Death in the Stacks Read online

  Deciding the best course of action was to let Olive say her piece and leave as soon as possible, Lindsey decided to play pleasant hostess. She shut the door and took a seat.

  “I hope you weren’t offended by my observations about your wardrobe,” Olive said. “I’m just being helpful.”

  “Of course not,” Lindsey said, still playing nice.

  “Good, because I have drafted a proposal for a dress code for all of the library staff that I’ll be introducing at the next board meeting,” Olive said.

  “I’m sorry, a what?” Lindsey asked.

  “Dress code,” Olive said. “I just can’t abide coming in here and seeing the staff dressed as they are with purple hair and clashing colors—why, I saw one of your people dressed as a cow this morning.”

  “That’s the children’s librarian,” Lindsey said, fighting to keep her tone even. “She was in costume for story time.”

  “Well, I think that’s excessive,” Olive said. “She’ll have to wear the uniform just like everyone else.”

  “Uniform?” Lindsey choked.

  “Yes, I think we’ll go with black pants and white dress shirts,” Olive said.

  “For everyone?” Lindsey asked. She could not even imagine telling her staff about the latest Olive Boyle brain spasm. Nor could she envision dressing like that herself.

  “I think it will make the staff look very smart,” Olive said.

  “Or, you know, like waiters in a restaurant,” Lindsey said.

  Olive snapped her fingers at Lindsey as if she was finally catching on, clearly missing the sarcasm in Lindsey’s tone. “Exactly. After all, you do serve the public, but with books instead of burgers.”

  A sharp metallic taste alerted Lindsey to the fact that she had bitten her lip so hard, she’d drawn blood. Another first.

  2

  “Breathe,” Nancy Peyton said as she pushed Lindsey’s head down between her knees. Nancy was Lindsey’s landlord as well as one of her crafternoon buddies. “Stay down until your blood pressure evens out.”

  “She’s right,” Violet La Rue agreed. “You’re so red in the face I’m worried you’ll stroke out on the spot.”

  Lindsey did as she was told, knowing it would do no good to argue with the two women. Nancy had thick, short-cropped gray hair and merry blue eyes and favored dressing in sweatshirts and jeans, while Violet preferred long, flowing caftans and wore her gray hair scraped back into a bun on the back of her head, giving her high cheekbones and dark complexion a dramatic air.

  While Nancy was a native Creeker, Violet had come to Briar Creek later in life, after retiring from a long career on the Broadway stage. Despite their different life journeys, the ladies were the best of friends and shared an indomitable will that Lindsey knew she could not go up against and win.

  She drew a deep breath in through her nose, held it for a few seconds and then released it through her mouth. After three such breaths, she slowly rose to a seated position.

  “Do I look better?” she asked.

  Both Nancy and Violet scrutinized her face and then nodded. Nancy resumed her knitting. She was teaching the crafternooners to knit slouchy beanies for the upcoming winter. So far Lindsey’s striped endeavor looked like it was meant to fit the head of a giant, but still she persevered.

  “You need to talk to someone about that woman,” Nancy said. “She’s just . . . She’s so . . . I don’t know how to say it.”

  “I do. Mean,” Violet supplied. “She is downright mean. In my career I met straight-up divas who were warmer and fuzzier than Olive Boyle.”

  “She was sitting in my chair,” Lindsey said.

  “So you’ve mentioned,” Nancy said.

  “Several times,” Violet added.

  “I’m not sure what to do,” Lindsey said. “I mean, she’s not my boss, but she and the rest of the board members are supposed to work with me in an advisory capacity. She seems to think I’m her employee.”

  “Well, if she can’t fire you, then I say to heck with her,” Nancy said.

  “To heck with who?” Beth asked as she entered the room with Paula wheeling a book truck right behind her.

  “Olive Boyle,” Lindsey said.

  Both Paula and Beth made a bleck face, and Lindsey knew she wasn’t alone in her dislike of the new library board president.

