By the Book (A Gracie Andersen Mystery 2) (15 page)

“Gracie, good to see you.” Will’s voice seemed a little too cheerful. He settled into the brown leather desk chair and immediately began nervously clicking a ball-point pen with his left hand.

“Sorry to bother you tonight, but I thought I should talk to you about a file I saw at the library. It may be nothing, but ...”

“Of course. It’s no bother. Anything I can do to help.” He coughed suddenly and grabbed for a tissue from the box in front of him. “Sorry. I’ve had a cold.” He put the pen down and rested his hand on a letter that lay on the desk blotter.

“My groomer had the flu. It’s a nasty type this year. Hope you’re OK.”

“I’m fine, but it did keep me in bed a couple of days. I guess it’s going around. Terry’s got it too, and your dad had quite a scare.”

“He did. But he’s almost back to normal. Of course, my mother is riding herd on the situation.”

Will laughed. “Theresa will make him toe the line.”

“Sorry to interrupt, but here’s your tea, Gracie.” Iris had padded quietly into the study and laid a black lacquer tray on the side table next to her chair. The forget-me-not patterned china cup was steaming, and she recognized the orangey spicy smell of Constant Comment tea. Thick slices of warm whole wheat bread were piled on a small, matching plate. An earthenware pot of honey completed the assortment.

“Thanks,” Gracie said gratefully. “It’s exactly what I need.” She eagerly spread honey onto a slice of bread and took a hungry bite.

“Will, do you want a cup too?”

“No thanks, dear. Gracie and I won’t be long.”

Gracie watched the slight man. It looked like he was getting his game face on, but his paleness told her otherwise. He already had plenty on his plate, and he probably didn’t need what she had for him. But she plunged ahead.

“I think you should know about a report I saw at the library today,” she began.

“What’s that?”

“It was a spreadsheet Patti was taking to Sybil, I think. It had lists of book titles with names and addresses on it, and columns for shipping charges.”

“What are you getting at?” Will dropped his gaze to the paper that lay before him.

“I hate to point fingers, especially with everything that’s going on, but it looks like Sybil and or Patti have a book-selling business going.”

“Well, what they do on their own time is their business.”

“Right, but Jack carried a couple of boxes to Patti’s car when I was leaving. I think it was books belonging to the library.”

Will leaned back in the desk chair and sighed. “Unbelievable. Are you sure?”

“Pretty sure. Patti had him take the boxes out in front of me. I sort of took a look at the file folder she had on the counter. Could they be taking books out of the library and selling them?”

Will got up and started pacing in the small space behind the desk. “You’re not the first person to tell me this,” he said finally. “Alice came to me with the same suspicions. She and Sybil didn’t get along, so I brushed her off. Sally Westcott, the former librarian, didn’t think there was anything to it either, so I didn’t pursue it.”

Gracie cleared her throat. It was starting to feel a little scratchy. She couldn’t catch the flu right now. She’d have to gargle with hot salt water tonight.

“It may be nothing, but there were two boxes that left the library and went into Patti’s car. The report looked like a sales report to me, so I’m letting you know. You and the board can handle it as you like.”

“Thanks, Gracie. I will look into it, but probably not until after the funeral. Can you be there on Monday?”

“Actually, I’d rather …” Gracie abruptly thought better of her intense distaste for funerals. It might be of benefit to attend. She cleared her throat. It was definitely getting sore. “Uh, yes. I’ll make sure I’m available. It’s at 1:30, right?”

“Yes, and you can sit with the board if you want. Some of Alice’s family is from out of state. The funeral was a bit delayed so they could get here. There’s a dinner at the church afterward too.”

“I’ll see you on Monday, then.” Gracie stood and grabbed her parka. “I just wanted to mention that I was admiring your books before you arrived. It’s a very nice collection of classics.”

He smiled proudly and looked around lovingly at the over-filled bookcases. “It’s a lifetime collection of my favorite titles and some local history documents. Anything about this area in the 1700s is my real passion.” Will grinned, touching the spines of several volumes.

“I didn’t know you were a collector.”

“I started when I graduated from college, many years ago now. Iris will tell you that I’ve spent way too much money over the years on my passion.” He chuckled, stepping back to glance again at the letter that was just too far away and the wrong side up for Gracie to read. His hand came to rest on an advertising flyer beside it, and he slid it over the letter.

