“About the same. Pretty busy.”
“Maybe you wouldn’t be so busy if you weren’t going around town, saying Betty and her boy killed Fiona.” The voice that joined our conversation had not been invited.
The temperature in the café dropped suddenly and drastically as I turned to greet Delores. “I wish you’d stop saying that, Delores, because it’s not true.”
“What are you talking about, Dee?” Anna May sounded irritated and confused.
I surreptitiously surveyed the dining area to find we’d attracted attention from a number of nearby customers, including Dabney and Etta, who had their usual table near the counter.
“No, she hasn’t,” Dabney defended me loudly.
Delores gaped at him. “How could you know? You weren’t here when she did it.” She threw her arm toward the back of the coffee shop. “It was during lunch on Tuesday. And she was at a table all the way in the back.”
I opened my mouth to defend myself, but Etta spoke over me.
“That doesn’t make any sense.” The retired woman snorted. “Tuesday was two days ago. If Marvey had been spreading rumors about Fiona’s murder since then, someone here would’ve heard them.”
Anna May tapped my shoulder to gain my attention before serving me my mocha and cobblers. “And Marvey wouldn’t have accused Betty or Bobby of murder without evidence. That would be slander, and she could be sued.”
Delores’s eyes swung from Anna May to Dabney and Etta before landing on mine with a glare. “Well, she may not have said that directly, but that’s what she meant.”
Dabney scowled. “Well, if she didn’t say it directly, then you don’t know what she meant.”
Anna May took on a more reasonable tone than the septuagenarian. “Listen now, Dee, everyone knows Marvey and Jo are good friends. If Betty were being accused of a crime you know she didn’t commit, wouldn’t you help clear her name?”
Delores angled her chin. “Yes, I would, but I wouldn’t slander an innocent person to do that.”
Anna May shrugged. “Neither is Marvey.”
I started to defend myself again, but again Etta spoke first.
“Wisdom, justice, and moderation, Dee. Why, surely you recognize our state motto. Marvey’s after the truth. We all should be supporting her. It’s the only way to keep our community safe.”
Anna May planted her hands on her counter. “So if you don’t have anything nice to say, Dee, hush it.”
Delores’s eyes widened with shock. Her right fist tightened around the purse strap on her shoulder before she spun on her heels and marched out of the café.
I swallowed the lump of emotion in my throat as I tracked her exit. “I’m so sorry. I think I just cost you a customer.” My voice was husky.
Anna May humphed. “Don’t mind that. You have to know Dee. She could start an argument in an empty house.”
“That’s the truth.” Dabney grunted. “That woman craves attention. She’ll be back.”
I blinked rapidly to force back tears before shifting to face my three champions. I cleared my throat. “Thank you so much for defending me. You didn’t have to do that, but it means so much that you did.”
“Well, we appreciate you too, sweetie.” Etta’s smile was warm and caring. “You moved in here from New York City and in just a few short months, you made yourself a part of our Peach Coast family.”
Dabney’s usual cantankerous lines softened to grandfatherly concern. “But if you really are looking into this murder, you just make sure you’re careful.”
“I will be. I promise.” I turned to find the door before their caring melted me into a puddle.
You made yourself a part of the Peach Coast family.
Leaving my family behind in Brooklyn had torn a gaping hole in my heart. Etta’s words had filled that hole with love and kindness. They’d given me confirmation I’d been welcomed into this community. I didn’t just have a house and a job here. I had a home and a family. I was almost overwhelmed with emotion.
I stealthily wiped a tear from my eye on the way to the door. A movement in my peripheral vision captured my attention.
As my Southern friends might say, Well, butter my butt and call me a biscuit. What was Betty doing with Willy Pelt?
Chapter 19
Seated alone at a back table, Willy and Betty were deep in conversation, neither seeming aware of their surroundings. The tables around them were empty. Betty picked daintily from the pecan Danish on the porcelain plate in front of her. Willy ignored his coffee. Whatever he said to Betty made her blush and giggle like a schoolgirl.
