By the Book (A Gracie Andersen Mystery 2) (12 page)

The house seemed quieter than usual for some reason. It was actually a little eerie with just Haley and she rattling around. Strange how she’d gotten used to the extra activity, especially in the morning when Terry had been there. Haley wandered around the house as if looking for her pals and looking a little depressed. Gracie had tried calling Terry’s cell, but it was apparently turned off. She hadn’t left a message. She’d call her later to see how Max was doing. The morning DJ on WCJW, the Warsaw radio station, was reporting that a warming trend was in the forecast. It was about time. The house phone rang as she poured herself a second cup of coffee. It was Kelly Standish.

“Morning, Gracie.”

“You’re right. It’s morning.”

Kelly laughed. “Sounds like your day is starting off like mine.”

“Maybe,” Gracie chuckled. “What’s happening in your world?”

“Same old stuff. Breech calves always come in the middle of the night, and dog owners can be hard to track down.”

“What owners?”

“Terry.  Max was ready to go home yesterday afternoon, but she never picked him up.

“Is he doing all right then?”

“His tests were good yesterday morning. No real damage to the kidneys. We caught it in time, and by the look of things, he didn’t ingest a huge amount. Now I guess we’ll keep trying to track down Terry. You know, we need to do lunch or something to get caught up on what’s happening over your way.”

“I agree. I could use another perspective on the library situation. Why don’t you stop over for supper tonight, and I’ll fill you in. Maybe I’ll know more by tonight.”

“I’ll be there. Is 6:30 OK?”

“Works for me.”

“I’ll bring a pizza,” Kelly offered.

“Even better. See you later.”

Haley was dancing in anticipation by the kitchen door. She seemed especially eager to get outside for some reason. It must be the promised warming trend.

“All right, girl. It’s time to go to work.” Gracie pulled on her coat, and the pair headed toward the kennels. The bluestone walk was slushy with melting ice, and she caught herself as a foot went out from under her.

“Guess I’d better get some of that ice melting stuff,” she told Haley, who was already plowing through drifts. The dog plunged her black nose into the snow, sniffing furiously, her tail wagging like a flag.

Gracie gingerly retraced her steps to the house and scooped a coffee can full of pellets from the bag on the steps to spread on the ice. She saw a flash of black disappearing behind the storage building before the last of the pellets left the can.

“Haley, get back here,” Gracie yelled at the top of her lungs. Once Haley was on the hunt for a critter, she was deaf to any human interaction. Who knew what she’d flushed out now? “Haley, come! Get your butt back here!”

It was in vain. Gracie was resigned to traipsing after the dog through the varying snowdrifts that had swirled around the building, looking like tired whipped cream. Her jeans were already wet up to her knees, and snow had dribbled down inside her boots. Her feet were soaked and freezing. A yelp, following by furious barking and then whining from Haley urged Gracie to slog faster through the heavy, melting snow. Then serious whining began.

“Haley, come. What did you get yourself into? It better not be a skunk.”

A subdued Lab came around the corner of the steel building. She walked slowly on a small alleyway of ice that had been formed by whipping winds and dripping eaves. She stopped every other step and held up a paw to her face. Her muzzle was full of porcupine quills.

“You’ve got to be kidding! Haley, you’ve done it to yourself this time.” She’d extracted her fair share of quills from dogs over the years, and knew it could be tricky to get them out properly. Haley looked mighty pitiful. Her tail was tucked between her legs, and the dog appeared uncharacteristically solemn.

“I guess we’d better get started fixing you up. Dang it, Haley! I’ve got a thousand things to do, and you pull this stunt. Come on.” The dejected Lab followed her mistress into the reception area.

She was still extracting quills when Jim and Cheryl arrived. Both had words of sympathy, but no one was especially eager to assist. Haley shook her head impatiently. A few drops of blood splattered Gracie’s blue sweatshirt. Jim went to shovel walkways, and Cheryl was quick to begin feeding the hungry and noisy pack, which was making its presence known in no uncertain terms.

“Finally. You’re done!” Gracie laid the last wicked quill with its hooked end on a paper towel. Haley whined in what seemed like appreciation. Her muzzle was dotted with blood, but she was back to wagging her tail with enthusiasm.

“I hope you’ve learned your lesson on this hunting adventure. If they’re covered with sharp, spiny things, leave them alone. Got it?”

“Learned what lesson?” Marian pulled off her coat and joined the pair in the grooming room.

