Books Can Be Deceiving (21 page)

“Don’t tell,” Adele said.

Frank’s frown turned into a grin as he winked back at her. Adele took Lindsey’s hand and led her back to her apartment. The show had started, and they made themselves comfortable while Jeannie blinked her way in and out of trouble.

At a commercial break, Lindsey felt it was time to come clean.

“Adele, Mrs. Broderick, I’m not your sister,” she said.

Adele tipped her head and studied Lindsey but said nothing.

“My name is Lindsey Norris, and I’m a librarian in Briar Creek. You own one of the Thumb Islands, Gull Island, and you were renting it to a young man named Rick Eckman. Does any of this sound familiar?”

Adele kept watching her and then said, “The cottage.”

Lindsey assumed that meant she had some memory of her summer place, so she forged on. “I was wondering if you remember anything about Mr. Eckman. Did you meet him? Do you know where he was before he rented your island?”

Adele blinked at her again, and Lindsey was afraid she’d lost her. Then she said, “There’s no Eckman.”

“What do you mean?”

Adele got up and went over to a small writing desk in the corner. She opened a drawer in the bottom and looked through some papers and then brought back what looked like a contract. It was a rental agreement from five years before for the house on the island, only the name wasn’t Rick Eckman; it was Ernie Shadegg.

Lindsey felt her heart pound in her chest. What did this mean? Was Rick’s name really Ernie? She looked at Adele, and a million questions bubbled to her lips, but the show had come back on, and Adele was watching the Major try to extricate himself from some help of Jeannie’s that had gone terribly awry.

Lindsey finished watching the show, mulling over what she had learned. When Adele would nudge her with an elbow at a particularly funny part, Lindsey would grin, but she really had no idea what was going on.

When the show was over, she asked Adele if she could keep the rental paper, and she nodded. “Come back next week, and we’ll snitch some red velvet cake.”

“Thanks, Adele,” Lindsey said. “I will.”

She gave the tiny woman a gentle hug and waved as she went down the hall. She would be back to visit her new friend. There was something about the elderly lady that Lindsey liked.

She parked the Buick in the driveway to Bruce’s garage and put the key in the drop box. It was late and very dark as she made her way home on her bike. She wished she’d known she would be out this late; she would have worn a heavier coat. She pedaled harder, trying to warm up.

She locked up her bike on the side of the house and crossed the wide front porch to the main door, which was unlocked. As soon as she stepped into the foyer, Nancy’s door was yanked open, and out stuck two gray heads as Nancy and Violet peered at her.

“Where have you been?”

“Do you have any idea how worried we’ve been?”

“You could at least call, you know.” That was Mary, who had joined them.

“Yeah, what they said.” Beth popped up behind the others.

“Lindsey, it’s so nice to see you again.” Another person pushed forward through the others and Lindsey was delighted to see Charlene, Violet’s daughter, appear.

She gave her a quick hug and said, “What are you doing out here? Don’t you have to be on the evening news?”

“I took the week off,” she said. “We all needed it. Martin wants to weatherize the cabin, and the kids were happy to miss a few days of school.”

Charlene was tall and thin like her mother, with the same striking features, lovely dark skin and a generous smile.

“Well, I for one am glad you’re here,” Lindsey said. “I need your expertise.”

“Should we bring the couch and chairs out here then?” Nancy asked with a wink.

Lindsey shook her head. “Sorry. I’ve just learned the most extraordinary bit of information.”

“Well, what are you waiting for?” Violet asked as she ushered them all back into Nancy’s. “Come in.”

Nancy brought out a silver pot of hot chocolate and several mugs along with a matching silver tray weighed down with homemade cookies. Tonight they were butterscotch bars. Lindsey took two and sighed. She loved living here.

While Violet poured the cocoa, they each found seats around the room. Lindsey claimed one of the wing chairs by the fireplace. When she took a sip of her hot chocolate, she remembered sitting here with Sully. She knew it hadn’t been that long ago, but given the events of the past few days, it felt as if it were months ago.

“Beth, will it bother you to talk about Rick?” Lindsey asked. “I don’t want to discuss him if it will upset you.”

