The Spook in the Stacks_A Lighthouse Library Mystery

by Eva Gates

  “Wasn’t that interesting?” Theodore said.

  “Most interesting.” Anna turned to Julia. “Such a nice young man.”

  “He is,” Julia said.

  Theodore beamed. “Have you been to the Wright Brothers Memorial, Mrs. Makarova? It’s very interesting.”

  “No, I have not.” Anna slipped her shoes back onto her feet. “But I’d love to see it. Is it far to go?”

  “Not at all. Julia and I were planning to go there one day soon, weren’t we, Julia? No time like the present.”

  “Wonderful. Let’s do that. David, darling, why don’t you and Gordon here—”

  “Greg,” said Greg.

  “—go back to the hotel. There must be some tedious sports game or other on the television.”

  “I’d like to see the Wright Brothers too,” Dave said. “First in flight and all that.”

  “No, you wouldn’t.” Anna tucked her hand through Julia’s arm, so she had Teddy on one side and her daughter on the other. Dave and Greg were pointedly left out of the circle. “Perhaps a little lunch on the way. I’m sure you know the absolute best places, Theodore.”

  “I do.”

  “That’s settled then. We’ll all meet later for dinner. Lucy, you will join us, of course.”

  “Me?”

  “Consider it a command performance. Come along, everyone.”

  Julia gave me a “what can you say?” shrug.

  “I have another engagement tonight,” I whispered to her.

  “That’s fine. Anna will soon forget she invited you.”

  “Did you know that the entirety of the Wright Brothers’ inaugural flight covered less distance than the length of a modern passenger jet?” Theodore asked.

  “Is that so! That is fascinating,” Anna exclaimed. “I love an educated man, don’t you, Julia?”

  “What do you think of the Yankees’ prospects for next year?” Dave asked Greg.

  The door swung shut behind them. Charles leapt off the desk and went upstairs to see what Ronald was up to.

  I wondered at Anna’s sudden fondness for Theodore and her abrupt dismissal of Greg. Was she thinking Teddy would be a better match for Julia? Better for Julia as in able to be influenced by Anna?

  Entirely possible. Teddy, if he thought Anna had any influence over Julia in matters of the heart, would leap at the chance to get the mother in his camp. The resumption of the fake accent and bookish attire might be an attempt on his part to impress Anna.

  When it came to cui bono from the death of Jay Ruddle, Anna obviously did. She had Julia back in her life; she might have expectations that Julia would inherit and thus help her mother return to the lifestyle to which she wanted to become accustomed. It was possible, likely even, she hated Jay for his attempts to control her and limit contact with her daughter. Anna had good reason to kill Jay Ruddle.

  But she had not been in the Outer Banks when he died. I suppose it was possible she’d lied about being in Europe and snuck onto the library grounds unobserved, climbed the stairs, killed Jay, and crept out again.

  I had trouble seeing it. I didn’t think Anna could do unobserved.

  The phone on the desk rang, bringing me back to the here and now.

  “Lighthouse Library. Lucy speaking.”

  “What is it, Lucy?” growled Sam Watson.

  For a moment, I thought he’d reached down the phone line and plucked thoughts about Anna straight out of my head. Then I remembered Bertie and my trip to Blacklock College. “I uncovered something you might find of interest. In the Ruddle case.”

  He sighed. “I suppose I have to hear it.”

  “Only if you want to. It’s about Blacklock College. The other institution in competition for the Ruddle collection.”

  “Lunch?” he said.

  “What?”

  “I haven’t had lunch yet. Josie’s in fifteen minutes.”

  “Okay,” I said, but he’d already hung up.

  After our trip this morning on non-library business, I hadn’t planned to take a lunch break. On a previous occasion, Bertie had told me I could take time off to investigate a killing that affected the library community. I called her office now. “Sam Watson wants to meet me for lunch.”

  “See what I told you, honey? He values your opinion.”

  “He values my cousin’s baking, but that’s beside the point. Can someone watch the desk for me?”

  “I’ll do it myself. We have a meeting of the library board this evening. Perhaps if I tell them I don’t have the budget ready, they’ll cancel.”

  “I can ask Ronald.”