“Good morning, Marian. Feeling better?”

“I sure am. Ohhhh. Porcupine, huh? Poor Haley. Let me see your face.” Marian cooed over Haley, who soaked up the attention like a chicken in Cornell marinade. She leaned her backside against Marian’s leg while she got a spectacular butt rub.

“She went on one of her famous hunts again and couldn’t resist the porcupine.” Gracie carefully wrapped the quills in a paper towel and deposited them in the wastebasket.

“You didn’t know, did you, sweetheart? I’ll get you something special to make you feel better.”

“Marian, she’s fine. She doesn’t need …”

“Of course she does. Come with Marian. You’ll feel better in no time.”

“If you’re giving her a treat, then you get to put the antiseptic on her,” Gracie called after the pair.

“All right,” Marian warbled. “Don’t worry, Haley. I’ll take care of you. I think your mom is pretty mad at you right now.”

Gracie shook her head. There was no stopping Marian when she was spoiling a dog. It was time to get on with her day anyway. Her desk was piled with papers and file folders. She sighed. The library bills needed to be paid, and she had to figure out the payroll schedule. Why did she get herself involved? Jim wasn’t going to be happy with her again. Gracie pulled a hairbrush from the center desk drawer and began brushing out her unruly thick auburn curls. She needed to look presentable for the public today. Her hair crackled with static electricity. She made a final pass with her hands to smooth it and pulled it back into a quick ponytail. Her cell phone chimed bleakly from the depths of her coat that hung on the back of the desk chair. She had a voicemail already. Gracie scanned her call log. She’d missed a call from Terry.

The counter at Midge’s was buzzing with gossip about the untimely icy death of Alice Harris. It was clear opinions had been formed about who was guilty and most of the roads led to Roger Woodson who, according to the group around the counter, had always been a little too good for Deer Creek. The Jack Greene theory was also being kicked around. There was a lot of talk about Alice’s mishandling of money for several people. She’d gotten them into some bad investments, and maybe there were some other people who might be interested in taking care of business with Alice.

Sybil Greene sat at a corner table with her daughter, sipping coffee, while gathering all the gossip for discussion later. Will had been very clear that employees had absolutely nothing to say about either incident. Of course, that didn’t mean she and Patti wouldn’t have time to mull it over on their own. Now that Jack was being questioned every other minute by some investigator, she needed to know what people knew. And it couldn’t be good if Roger was a suspect. Glancing around at the people in the restaurant, she saw Dan Evans talking with Will Dover. What could they be talking about? She stirred a little more cream into her already blond coffee.

The library was closed for today, unfortunately. Time off without pay, according to Will. Just what she didn’t need. What the police were looking for after they’d given the staff permission to open the same day of the murder was a real mystery. She had a stack of work that needed to be done. But there was no chance of getting in the building until the cops were gone. The sheriff’s department and state troopers were crawling all over the place. She and Patti weren’t supposed to darken the door there until they were finished. It was making things pretty inconvenient. She finished her coffee and a warm blueberry muffin.

Brooke looked at her mother nervously. She was a plump young woman in her early twenties. Her shoulder length dark brown hair had chunky red highlights, and a tiny diamond sparkled in her broad nose. She traced her index finger around the rim of the heavy coffee mug in front of her.

“Mom, shouldn’t we get out of here?”

“Probably,” mused Sybil, wiping some crumbs from her fingers on the paper napkin. “I guess I’ve heard all the theories. Here.” She handed Brooke a twenty. “Pay our bill, while I go warm up the truck. Hopefully no one will see me.” She pulled her coat hood up around her face.

“All right,” Brooke said grudgingly. “I hope nobody asks me anything. This was a dumb idea.”

“Shut up and go pay. You don’t have to say anything if you’re asked. I’ll meet you in the truck and drop you off at work on my way to the … uh, home.”

“Whatever.” Brooke gave her mother a disgusted look and sullenly made her way to the counter. Sybil managed to slip out the door, pleased with her apparent anonymity. Not an easy accomplishment in Deer Creek.

The library parking lot was finally empty. The half dozen police cars were gone, although yellow tape was draped on white plastic stakes around the far corner of the lot, blocking about a third of the space. The pickup drove slowly past the river stone building. Sybil craned her neck to see if any vehicles were parked at the rear of the building. She hit the accelerator, spraying brown slush onto the melting dirty snow banks lining the street.