Since I was driving today, I could delay my leaving for the library a few minutes longer. I made my way to the condiments counter and found a position that allowed me to keep Willy and Betty in my line of sight while remaining relatively hidden. Just then, Betty rose from their table. A winsome smile curved her lips. She looked ten years younger. Willy stood with her. He took her right hand in both of his. His touch lingered. Curious.
Betty turned to leave. Startled, I spun so my back was to her. I waited a moment or two, then checked the coast was clear to approach Willy. He saw me coming.
“Good morning, Willy.” I plastered a guileless smile to my face. “I see you’re still coming to the café. The coffee and pastries are delicious, aren’t they?”
Willy stood with a smile. “Yes, indeed they are. It’s good to see you again, Marvey.”
I gestured toward the exit behind me. “Was that Betty Rodgers-Hayes leaving the café? What did she want with you?” I couldn’t afford the luxury of subtlety if I wanted to get to work on time.
Willy rolled his eyes. “Yes. She’s a piece of work, isn’t she?”
I withheld comment. From his smiles and lingering touch, Willy didn’t seem to find Betty to be much of a burden. Why would he claim he did? His credibility had just taken a significant hit. “What did she want?”
Willy stretched his shoulders as though easing the tension building there. “She heard about my argument with her son. She’s not happy about it.”
“Oh, I’m sure. She’s a textbook helicopter mother. I’m not surprised she’d try to fight Bobby’s battles for him. Poor Bobby.” I considered Willy’s brown slacks and tan button-down shirt. They looked new. Understandable. It had been five days since Fiona had been murdered. I doubted he’d expected to be here so long.
“I don’t feel sorry for Bobby. They deserve each other.” Willy pushed his hands into the front pockets of his pants and sent a glare around the café. “I’m counting the days until I can watch this town disappear in my rearview mirror.”
His criticism stirred my protective instincts toward my new home. “Peach Coast is a great town, and the people are warm and friendly. I’m sorry that wasn’t Fiona’s experience.”
Willy huffed a laugh without humor. “I don’t know if I agree with you about this town or the people. I haven’t felt welcome here since people found out I was Fiona’s friend. In fact, someone tried to run me over last night.”
My eyes stretched wide. “What?”
“Someone tried to kill me last night.” Willy looked to a nearby window and gestured vaguely toward the streets outside. “I was having dinner at a restaurant near the inn. When I left, a car tried to run me over in the parking lot.”
“Did it aim at you? I mean, was someone speeding through the parking lot, or were they targeting you?”
“They were targeting me. I’m sure of it.” Willy seemed insulted by the question. “One minute, it was parked in a parking space. The next, it was coming straight for me, full speed.”
How frightening! “Were you hurt?” I scanned his face and his arms, left bare by his short-sleeved shirt. I didn’t notice any scrapes or bruising.
“No, thank goodness.” He shook his head. “I was able to jump out of the way, so it sped past me. It never s
topped. It never hesitated. It just sped right at me.”
“You’re lucky you weren’t hurt.”
Willy shook his head again as though overwhelmed. “Just thinking about it rattles me. I’ve been trying not to dwell on it.”
“Can you describe the car?”
Willy huffed another breath as he stared at the café’s floor. “It was a sedan. Small. A small, dark sedan. Perhaps black or dark blue or gray. But it was dark, so I’m not sure of the color.”
I held his eyes in a direct stare. “You should file a report.”
He shook his head. “No, no. I don’t want to do that.”
I blinked. “Why not?”
He waved a hand flippantly. “There’s no call to make a big deal out of this.”
My eyebrows shot up. “Someone’s already made it a big deal by trying to kill you.”
Willy shook his head again. “If I file a report with the deputies, it’ll only prolong my stay here, and I’m not looking to stay any longer than it takes to make arrangements to transport Fiona’s body and attend the reading of her will.”
