The Broken Spine

by Dorothy St. James

  I blinked at the proper older lady and drew several deep breaths, hoping I could calm my pounding heart. “Didn’t I? But I always sign in.”

  Gracious, my voice was quivering with guilt.

  Mrs. Farnsworth raised an eyebrow at that.

  Before she could accuse me of any wrongdoing, I added quickly, “Since the library is closed this week, I wasn’t sure that we were following normal protocol. I came in and continued work on getting the boxes organized. I suppose I forgot about the timesheet.” Without realizing what I was doing, I gestured toward the boxes that Tori and Charlie had failed to carry down. The brown cardboard stood out in stark contrast with the library’s neatly cataloged white packing boxes.

  Mrs. Farnworth’s eyebrows traveled a bit higher as she zeroed in on the damaging evidence. “Tru? What are—?”

  “Nobody move. I need everyone to remain where you are while we figure out what happened,” a man’s voice boomed through the high-ceilinged library.

  Mrs. Farnsworth sucked in a sharp breath and whirled toward the art deco bronze and glass double front doors. The police chief, who was as lanky as the tabby cat that was still lurking somewhere in the library, had the doors pushed open. The coroner and several police officers were pouring into the space.

  The last man to come through the door made me want to crawl under the nearest table. I hadn’t seen him since high school graduation. I’d heard he’d recently moved back home, but I’d kind of hoped the town would be big enough that we could avoid each other forever.

  Tall, with an arrogant, jutting chin, Jace Bailey was dressed in khaki pants with a dark blue blazer slung over one arm. His white shirt looked crisp, almost as if it’d never been worn before. He’d been the quarterback and a track star in high school. Unlike some of our classmates, he’d kept in shape since graduation. And as in high school, his slightly too long dusty blond hair still needed taming. With a nod from the police chief, who was heading over to talk with the mayor, Jace took over, directing the other officers, the coroner, and her staff.

  Once he’d finished giving orders, his gaze headed in my direction. I had to grab hold of the nearest chair to keep from making a mad dash toward the nearest exit. It was bad enough that Duggar had died in the middle of my scheme to save the books and that I was going to have to answer all sorts of questions for the police while not letting on that every bone in my body was trembling with guilt. Having to deal with Jace was going to break me. I shivered when his roaming blue eyes paused and his gaze touched mine.

  Heavens, my heart thundered in my ears just as it had the last time he’d looked my way all those mumble-mumble years ago. I suddenly wished for a natural disaster (any kind of natural disaster would do) so I wouldn’t have to face him. At the same time, I hated myself for having those feelings, for letting what he did to me—oh, heck, it was nineteen years ago—still hurt me.

  What felt like a million years lasted less than a second. His gaze moved on without showing any sign of recognition. Not even a twitch of his mouth or a crinkle of his brow. Odd.

  “Detective!” the coroner, an older lady with pinkish-white hair styled into a tight corkscrew perm, called to Jace as she crouched down next to Duggar.

  “Be right there!” He said something to the uniformed officer standing next to him before hurrying over to Duggar’s body to find out what the coroner wanted.

  “Shh!” Mrs. Farnsworth hissed several times before rushing over to where the police chief and Mayor Goodvale were talking.

  Not sure what I should do, I stood still as if my feet had been glued to the terrazzo floor. My hands were still locked around the back of the wooden chair in front of me as I watched the crime professionals while they worked.

  My father liked to call the local police department “The Barney Fife Club.” But the officials that had arrived on the scene moved with confidence. They measured. They used modern-looking electronic equipment. And they were writing everything down. No bumbling Barney Fifes here. They were professionals who seemed determined to discover what had happened in the library this morning, which only made more sweat trickle down my back.

  The police chief and the mayor moved to stand next to Duggar’s body while Jace and the coroner worked. Jace’s gaze hardened as he studied the heavy oak shelf Mrs. Farnsworth and I had tossed aside. He drew a long, slow breath as he rose to his feet. “This wasn’t an accident, sir,” he said to the police chief. “There’s no way something like this would fall over without help. Someone pushed the shelf over onto the decedent.”