A stainless steel colored sky highlighted with drifting snowflakes officiated for Alice Harris’ funeral. Gracie stood shivering in line on the sidewalk with the library trustees as they waited to get into the funeral home. The Harwood brothers stood like sentinels in matching black topcoats at the door, greeting everyone, but giving them the once-over like bouncers at a bar.

The small overheated gathering room was filled with softly chattering mourners. Two stout women in austere black dresses flanked an elderly lady, and Gracie guessed they must be Alice’s mother and sisters. Alice’s mother was positioned near the closed casket covered with a spray of red roses. She looked confused and frail as she accepted a steady stream of condolences. Two men with gray hair and dark suits sat somberly in the first row of thickly upholstered folding chairs, along with two younger men and three women who looked to be in their 20s and 30s. Apparently the rest of Alice’s family had appeared. She was surprised at the lack of a local crowd, but several older ladies were there, whispering among themselves. The rumor mill would be working overtime today. Two men she didn’t recognize stood by themselves, talking in low tones. One was of average height with wavy silver hair, and the other was tall, although he was a bit stooped and had a shaved head and well-trimmed beard. Investigator Hotchkiss sat quietly in a back corner, watching the line file past. She didn’t acknowledge Gracie, which was a relief. Although the trustees were all present, Sybil and Patti were not. Terry was apparently still down with the flu.

Promptly at 1:30, Ernie Harwood carried a podium to the front and asked everyone to take their seats. Gracie braced herself for the service. She’d focus on the attendees and not the vision of Alice with knife in her chest.

The Fellowship Hall at the church was humming like a beehive in June. Her mother and Gloria Minders were riding herd in the kitchen. It looked like there was enough ham and scalloped potatoes to feed 200 people. A mere 30 or 40 dribbled into the hall and sat at the round tables set with flatware and paper napkins. A pitcher of water, salt and pepper shakers, and small dishes with foil-wrapped pats of butter topped each table. Gracie slipped into the kitchen to check in with her mother.

“Hey, Mom.”

“Hey, yourself. Are you here to help? You can start cutting pies over there.” She pointed to the far counter that was covered with pies of every variety. Theresa wiped her hands on her sunflower print apron and started pouring ham gravy from a huge roasting pan into waiting bowls.

“Not really, but I can.” Gracie quickly washed her hands and started on the pies.

“Thanks for pitching in,” her pastor’s wife said gratefully. “We’re a little shorthanded today for some reason. Lots of food, but our regular crew wasn’t available. We’ve only got two other ladies today.” Gloria’s round face was flushed, and she looked unusually harried.

“Glad to do it. Not many to serve though. You have enough here for Sunday morning church.”

“We’ll all have to take home leftovers. I don’t think the family will want all of it. Most of them are leaving tomorrow,” Gloria said, arranging dinner rolls in plastic baskets. She handed them to Mae and Barb, elderly sisters who made up the rest of the kitchen crew.

Gracie finished cutting the pies and started plating single pieces for the dessert table. She heard Reverend Minders call for everyone’s attention in the hall. He said the blessing over the food, and chairs scraped back over the wooden floor immediately. No one wasted any time getting to the food tables. The smell of baked ham had everyone’s attention.

“You’re not done yet. I need 10 more pieces, and then you can go eat,” Theresa ordered her daughter.

“All right. I’m going as fast as I can.” Gracie blew at a piece of red hair that had fallen into her eyes.

“People want their dessert, so don’t dawdle.” Theresa stood with her hands on her hips inspecting Gracie’s work.

“Yes, mother. I’m saving this piece of pecan pie for myself, so don’t take it” She nudged the pie sitting on small white paper plate to one side. She went back to plating the wedges of apple and chocolate cream. “OK, there are your 10 pieces.” Gracie ran her finger down the pie server, then popped the chocolate cream into her mouth.

“All right. Go eat.” Theresa loaded a tray with the remaining pieces of pie and steamed toward the dessert table in front of the stained glass window of the Good Shepherd.

Gracie hurried to the official library table. Will had saved her a chair at their table tucked in a back corner. She picked up a dinner roll from the basket and pulled small pieces of the soft bread, popping them in her mouth. Darlene tapped her forearm, nodding toward Alice’s sisters seated at a table across the room.