I couldn’t fathom not wanting to file a police report after someone aimed their car at me and tried to run me over. In fact, if an attempt had been made on my life, I would’ve gone directly to the sheriff’s office to file a report and demand round-the-clock protection. In fact, I would’ve slept at the desk right next to Deputy Whatley.
I tightened my grip on my handbag. “You have to file a report and get this attack on record.”
Willy remained stubborn. “They were probably trying to scare me into leaving town, which is exactly what I’m going to do as soon as possible.”
I crossed my arm over my grass-green linen blouse, which I’d paired with my cream cotton pants. “Who’d want you out of town so badly that they’d try to kill you?”
Willy frowned. “I think we both know the answer to that.”
Indeed. Didn’t Bobby drive a dark sedan?
Someone tried to kill me last night.
Willy’s words replayed in my head, but now with an ominously personal meaning. When I entered my office Thursday morning, the sight of the battered blue reception chair I was using until my desk chair could be repaired or replaced stopped me midstride. Was yesterday’s accident really an accident?
Crossing to my desk, I stored my chocolate handbag and canvas tote in my bottom drawer. Then I hooked my hands on my hips and turned back to study my ruined chair, which lay in pieces beside my door. That had been a close call. Would someone have deliberately tried to hurt me? I didn’t want to believe it, but I needed the truth.
I forced my reluctant limbs back across my office and hunkered in front of the destroyed chair. Yesterday, when Adrian had helped me carry its remnants to the corner, we hadn’t taken a close look at it. Maybe we should’ve. In the light of a new day, I examined the pieces and parts of the furniture and was troubled by what I saw. Three of the four screws intended to attach the chair’s seat to its rolling legs were missing. The fourth screw had worked itself loose. None of this could’ve happened on its own.
Someone had tampered with my chair.
My blood chilled. In my mind, I relived the events from yesterday. The chair collapsing under me. Adrian catching me as I started to fall. My head had been so close to the windowsill. I was glad I’d gotten Adrian that peach-cobbler thank you.
Struck by inspiration, I pushed myself to my knees and crawled over to my desk to study the carpet.
“What are you doing?”
My heart almost stopped at the sudden and unexpected sound of Viv’s voice from my doorway. I sat back on my heels and pressed the palm of my right hand to my chest. “You scared me.”
“Sorry.” She scanned the carpet as she walked toward me. “Did you lose something?”
“No.” I pointed toward the pale gray carpet weave in front of my desk. “Do you see this indentation?”
Viv kneeled beside me, pushing the dark brown tresses of her inverted bob away from her heart-shaped face. “Yes.”
I measured it with my thumb before crawling to the left side of the desk. “And here?” I measured that section as well.
Viv followed me. “Yes.” She sounded confused.
“What are you doing?”
We both flinched as we looked up toward my doorway. Adrian and Floyd stood just inside my office, regarding us with concern.
I pushed myself to my feet and offered Viv a hand.
She gave our coworkers an accusatory look. “You scared us.”
“That’s what was different.” I brushed off the knees of my pants. “I knew something was off with the spacing in my office yesterday afternoon, but I couldn’t put my finger on it.” With my right index finger, I directed Adrian’s and Floyd’s attention to the carpet. “Based on those indentations, it seems as though someone had shoved my desk back and to the right, which would also have moved my chair from its usual spot.”
Adrian’s eyes stretched wide. “Closer to the edge of the windowsill.”
I nodded. “By at least two and a quarter inches.”
He and I shared a look. Was he remembering how he’d placed himself between me and the windowsill when he’d caught me yesterday? I was.
Adrian’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard. “Thanks for the cobbler.”
I blinked. “Thank you.”
Floyd glared at the carpet. “Why would someone move your desk?”
“I’m glad you asked.” I gestured toward Adrian in silent encouragement for him to bring Viv and Floyd up to speed on the subject of my booby-trapped chair and its missing screws.