  “The decedent, Detective?” I’d never heard Mayor Goodvale’s voice sound so tense. “Duggar was our town manager. He lived in Cypress his entire life. He was my friend.”

  “I meant no disrespect, sir,” Jace said as he studied his shoes. “I was only—”

  “Don’t mind the boy none,” Police Chief Fisher said as he thumped Jace on the back. “The NYPD taught him to talk like he’s on one of those police drama shows. But as I was telling you, Marvin, he’s determined to prove his salt to us.”

  “Can he?” the mayor asked, as if Jace were not standing right there. “This is an important case. We can’t hand it off to a wet-behind-the-ears whelp with a history of—”

  “I ain’t handing nothing over,” Chief Fisher drawled in his thick backwoods accent while Jace, a little red around the ears, started to jot notes in his casebook. “I’ll be overseeing every step my officers take, especially with him. Now Krystal, what are your preliminary findings?”

  The coroner, who was crouched beside Duggar’s body, shook her head. “Based on my initial examination, the impact flattened him. Like a pancake. A body can’t survive something like that.”

  “So it is murder?” Mayor Goodvale’s voice trembled with what sounded like fury. “In . . . in my town?”

  Jace flicked a glance in the police chief’s direction before answering, “I’m afraid so, sir. Someone had to have pushed that shelf over onto the . . . er . . . Mr. Hargrove.”

  Murder? Although I’d suspected it all along, hearing the word said aloud only made Duggar’s death seem that much more horrible. My gaze flew straight over to where Mrs. Farnsworth stood next to an empty bookshelf, her back ramrod straight. A look of satisfaction curled up one corner of her mouth.

  “We’ll need to question everyone who was at the library when this happened,” Jace said to the mayor. He sounded apologetic, unsure almost. After what the police chief had said, I didn’t blame him.

  Mayor Goodvale frowned. “Son, don’t you think you should call in the state folks and let them handle the investigation? This isn’t a robbery or a fraud. It’s important that we do things correctly.”

  Jace’s jaw tightened as he turned a questioning look in Fisher’s direction. “Chief? What do you want me to do?”

  “Of course we’ll call in the boys from the state. They have resources we can’t afford. But we’ll also play a part in the investigation. Can’t hand over all the power to a bunch of outsiders.”

  Jace nodded. “It is important to take statements now before our witnesses start forgetting things,” he said. “Sometimes it’s the seemingly insignificant details that break a case wide open. If you don’t mind, sir?”

  The mayor waved a shaky hand. “Of course not, son. Do your job. You can hand over your notes to the state folks and let them fill in the holes and connect the dots.”

  With a huff, Jace turned toward me. “You’re one of the librarians?”

  “I am.” There still was no hint of recognition in his eyes.

  He gave me a curt nod. “If you don’t mind,” he said and motioned over toward a large wooden table. “I need to ask you a few questions. Shall we sit down over there?” He then called to Mrs. Farnsworth, “I’ll need to talk with you as well, ma’am.”

  “Shh,” Mrs. Farnsworth answered.

  I sat across from Jace. He clicked his
pen open and closed a couple of times before drawing in a deep breath. Finally, he looked over at me.

  “Name?” he asked.

  I stared at him.

  “Please, ma’am. I understand this might be upsetting, but I need your cooperation. Name?”

  “Trudell Becket.” He’d honestly forgotten who I was?

  “Hmm . . .” He wrote my name on his pad of paper. Underlined it and frowned. “Trudell? That’s an unusual name. In high school, a fellow student by that name had tutored me in math.” He looked up at me. “A relative, perhaps?”

  “She tutored you in English,” I corrected. “And that tutor was me.”

  His mouth dropped open. His cheeks took on a pink hue as he quickly looked down at my name written in his notebook and underlined it three more times. “Oh. Sorry. Let’s get back to going over what you saw.”

