Death in the Stacks Read online

  “That’s a fair question, which would be easier to answer if I could talk to Paula.”

  Lindsey couldn’t argue the reasoning. Still, she had questions. “How did you find out about Paula’s past? I didn’t think there’d be a record of it if she was a juvenile,” Lindsey said.

  “I didn’t go through the courts,” Emma said. “I got an anonymous tip, and then I started calling people where she went to high school.”

  Lindsey stared at her for a moment. “A tip? Isn’t that convenient?”

  “I don’t turn away information, no matter where it comes from. Besides, she lied about where she was just before Olive was found, so I did some digging into her background, which I would have done with or without the tip,” Emma said. “But because of the tip, I spoke with one of her old teachers, one who was more than happy to share, because she believed Paula had been wrongly accused and that her parents were worthless. She argued quite strongly on Paula’s behalf. Now here’s a question for you: Why didn’t you tell me all of this as soon as you found out?”

  “Would it have made any difference or would you just have arrested her sooner?” Lindsey asked.

  “I’m not arresting her. I’m taking her in for questioning,” Emma said. “There’s a difference.”

  “Not to Paula.”

  “I’ll be as gentle as I can, but this is a murder investigation, Lindsey. I have to do my job. I have to find out who killed Olive Boyle. Besides, by questioning her, I’m protecting her.”

  “How do you figure?”

  “If she’s straight with me, then I can remove her from my suspect list,” Emma said. “She’d be cleared.”

  “Maybe, but given that she’s been wrongly accused before, I doubt that’s a risk she wants to take.”

  Emma studied her for a moment. “How did you and Robbie know I was here?”

  “We were out and about.” Lindsey went for vague. “I heard that you were coming here and wanted to see what was up.”

  “Uh-huh, so you ran into the building?” Emma asked. “Most people run away when I show up.”

  “Well, I wanted to talk to you,” Lindsey said.

  “Who told you I was coming here? Robbie?”

  Lindsey shook her head. “It’s not important.”

  “It is to me,” Emma said. “The last thing I need is people spreading rumors.”

  “Fine. Olive’s friends seemed to think you were going to arrest Paula for murdering Olive.”

  Emma frowned. “When were you hanging out with Amy, LeAnn and Kim?”

  “We weren’t hanging out exactly,” Lindsey said.

  “What was it exactly?”

  “It was more like Robbie ran into them at the country club, and while he was chatting them up, I listened through my phone,” Lindsey said.

  “Oh. My. God.” Emma scrubbed at her face with her hand as if she could wipe away the stupid. “Why would you go anywhere near them?”

  “Because . . .” Lindsey had nothing. There was no answer to this question that would not make Emma less cranky with her.

  “You’re investigating Olive’s murder, aren’t you?”

  “Um, no . . . Maybe . . . Yeah,” Lindsey said. She dropped into her seat behind her desk as the exhaustion from the bike ride and the stress of the past few minutes took her out at the knees.

  “I didn’t want to, but Paula . . . and Robbie . . .”

  “Yeah, I get it,” Emma said as she sat in the chair across from her. “The man gets me to do things . . . Well, never mind.”

  “If you’re interviewing Paula, I have to ask: Am I a person of interest in Olive’s murder as well?” Lindsey asked. “I mean, I was there when the body was found, too.”

  “Everyone is a person of interest until I have the perp locked up,” Emma said.

  “Not exactly the comforting answer I was looking for.”

  “Well, I haven’t locked you up yet, so there’s your comfort.”

  “Any word from the medical examiner?”

  “Not yet, and even if there was—”

  “You wouldn’t tell me,” Lindsey finished for her. She glanced at the clock. She figured enough time had passed by now.

  “Um, as to your looking for Paula,” she began.

  Sensing she was about to hear something she’d rather not, Emma sat up straight in her chair.

  “What?” she asked.

  “Paula sent me a text saying she was taking some personal time,” Lindsey said.

