Dewey Decimated, page 8
Chapter Ten
I chuckled as I drove home from the Clover Ridge Home for Seniors and mentally replayed my conversation with Marcella and Albert Whitehead. They’d been so forthright about their opinion of James, admitting quite openly that they could see him killing someone who had reneged after agreeing to buy their white elephant for a good price.
It was hard to reconcile Evelyn’s description of Marcella Whitehead with the woman I’d just visited. Clearly, her brother’s death had freed her from living under his oppressive thumb and she now gave free rein to her outspoken nature.
It occurred to me that I ought to share what I’d learned with John, but immediately dismissed the idea. For one thing, he would be annoyed that I’d gone to see the cousins, proof that I was investigating the murder. For another, what Marcella and Albert had expressed was merely their opinion and not even hearsay. James was dead and, according to what they told me, he had never said anything to lead them to believe he’d met Charlie, much less murdered him.
Besides, for all I knew, John had already interviewed them. Neither Marcella nor Albert had mentioned being questioned by the police. But it could be they’d forgotten or hadn’t considered it important enough to tell me. The crucial point to consider was whether James Whitehead had murdered Charlie. Charlie remembered discussing money, so there was a good possibility it was he who had agreed to buy the building then decided against it. The timing was right. And who besides James had access to that building?
I let out a sigh of exasperation. With James dead, we might never find out who had murdered Charlie!
I was starving when I arrived home. I heated up some leftovers I found in the fridge, then called Dylan.
“You’re quite the local celeb,” he said by way of a greeting.
“What do you mean?”
“I caught what Julie Theron had to say about you on the six o’clock news.”
“Oh, that.” In the excitement of meeting with the Whiteheads, I’d forgotten about Julie Theron’s comments. “She’s just trying to drum up a story for herself.”
“She’s doing a good job of it,” Dylan said. “I happened to talk to John earlier today about a case. The poor guy’s been getting calls, texts, and emails from people demanding to know why the mystery man remains unidentified. Don’t be surprised if Julie Theron contacts you.”
“She’d better not,” I said.
“Where did you go after work? Or is it confidential?”
“Why would someplace I go be confidential?” I asked.
“Maybe it’s code for something related to town council business.”
I laughed. “Actually it had to do with library business—indirectly. I went to have a chat with Marcella and Albert Whitehead.”
There was a silence, then, “So you’ve gotten involved in this case after all.”
“I did it for Charlie. He wants to know who he is, but he can’t remember anything—how he ended up in that building, how he died. He only knows it involved money and he vaguely remembers being with two people, though he can’t swear they had anything to do with his death.”
“What did you learn from the Whiteheads?”
“They didn’t much like James. Said he was bossy and controlling and insisted on handling the sale of the property himself. They remembered he had a potential buyer for the building about six years ago, but the deal fell through.” I snorted. “They both thought he was capable of murder.”
“Still, that’s a big stretch to linking him to the body they found in the basement.”
“The lost sale and the murder are in the same time frame. The dead man could very well have gotten excited about buying a property on the Green, then, after thinking it over, changed his mind.”
Dylan laughed. “From what I remember about James Whitehead, I doubt he’d be dumb enough to kill someone and leave the body on his property.”
I sighed. “I suppose you’re right.”
“And proving that one dead man killed another is close to impossible. According to the autopsy, cause of death was blunt force trauma, but no weapon was discovered in the basement. Even if they manage to get fingerprints off your Charlie’s clothing or the blanket he was wrapped in, how would they go about getting James Whitehead’s prints?”
We chatted a bit more before saying good night. Though he didn’t say it, I could tell that Dylan wasn’t happy that I’d started looking into Charlie’s murder. But all I had done was talk to two of the people who had owned the property before selling it to the town. And that would probably be the end of it, since I didn’t have any further leads to follow. But I was glad I’d told Dylan where I’d gone after work and we were able to discuss it. Transparency was essential in a relationship. And keeping secrets from a loved one took its toll.
* * *
I caught sight of the TV van as soon as I drove into the library parking lot the following morning. Oh, no! She’d better not be here for me. My first thought was to turn around and fly out of the lot. But why should I have to run? Instead, I killed the motor and reached for the handle of Smoky Joe’s carrier as I did every day I came to work.
I was closing the car door when Julie Theron came striding toward me, mic in her hand, a grin on her face. She was about five four, an inch or two shorter than me, and had a trim, sturdy build which led me to believe she’d played sports in high school and college. Contact sports, no doubt, and always a fierce competitor.
Her blue eyes glinted in anticipation as she focused the considerable force of her personality on her target: me. Behind Julie, a young bearded guy had me in the sights of his camera while someone else held up a light. I squinted as it shone in my face.
I raised my hand to ward off the glare. “Please let me through.” I started walking toward the library.
I heard a mumbled apology, and the light disappeared. But Julie kept pace beside me, her mouth going a mile a minute.
“And here we have the true law and order gal, the woman who sees to it that Clover Ridge streets are safe from murderers. What do you have to say to your public, Ms. Singleton?”
