Death in the Stacks Page 15

  Inside was a picture of a handsome man and a lovely woman. It took Lindsey a second to place the woman. It was Olive in a wedding dress standing next to a man in a tuxedo. This must be her ex-husband. It seemed odd, trying to picture Olive married, even though here Lindsey was holding the evidence in her hand. Olive was of an age for having been married, and it made sense, since she didn’t work, that a nice divorce settlement could have landed her this house.

  So, what had happened to Olive’s husband? Where was he? Why did she have a picture of him in her office if they were no more? Was he the man from the funeral? Lindsey couldn’t tell since she’d only seen him from the back.

  She glanced around the room. There was a pretty blue sweater draped over the back of the office chair as if this room was always cold and Olive liked to have a sweater available. It gave the space a more lived-in look than anywhere else in the house.

  Was that why the one photograph of Olive with somebody else was in this room? Perhaps this was her sanctuary more than anywhere else in a place that was more a showplace than home. That bothered Lindsey.

  She thought of her own apartment with photos of her family and friends everywhere, Heathcliff’s chew toys scattered, books stacked in every nook and cranny and her grandmother’s afghan draped on the back of the couch.

  It was messy, sure, but it was homey. Her thoughts then strayed to Sully and his house. His place had the same lived-in look right down to having some of Heathcliff’s toys scattered across his living room floor. That thought made her smile. She took it as a sign that moving in together was the right thing to do.

  A footstep sounded in the hallway, and Lindsey shook herself out of her reverie. It would not do to be caught upstairs in any room other than the bathroom. She replaced the photo on the bookcase and made her way to the hall. She paused at the door, listening for the footsteps she was certain she’d heard.

  She waited, but there was no more sound. She eased out of the room and lingered in the doorway, glancing in both directions before she stepped out. Seeing no one, she moved forward toward the bathroom.

  “Find what you were looking for?”

  “Ah!” Lindsey yelped and jumped. LeAnn moved around the half-open doorway of the bathroom directly across the hall from her. Obviously, she had been waiting for Lindsey to come out of the office.

  Lindsey put her hand over her heart and gave LeAnn a weak smile. “You startled me.”

  “I’ll bet. Funny how being caught snooping will do that to you.”

  “I wasn’t,” Lindsey protested. “I was just looking for the bathroom, and when I found it, someone was already inside. I didn’t want to walk all the way back downstairs, so I was checking out the bookcase in the room right there. The librarian in me just can’t pass up a bookcase.”

  “Is that so?” LeAnn asked. “Well, the librarian in you has also worn out her welcome. Let’s go.”

  “But the bathroom.” Lindsey pointed to the room behind LeAnn.

  “I hear they have them at the public library,” LeAnn said. “Probably, you could use one there since you’re leaving now.”

  Lindsey had to give her points for not being a pushover. She debated asking her about Olive’s ex-husband, but she doubted that LeAnn would be eager to tell her anything.

  Together they made their way down the stairs. Lindsey scanned the visible faces for Robbie but didn’t see him nearby. She didn’t know how to enlighten him about her current predicament. She didn’t want to text him in from of LeAnn. The ladies seemed to like Robbie, and if he could get information where Lindsey couldn’t, then she didn’t want to hamper his future ability to question these women by letting LeAnn know that he was her ride.

  “What is this, an event for party crashers?” LeAnn snapped. She stomped down the stairs, passing Lindsey, who noted LeAnn was clenching her hands into fists at her sides.

  “Get out!” LeAnn spat as she approached a man in an overcoat who was just coming inside. “You’re not welcome here.”

  “LeAnn, you know that’s not true,” the man said.

  He glanced up, and Lindsey caught her breath. Staring back at LeAnn was the man in the photograph, the man in the tux who’d been standing next to Olive in the tiny photo upstairs. Her ex-husband?

  “It is true,” LeAnn argued. “Olive was very clear about how much she loathed you. If she’d left us a list of people to ban from her service, you’d be on the top of it.”