  Oh? Sorry? I wanted to scream. After how you humiliated me in front of the entire high school, that is all you have to say to me?

  But I didn’t scream. I didn’t even raise my voice. This was a library, after all. High school was ancient history. So instead of doing anything foolish, I focused on getting this awkward situation over as quickly as possible. “I didn’t see anything. I heard the bookcase fall. I ran into this area and found him.” I gestured toward Duggar’s body. “Mrs. Farnsworth helped me move the shelving off him. I then checked his pulse while Mayor Goodvale called town hall.”

  Jace gave a tense nod as he jotted down some notes. After a moment he asked, “Do you know who was in the building this morning?”

  “I didn’t—” How did I explain that I wasn’t really “at work” when Duggar was murdered without endangering the books we were working so diligently to save?

  “Yes?” he pressed.

  I quickly looked down at the table. “I didn’t see anyone until after finding Duggar’s body. As I’ve said, Mrs. Farnsworth came when I’d shouted for help. She helped me move the shelf. And then Mayor Goodvale and Luke Goodvale were in the room. I . . . I don’t know who else might have been around.”

  “You didn’t see anyone in the library before the murder?”

  I crossed my fingers below the table. “We’ve been buried in books. Boxing them up. Getting them ready to be shipped out. It’s a big job.”

  “A big job?” he echoed.

  I nodded. It was a jerky motion. Most mornings I would see nearly everyone who was already in the library when I’d pass through the front entrance. Not only did the staff generally enter at about the same time, but we’d often chitchat around the front desk before disappearing into the stacks.

  Jace leaned forward. “There’s something you’re not telling me.”

  There was an entire bucket packed full of somethings. And no, I wasn’t going to tell him any of them. “I’m upset,” I admitted instead.

  “Of course you are. But there’s something else.”

  “Yes, there is something else.” I drew a steadying breath. “You.”

  His cheeks turned pink again. But unlike before, he didn’t look away.

  “That’s not it.” He tapped his square chin with his pen. “It troubles me, this something you’re not telling me. I’m going to find out what it is. That’s my job now.”

  I glanced down at the floor, picturing the partially organized bookroom just below our feet, and then back at him. He’d followed my gaze. He sat back in the old wooden chair and crossed his arms over his chest in a show of determination. I echoed his body language.

  He had a murder to solve. I had a community to save. The residents of Cypress needed those books I was working so hard to protect. They needed the lifeline the stories contained in those pages provided. Nothing, not a murder and especially not Jace’s arrogant glare, would discourage me from saving this town I loved so much.

  Chapter Four

  The next morning, after a restless night, I arrived at the stately old library to find Mrs. Farnsworth sitting at her desk in her office. As always, she was impeccable in a somber blue dress trimmed with white lace. She tapped the toe of her polished dark blue pumps as she spoke on the phone in low tones. The pearls adorning her slender neck shimmered in the overhead fluorescent lights.

  For a brief moment, the day felt like a normal day. But it wasn’t. The shelf in the media section remained toppled exactly where Mrs. Farnsworth and I had left it. The old movies were still scattered across the terrazzo floor. And Duggar was still dead. Not that his death had accomplished anything. The library would remain closed as the conversion to a bookless library continued. The books that belonged on the shelves would remain boxed up.

  Anne Lowery, the library’s young IT tech, wearing a long raincoat and carrying the biggest mug of coffee I’d ever seen, stomped through the front door. She mumbled a hello before disappearing into her computer mainframe hub, which used to be the employee lounge.

  Not sure what I should do, I brewed a cup of tea and then searched for the stray cat that was still at large somewhere in the building. After an hour, I gave up on finding him. I sat down at the front desk to start work on a project of my own.

  “You argued with Duggar.” That was how Detective Jace Bailey greeted me about a half hour later. His too-handsome blond brows were furrowed as he seemed to study me. He sounded suspicious, accusatory almost.