I stopped dead in my tracks. So did Julie and the photographer. I decided it was better to say what I thought than run away like a scared rabbit. “Lieutenant John Mathers is our police chief. I place my trust in his hands.” I glared at Julie. “And I think you should, too, Ms. Theron.”
“But you’ve solved many of the homicides that have recently plagued our little town. Are you planning to find out who murdered the unfortunate person whose remains were discovered in the building next door to the library?”
“I certainly am not!” I declared and continued on my way.
To my relief, Julie Theron didn’t follow me. But I cringed when I heard her say, “I bet many of you would love to see me team up with Carrie Singleton and solve this crime. Working together, we’ll not only discover the poor man’s name and why his life was snuffed out, his body left like trash in an abandoned building, but we’ll also find his murderer and make sure that he’s punished.”
As soon as I entered the library, I released Smoky Joe and stomped off to my office. I was steaming mad. How dare she accost me like that! How dare she put out the image of us as crimefighters like—like Rizzoli and Isles!
I switched on my computer to read the emails waiting for me, but my concentration was shot. The words might as well have been hieroglyphics for all the meaning they conveyed. I was glad when Evelyn and Charlie made an appearance a few minutes later. I put my computer to sleep and gave them my full attention.
“Have you learned anything new?” Charlie asked. “Did you find out who I am?”
I shook my head. “Sorry, but I did speak to two of the people who owned the building where you were found.”
“Did they kill me?”
I imagined Marcella and Albert as murderers and smiled. “No! Why would you think that?”
“Because they owned the property where Charlie was found,” Evelyn said, sounding like a teacher whose student had sorely tried her patience.
“Well, of course, but they aren’t the type to murder anyone. Besides, they weren’t involved with selling the place until recently. Marcella’s brother, James, handled that until his death three years ago. It seems six years ago he had a buyer and then he didn’t, which made him angry. Both his sister and his cousin Albert think James was capable of killing someone—not that they have proof that he ever met you, much less murdered you.”
“So there’s a chance James might have killed me because I backed out of the deal.” Charlie shook his head. “I can’t imagine wanting to buy that building. It’s terribly run-down.”
“For an investment, perhaps,” Evelyn suggested. “It is a valuable piece of property—located right on the Green.”
I had an idea. “Would you recognize James Whitehead if I showed you his photograph?”
Charlie shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe not.”
“It’s worth a try,” Evelyn said.
I turned on my computer and found one of the newspaper articles that included a photo of James Whitehead. Charlie leaned over my shoulder, sending a shiver up my spine. I moved out of his range of vision. He stared and stared.
“He does look familiar,” he finally said. He glanced at me, then at Evelyn. “I think I knew him. Or met him a few times. Do you think he murdered me?”
What a strange question. “Unfortunately, I can’t talk to him because he’s dead.”
“What about the other man?”
“What other man?” Evelyn asked.
“I told you there were two men.” Charlie blinked. “Or maybe I’m remembering something that has nothing to do with my death.”
Since the meeting room was in use for the rest of the day, Charlie agreed to go back upstairs to the attic. “I don’t think I can take much more of this,” he grumbled.
“I can only stay with him a while,” Evelyn whispered. “I have things that need looking after.”
“I understand. Thanks for keeping him company,” I whispered back as I watched them fade from sight. Alone again, I wondered how Charlie had become my responsibility.
I managed to get through my emails and phone calls that required my attention. Trish arrived at ten and we discussed our plans for the Halloween party scheduled at the end of October. I’d organized a costume party with entertainers last year, and since it had been such a success, Sally and I both agreed it would make a wonderful yearly tradition.
Julie Theron called me on my library extension, but I let it go to voice mail. Her message was simple: “Please call me” with her phone number. I wished the woman would stop hounding me.
Babette texted me, asking if I’d had a chance to look at the park plans for the Seabrook Preserve property that Graham had left with me and saying she hoped that I would before our meeting tonight.
Meeting tonight? How could I have forgotten? Tonight the contractors were making presentations at the open council meeting. Of course I hadn’t had a moment to even glance at Graham’s firm’s proposal or to read much of what was in the packet of information that Al had given me the previous week. And I didn’t even have it with me, so I couldn’t look it over during the day. Which meant I’d have to rush home from work and grab something to eat for dinner as I read what I could before driving to the meeting. I was feeling overwhelmed, to say the least.
Chapter Eleven
“I can’t believe how stressful my life has become,” I complained to Angela as she turned on to Mercer Street and we headed for lunch at our favorite Indian restaurant. We’d agreed we needed a change of scenery, and I was terrified of being ambushed again by Julie Theron. “I have to worry about the comfort of an unhappy ghost, being stalked by Julie Theron, and I haven’t even read through the proposals for the meeting tonight. What kind of a council member am I turning out to be?”
“I’m sure the people who are making the proposals tonight will be very thorough in their presentations.” Angela grinned. “Later, you board members will pick them apart and seek out flaws and hidden expenses and problems. You don’t have to vote on this yet, do you?”
“No. That’s next week.”
“See! Problem solved.”
