by Diane Morlan
21
Looking at my watch, I saw that I still had about ten minutes before I was scheduled to meet with Pamela. I wandered around the library, checking out the new best sellers and perusing the cozy mysteries, my favorites. I heard a phone ringing and looked around. It seemed to be coming from the elevator. The phone rang again. Who would call the elevator phone?
I motioned to a diminutive, silver haired woman whose nametag identified her as “Maureen—Library Cataloger/Circulation” to come over to the elevator. I asked her to listen. We tilted our heads toward the closed elevator door. The phone rang again. Looking at each other, we both shrugged our shoulders at the same time. Maureen reached over and pushed the call button. The door opened and the ringing got louder.
The first thing we saw was a book cart filled with books; some were in disarray and several were on the floor. The ringing stopped. We peeked behind the book cart and saw Pam Frey lying on her back with her cell phone in her outstretched hand.
She looked up at me and said, “What hit me?”
Maureen and I helped her up and guided her to a chair at a computer desk near the elevator. When Maureen went to get her some water, I asked her what had happened.
“I don’t know. I was at the elevator down in the children’s library. My phone rang so I pulled it from my pocket to answer it before I got in trouble for having it on at work. I turned around to push the cart into the elevator and something hit me on the head. I remember falling and heard the ringing again. That’s all I remember until I looked up and saw you looking at me.”
When Maureen came back, she helped Pam drink some of the water. I asked her to stay with Pam for a few minutes while I ran down the stairs to the children’s library. Maybe someone down there had seen what happened.
When I got down to the children’s library, I saw that there was only one person behind the circulation desk, Mort Kelley. He was at the computer pecking away at the keyboard, quietly whistling.
When I walked up to him I recognized the tune he was whistling, an old disco tune by the Bee Gees from Saturday Night Fever. “Mr. Kelley, I need your help. Pam was just attacked in the elevator.”
“Oh, my, is she okay? Should I call 9-1-1?” Mort reached for the phone.
“No, I think she’s going to be fine. You might be able to help me, though.”
Mort took his hands off the keyboard and folded them in his lap. “I will be glad to help in any way I can. As head librarian, it’s my duty to assist in any way possible.”
“Did you see anyone here when she was taking the cart of books to the elevator?”
“Oh, golly. I just came down here to fill in at the desk while Deb went to lunch. We are researching her family tree.” He scooped up a pile of papers and waved them in the air. “Her family is quite interesting. Oh, the elevator—I didn’t notice anyone there. Come to think of it, I don’t remember seeing anyone near the elevator, not even Pam. Are you sure she’s all right? She’s such a pleasant young lady, always dependable and she understands the Dewy Decimal System as well as the regular staff.”
I broke in before he started to explain library procedures to me. “That’s nice. So, you didn’t see anyone here who might have hurt Pam?”
“No,” he replied. I turned to leave when he added, “Maybe Deb can help you out when she gets back. She’s much more observant than I am. I’m afraid I sometimes get so focused that I’m in my own little world.”
I thanked him and returned upstairs to see how Pam was doing. She seemed to be okay, if a little woozy. She definitely did not want us to call an ambulance. I wasn’t sure if it was because she really felt okay or if she was worried about the expense.
“Okay, Pam. I won’t call the EMTs, although I think you should get checked out. You really need to talk to the police. This might be connected to Whitney’s death, since you’re related to her.
I pushed the button for the Sheriff’s office, thinking I was probably the only person in Marion County with the cops on speed dial. I told him about the events at the library.
“Jennifer, it’s actually a Hermann police matter, since the library is within the city limits. Let me call the chief and see who’s going to take the case.”
“Okay, but I hope someone will be here soon.”
“Someone will be there in a few minutes; I promise. Would you stay with the young lady until I get there?”
“Of course I will.” I said, thinking that it was a good thing he asked because there was no way I was going to miss out on Jacobs’ interview with Pam.
