can be sure Grandfather never let me anywhere near an instrument. I know now that he was terrified I’d follow in my father and Anna’s footprints. When the other girls at school were in music class, I had an extra art or French lesson. I enjoy classical music, though.” She put Charles down and then lifted her hands and let her fingers dance through the air. “I sometimes find myself playing the air piano, although I’ve never so much as touched a key. I wonder if I inherited some sort of musical talent. Better not to find out; it never did either of my parents any good.”
Footsteps sounded on the stairs as the rest of the group descended. Anna clung to Theodore’s arm with one hand, and in the other she carried her shoes. Greg and Dave followed, talking football.