  “You knew this and you kept me here chatting?” Emma cried as she jumped to her feet. “You know I could throw the book at you for impeding an investigation.”

  “She was gone before you got here,” Lindsey said. “And you won’t do that.”

  “Won’t I?” Emma raised an eyebrow.

  “No, because I think you don’t believe Paula is guilty any more than I do,” Lindsey said.

  The two women stared at each other. Lindsey held her breath. Emma could be legitimately furious with her, could even take her in if she chose, but Lindsey suspected what she said was true. Emma didn’t really believe Paula was the killer. It was too convenient, too easy, almost as if someone was using Paula and her past to cover their own tracks.

  “I’m going to have to bring her in sooner or later.”

  “Go for later,” Lindsey said. “Surely, there are other leads to follow.”

  “I’m not sharing any with you,” Emma said. She studied Lindsey for a moment. “Are you going to Olive’s funeral tomorrow morning?”

  “She was the president of the library board, and I’m the library director. I think I have to go.”

  Emma was silent for a moment and then said, “A lot of murderers go to their vic’s funerals.”

  Lindsey met the police chief’s steady brown gaze. She wasn’t sure what Emma was trying to say, but it made her uncomfortable. Then she saw the wicked twist to Emma’s lips.

  “You’re teasing me? Now?”

  Emma shrugged. “You’re running around town with my boyfriend. Seems appropriate payback.”

  She glanced at Lindsey, tipped her head to the side and then put her finger to her lips. Lindsey watched as Emma stealthily crept to the door, which she yanked open in one smooth move. Robbie tumbled into the office and sprawled onto the floor.

  “Oy, was that nice?” he asked.

  “Eavesdropping?” Emma countered. She put her hands on her hips and glared down at him.

  “Well, it’s not like you answer my questions when I ask,” he said. “Medical examiner, did you say?”

  “Forget it,” she said. “When I get the report, I am not sharing it with you. Detective Trimble and I will determine the best course of action after the report.”

  “Detective Trimble and I,” Robbie mimicked her. It was not flattering. “I’ll tell you what I’d like to do with Detective Trimble.”

  “Oh, wow, you’re jealous,” Lindsey said.

  Robbie turned to face her. “I am not. I’ve never been jealous a day in my life. I don’t get jealous.”

  “He did sound jealous, didn’t he?” Emma asked, looking pretty delighted.

  “Yes,” Lindsey answered at the same time Robbie said, “No.”

  Emma grinned.

  “I’ll see you at the funeral tomorrow,” she said to Lindsey. “In the meantime, please steer clear. I know you won’t, but I feel compelled to say it anyway.”

  “I’ll try,” Lindsey said. It was the best she could do.

  “And you,” Emma rounded on Robbie. “What is this Lindsey tells me that you were at the country club, talking to Olive’s friends? And don’t tell me you were there for the golf—you hate golf.”

  “Maybe I changed my mind,” he protested.

  Emma led the way out the door, and he followed.

  “You and Lindsey w
ere butting into my investigation,” Emma said. “And don’t pretend you weren’t.”

  “Fine,” he said. “But if you would just tell me what’s happening, I wouldn’t have to now, would I?”

  Lindsey watched as they kept arguing all the way out the front doors of the library and onto the sidewalk. The sparks flying between them were enough to light the small community for at least a week.

  “Is it just me or do they enjoy that?” Beth asked. She had put away her wings but still had on her red sweatshirt with the dots.

  “Oh, they do,” Lindsey said. “I’ll bet you five bucks he kisses her in five, four; wait, there he goes, never mind.”

  They both stared as Robbie raised his hands in frustration and then reached out, grabbed Emma’s shoulders, pulled her close and planted one on her.

  “Sucker’s bet,” Beth said. “Those two are made for each other.”

  “Since she didn’t zap him with her Taser, I have to agree.”

  A ruckus in the children’s area drew Beth’s attention, and she hurried over to her side of the library, giving Lindsey a quick wave on her way.