  “What’s her deal anyway?” Paula asked. It was her turn to bring the food, and she had opted to go completely vegetarian with a cheese and spinach strata, a salad and decadent brownies for dessert.

  Despite her upset with Olive, Lindsey felt her stomach rumble with hunger. Nice to see that even a mild altercation with Olive hadn’t put her off her food. She rose from her seat and crossed the room to help Paula set up the spread.

  While they were working, Paula gave Lindsey the side-eye and said, “It’s my purple hair, isn’t it?”

  Lindsey blinked at her. “Um . . .”

  “It’s okay,” Paula said. “It’s been known to get some mixed reactions. I got the feeling Ms. Boyle did not approve when she asked me if I felt it was appropriate in the workplace.”

  “She did, did she?”

  “Yes.”

  “What did you say?”

  “That until my boss, Ms. Norris, told me otherwise, I felt that it was just fine,” she said. “Was that wrong? She really got under my skin.”

  “No, that was perfect,” Lindsey said. “Let me know if she approaches you again. That really isn’t her place, and I have no problem letting her know that.”

  “Will do,” Paula said.

  Lindsey didn’t think she was imagining the way Paula’s shoulders relaxed, as if Olive’s words had been weighing upon her. Lindsey felt her temper spike—again.

  She huffed out a breath and glanced around the room. They were missing a few members today. Charlene La Rue, Violet’s daughter, was working on a story for her nightly newscast in New Haven. Hannah Carson, the local high school librarian, had a meeting today and couldn’t duck out of school to join them. And the one male contributor that they’d had over the summer, Matthew Mercer, had taken a job as a professor at Southern Connecticut State University and no longer had weekdays free. Lindsey felt a small wave of panic that their little group might dwindle to nothing, but just then the door flew open and in strode a very pregnant and very cranky-looking Mary Murphy.

  “The nerve of that woman,” Mary began.

  “Uh-oh, we’ve got another one,” Nancy said to Violet.

  “Here, Mary, come sit.” Violet waved Mary into the seat Lindsey had just vacated. “You don’t want to get the baby riled up, so just relax and we’ll get you something cold to drink.”

  “Lemonade? Iced tea?” Nancy offered.

  Mary slumped back onto the couch, looking even bigger than Beth did in her cow costume. As if sensing that this might be noticed by Mary, Beth scuttled back behind the door where she unzipped her cow hoodie and hung it up on a rack by the door.

  Lindsey nodded at her, and Beth gave her a look that said, That was a close one.

  “I bet I know who you’re irked with,” Lindsey said. “Olive Boyle.”

  “Nailed it,” Mary said. “Can you believe she actually wants us to pay for all of the food for Dinner in the Stacks? Is she insane? Does she not comprehend how much that would cost us?”

  “Yes, she is, and no, she doesn’t,” Lindsey said. “Listen, I’m sorry she tried to call off your involvement with the dinner. I was hoping when I saw you here that I could talk you into forgetting about her and doing it anyway. You know the library will pay for the food just like we always do, and I can even arrange to have you and Ian paid for your time.”

  Mary rubbed the sides of her belly as if trying to ease the hard knot of baby just inside. “No, just the food is enough. We’re happy to donate our time. It’s our one big red-carpet night of the year. W
e’d hate to miss it. Plus, it’s sold out. What was she about, thinking that another restaurant would just pick up the tab for food and personnel time with a week’s notice? She’s demented.”

  “Agreed,” Lindsey said. She started to feel her anger do a slow boil as she thought about Olive’s idea to have the staff in uniforms, her words to Paula and her interference with the dinner. Lindsey huffed out a breath.

  “Then it’s settled,” Mary said. She grinned. “The Blue Anchor is on food detail, and to heck with Olive Boyle.”

  “It’s going to be terrific. My nephew Charlie is providing the music,” Nancy said.

  “And Robbie has agreed to act as the master of ceremonies for the auction,” Violet informed them. “You know, I really thought he’d go back to England once his son left for college, but he’s still here.”

  “That’s because his girlfriend, Emma, lives here,” Beth said.