  “I’m joking, Lucy. I have the budget fully prepared and ready to be torn apart. I also have all my counterarguments mustered.” She put on her world-weary library director voice. “‘No, Curtis, we cannot resume meeting at a restaurant, with lunch at the library’s expense. No, Diane, we are not going to install a Jonathan Uppiton memorial fountain. Not now, not ever.’ It’ll be a nice break to take the desk.”

  “I doubt I’ll learn anything,” I said. “Watson is of the opinion that information flows in one direction only. Me to him. If I do, I’ll let you know.”

  I went into the break room for my purse and drove into town to Josie’s.

  * * *

  In the height of summer and around the holidays, Josie’s Cozy Bakery can be a madhouse. But in late October, as the Outer Banks settles into the off-season, several tables were empty, and the lineup at the counter was only three deep. Watson and I arrived at the same time. He held the door for me and said lunch would be on him. He told me to grab a table in a quiet corner while he got our orders.

  I found a place at the back, nearest the doors to the kitchen. I peeked inside and saw my cousin, elbow deep in pastry dough. I called out, and she gave me a wide grin and a wave of floury fingers. I sometimes thought that heaven must smell like Josie’s Cozy Bakery. Hot pastry, warm fruits, melting sugar, freshly ground cinnamon and nutmeg, rising bread. The espresso machine hissed as it emitted clouds of fragrant steam. Josie’s bakery was rapidly becoming the spot for coffee, baked goods, and light lunches in Nags Head, and I was pleased to see it. My cousin worked hard to make it a success, so hard that the very thought of her schedule made me want to go for a nap.

  I knew Watson, like all police officers, liked to sit with his back to the wall, facing the room, so I took the other chair. He soon arrived and handed me a sandwich and a cinnamon-topped latte. For himself, he had a large coffee, black, and a ham and Swiss sandwich with a coconut cupcake on the side. He dropped into a chair and unfolded his paper napkin. “Okay, Lucy. What do you have to tell me?”

  Not one for small talk, Detective Watson.

  Josie made the best cupcakes. I eyed the thick white frosting and sprinkle of toasted coconut enviously. If I wasn’t careful, regular meetings at my cousin’s bakery would put twenty pounds on me before I knew it.

  “Don’t tell CeeCee,” Watson said.

  “Huh?”

  “About the cupcake. She’s after me to watch what I eat. I can’t continue to put the groceries away the way I did when I was a police recruit, or so she tells me. I know that, but I pretend not to.” He bit into his sandwich. “What have you learned?”

  “Two things. First, Bertie spoke to a friend who’s a professor at Blacklock College.” I didn’t say that we’d gone to the college ourselves, and I didn’t mention Bertie’s past history with our informant. I just laid out what we’d been told. “Charlene told us that the people from Blacklock tried to bribe her. They said if she spied on us, they’d give her the job of curator of the collection. If they got it, that is.”

  “When did this happen?”

  “Saturday. At the lecture. She says she told you Elizabeth McArthur was in the building, but not what they talked about.”

  He nodded. “I bet that went down well.”

  “As well as could be expected. They obviously don’t know Charlene.”

  “That’s all interesting, Lucy.” He finis
hed his sandwich, wiped his fingers on a paper napkin, and carefully peeled the paper away from the cupcake. I tried not to stare as the cake, as white and fluffy as a cloud upon which angels rest, came into view. “You’re telling me the folks from Blacklock College wanted the Ruddle collection, and they wanted it badly. Fair enough, but that’s no motive for murder. Killing him has the opposite effect, and anyone should have known that. The man’s estate has to be settled, and there are no guarantees as to what his heirs plan to do with it.”

  “Agreed, but I’m pointing out that the Blacklock people were desperate to get it. Maybe one of them went up to the rare books room with Jay, and he told them he’d made his decision, and it wasn’t in Blacklock’s favor. Hearing that, did Norman or Elizabeth strike out at him in anger?”

  Watson broke off a huge piece of cupcake, tossed it into his mouth, and chewed. “Want some?”

  “What? Oh, no, thank you.” I patted my sandwich, still untouched. Talking to Watson makes me far too nervous to eat. “I’ve got plenty here.”