  Lindsey glanced back out the glass doors and saw Robbie and Emma walking down the sidewalk, holding hands. The sight made her happy way down deep. And not for nothing, but maybe Robbie could work his magic on Emma and get a sneak peek at the medical examiner’s report when it came in.

  There was so much they could learn from the examination: whether the assailant was male or female, left- or right-handed, how tall they were. And that was just the obvious stuff. Once the lab work kicked in, there would be so much more.

  Lindsey could only hope that whatever the medical examiner discovered, it cleared Paula from suspicion. What a nightmare for Paula to have put so much distance between herself and her past only to have it come roaring back up on her.

  It wasn’t right. It wasn’t fair, and Lindsey was going to do everything in her power to see that Paula was allowed to keep her past private.

  • • •

  Olive Boyle’s funeral was a packed house with a restless crowd, as if they were expecting some sort of spectacle like the murderer confessing or the police arresting someone in the middle of the eulogy. They were woefully disappointed. At the end of the service, the small church in the center of town regurgitated bodies like a seagull horking up its lunch.

  From her spot at the back with the library board, Lindsey saw Olive’s three friends sitting stiffly in the first pew, and behind them a man and woman who sat far enough apart to wedge two more bodies in between them. They were never introduced during the brief service, and Lindsey wondered if they were the ex-husband and the sister Robbie had included on his list of suspects. There was only one way to find out.

  The reception after the service was held at Olive’s house and hosted by her friends. When she arrived, Lindsey was surprised to find that the same people who’d crammed into the church were now shuffling into Olive’s big house on the water. Given that Olive had not been well-liked—understatement—she couldn’t figure why so many people had turned out. Free food? Free booze? Morbid curiosity?

  Robbie walked beside her, since they’d taken his car, and he was wearing a somber dark suit that matched her standard black funeral dress. He scanned the crowd, studying the faces as if the killer would be visible to the naked eye. Lindsey couldn’t fault him, since she was pretty much doing the same thing.

  “Where’s the buoy boy?” he asked as they stood in line to enter the house.

  “Working,” she said. “Autumn is a big season for boat tours around the islands with the leaves changing and all.”

  “He doesn’t mind that you’re here?” Robbie said. “I thought he was set on you not investigating anymore.”

  “We came to an understanding about that,” Lindsey said. She glanced at him and then said, “We’re moving in together.”

  Robbie halted in midstep and stared at her. In a perfect teen girl voice, he said, “Shut up.”

  Lindsey chuckled and then quickly stifled it. Funeral! She shrugged and said, “He says he can handle my investigating if he knows that at night I will come home to him where I will be safe.”

  “He’s sickening,” Robbie said with disgust.

  “In the best possible way,” Lindsey agreed.

  The line began to move more quickly, and they hurried their pace. As they were climbing the front steps, Robbie leaned close and said, “I’m happy for you two. I really am.”

  Lindsey smiled at him. “Thanks.”

  Olive’s house was massive. Perched right on the edge of the water with a view of the Thumb Islands and Long Island Sound, it was three stories of stone and glass. Lindsey couldn’t even wrap her head around what the taxes and insurance must cost. As far as she knew, Olive didn’t work, and even if she had won the job of mayor in the next election, it certainly wouldn’t pay enough for this not-so-humble abode.

  “Blimey, who do you suppose she had to kill to buy a place like this?” Robbie muttered.

  “You!” Amy Ellers stood in the doorway, glaring at them. “How dare you show your face here?”

  17

  “Really?” Robbie asked. “I’ve been told my face is my best feature.”

  “Not you. Her!” Amy snapped.

  Lindsey felt a hot flush creep into her face. Still, she refused to be cowed or bullied by accusations that were untrue.

  “Olive was on my library board,” Lindsey said. “We may have had our differences, but I certainly wished her no harm.”

  “Is that what you told yourself when you were stabbing her with that steak knife?” Amy asked.

  “Whoa, easy there, pet,” Robbie said. “There’s no call to make unsubstantiated accusations like that.”