Maureen showed Pam and me to a small study room where we could talk without disturbing the other patrons of the library. She said that she would send the police to us when he arrived.
“Pam, will you tell me what you did today—starting when you arrived at the library?”
“Okay, I got about four o’clock. I hate to be late so I came over straight from the Dixie Diner. After I hung up my coat, I looked over the volunteer’s list. Mort fills it out with things for us to do while we’re here, like shelving books and shelf reading.”
She noticed the puzzled look on my face and said, “We check the call numbers on the books to make sure that they are in the right place.” I let her keep talking to keep her mind off the attack. “People are always trying to help us out by putting the books back when they’ve finished with them. They usually get it wrong.”
Just then, there was a rap on the door. We looked up and saw Lieutenant Jacobs and a police officer through the large window. The cop was a tall handsome young man with an awesome Tom Selleck-type moustache and a head of curly hair the color of mahogany. I stood up and opened the door for them. Jacobs introduced us to Sargent Timothy Hackenmuller, explaining to Pam that her attack was a police matter but because it might be connected to Whitney’s murder, the Hermann police were including him in on the interview. Jacobs then thanked me for my help and held the door for me.
“You don’t really think I’m leaving, do you?”
“Jennifer, this is a police matter now.”
“I had an appointment to meet with Pam. I’m staying. I crossed my arms and stood up straight.
Pam said, “I’d like her to stay, please. I’m still sort of shaky.”
Jacobs gave a huge sigh, sat down across the table from Pam, and waved his arm toward the chair at the end of the table. I quietly sat down.
Looking at me, he said, “I’ll do the talking here, understand?”
“Yes, sir,” I replied.
“Okay, Pam, why don’t you tell me what happened to you starting with when you came to work today.”
“I don’t actually work here; I’m a volunteer.”
“That’s fine. I just want to know what happened here today.”
“I was just telling Jennifer that I arrived just before four o’clock. I’m scheduled from four to six-thirty twice a week. Let me think.” Her brow furrowed as she thought. “I put on my blue smock, said hello to Maureen and took a cart filled with children’s books downstairs to reshelf them. Deb was on the circulation desk and we talked while I put away the books on my cart.”
“Is that when you went back to the elevator?” Jacobs asked.
“No, I went to the book drop and picked up those books. Then I went to the elevator to take them to the upstairs circulation desk. I was trying to hurry, because I told Jennifer I’d meet her at five o’clock. I got on the elevator and turned the cart around. Wait, I remember! I took out my cell phone because I had forgotten to put it on vibrate and the librarians get a little testy with me if it rings. That’s the last thing I remember.”
Jacobs reached across the table and put his hand over hers. “Who did you see when you were down in the children’s library? Tell me everyone you saw.”
Pam frowned while thinking of an answer. “Let me see. I saw Deb, the children’s circulation clerk. She was checking out books for a little blond girl.”
“Was the girl’s mother with her?”
“Yes! A short
pregnant woman about my age. She seemed to be in a hurry, tapping her foot while Deb and the little girl chatted about the books she was checking out.”
“Good. Who else did you see?”
“There were a couple of boys looking at young adult science fiction books. One boy was looking through Secret of the Sands. It’s a great book. Oh, I don’t suppose you’re interested in that.”
Jacobs patted her hand. “I’m interested in everything you saw, Pamela.”
“You can call me Pam; everybody does.”
“Thank you, Pam. What else did you see?”
“Hmm, let me think. Oh, I remember. There was a guy talking to Phyllis. She’s the Maron County Historian. She has an office downstairs where they keep all the old papers from the courthouse. She’s so nice.”
I couldn’t hold my tongue any longer. “Did you recognize the guy?”
Jacobs shot me a look that would have shut up Sister Bernie. Not that he would ever do that to her. I mumbled, “Sorry,” and slouched down in my seat trying to be invisible.
“We’ll talk to Phyllis later. She can fill us in. In the meantime,” Jacobs continued as if I hadn’t interrupted, “Tell me what he looked like, what he was wearing. Tell me every detail.”