  Gracious, how much time did he spend every morning getting his hair to look perfectly disheveled like that? The one time I tried out a stylishly messy hairdo, over a dozen patrons asked if I’d overslept.

  “Half the town had argued with Duggar. He wanted to take away all the books.” I gestured to the empty shelves that filled the once grand space. “He was making a mistake.”

  “A mistake?” Jace leaned his hip against the circulation desk. He was wearing khaki pants again. But instead of the blue blazer and starched white shirt, which really had been too warm for the sticky August weather, he was wearing a light blue polo shirt with Cypress’s town crest stitched over where one imagined his heart should be.

  “Yes, mistake. You don’t need to look at me like a spider watching its dinner fly into its web.” I hadn’t forgotten how he’d practically accused me of lying to him yesterday. He’d made me feel as guilty as if I had actually committed a murder. “And please don’t sit on the counter. It’s against the rules.”

  He looked around. “The library isn’t even open.”

  “Still, Mrs. Farnsworth is a stickler about these things.” Which was the truth, but that wasn’t the only reason I wanted Jace to back up.

  Seeing him again after such a long absence, while smelling the same sandalwood-scented aftershave he’d worn in high school, brought back too many memories. I really didn’t want to be transported back to that awkward time when I wore braces and had bad skin. And I didn’t want to remember the crushing humiliation I’d suffered thanks to him and my own stupidity.

  Jace appeared determined to crowd my space until he spotted Mrs. Farnsworth. She’d left her office and was now standing at the opening to the media room, where Duggar had died. Her hands were on her hips as she stared at the toppled shelf and disarray of DVDs still littering the floor. As she turned toward us, Jace jumped up as if the circulation desk had suddenly caught fire.

  The disarray in the one room that wasn’t slated for renovation should have ruffled our head librarian—pushed her over the edge, even. After all, she’d been as snappy as a hungry alligator leading up to the library’s conversion. For weeks she’d walked around with her lips pressed so tightly together that the vivid red lipstick she wore had completely disappeared from view.

  But today, her lipstick looked as red and bold as ever. In fact, Mrs. Farnsworth looked as if she was holding back a smile, which was ridiculous. Why would she smile at the sight of such disorder in the middle of her library?

  I shivered and wondered once again if Mrs. Farnsworth had been the one who had pushed the
shelf onto Duggar. Had that been her plan for saving the library?

  I have to admit that I had hoped yesterday that Duggar’s horrible death would result in something good, like the mayor canceling the library’s renovation plans. It hadn’t. Mayor Goodvale had given a statement last night to local newspaper reporter Betty Crawley, which had run in the morning edition.

  He’d told Betty how he was all the more determined to move forward with Duggar’s plans for modernizing the town. “It’s what my dear friend Duggar would have wanted,” he’d been quoted as saying in the front-page article. Betty had noted that tears had filled the mayor’s eyes as he’d made his impassioned speech.

  Had Mrs. Farnsworth not seen the article? Did she believe that the city crew wasn’t still scheduled to come and transport the older books to the landfill this afternoon?

  Just thinking about it made me want to kick something. Unfortunately, the nearest something was the detective. And even though I dearly wanted to, kicking him would cause more trouble than I needed.

  Since my hopes for an eleventh-hour reprieve had been dashed with the newspaper’s morning edition, I had planned to work all morning on my rescue scheme for the books. I hadn’t expected to have a police detective peering over my shoulder while I did it.

  “What are you doing there?” Jace asked as he leaned over and attempted to read the typed note cards spread out in front of me on the desk.

  I pushed the cards I’d been sorting into a manila file folder and then slapped my hand over it. “Just library work.”

  “I thought the library was going all digital. Why in the world are you typing? Are those cards for an old-fashioned card catalog? The library doesn’t still have one of those, does it?”

  “We are going digital, and yes, as you should know, the card-catalog system went the way of the dodo bird long before we started high school.” I tried to keep my expression bland.

  He was too perceptive. I had been sorting the catalog cards I’d created for the secret bookroom’s library catalog.