“And what about Charlie?” I said. “So far there’s no word about who he is. Evelyn’s been wonderful, but she can’t keep on playing nursemaid to him. And frankly, I feel awful, hiding him away like he’s done something shameful.”
“I’m sure John is working hard to find out who he is,” Angela said.
“I suppose,” I agreed without much enthusiasm.
We stopped at a red light and she turned to me, her eyes shining with glee. “Can you imagine what Ms. Theron would have to say if she knew you were in communication with the victim’s ghost? It would scare the pants off her.”
I scoffed. “I doubt it. She’d probably interview Charlie. I wish she’d stop hounding me. If she’s so intent on playing detective, you’d think she’d want to solve the mystery herself instead of wanting to be my partner.” I spit out the last word like it was poison.
Angela winked. “That’s the price you pay for being our local Nancy Drew.”
* * *
For all her teasing, Angela managed to calm me down, and I thoroughly enjoyed the Indian buffet, eating much more than I should have. By the time we were on our way back to work, I’d come to a few realizations. The police were bound to find out who Charlie was sooner or later; I’d learn everything I needed to know about the three proposals tonight via the presentations and discussions; and all I had to do regarding Julie Theron was ignore her calls.
When we returned to the library, I called Aunt Harriet to tell her that though there was a council meeting that evening, I’d be going home after work instead of coming by for dinner since I’d eaten a big lunch. Smoky Joe must have sensed I was back in the building because I heard him meowing outside my office door. I welcomed him inside and watched him scarf down his food as quickly as any dog.
I realized that, with everything going on, I’d never phoned Julia to make a lunch date as I’d promised. I called her on her cell, knowing she was at work. Julia was an interior decorator. She’d been working part-time, but now that Tacey was in kindergarten, she was putting in a full week.
“Hello, Carrie.” She sounded out of breath.
“Hi, Julia. Is this a bad time?”
“I was just dealing with the client from hell, and now I’m late for my next appointment.” The calm, take-charge Julia I knew was stressed out.
“Sorry. I called to make a date for lunch, but if this is a bad time we can talk another time.”
“No, I definitely want to set something up with you. We keep saying we’ll get together, and the days slip by. It’s just that lately every appointment runs overtime. I didn’t think working full-time would make my life so hectic.”
I had an idea. “Dylan and I have no plans this weekend. If you’re free, why don’t you and Randy come for dinner Saturday night?”
“Oh!”
I suddenly felt foolish. “I suppose you guys are busy or you need to plan ahead and get a sitter—”
Julia gave a little laugh. “Randy and I haven’t been out on a date in ages. We could both use some ‘us’ time. I’d love to come for dinner, though I hate to make you cook on a Saturday night.”
“Not to worry. Our meal will come straight from the Gourmet Market.” We both laughed. “Shall we say seven o’clock?”
“I’m looking forward to it. So will Randy, when I tell him the news,” Julia said, sounding considerably calmer.
“Will you have a problem getting a sitter?”
“Are you kidding? Aunt Harriet and Uncle Bosco will be thrilled to stay with the kids. I’ll call her right now.”
And Aunt Harriet and Uncle Bosco would be happy to hear that Dylan and I were getting together with Randy and Julia. And planning our dinner would take my mind off the stresses in my life. I smiled as I settled down to do some paperwork and finished it earlier than expected. I walked over to the hospitality desk where Trish was helping patrons sign up for programs.
“‘Make Your Own Jewelry’ is filled and so is ‘Let’s Talk About Witches,’” she told me.
“That’s nice.”
“Not so nice,” Trish said, looking worried. She lowered her voice. “Veronica Briar carried on when I told her the jewelry class was closed. She said we have some nerve, advertising a program then not having enough places for everyone who wants to attend. Sally heard and came over to calm her down.”
“Veronica Briar,” I mused. “How many times has she demanded we refund her money after not showing up for a program?”
“Twice since you’ve been here,” Trish said. “A few times before that.”
“And our ‘no refund’ policy is printed on every newsletter, every receipt. Consider the patron. I wouldn’t give her a second thought.”
Trish shot me a big smile. “Thanks, Carrie.”
I told her I’d be checking on the programs in progress then helping out at the food presentation. At two o’clock a local Latin restaurant owner and chef was presenting a menu of soup, salad, and empanadas. That meant he’d be arriving soon to set up in the meeting room downstairs. Every food presenter brought the ingredients and cooking utensils for his or her program. I liked to be available at least twenty minutes before the patrons sat down to make sure he had everything he needed and to hand out copies of the recipes he’d be preparing. Then I stayed to help serve the food.
It was an exhausting day, and I was tired by the time Smoky Joe and I headed for home. I spoke to Dylan as I drove, filling him in on the events of my day, including the arrangements I’d made with Julia.
“I miss you, babe,” he told me.
“I miss you too.” A lot, I realized when I disconnected. I was glad tomorrow was Friday and we would soon be together until Monday morning.
I fed Smoky Joe and changed his kitty litter, then found a few leftovers to tide me over. I skimmed through every brochure in the packet Al had given me. Then it was time to freshen my makeup and drive back to town.