“Okay.” Pam took a deep breath. “He was tall. Phyllis is a short little lady and he just towered over her. His back was to me so I didn’t see his face, but he was tall.”
I almost jumped out of my seat. Instead, I sat stone still. Could it be Charlie? Charlie was tall, really tall.
Jacobs prompted her. “What was he wearing?”
“Um, a grey hoodie and jeans. Not very helpful, I’m afraid.”
“Did he have the hood up or could you see his hair color?”
The hood wasn’t up. It was bunched up at his neck, I think his hair was blond, but I’m not sure. I’m sorry.”
“That’s okay. Did you notice anything else?”
I almost screamed. She noticed the title of the book that the boy was perusing but wasn’t sure of the color of the man’s hair.
“Boots. He was wearing brown boots.”
“Work boots or cowboy boots?” Jacobs urged her.
“Cowboy boots, I think.”
“That’s good,” Jacobs said. “Was anyone else down there?”
“I don’t think so. At least I didn’t see anyone else.”
Jacobs patted her hand twice and sat back in his chair. “That was very helpful, Pam. Are you sure you’re okay? I can drive you over to the Emergency Room to get checked out.”
“Oh, gosh, no. I’m fine. Just a little headache. I think I just want to go home.”
Jacobs stood and helped her to her feet. He nodded to me and walked out with Pam. I heard him say, “I’ll just help you with your coat, and then walk you to your car. Are you sure you can drive? I can have an officer take you home.”
Although I could no longer hear the two of them, I saw Pam shake her head.
I watched until they were out of sight then I hightailed down the back stairs through the children’s library and looked for Phyllis’ office.
I should have taken my time. I found the door with a gold plaque that told me this was the entrance to the “Marion County Historical Room.” When I tried to open the heavy wood door, it wouldn’t budge. Then I noticed the sign next to the door with the hours the room was open. Phyllis had gone home at five o’clock and wouldn’t be back until Friday at nine a.m.
22
When I left the library, the wind almost knocked me over. I zipped up my jacket and ran to my car. Calling Decker, I asked him to meet me at the Cozy Corner for a burger, instead of at my place. I wanted to stop and see Trudy for a minute, so Decker and I decided to meet in about forty-five minutes.
When I pulled up to the door at Trudy’s Lace Haus, I saw the closed sign in the door. Darn! I looked at my watch and saw it was after six o’clock. I could go up to the house, but she was probably in the middle of dinner—or was that supper—with Ray.
Instead, I walked over to the group home. Maybe I could talk to Izzy or someone and see if she had any new information.
I opened the storm door and before I could knock, it opened. Pete stood there smiling. “Come in out of the cold. It’s getting nasty out there.”
I hurried in so he could close the door. We move fast during Minnesota winters. And it looked like winter was well on its way.
The house smelled so good. Something yummy was in the oven.
“Pete what are you doing here? I asked.
“I work here, remember?”
“I thought you worked days.”
“I do, usually. I’m just finishing up some paperwork.” He waved his hand at the countertop that had files and papers strewn over it.
Just then, Harold walked into the kitchen. “Hi, you eating with us? We have pizza.” He clapped his hands.
Pete answered for me. “Jennifer just stopped in for a minute, Harold. Why don’t you go help Izzy set the table?”
“It’s not my turn.”
Izzy waltzed into the kitchen and said, “Harold, go sit down, we are eating now. Pete, please move the papers, the pizzas are done.”
She pulled out a round pan that held a dip dish pizza that was obviously homemade. It had sausage, mushrooms and pepperoni peeking out of the bubbling cheese. Setting it on the table, she turned back and pulled out another one. This one looked like it was a cheese pizza.
“Would you like to eat pizza with us? We have enough.”
“Oh, no thanks, I was going to Trudy’s but she’s closed. I just wanted to stop in and see what’s going on with Harold.”