  “Yeah, this week,” he said. His voice sounded full of weary resignation. “You know what Olive was like—one minute she was running to me and the next she was running over me. When I married her, it was because I thought she’d never be dull. Turns out dull is highly underrated.”

  “Well, I’m sure you’ve discovered the joy of dull-hood with wife number two,” LeAnn snapped.

  “Leave Molly out of it. She’s done nothing to you,” he said. His tone held a strong note of warning, and a flash of unease passed over LeAnn’s face.

  “Fine,” she said. “But we know it’s true. Your wife isn’t half the woman Olive was.”

  “The crazy half, for sure,” the man muttered.

  Lindsey almost laughed, but she didn’t want to get tossed out just yet. She glanced at her phone. She had only a few more minutes before she had to get back to the library for the library board meeting.

  A name. She needed this guy’s name, before he was kicked to the curb just like her. He was here alone, but he wore a wedding ring on his left hand, verifying that he was still married to wife number two, so why had he felt compelled to attend the funeral of his ex, who, judging by what Lindsey knew of her, redefined the word vengeance?

  “I’m going to pay my respects to some of our old friends,” he said. “No matter what happened between Olive and me during our marriage and our divorce, she was my first love, and that means something.”

  LeAnn stared at him, and then she gave him a slow nod. “All right, Doc, but be quick.”

  Doctor! Lindsey wanted to pump her fist, but she didn’t. With a nod, the man moved past her into the house.

  Lindsey saw Robbie chatting up some other guests in the corner. She stared until he glanced up. When she caught his eye, she jerked her head in the direction of the door. He nodded.

  “So, was Boyle Olive’s married name?” Lindsey asked.

  LeAnn just stared at her.

  “Okay, then,” Lindsey said.

  LeAnn gestured to the door. “Good-bye.”

  Lindsey glanced over her shoulder to see Robbie making his way toward her. She stepped outside into the overcast, chilly day and was thankful that her black funeral dress had long sleeves.

  She walked down the steps and waited for Robbie on the curb. Parking had been at a premium, and they had parked one street over.

  “What did you get?” he asked when he joined her.

  “Observed the doctor ex-husband,” she said. “And you?”

  “Found the sister, a Margaret Davidson,” he said.

  “Really? Was she at the service?”

  They began to walk down the sidewalk to Robbie’s car.

  “The pew behind the mean girls, sitting next to the ex-husband,” he said. “No seat of honor for her, as the two sisters are . . . were estranged. How about the ex? Did you get a read on him? Potential killer?”

  “No idea. He’s remarried, so I can’t imagine what would motivate him,” she said. “Although, he sounded . . . Well, it seemed as if he still had feelings for her.”

  “Did his wife come with him?”

  “Nope.”

  “Interesting. So, who should we start with first?”

  “I have a meeting with the library board this afternoon,” she said. “Then I’m thinking I’d like to visit the ex-husband, Dr. Boyle I believe his name is. Even if he had no reason to kill her, it’s odd that literally the only photo on display in
the entire house is one of the two of them on their wedding day.”

  “Huh, I don’t know what to make of that,” he said. “Not one person in there seemed to have anything nice to say about Olive. Even her friends seemed to struggle with the task.”

  “Why do you suppose they were her friends then?”

  “Honestly, the only thing the four of them seem to have in common is that they all live in big houses on this street,” he said. He stopped walking and turned to look at Lindsey. His eyes were wide. “All four live on this street. All four are women, Olive and Kim are divorced, Amy is single, as far as I can tell, and LeAnn’s husband hasn’t been seen in months. So all four are seemingly living alone. It’s like a strange sorority of sad single women.”

  “We need to find out more about the friends,” Lindsey said.

  “Kim seems to like me,” he said. “I could start with her.”

  “Okay, but be careful,” Lindsey said. “You don’t want to put your relationship with Emma in jeopardy over this.”

  “Emma would understand,” he said.

  Lindsey looked at him as if he’d recently hit his head and lost some cognitive function. “No, she wouldn’t.”