  “Isn’t there?” Amy asked.

  “No, there really isn’t,” he said. “Lindsey didn’t hurt Olive, and you know that as well as I do. I can see that you’re hurting, but taking it out on her won’t bring Olive back.”

  Amy glared at them. She didn’t say anything but instead jerked her head in the direction of the house, signaling that they could enter.

  Once they crossed the threshold, Lindsey let out a sigh of relief. She had thought Amy was going to make a scene and deny them entrance. Not that she expected to find some fabulous clue as to who had murdered Olive Boyle, but maybe they’d get lucky. Besides, as Emma had said, murderers did show up at their victims’ funerals sometimes, so maybe they’d see someone who was singularly out of place.

  For her own part, Lindsey found that she was uncomfortable with the one-dimensional image she had of Olive. Perpetually unhappy and rather unkind to everyone she met was how Olive was perceived. Lindsey couldn’t help but hope that inside her house there might be a glimpse of something more, a softer, gentler Olive.

  Much like the church, the house was standing room only. Lindsey saw Mayor Hensen in attendance. She couldn’t decide if he actually looked relieved or if she was just projecting what she thought he was feeling. He had a big smile of very white teeth, so it was hard to tell, as she was usually blinded by the flash.

  She scanned the room. Although she had been able to spot them at the church, she did not see the other members of the library board here. Milton was the only one in attendance, and he was standing beside Ms. Cole as they chatted with Carrie Rushton, who was representing the Friends of the Library.

  Beyond the people, Lindsey surveyed the rooms. It was an open floor plan, so one room blended seamlessly into another. She looked at the art on the walls, the tabletops, the bookshelves. It was all very sparse, and very coordinated. The colors of the book spines on the shelves matched the colors used in the contemporary seascape hanging on the wall beside the bookcase.

  There were no family photographs to be seen, no photographs of anyone at all, in fact. The house was as cold and as impersonal as Olive had been. Lindsey felt a shiver run
over her skin. Maybe this was just in the formal downstairs area. Surely, above in her bedroom there would be something that signified a person had actually lived here.

  “I’m going upstairs,” she whispered to Robbie. “Cover me.”

  “All right. Wait, what?” he asked.

  “Just do it,” she said.

  The staircase that led upstairs was near the front door. Lindsey dragged Robbie in that direction. When they spotted Kim MacInnes talking to Amy, Lindsey gave him a push, and Robbie broke into their conversation. He pivoted so that they had to turn their backs to the staircase to talk to him. He gave a small nod, and Lindsey took this as her signal to go.

  She pressed herself against the wall and hurried upstairs. If anyone asked, she figured she’d just say she was using the bathroom. The rooms upstairs were massive, so there weren’t many of them. She began looking in the master bedroom. It was an obsessive-compulsive person’s dream. There wasn’t a bit of clutter anywhere. Everything was shiny, clean and tidy. Even the clothes in the walk-in closet were hung in color-coordinated groupings and then broken into subsets by season.

  There were no pictures on the dresser or the nightstand. The art hanging on the walls looked pricey but impersonal. There was nothing here. Lindsey moved on to the guest bedrooms and found more of the same. They were neat and tidy and completely lacking in personality. She passed the laundry room and approached the door to the final room on this level, Olive’s office.

  She stood outside and listened for a bit. She wanted to make sure no one was coming to use the bathroom. All was quiet.

  She turned the knob and pushed open the door. A laptop was folded shut on top of a very nice antique cherrywood desk. She wondered why the police hadn’t taken the computer. Wouldn’t they want to go through all of Olive’s emails and accounts to ascertain if there was someone in her life who posed a threat and wanted her dead? She wished she could ask Emma about it, but, of course, then she’d have to admit what she was doing. Nuts!

  She checked the bookcase, hoping to see something that would signify Olive was the person who lived here. A tiny framed photograph caught her eye. She snatched it up, feeling like the worst sort of voyeur.