Izzy expertly rolled the large pizza cutter through the cheese and crust, cutting the pizza into small squares. She tucked two hot pads under her arm and with oven-gloved hands, picked up the two pans and carried them out of the room.
Pete set down the papers he had moved when Izzy opened the oven. “You sure you didn’t stop by to see me? Okay, okay,” he said when he saw me scowling at him. “Harold’s fine, as you saw for yourself. I think they’re done questioning him. We’re pretty sure they don’t suspect him anymore. But, they are trying to find out if he saw anything that might help them catch the guy who did this.”
Pete pulled out a chair and motioned for me to sit down. I was about to protest that I wouldn’t be staying, when I looked down at his feet. He was wearing shiny brown cowboy boots. I slid onto the chair and blurted, “What were you doing at the library today?” I could have bit off my tongue the minute the words came across my lips. Way to go, Blabbermouth.
“How did you know I was at the library? Were you following me?” He tried to make it sound like a joke, but his eyes looked cold as steel.
I frantically looked around for something to say. I looked out the window and saw a flashy BMW parked in the driveway. Pete was the only one working at the group home who could afford such a car.
“Oh, I saw your Beemer in the parking lot,” I said lightly, pretending it didn’t 1matter. I twirled a lock of hair between my fingers. I guess Pete bought it.
“I was just checking out something with the historian. Some family stuff.”
“Did you find what you were looking for?” I asked.
Pete gave me a little smile and said, “Oh, yeah. I sure did.”
A knock on the door ended the conversation. None too soon for me. I expected one of the residents to be at the door and was shocked to see Decker there.
“Is Jennifer here?”
Pete pushed open the door and made a sweeping gesture with his arm. “Jennifer, your boyfriend’s here checking up on you.”
“I’m not checking up on her,” Decker protested as he stepped into the kitchen. “I was on my way to meet her at the bar and saw her car at Trudy’s. When Trudy didn’t know where she was, I got worried. And why do I need to explain myself to you?”
Pete chuckled. “You don’t have to but you just did.”
I stood up and pulled my jacket around me. “Enough!�
� I said to both of them. “Let’s go, Jerry. See you later, Pete.” With that I walked out the door and stomped over to my car.
I unlocked and opened my car door. Before I climbed up into it, I turned to Decker. “Don’t you ever check up on me again!”
“Jennifer, I wasn’t checking on you,” he replied putting one hand across the open door to my vehicle to prevent me from entering. “I couldn’t find you. I thought something was wrong. And why did you park at Trudy’s to go to the group home? Were you afraid I’d catch you with Pete? Which I did, by the way.” I couldn’t believe that he could go from defensive to offensive in one fell swoop.
“You did not catch me at anything,” I protested. “I stopped to talk to Trudy and when I saw the store was closed I decided to go talk to Izzy. I didn’t even know Pete would be there. I’m only telling you this because so much happened this afternoon and it all relates.”
“I’m sorry you’re so upset. I just lost it there for a minute.” He didn’t sound very apologetic to me but I let it go.
“You certainly did. I’ll meet you over at the Cozy Corner.” With that I pushed his arm out of the way, climbed into my vehicle, slammed it into reverse and sprayed a little gravel on Decker’s feet. How dare he follow me. I took a deep breath and realized he might have a reason to be worried. After all, someone had killed Whitney here a few days ago.
I pulled into the parking lot of the Cozy Corner, thinking about how much I had to tell Decker about what had happened at the library. I decided to forgive him and get on with the investigation—and dinner. I was starved. Juicy Lucy here I come.
I jumped down from my SUV when I saw Decker coming toward me. I gave him a hug and he kept his arm around me while we walked to the door of the bar. I think he was swaggering, but it was hard to tell.
This early on a Wednesday night the bar wasn’t too crowded. Most of the people there were eating more than drinking. With no band blaring out country music, it was fairly quiet.
While we waited for the cheesy lava centers of our burgers to cool down we munched on onion rings and I told Decker about everything that had happened at the library.