Terry’s blue Accord drove into the kennel parking lot just as Gracie was walking up to the house to make lunch. She squinted against the glare of sunshine bouncing off snow, wishing she had sunglasses. Terry dragged herself from the car, coughing.

“What’s going on?” Gracie asked, shielding her eyes against the rare appearance of sunshine. “Are you OK?”

“Not really. I think I have the flu. Could you take the dogs for a couple of days? I’ve gotta go to bed.” She sneezed and then coughed again.

“Sure. Have you gone to a doctor?”

“No. I’ve got Nyquil and aspirin. If I can get some sleep, I can kick it.”

“I’ll bring over some soup or something. You do look pretty bad.”

Terry half-smiled. “Great. Oh, the payroll is due this week. If you can stop by to see Sybil.”

“Sure.”

Haley was sniffing the car and half-whining. The two German shepherds had their faces pressed against the glass, panting.

“Looks like Max and Sable are anxious to visit. Let me take them up to the house, and you can get yourself to bed.”

“Thanks, Gracie.” Terry coughed again. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“Sorry I missed your call earlier.”

“No problem. I was going to ask if you could pick up Max, but I decided to get him,” the librarian said, opening the rear door. The dogs rushed to greet Haley, who stood with tail waving while they sniffed each other from stem to stern. Terry got back in the front seat.

“Get some rest,” Gracie said.

“I will. Thanks, Gracie.”

The small car turned onto the slushy road and headed toward Deer Creek.

Kelly showed up on time with a fully loaded pizza. Haley, Max, and Sable were ecstatically dancing around the vet with dreams of a slice or two in their dishes.

“Hey, dogs, calm down. There’s enough for everybody,” Kelly slid the large white box onto the kitchen counter and pulled off her heavy wool coat. “You’d think you guys were starving.”

“No. They’re just extremely skilled beggars. I think Haley has corrupted their good manners.” Gracie hit the start button on the coffeemaker and opened the pizza box. “Good job, Kelly. I love the Kitchen Sink from Joe’s. It’s got everything but anchovies.”

“No weird fish on pizza. That’s my hard and fast rule.”

“Amen, sister,” Gracie agreed heartily.

Since meeting Kelly last summer, when she’d moved back to Deer Creek to keep a closer eye on her aging parents, they’d become good friends. There had always been more male friends than female for Gracie, which had been mostly the product of her interests. Cows, dogs, machinery, and getting her hands dirty hadn’t garnered many girlfriends throughout her childhood, or adulthood, for that matter. She didn’t like manicures, dressing up, or reading
Glamour
either. She’d been one of the first girls in high school to belong to Future Farmers of America. That had really killed any normal girl socializing, but Gracie didn’t think she’d missed too much. Kelly had the same interests, so they had become bosom pals in a matter of months. Now that Tom and Kelly were dating, Gracie was hoping that just maybe, Kelly would eventually be her sister-in-law. It was a little early for that, but then again, it could happen.

“So tell me, what’s going on with Terry and the library? Sounds like a soap opera, plus Alice Harris was killed in the parking lot? You were there, I hear.”

“I sure was. It
is
a real predicament. I don’t know what to think about Terry. She caught the flu, which is why I’ve got Max and Sable.” Gracie pulled a large slice of pizza weighted with toppings. She broke the strings of gooey cheese to free it. Kelly grabbed an equally large slice while Gracie explained.

“Maybe that’s why she didn’t respond to the message to pick up Max very quickly,” Kelly said before biting into the pizza.

“Probably. She didn’t look or sound too good. Like she needs one more thing to deal with. Coming to Deer Creek hasn’t been a picnic, and neither was the university where she worked before.”

Kelly’s mouth made an “O.” “What university?”

Gracie proceeded to retell the rather creepy account of the librarian’s exit from the Seneca. The back of her neck prickled with goose bumps as she related the story.

“So she saw something that she shouldn’t have or maybe she can identify the killer?”

“It’s possible, but I really don’t know. All I know for sure is that she’s been terrified since she got here and has had a few scares, like a dead bird and slashed tires.”

“And a poisoned dog.” Kelly grabbed another piece from the box, twisting the strings of cheese and placing them on top of the slice.

“And poor Max,” Gracie agreed. “But I really want to believe it was just an accident.”

At the sound of his name, the black and tan dog appeared at the counter. Kelly scratched the dog’s head and peeled off a piece of pepperoni for him.