  Robbie shook her off, unlocking her door and opening it so she could climb into the car. They drove back to the library in silence, each mulling over their list of suspects.

  “Pick you up after work?” he asked as he pulled up beside the library.

  “Perfect,” she said. “I’ll have an address for the ex by then.”

  “See ya, Sherlock.”

  “Later, Watson.”

  Lindsey hurried into the library as Robbie sped away. Just stepping through the doors eased the tension that had been coursing through her since the funeral began this morning.

  It had been uncomfortable to see no one moved to tears by Olive’s death. Not that she enjoyed seeing other people’s pain, but usually at a funeral there was a sense of loss and grief. With Olive’s service, the overwhelming feelings had been morbid curiosity mingled with the feeling of relief. What a waste to live a life that only touched others in a negative way.

  It also made the task of trying to determine who had murdered Olive more daunting. Usually, in a murder, it was hard to find a suspect, but this time there was an overabundance of people with a grudge, including her very own library board.

  • • •

  “How did it go with the board?” Robbie asked.

  “Every single one of them had a solid alibi for where they were at the time of Olive’s death,” Lindsey said.

  “So, annoying?”

  “Exactly.”

  They were back in his car headed toward the nearby town of Guilford. Lindsey had tracked down Olive’s ex-husband to a residence there. Doctor Boyle and his wife, Molly, lived in yet another large house by the water with their two teenage children.

  Apparently, Kyle and Olive Boyle had divorced twenty years ago. According to the local papers, the divorce had been instigated by Kyle, and the settlement Olive had demanded had been astronomical. Lindsey couldn’t help but think that if Kyle had wanted to murder Olive, it would have been when she was trying to gut his fortune, most of which had been inherited. Why would he kill her now?

  Then again, if he didn’t kill her, he might have a lead on who did. They just had to convince Dr. Boyle to talk to them, and Lindsey had the perfect way to make that happen.

  Robbie pulled into the circular driveway in front of the two-story white colonial with black shutters. Cornstalks and pumpkins decorated the shallow steps that led up to the wide wooden red front door.

  Lindsey led the way, pressing the doorbell without hesitation. She and Robbie stood on the stoop, waiting. She strained to hear if anyone was approaching. It was late afternoon, and there were two high-end vehicles, one of which was a very luxurious looking minivan, if that was even possible, parked in the driveway, so she assumed Dr. Boyle was home.

  Robbie opened his mouth to speak just as they heard someone unlock the door. A middle-aged woman, with long curly blond hair and big blue eyes, stared back at them as if she was trying to determine if they were selling something or not.

  Robbie glanced between Lindsey and the woman and raised one eyebrow. Lindsey had told him that Olive had called her a husband stealer during their altercation at the Dinner in the Stacks event. Given the marked similarity between this woman and Lindsey, in height, build and hair color, it was not hard to figure out why Olive might have had an issue with Lindsey. She looked like his second wife.

  “Hello, Mrs. Boyle,” Lindsey greeted the woman, assuming that she was in fact his wife, Molly, the one he had told LeAnn not to speak of when LeAnn snapped at him at the post-funeral reception.

  “Hi. May I help you?” Molly asked. She looked at Lindsey and then at Robbie. She blinked. Her mouth opened and then it closed and then it fell open again.

  “Oh my God! It’s you!” She slammed the door in their faces. She yanked it open again and screeched, “Don’t move!” Then she slammed it again.

  18

  Lindsey slowly pivoted her head to look at Robbie.

  “Fan of yours?” she asked.

  He shrugged with a look of complete bafflement, but she could see the pleased smile lurking just beneath the surface.

  “It never gets old being you, does it?” she asked.

  “Nope. Look on the bright side: my celebrity is going to get us in.”

  “Perhaps, or maybe arrested,” she said.

  The door was yanked open again, and the woman waved for them to enter. She was breathless and her hair was mussed. Her face was bright red, and she looked to be a bit winded. She had also managed to change from her oversize sweatshirt and yoga pants to a silk blouse and slacks, with pearls at her throat and fresh lipstick.

