Tori dropped back into the old wooden chair. “Where do we start?”
My first impulse was to pull out my casebook, but I’d written notes in it that implicated Tori. I couldn’t let her see them. “We . . . we need to find a way to prove Anne’s guilt. If we do that, the police will release Luke.”
Tori nodded. “And Charlie’s conscience will be clear.”
“Exactly,” I said with a smile.
“But why focus on Anne?” Flossie asked.
Because it would break my heart to focus on Tori. “Anne is the killer.” She has to be.
Flossie pressed her lips together. Tori looked away.
“Anne has a motive,” I reminded them, holding up one finger. “She wanted full credit for the library’s transformation, and Duggar wasn’t going to share the spotlight with her.” I added a second finger to the first one. “She had opportunity. She was working in her office, which was adjacent to the media room. She could easily pop out, do the deed, and then run back into her office, put her headphones on, and claim she hadn’t heard anything.” I raised a third finger. “Now, all we need to do is find the missing murder weapon in her office. That’ll prove that she had the means to commit the crime.”
“Forgive me if I’m wrong, but wasn’t Duggar crushed by a heavy wooden shelf?” Tori asked. “We’re not going to find the shelf in her office. Not when it’s still in the media room with the DVDs and VCR tapes back on it.”
“Tru isn’t looking for that,” Flossie scoffed. “She’s looking for the hex-head screwdriver that loosened the shelf’s bolts.”
“Um.” Tori wrinkled her nose. “You’re saying we ransack Anne’s office in search of a missing tool. And when we find it, what do we do? Call your detective?”
“He’s not my detective, but yes. That’s the plan,” I said. I rose from my chair, anxious to get started. “Tori, you could create a diversion, get Anne out of her office. You’re good at distracting people. While you’re doing that, I will search the office while Flossie keeps watch. And that’s how we prove that a stranger to town would have a reason to want Duggar dead.”
Both Tori and Flossie stared back at me with owl eyes.
“I know, right? It’s diabolical,” I said. “It’s the perfect murder. No one, save us, suspects Anne. Plus, that explains why the police were so quick to arrest Luke. Everyone thinks the motive is money, not inflating one’s ego. Anne is the killer. She has to be.”
“Let me search Anne’s office,” Tori said quietly. “You distract her. I’ll go into her office.”
“No,” I said. “I think my way is better.”
Tori stayed seated at the table. Again, she refused to meet my eyes as she shook her head. “Your way is not better,” she said softly.
I bit my lower lip, wondering why Tori wanted to get into Anne’s office. Did she have a hex-head screwdriver she needed to plant in a desk drawer?
Oh, I hated myself for even thinking that.
Flossie patted my hand. “We can’t rush into anything, dear. We can’t afford to make any more mistakes.”
“We’re running out of time,” I insisted. “If we’re going to do this, we need to do it now.”
“Tru,” Tori said. “You know I always have your back, right? That includes my never letting you walk out of the bathroom with your skirt tucked into your underwear or toilet paper stuck to your shoe.”
“What are you saying?” I demanded.
“You have toilet paper stuck to your shoe.”
“What?” I glanced down at my comfortable flats. “No, I don’t.”
“Not literally.” When I didn’t catch on to what she was telling me, she added, “Tru, you can’t be the one to find the evidence.”
“Why not?” Did they think I couldn’t handle it? Did they think I was somehow not worthy of being the heroine of my own story?
“Because . . .” Tori started to say but fumbled.
“Because”—Flossie pounced on the opening to say it even louder—“because, dear, your motive to kill Duggar is stronger than Anne’s.”
My own friends? “How could you?” I whispered.
“Stop it,” Tori snapped. “We know you didn’t kill anyone.”
“We know it,” Flossie repeated, with emphasis on the word “we.” “And that’s the problem. The police don’t know you like we do. No one does.”
“And despite having arrested Luke, the police department is filled with officers who still think me capable of committing the crime,” I was forced to concede.
“It would look bad, really bad, if you were the one to find the murder weapon in Anne’s office,” Flossie said. “All Anne would have to do is tell the police that you put the screwdriver in there, and boom, you’d be in jail instead of Luke.”
“Let me search Anne’s office, Tru,” Tori said. “If the screwdriver is in there, I’ll find it.”
“No.” It was Flossie who objected this time. “You can’t do it either.”
While I agreed with Flossie that Tori couldn’t do it, I wasn’t sure why she agreed with me.
“Whyever not?” Tori shot out of her chair again. She propped her fists on her hips. “Go ahead and say it. You don’t think I can do it because y’all think I’m not smart enough.”
Flossie huffed. “It’s not that at all. Out of the three of us, you’re probably the most cunning.”
“Um . . . thank you?” Tori tilted her head to one side. “But . . . ?”
“Tori, you can’t search Anne’s office for the same reason Tru can’t.”
“Because the police will suspect her of the crime?” I asked. Had Flossie come to the same conclusion I had? Was Flossie also worried that Tori had killed Duggar?
“What?” Flossie’s brows wrinkled. “No. Why would the police consider Tori a suspect? No one even knows she was at the library that morning.”