“It certainly happens. Sheesh! Who knew that the library was such a hotbed of scandal! You picked a great time to help them out.” Kelly raised an eyebrow and gave Gracie a grin.

“Thanks for letting me know. My timing does stink on this one. I haven’t told Jim I’m helping out either.”

Kelly laughed. “I’ll bet he’s not going to be happy.”

Gracie shrugged. “No. But I’m in it now. Only six weeks tops.”

“Sure. Go ahead and believe that.”

Kelly slid from the stool at the counter and went to replenish her coffee mug.

Gracie finished the slice except for the crust, which she broke in three parts and threw to the waiting dogs. They caught the treats with ease and crunched noisily.

“I was on a call at Woodson’s this afternoon. That place is really buzzing.”

“No doubt,” Gracie said, closing the pizza box lid. “What’s the latest?”

“Apparently Alice Harris had been working with Roger to get the collection appraised. Something about selling it. The word in the milking parlor is that the Woodsons have some big financial problems.”

“How valuable can old guns and knives be?” Gracie pulled the Brita pitcher from the refrigerator and poured herself a glass of water. “Want some?”

“Sure,” Kelly replied. “It’s a pretty valuable collection. I wouldn’t pay anything for the stuff, but this guy Jack at the farm said the knife that killed Alice was worth about $50,000.”

Gracie handed a tumbler of cold water to Kelly. Haley appeared in the kitchen with a manila folder in her mouth.

“Give me that, Haley,” Gracie exclaimed, grabbing the damp folder. “Stop getting into paper. You’d think you’re addicted or something.” She wiped the folder across her jeans.

Kelly laughed. “She does seem to have a thing for paper.”

“Especially Kleenex,” Gracie added. “She was chomping up a pile of it in the office wastebasket today. It may not be so nice for you tomorrow morning, girl. Remember that.” She glanced at the folder. “Oh. This is a good reminder anyway. It’s the payroll folder. I’ve gotta see Sybil tomorrow sometime to get their timesheets. I can’t forget to pay everyone.”

She laid the folder on the counter. Kelly rose from the stool and groaned.

“I can’t eat another bite.”

“Me neither. Let’s go in the living room and rest from consuming mass quantities.”

Kelly laughed as Gracie led the way and the dogs trailed behind. Max settled by the French doors while Haley and Sable curled up on the big dog bed together.

“So this knife is worth $50,000?”

“From what this guy said. I guess there’s plenty more to the collection, so it’s probably a lot of money.”

“Interesting. This Jack wasn’t Jack Greene, was he? Dark hair. Sort of intense?”

“Sounds like him. He was helping with the milking.”

“He’s the one who actually discovered the body, well, other than Max. He was plowing the parking lot.”

“Ohhhhh.” Kelly stretched her legs across the length of the leather sofa. “He
is
intense. I’d say he’s got some anger issues.”

“Yeah—that’s my impression too.”

“The really valuable part of the collection has something to do with Mary Jemison, according to him.”

“Mary Jemison? Really? How could that be? I thought any of her stuff is in museums.”

“Jack mentioned a James Seaver and Mary Jemison.”

“He was pretty talkative with you.” Gracie laughed.

“Not really. I just happened to be picking up my instruments while a group of guys were shooting the breeze.”

“Eavesdropping?” Gracie teased.

“Ha! He was basically holding a conference. He sure wasn’t whispering.”

“Well, that’s interesting about Alice and Roger. I guess that’s why he’s a person of interest.”

“I’d say that Jack knows quite a bit. He’d be on my list,” Kelly commented, closing her eyes and yawning.

“He may already be there. Wish I knew who James Seaver is.” Gracie held her iPad in one hand as she popped the recliner back, mirroring her friend’s yawn.

“Here it is. He’s the journalist who interviewed Mary Jemison in the early 1800s before she died.”

“Oh. Remind me about Mary Jemison. Wasn’t she an Indian captive?” Kelly’s tone indicated she wasn’t quite connecting.

“You know, Mary Jemison—the White Woman of the Genesee. Her statue is in Letchworth Park.”

“That’s right. Now I remember. She’s the one they do the pageant about in Castile every once in awhile.”

“Right. I played a pioneer in that production when I was 12. That was fun. I even got to start a campfire and cook over it. It was like being in a real live
Little House on the Prairie
.

Kelly laughed. “You know, I think my older sister was in that pageant one year too. So collectors would want stuff about her.”