  All of the heads in the room swiveled to Lindsey to see how she felt about Robbie and Emma.

  “What?” she asked. “You know Robbie and I are just friends.”

  “I know,” Violet said. “I was just checking to make sure you hadn’t had a change of heart.”

  “She hasn’t,” Nancy said. “She and Sully are going strong. Right, Lindsey?”

  Months before when Lindsey and her boyfriend, Captain Mike Sullivan, the local tour boat guide and water taxi driver known to all as Sully, had temporarily broken up, Robbie Vine, an old acting friend of Violet’s, had expressed an interest in Lindsey. Despite her breakup with Sully, Lindsey never got over him, and eventually they found their way back together, much to Robbie’s chagrin.

  Since he was her friend and she wanted him to stay in town, Violet had been staunchly Team Robbie, while Nancy, having been married to a sea captain herself, had been Team Sully all the way. It had never caused a rift between the women, but they had both made their preferences known, repeatedly.

  Before the conversation delved any deeper into her love life, Lindsey grabbed her copy of The Talented Mr. Ripley and asked, “What did you all think of Mr. Ripley?”

  “And there she goes, ducking any talk of relationships,” Beth said with a laugh.

  “It’s my gift,” Lindsey said.

  “Ripley was a psychopath,” Nancy said. “And yet, I found myself rooting for him. That’s weird, right?”

  “I did, too,” Violet said. “Ms. Highsmith managed to make him charming and accessible, and when things went bad, very bad, I found I was still hoping for him to win. Quite the moral dilemma.”

  “Well, I watched the movie,” Mary said.

  Everyone turned to look at her, and she hugged her belly. “Too tired to read, plus Matt Damon and Jude Law, duh.”

  Beth laughed and said, “I watched the movie, too!”

  The two women exchanged a high five, and Lindsey shook her head at them.

  “Mary gets a pass,” she said and then pointed at Beth. “But you don’t.”

  “Aw, is that fair?” Beth asked. “I’m busy planning a spring wedding. I don’t have the mental juice to read a dark and twisty tale of psychological suspense. I’m really all about puppies and kittens and rainbows right now.”

  Lindsey rolled her eyes. Beth had recently gotten engaged to her boyfriend, Aidan, a children’s librarian in a neighboring town, and she had been in giddy bridal mode ever since. It was pretty adorable.

  “Well, I think the genius behind Highsmith’s Ripley is that she shines a light on the complexity of character that resides in us all. Maybe that’s why we root for Tom Ripley,” Paula said. “You know, because he is the conflicted bad guy in all of us.”

  “Speaking from your own personal experience, Ms. Turner?”

  As one, the crafternoon group turned toward the door. Standing there was Olive Boyle, and she was staring at Paula with singular dislike.

  “I’m s-sorry,” Paula stammered. “What did you say?”

  “Oh, you heard me,” Olive said. “You may have everyone else fooled, but I am onto you with your tattoos and wild hair. There are going to be changes, young lady, mark my words.”

  Paula’s eyes went round and her face paled. She looked like she might keel over into her strata. Nancy put down her knitting and hopped up from her seat. Turning her back on Olive, she moved to stand beside Paula, wrapping her in a one-armed hug that comforted as much as it supported her.

  “That’s enough, Olive,” Lindsey snapped. “I don’t know what you think you’re doing—”

  “Your job, apparently,” Olive retorted.

  Lindsey blinked as she heard Beth whisper, “Oh no she didn’t.”

  “Outside, Olive. Now,” Lindsey said. She rose from her seat and marched toward the door as if heading into battle. She turned and stared at Olive until the woman had no choice but to follow her.

  Yanking on the sleeves of her fitted navy blazer, Olive gave them a haughty look and a toss of her copper hair before she spun on her heel and strode into the hallway as if going out there had been her idea all along.

  “Go ahead without me,” Lindsey said to the group. “I’ll be right back.”

  She saw Nancy and Violet start to dish the food, while Paula looked at her with an expression that was pure misery. Lindsey met her gaze and forced a smile. She had no idea what Olive thought she was doing, but Lindsey was going to shut her down even if she had to get her removed from the board to do it.