  “If you say so.” He took a bite of pure icing. I thought I might swoon.

  “I’ll keep your information in mind,” he said. “I hadn’t considered this collection to be worth killing over, but if someone’s job’s on the line because of it, that’s another matter altogether.”

  I felt as I had back in school when my mother praised me for getting ninety-three percent on my seventh-grade Civil War essay. My father had asked what happened to the other seven percent.

  “You said two things.” The last crumb of cupcake disappeared. “What’s the other?”

  “Julia’s mother’s in town. She got in yesterday.”

  “I didn’t know that, but that’s natural enough, isn’t it? Her father-in-law died, and she wants to be with her daughter.”

  “It’s not exactly a normal mother–daughter relationship. Were you aware that Jay Ruddle paid Anna—that’s Julia’s mother—an allowance on the condition that she stay away from Julia while she was growing up? The allowance began when Julia was three years old, after her father died in an accident for which Jay blamed Anna, and it ended when Julia turned twenty-five. That was only two years ago. It’s possible Anna has recently run out of money.”

  Watson’s eyebrows rose, and for the first time ever, I thought I’d surprised the detective. “I was not aware of any of that. Was this Anna in town at the time in question?”

  “She says she was in Europe. She’s a musician.”

  “I’ll check into that,” he said. “Is her last name Ruddle?”

  “It’s Makarova. Anna Makarova. But that might be a stage name. She’s a classical musician.”

  “Easy enough to find out.” He pushed his chair back.

  “Wait!” I said. “What’s happening with the case against Julia? I’ve told you about two possible suspects—three if you consider two people from Blacklock College were at the library when Jay died. There must be more. The man was a ruthless businessman. He would have had enemies.”

  “He made some enemies over his lifetime, yes. Quite a few it would appear. But all that happened a long time ago. He was retired. He was eighty-two years old.”

  “Some people carry a grudge for a long time.”

  Sam Watson stood up. He placed his hands on the table and leaned toward me, looming into my space. I braced myself, determined not to be intimidated. Around us people came and went, drinks were made, and food served. A woman laughed, and in the kitchen someone yelled, “Hey, watch that!” The busy bakery fell away as Watson stared into my eyes. “Thank you for bringing that information to my attention, Lucy. I shouldn’t have to remind you once again—but I will—not to interfere in my investigation.”

  “I’m not interfering,” I said firmly. “I am helping.”

  “If you’re gathering information specifically designed to take attention away from your friend, that’s interfering. Do you understand?”

  “Yes,” I mumbled, intimidated.

  “You and your book club should read a Sherlock Holmes story next.”

  “I suppose we could do that.” I wondered why he’d changed the subject so abruptly.

  “Perhaps A Study in Scarlet. Pay particular attention to the line ‘It is a capital mistake to theorize before you have all the evidence. It biases the judgment.’”

  “I…”

  “You’ve decided Julia Ruddle did not kill her grandfather. You then began to gather evidence to support that hypothesis. Meaning, Lucy, you are working backward. It’s a good thing you’re not the detective, and I am. Sherlock Holmes also said, ‘I wish you simply to report facts to me, and you can leave me to do the theorizing.’ The Hound of the Baskervilles.”

  “I didn’t know you were a Sherlock aficionado.”

  He straightened up. “Stay out of it, Lucy.”

  He walked away, and I watched him go. Watson was right. I was not a detective. I didn’t want to be a detective. But I believed in Julia’s innocence, and for her sake as well as Theodore’s, I wanted to do what I could to help.

  Josie slipped into the recently vacated seat. “You’re having lunch with Sam Watson? What’s that about?”

  “I’m trying to help the police. Like the good citizen I am.” I unwrapped my sandwich and took a moment to admire it. A bakery-made baguette stuffed with thick layers of beef tinged a slight pink, runny cheese, glistening onions, and a handful of bright green herbs. I knew from past experience it would taste as good as it looked.

  “Did he appreciate your help?” Josie asked.

  “This time, I think he did. Although it would kill him to admit it.”

  “A bunch of reporters were in here earlier. I couldn’t help but overhear them talking. They say the granddaughter did it.”