Tori flashed me a look I didn’t know how to interpret before she asked Flossie, “If that’s the case, why can’t I do it?”
“You’re Tru’s BFF, have been since preschool. Any evidence you find will appear just as suspect as if Tru had found it herself. Everyone knows how you’d do anything to help your best friend.”
“You do have a point.” Tori went back to avoiding eye contact again.
“If my plan has that many holes, what do we do?” I asked, feeling more frustrated than ever. “How do we save this place? Or do the two of you think it’s hopeless?”
“It’s a long shot,” Flossie said, patting her chin. “But there’s a slim chance something else might work, something that doesn’t hinge on the off-chance that the hex-head screwdriver is in Anne’s office.”
She leaned forward and kept her voice low as she laid out a plan that probably had no chance of succeeding.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
While Flossie and Tori both worked on setting into motion their part of the plan to get Anne to confess to the crime, I headed toward the circulation desk. Mrs. Farnsworth hurried through the front foyer and skirted the desk without even glancing in my direction. Her eyes looked red, as if she’d been crying.
Alarmed, I followed my crusty boss to her office. I jumped through the doorway before she had a chance to close it.
“I’m not in the mood for whatever you have to say to me,” she warned.
I leaned against the door. “I’m worried about you. We all are. Did the mayor pressure you to change your story? To lie to the police?”
The heated look she gave me made me wonder if she was about to transform into a dragon and singe me into a pile of ash. I didn’t let her glower intimidate me. Well, not too much. I trembled in my sensible shoes but held my ground.
“We’re worried about you,” I repeated. “You’re an important member of the library and the community. Please, let me help you.”
She huffed. I cringed, half exp
ecting her to breathe actual fire.
Amazingly, she didn’t.
She sat down, steepled her fingers, and sighed. “He told me that I had no choice.”
“You mean the mayor?” I said.
The pearls gracing her neck trembled. “He was worried. He told me that it had turned into a life-and-death situation. He told me that blood would be on my hands if I didn’t do what he needed me to do.”
“Because Grandle attacked Luke?”
She looked up at me in surprise. “You know about that?”
“I know about the debts Luke was running from. I know Grandle followed him to Cypress to collect.”
She shook her head. “The mayor will be distressed to know his son’s troubles are common knowledge. He’s worked so hard to keep them quiet.”
“That’s why he wanted his son locked away behind bars, isn’t it? You went to the police the day after Luke’s attack,” I said as the pieces started to fall into place. I hadn’t spent enough time thinking about Mrs. Farnsworth’s role in this mystery. I’d been too focused on Anne. And that had been a mistake. “Mayor Goodvale was worried about his son’s safety, wasn’t he? He pressured you into destroying their alibis.”
After Luke was in jail, the mayor had assured everyone of his son’s innocence. He’d seemed almost pleased that his son was in jail because he was pleased.
Mrs. Farnsworth’s watched me. Her brows crinkled. “How do you know this?”
“It only makes sense.” My heart beat a little faster. “I’d initially thought the mayor was coercing you to change your story in order to clear Luke of the murder charge. But that wasn’t the case. He’d coerced you to lie about seeing Luke. He wanted his son safely behind bars because he needed to keep his son safe from Grandle.”
Mrs. Farnsworth nodded. “Grandle, what a name. After Luke was attacked, Marvin was convinced his son’s life was in danger.” She drew in a long, slow breath. “They didn’t have the money to pay him.”
“I get that. What I don’t understand is how the mayor convinced you to lie about something so important.” Mrs. Farnsworth placed honesty on the same sacred shelf as rule-following. It was a strict personal code she not only expected of others but also lived by every day of her life.
“The reason isn’t important.” Her voice cracked.
“Isn’t it?” I asked.
“No.” She said that one word with such finality, I didn’t dare press her. “And even though I followed the mayor’s orders and went to the police just now and told them that I was mistaken, that I hadn’t seen Luke near the media room a few moments before Duggar’s death, it didn’t matter. Fisher refused to drop the charges against Luke. He said they didn’t need my eyewitness testimony, that they were building a rock-solid case against Luke.” She sniffled. “I should have never lied in the first place. This wouldn’t have happened if I had simply refused to be blackmailed by—”
“What did the mayor have over you?” It shocked me to imagine that someone as straitlaced as Mrs. Farnsworth could be blackmailed. What secrets could she possibly have?
Mrs. Farnsworth merely shook her head. “Marvin is going to be furious.”
“This is not your fault.” How dare the mayor put her in such a position! “And why would he want his son out of jail? Grandle is still in town. Still a threat. I saw him just yesterday.”
With Charlie.
At Duggar’s house.
Mayor Goodvale didn’t have the money to pay off Grandle, but perhaps the old books at Duggar’s house would serve as a substantial down payment. Heck, for all I knew, the sale of the books Duggar had spent a lifetime collecting would pay off Luke’s debts completely.
“I don’t know.” Mrs. Farnsworth bit off the words. “Marvin hasn’t exactly confided in me.”