  She gently closed the door behind her and then turned to face Olive. She thought about doing some controlled breathing exercises to calm her temper, but then she decided no. If Olive was going to go after Lindsey’s staff, she was going to feel her wrath.

  3

  “Walk and talk, Lindsey. I have a meeting at the mayor’s office in ten minutes,” Olive said. She turned on her heel and began striding down the hallway into the main library.

  On sheer principle, Lindsey debated ignoring her order and going back to her lunch hour in the crafternoon room, but she didn’t want to leave Olive’s harsh words to Paula unaddressed, so she followed Olive into the main part of the library.

  While Olive paused to check her reflection in the glass wall of a conference room, Lindsey decided to get right to the point.

  “Perhaps we haven’t discussed the actual purpose of the library board,” Lindsey said. “Our board here in Briar Creek works in an advisory capacity. Governing library boards who set policy are generally found in private libraries, but we’re public and are governed by the town. So while you have input into the workings of the library, you do not have any say in the staffing of the library. That is done by myself and the town’s human resources department.”

  Olive touched up her lipstick, blatantly ignoring Lindsey. It was a passive-aggressive tactic, but Lindsey was not intimidated. She crossed her arms over her chest and glared at Olive’s profile.

  “I would appreciate it if you would refrain from addressing my staff in such an aggressive manner,” Lindsey said. She was pleased that her voice was even, because inside she felt like a firecracker about to pop.

  “And what manner would that be?” Olive capped her lipstick and turned to face her. “A manner where they are actually held accountable for their actions. Yes, I can see how that would go against your seat-of-the-pants lackadaisical managerial style.”

  Lindsey closed her eyes for a moment. When she opened them, she tipped her head to the side and studied Olive. It was becoming apparent that the woman was a bully. Lindsey knew the only way to handle her was to have no reaction, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t going to call her on it.

  “Are you trying to provoke me?” she asked. She kept her voice light. “Because I don’t see how that’s conducive to an open dialogue.”

  “Provoke you? Is that how you see it?” Olive asked. “Are you always this sensitive? I’m merely offering you some constructive criticism, and you accuse me o
f provoking you. Honestly, Lindsey, you need to have a much thicker skin if you’re going to continue on as library director.”

  “Continue on?”

  “That’s right,” Olive said. “I’m going to be making a motion at the next board meeting to review your position. I think it’s time for some changes, don’t you?”

  With that, Olive turned and strode out of the library. Lindsey stood staring after her, feeling as if the other woman had just kicked her legs out from under her, except she was still standing. She glanced down at her boots just to be sure. Yep, still standing. With a sinking feeling, she wondered for how long.

  • • •

  “How much money does this fund-raiser make?” Sully asked from his perch atop the stepladder. Lindsey handed him a large multicolored paper lantern, one of many that they had strung through the main room of the library as decorations for Dinner in the Stacks.

  “At fifty bucks a plate for over two hundred people . . .” Lindsey said. “Hmm, let me do the math—a lot.”

  Sully grinned down at her, and Lindsey felt her insides go all aflutter. With his sailor’s broad-shouldered build, his thick mahogany curls and his bright blue eyes, Sully was impossibly handsome. The fact that he was unfailingly kind, book smart, brave and funny didn’t hurt him on the attractive scale either.

  They’d been dating for the second time around for several months now, and Lindsey was feeling pretty confident that this time it was going to last. Thank goodness. She really didn’t know what she’d do without Sully in her life.

  “Don’t forget the silent auction,” Robbie Vine said as he strode past them, pushing a stack of chairs on a rolling cart. “My donation alone should bring in some bank for you.”

  “That signed eight-by-ten glossy of you?” Sully asked. “Yeah, that should bring in at least a nickel.”

  “I’ll have you know, I’ve had fans pay fifty dollars for a signed photo and a selfie with me,” Robbie said. “Besides, as master of ceremonies, I am sure I can drive the price up.”