  “She didn’t.”

  “If you say so, sweetie.”

  “I do, but unfortunately, as Detective Watson recently pointed out, what I say is totally irrelevant.” I took a bite of my sandwich. It was so yummy, I momentarily forgot all about murder and the dark cloud of suspicion hanging over Julia.

  Josie started to get to her feet, and that brought me back to earth. “Josie?”

  “What, sweetie?”

  “You ever hear about any of the wild horses from Corolla making their way this far south?”

  She laughed. “Heavens no. They’re totally protected. If they got out of their sanctuary, they’d be hit by a car the first time they tried to cross the road. Or fed cheeseburgers and fries, almost as fatal, although slower. Even if they stuck to the beach, someone would be sure and call the police or the wildlife authorities if they saw a horse strolling past. Why do you ask?”

  “No reason. Have wild horses ever lived around here?”

  “Long ago, maybe. But not these days. There are horseback-riding outfits in Nags Head who take people for a ride in the woods and along the beach. Do you want to go riding? Aaron can suggest some places. He worked at a stable one summer when he was in junior high. I don’t remember which one, though.”

  “Just wondering,” I said.

  My cousin gave me a look. Then something in the room caught her attention, and her eyes widened. “Speak of the devil.”

  I whirled around, half-expecting a spectral gray horse to have wandered into the bakery. Instead, I saw Julia Ruddle and Theodore Kowalski. Anna wasn’t with them.

  A small smile touched the corners of Julia’s mouth when she saw me, and she waved. She said something to Theodore, and they changed direction. “Hi, Lucy,” Julia said. “Fancy running into you.”

  “Julia, do you remember my cousin, Josie O’Malley? You met at book club on Friday.”

  “I remember.” Julia noticed Josie’s flour-dotted apron, blue and white, with the bakery’s logo of a croissant curling around a lighthouse. “Josie? Is this your place? It’s lovely.”

  “All mine.” Josie stood up. “And I’d better get back at it. Nice seeing you again, Julia. My condolences on the death of your grandfather.”

  “Thank
you,” she said, and Josie slipped away.

  “Do you mind if we join you?” Julia asked me.

  “Please do.” I’d scarcely taken two bites out of my sandwich. I rolled it back up in its wrapping to enjoy at work later. “I thought you were going to the Wright Brothers. Where’s Anna?”

  Julia dropped into the seat recently vacated by Detective Watson and then Josie. The table was for two, but Teddy dragged a chair over and squeezed himself in.

  “We didn’t get any further than the outlet shops,” Julia said. “As soon as she saw them, Anna let out a mighty yell.”

  “I thought I’d hit something,” Theodore said. “Gave me quite the fright.”

  “She mustn’t have noticed them earlier,” Julia said. “Anyway, nothing would do but we had to pull in. We hit Sunglasses Hut and then Coach. She’s now trying on dresses, and that got a bit too much for Theodore.”

  “Not at all,” he said. “I was happy to offer her the benefit of my advice. A man’s point of view is always appreciated, as your mother pointed out.”

  “Okay, I’ll confess. The steady parade of clothes was getting too much for me,” Julia said. “We arranged to go back and pick her up in an hour. I shudder to think what this is costing me.”

  “Costing you?”

  “I gave her my credit card. Anna”—Julia made quotes in the air with her fingers—“forgot hers at the hotel.”

  “Can I get you something, Julia?” Theodore asked.

  “Just a latte, please.”

  He went off to join the line without asking me if I wanted anything.

  “I didn’t like to talk about it earlier, when we were in the library with everyone around, but have you heard anything more from the police?” I asked Julia.

  She shook her head. “Questions. More questions. Watson didn’t come himself, but he sent someone to the hotel this morning. Another round of the same questions I’ve answered a hundred times already. I don’t think that Detective Watson’s at all competent. He’s got a bee in his bonnet about me and won’t let it go.”

  I shifted uncomfortably. Good thing Watson had left before Julia arrived. She wouldn’t have continued to be friendly with me if she’d seen me having lunch with him. Never mind that I was trying to help her. And the best way to help Julia was to find the real killer.