“No, I don’t suppose he would.” Charlie had sworn to me that he wasn’t robbing Duggar’s house. Perhaps he didn’t realize that the mayor wasn’t inheriting Duggar’s collection. Perhaps the mayor had convinced Charlie that by removing the books from Duggar’s house, he was helping settle Duggar’s estate. Or perhaps Charlie was lying to me.
I didn’t know the answer. And it really didn’t matter.
What mattered right now was catching the killer.
Anne?
“Don’t worry,” I told Mrs. Farnsworth. “One way or the other, Luke will be cleared of the murder charges and out of jail before the end of the day.” I simply hoped the secret bookroom would still be a secret when the sun set over Lake Marion.
“How do you—?” she started to ask.
“I just know it’s going to happen,” I said as I opened the door. “And if things don’t work out how I hope they will, I want you to know that I did what I did because I love this library and this town. I’m not sorry.”
Mrs. Farnsworth shot to her feet. “Tru!” she cried. “You didn’t!”
I didn’t have time to disabuse her of the conclusion she’d jumped to. I had a killer to catch and, gracious, very little time to do it.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Luke desperately needed money.
Duggar understood the value of old books. The library had been packed with them.
And Mayor Goodvale was clearly prepared to go to any length to protect his son.
I hurried through the library, searching for Tori and Flossie. I had my phone out and was texting Tori as I headed toward Anne’s office. I didn’t notice the large man coming toward me until I knocked into him.
“Whoa there, little girl.” The man caught my arms. “Where’s the fire?”
“Uh . . . um . . . Detective Ellerbe. I’m so glad to see you.” The detective reminded me of a well-used paperback novel, creased and tattered around the edges. The cover bulging slightly. But behind his tired exterior and thick mustache, intelligence shone in his eyes. “I didn’t think you’d still be in town, I mean, after Luke’s arrest.”
“Just tying up a few loose ends,” he said. His mustache quivered. “Why are you glad to see me?”
“Well, it saves me from having to make a phone call to the police department.”
One eyebrow rose. “Yes?”
“There’s a man in town by the name of Grandle. I’m pretty sure he attacked Luke the other day.”
That single eyebrow remained elevated. “Pretty sure?”
“Luke owes him money. And he is a dangerous man.”
“Is that so? Do you have any proof of this?”
“Proof?” That was the trouble. I didn’t have proof of anything. “Can’t you talk to Grandle? Get him to confess? I suspect he’s been paid off, or at least given enough money that he won’t hurt Luke again. Which means you need to stop him before he leaves town.”
Ellerbe put his hand on my shoulder. “I heard what happened yesterday and that you thought you saw trouble out at the late town manager’s house. Look, you’ve been through a terrible shock. Everyone who was at the library the morning Duggar died has. It’s only normal that your mind will start making up stories to explain how such a bad thing could happen in a town like Cypress.”
“I’m not making this up,” I argued.
“I know it seems real to you.”
“Because it is.” And, obviously, I wasn’t going to make any headway with him. I might have kept trying, but the baristas in the café had started shouting at each other again. “Excuse me,” I said to Ellerbe. “I need to handle that.”
He gave me a knowing nod before heading toward Mrs. Farnsworth’s office. I walked briskly in the opposite direction, toward the café, where it sounded like a war was about to erupt. There was a loud crash. A thunderclap of shattering glass.
And then—silence.
I sprinted the last several yards to the café.
As it turned out, I didn’t need to run. Tori was standing behind the counter. She’d put herself physically
between the two argumentative baristas. Her arms were outstretched, her face red with anger.
“Go home, Hansen,” she growled. “Mop up that mess, Brantley.” She held up a finger. “And I don’t want to hear a word from either of you.”
“But . . . but—”
“Not a word.” Tori’s eyes flashed fire. “I already covered for you once.” She held up her still-bandaged hand.
“You hurt your hand because of these two?” I demanded as I came skidding to a stop at the counter. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
Tori jerked her hand behind her. “Don’t sneak up on me like that!”
“You’ve been doing my job, Tori?” I was in charge of managing the new café. “You should have told me.” It would have saved me hours of worry.
“I know these two jerks. Hansen, I said go. Get out of here.”
The young man looked to me for guidance. “You heard her,” I said.
With slumped shoulders, he headed for the exit.
“And you, Brantley. The library doesn’t pay you to stand around slack-jawed.”
The other young man grumbled as he went to fetch a mop from the maintenance room.
Tori shook her head. “They’re good kids, but they cannot work together. Like ever. If anyone had asked me, I would have told them.”
“Duggar hired them.” Without consulting anyone.
“Stole them from me, you mean? I would never schedule those two numbskulls for the same shift at Perks. The way they act when they’re together would make a preacher cuss.”
“But we didn’t know that. You got between them on opening day? And got hurt? Is that what happened to your hand?” She really should have told me.
“It’s just a scratch.”
“Not just a scratch.” I pointed to the white bandage still wrapped around her hand and wrist.
She shrugged. “Like I said, they’re good kids. I hoped they’d be able to work things out, since they both seemed excited about working for the library. Charlie came running when I called to tell him I was bleeding all over your opening ceremonies. He got me patched up. That man of mine has some wicked skills.” She waggled her brows, making what she’d said sound naughty.
The Broken Spine Page 26