“No.” Beth shook her head. “In fact, we were just talking about him before you arrived. I’m sad for him, and I’m sorry someone killed him. He didn’t deserve that, but I’m getting a little tired of being suspect number one. I have to face the fact that someone wanted him dead, and they really don’t care if I get blamed or not.”

“Good,” Lindsey said. “Because I have some questions for you, and I doubt if it will be easy.”

“Before you start,” Mary said, “can I make one request?”

“Sure,” Lindsey said.

“The next time you take off for parts unknown, do you suppose you could tell one of us?” she asked. “There is a murderer out there, you know.”

“I’m sorry,” Lindsey said. “Were you worried?”

“Yes!” the other women answered in unison, with varying levels of exasperation.

She knew it was terrible of her, but Lindsey couldn’t help but feel oddly pleased. She was amazed that in such a short time, Briar Creek had become her home, with people who really cared about her. It felt good.

“So, why did you want my advice?” Charlene asked.

“Well, you started out as an investigative reporter, right?”

Charlene nodded.

“Okay, well, I went to see the woman who owns the island that Rick has been renting.”

“Renting?” Beth asked. “He told me he owned it.”

“No, that island has been in the Broderick family for years,” Mary said.

“I thought Mrs. Broderick was in Kingston in an assisted-care facility,” Nancy said.

“Alzheimer’s, I heard,” Violet said.

“She is,” Lindsey said. “And she’s quite a character. She thought I was her sister and had me help her raid the kitchen, but she also gave me this.”

Lindsey handed the paper to Beth first, as she was the most directly affected.

“I don’t understand,” Beth said. “This is for some guy named Ernie Shadegg.”

Lindsey waited while she put it together. It didn’t take long. Beth had always been a quick study.

“Are you telling me that
Rick
wasn’t Rick’s real name?” she asked.

“Not according to Adele Broderick,” Lindsey said. “She had that agreement in her desk, and it’s dated five years ago. That’s when Rick moved there, isn’t it?”

Beth blew out a breath as if she’d just sustained a body blow she hadn’t seen coming.

“I’m sorry,” Lindsey said. It felt so inadequate. “This must be a stunner.”

“You know, he never talked about his past. I thought it was because he’d had a rough childhood, being bounced from foster home to foster home. I had no idea that he had a different name.”

“But why did he have a different name?” Violet asked.

“Maybe he was running from the law,” Nancy said.

“Maybe he plagiarized someone else’s work and was in hiding,” Beth said bitterly.

Mary reached over and looped an arm around Beth’s shoulder. Beth leaned into her as if trying to absorb some warmth or strength.

“So, what do we do next?” Lindsey asked Charlene. “I want to know where he was before he came to Briar Creek. I want to know if he made enemies, ones who may have found him here.”

“May I see the rental papers?” she asked. Beth handed them over, and Charlene read through them. “He listed his previous residence as an apartment in New London. If it was a rental, you might be able to interview the landlord and see if he or she remembers him.”

“What about having his DNA traced?” Nancy asked.

“Oh, I like that,” Violet said. “Beth, do you have any of his hair lying around?”

Beth looked from Violet to Charlene. “She’s kidding, right?”

“’Fraid not,” Charlene said. “Those two have never missed an episode of
CSI
.”

“The one set in Vegas, not all those silly spin-offs.” Violet sniffed as if that made it more legitimate.

“I bet Grissom could figure out who murdered Rick,” Nancy said.

“Yeah, probably off of a partial fingerprint on a half-eaten donut,” Violet agreed.

“You are aware that he’s not real,” Charlene said. “He’s an actor, like you, Mom.”

“I know, but it makes me feel better to think that he’s actually out there fighting crime.”

Charlene rolled her eyes so far back in her head Lindsey was afraid they might get stuck.

“Well, since Grissom isn’t here and we’re stuck with Chief Daniels, I think we should follow up on this,” Lindsey said. “I’m going to drive over there tomorrow and see what I can find out.”

“Drive?” Mary asked. “Why don’t you just call? Surely they can tell you over the phone if they remember him or not.”

“I want to be sure. I want to show his picture and make sure Rick and Ernie are the same person. Besides, I think I’ll get more information if I go in person,” Lindsey said.