  “Please come in. Can I get you anything, coffee, tea, a sandwich, cookies?” She bounced on her feet. “Can I please take a picture with you, Mr. Vine?”

  The words came at them like gunfire, and Lindsey was still turning over the offer of a sandwich when the woman thrust her phone into Lindsey’s hands and stood beside Robbie for a photo op. Lindsey took several pictures, and the woman snatched back her phone to look at them.

  “My bunco group is never going to believe that I had Robbie Vine in my house!” She looked up from her phone to stare at them with delight.

  Several awkward seconds passed—well, awkward for Lindsey. Robbie seemed to be just fine basking in the adoration of the woman who was equally happy to adore. When the lovefest showed no signs of breaking up, Lindsey felt it behooved her to get them back on track.

  “We’re actually here to speak with Dr. Boyle,” she said.

  The woman didn’t even look at her. She just nodded and continued worshipping Robbie with her eyes.

  “I loved you in that romantic comedy with Mila Kunis,” she gushed. “You were so charming.”

  “Thank you, that’s very kind of you,” he said.

  “And as DI Gordon on Masterpiece. I never missed an episode, Mr. Vine,” she said.

  “Lovely of you to say, and do call me Robbie,” he said. He tipped his head down in what Lindsey knew was his humble look. Meanwhile his besotted fan looked like she might faint. Oh boy.

  “Robbie, are you sure I can’t make you some tea?” the woman asked, looking hopeful.

  Lindsey heaved a long-suffering sigh. They were never going to get out of the foyer.

  “Molly, who is it?” Dr. Boyle appeared in a doorway on the opposite side of the entryway. He glanced at his wife, who had yet to take her gaze off Robbie. In fact, Lindsey was pretty sure she hadn’t even blinked. Dr. Boyle’s voice was stern when he asked, “May I help you?”

  “Hi, I’m Lindsey Norris . . .” she began, but Molly interrupted.

  “This is Robbie Vine—in our house, standing mere feet away from me,” Molly
said. She didn’t look at her husband when she spoke.

  Robbie raised his eyebrows as if looking for backup. Molly’s scrutiny had become too much even for him.

  “I can see Mr. Vine,” Dr. Boyle said. To his credit, he sounded amused instead of put out. Behind his wife he shrugged at them as if to let them know that he knew she was being weird but he had no idea what to do about it.

  “Robbie,” she said. “He said I could call him Robbie.”

  Molly continued to stare.

  “Quite right,” Robbie said. He sidled closer to Lindsey, as if he thought she might protect him. Lindsey shook her head at him. He was on his own with his new fan-slash-stalker.

  “Yes, well, Dr. Boyle, we don’t want to take up too much of your time,” Lindsey said. “I’m sorry to say that it’s an unfortunate circumstance that brings us here, but we wanted to talk to you about a memorial for your ex-wife, Olive Boyle, to get your input.”

  Immediately Molly’s back snapped straight and she ripped her gaze away from Robbie and stared at Lindsey as if just noticing her.

  “Olive? You’re talking about a memorial for Olive?” she asked. Her tone made it more than clear how she felt about that idea.

  “Um, yes? I’m Lindsey Norris, the director of the Briar Creek Public Library, and this is my . . . associate, Robbie Vine. In light of recent events, we felt that a memorial would be an appropriate gesture of appreciation for her time spent as the president of the library board.”

  “Oh, so you appreciate bullying, belittling, coldhearted shrews, do you?” Molly asked.

  “Molly.” Dr. Boyle’s voice held a note of warning. Molly didn’t look like she gave two hoots about his warning.

  “A memorial?” Dr. Boyle turned back to them, looking faintly surprised. “I’m not sure I understand.”

  “The library fund-raiser made an awful lot of money,” Lindsey said. “I met with the board today, and we agreed that it seemed only fitting that we take a portion of that money and use it to honor Olive, since she was the president of the board and was mur . . . Well, she met an unfortunate end in the library that night.”