Viv sank onto the spare seat at my conversation table. “Who’d do something like that?”
Floyd watched me closely. “Did you tick off one of the staff?”
“Floyd!” Viv admonished him.
“I hate to say it, but he has a point.” Adrian gave me an apologetic look. “I like you, Marvey, but visitors aren’t allowed back here unless one of us comes with them, so how would a stranger have been able to rig your chair?”
Floyd laughed. “People get back here all the time. That policy may cut back on how many get past the desk, but it doesn’t eliminate intruders altogether.”
I wrapped my arms around my waist. “During the four months I’ve been here, I’ve noticed the circulation desk unstaffed at least half a dozen times.”
Viv pressed a hand to the base of her throat. Her perfectly manicured nails were polished a shade between frost and pink, complementing her pale rose blouse. “Those rules are in place for a reason. I’m going to start fining people who don’t remain at the desk during their entire assigned time.”
“Just last week, Ms. Betty got past the desk and into Marvey’s office.” Adrian jerked a thumb toward Viv. “And we were both at the desk.”
I searched my mind for other plausible ideas. “Since I don’t think I’ve offended a coworker, an outsider must’ve gotten into my office while I was out.”
Floyd grunted. “Okay, then this must’ve happened yesterday. The way they took apart your chair, they intended for it to collapse right away.”
“I agree.” I looked over my shoulder toward the remnants of my office furniture. “Isn’t Bobby Hayes a repair person?”
Adrian frowned. “That’s right. He works at the repair shop and hardware store.”
I hesitated. “He’d know how to tamper with a chair to make it collapse, and he’d have the tools to do it. I spoke with him in the parking lot Wednesday afternoon while he was waiting for Betty.”
He’d been leaning against a dark blue compact sedan.
I shook off the memory of Bobby’s car and faced my team of librarians. “Have you started Fiona’s book?”
Floyd rocked on his feet. “Finished it last night. It was surprisingly good.”
Adrian raised his hand. “I have a couple of chapters left.”
Viv nodded. “Me too.”
Close enough. “What are your impressions? Do you think the story could’ve made Betty or Bobby angry enough to kill Fiona?”
Floyd snorted. “I could see it. It sounds like the gossip Betty had been saying about Fiona since Buddy died, but applied to Betty.”
I shared my gaze with each of them. “Did the sheriff’s office investigate Buddy’s death?”
Adrian nodded. “According to the paper’s reporting, Mr. Buddy died of a heart attack. Ms. Betty went around claiming he didn’t have a bad heart, but the autopsy showed he had coronary artery disease.”
I leaned back against my desk and crossed my arms. “How do you know Betty was behind the rumors? Could it have been someone else?”
Floyd shrugged. “Well, I didn’t pay that much attention to it. But from what I remember, the gossip was contained only to people who were close to Betty, and everyone was saying the same exact thing she’d said. Like a pandemonium of trained parrots. No one else gave Buddy’s death a second thought. Buddy didn’t have what people call ‘healthy habits.’”
I sank onto my temporary chair. “I wish I could make more progress on this investigation. I feel like I’m not getting anywhere. What about the writers group? Do you think we might have some suspects there?”
Floyd grunted. “Tons. No one liked her, especially after she was published.”
I raised my eyebrows. “Were a lot of the members jealous?”
Floyd tilted his head in thought. “Yeah, but they didn’t care for her much before that, either.”
“Why not?” Adrian asked.
Floyd considered his answer. “I think they didn’t like her because Zelda, the group’s president, didn’t like her, and they’re all loyal to Zelda. They knew her longer.”
I shook my head in amazement. “How do you know all of this?”
He shrugged. “I belonged to the group for a little while. I left a couple of months after Fiona joined. I wasn’t getting as much from their meetings as I’d wanted.”
Excitement propelled me forward on my chair. “Floyd, are you writing a book?”
Murder by Page One Page 15