“I’m going with you,” Beth said. Everyone turned to look at her. “What?” she asked.

“Do you think that’s wise?” Mary asked. “I mean you have no idea who this Ernie Shadegg was. He could have been, well, if he was hiding out on an island, he could have been a really bad man.”

“As opposed to the sweetheart of a guy who ripped off my work?” Beth asked.

“I see your point,” Mary agreed.

“It’s probably not going to be fun,” Beth said. “But I have to know. I have to know who I was really dating for the past five years.”

R
oad trips required a couple of things: a well-balanced diet of caffeine, salt and sugar and an excellent selection of tunes—oh, and directions.

Beth was in charge of the tunes and the navigation, and she had done well, selecting the Beatles’ number-one hits and a perky 1980s compilation that included the B-52s and the Go-Go’s. She’d also printed out directions from Map-Quest and had them neatly stapled and sitting in her lap. Ever the prepared librarian.

Lindsey was in charge of renting the loaner from Bruce and acquiring the snacks. She went with two piping-hot coffees from Dunkin’ Donuts with a mixed box of Munchkins and a bag of Cheetos from the Cumberland Farms, the convenience store on the edge of town.

Lindsey surveyed the bench seat of the Buick they shared and nodded. “I think we’re good. Ready?”

Beth pulled out a roll of Tums and said, “As I’ll ever be.”

The drive to New London was a little more than an hour eastbound on I-95. They crossed over the multilane bridge that spanned the Connecticut River, and Lindsey noted that the trees that had been so vibrant with color just weeks before were slowly being laid bare by the coming winter.

“I’m afraid of what I’m going to find out,” Beth said.

Lindsey reached out and lowered the volume on the updated car stereo, making Paul McCartney’s voice quiet background noise.

“You know that’s natural, right?” she asked. “I mean, you’ve just discovered that the man you were dating had another name, probably a whole other life that you knew nothing about. Of course, you’re freaked out.”

“What if he was married?” Beth asked. “That would make me the other woman.”

Lindsey looked at her balefully. “No, I’ve met ‘the other woman,’ and you are not her.”

“But if . . .” Beth began but Lindsey took her right hand off the wheel and held it up to silence her.

“No. An ‘other woman’ is a woman who knows the man she is sleeping with is already involved and she sleeps with him anyway. She cares only for herself; otherwise, she would refuse him until he did the right thing and left the woman he is engaged to first. I mean, really, is that asking so much? A little dignity?
A little respect?
”

Beth looked at her with wide eyes, and Lindsey sighed.

“Sorry. I spoke to John yesterday. I think I’m still cranky.”

“You spoke to him?” Beth echoed. “But you said you’d eat arsenic pie before you ever spoke to him again.”

“Yeah, well, that was before I needed a recommendation for the best criminal defense attorney in the area.”

“You called him for me?” Beth asked. Lindsey glanced at her quickly and noted her gray eyes were damp.

“Do not start,” Lindsey said. “It was no big deal, really.”

“What else did he say?” Beth asked.

“Nothing,” she said. “I got a name and then I hung up on him. I don’t think you’re going to need it, but I wanted to be prepared.”

“Thanks, Lindsey, you’re the best.”

They passed through East Lyme, and then the highway split. Lindsey continued east on I-95, instead of veering north onto I-395, which would have led them upstate and eventually into Massachusetts.

Twenty minutes later, New London was in sight. Lindsey turned off the highway before the bridge that would take them over the Thames River. Beth directed her along the surface streets until they ended up on Granite Street in the Post Hill Historic District.

Lindsey had spoken to Rick’s, or rather Ernie’s, old landlady that morning. Ernie had rented a studio apartment in Eloise Sinclair’s 1920s art deco building, and she did remember him. Lindsey had asked if they could come by to talk to her, and the woman had seemed to think that Lindsey was interested in renting an apartment from her. Lindsey didn’t disabuse her of that notion.

They had agreed to meet at ten-thirty. Glancing at her cell phone, she could see they were five minutes early. She found parking, and they locked the Buick, then made their way up the walkway to the brick building that loomed over them.