“I think you should talk to Pearl. She’s the one with the spiky hair. She seems to know about Alice’s business problems.”

“I don’t know if I want to know any more about Alice’s problems. I’m really interested in what her relationship with Jack and a couple others was like though.”

“That’s what I mean. She may know what was going on with them. I think the police are looking long and hard at our Mr. Greene and Roger Woodson too. Pearl has already talked to Investigator Hotchkiss. I saw them talking at the beginning of calling hours.”

“I
think
we’d better let the police do their jobs. I’m sure they don’t need our advice,” Will advised sternly after finishing a mouthful of scalloped potatoes. Helen nodded in agreement and waved a teacher-like index finger at Darlene and Gracie.

“Girls, we need to stay out of this. That policewoman interviewed me and she wasn’t very nice. You’d think we were all suspects the way she talked to me.”

“Sounds familiar. But Jack is pretty vocal about paving the way to Roger,” Gracie said firmly. “Alice was involved in something with both men. It had to have been pretty ugly to get this outcome.”

Will looked up, his face tinged with pink. “I’m sure the police are working as fast as they can. Remember, the library has no comment to the press or anyone else who asks. Unless of course it’s the police.”

“We’ve all kept quiet,” Darlene said. “But I think we should have some sort of statement. Otherwise we all look guilty, and that may be the reason I can’t get a job right now.”

Will sighed and placed his hands palms down on the table. “Let’s not fight among ourselves. We can consider a statement, I suppose. What do you think, Bill?” His face was waxy, his eyes weary.

“I’m not talking to anyone without my attorney,” munched Bill Stone. He had been unusually silent throughout the emotional exchange. “We had a couple discussions about Alice before this happened. You of all people know that she was doing things—well, improperly. She asked me to invest in that development too, but fortunately, I’m cash poor at the moment.” He helped himself to another dinner roll and sopped up the ham gravy that covered his plate.

“Real estate is always a gamble, and I can say I’ve learned that the hard way. Unless those houses begin selling, well …” Will’s voice trailed off. “Everything is such chaos now, especially with the Woodson gift. I believe the murder weapon was part of the collection coming to the library. It could be tied up for years.”

“How could we ever accept that now?” Helen spouted.

“It’s worth about $50,000, that’s how,” Bill retorted. “That, along with a set of pistols, and a painting would endow the library in perpetuity. The preliminary appraisal that Alice got was for over $250,000. The painting is worth upward of $200,000 alone. Don’t you remember?”

Gracie sucked in her breath. This was first time the actual items had been named along with their value.

“Who did the appraisal? Was Alice in charge of getting them?” she asked.

“Alice knew someone at Seneca, which was her alma mater. Whoever it was specialized in antique weapons. Someone in the art department there does appraisals on paintings from the Civil War period,” Helen explained. “I can’t remember any names, but I’m sure we have some record of the appraisals.”

“But isn’t there some question about who owns them?” Darlene piped up.

Will suddenly stood, steadying himself on the table top. He smoothed his comb-over, and he was breathing heavily.

“Are you OK, Will?” Gracie asked. The man was not looking well at all.

“I’ll be all right. I think I need to get some air.” He pulled a handkerchief from his suit coat pocket and wiped his forehead. Will made his way to the side door that led to the parking lot.

“I’ll go with him,” Helen offered. “I don’t think he should be left alone.” The willowy, gray-haired woman pulled a coat around her shoulders and followed Will out the side door.

“The records need to be found, or we all may be persons of interest.” Bill Stone stood and imperiously wrapped a scarf around his neck before throwing on his overcoat. He stalked through the main doors and offered a curt wave to a bewildered Reverend Minders.

Darlene’s eyes were wide and frightened. “What does all of this mean?” she hissed to Gracie. “I wanted to resign, and you told me to stay. I told you I don’t need any more problems in my life right now. I have more than I can handle.”

Gracie was speechless for a moment. The board was crumbling before her eyes. “You and I need to find out about those appraisals, who did them, and what exactly the gift to the library is all about. Right now, I think I’ll have a word with Alice’s sisters.” She needed to escape the appalling trustee meltdown, and fast.

Before Darlene could respond, Gracie slipped toward the family table where Pearl and Camille sat with their husbands. Gracie pulled an extra chair from a neighboring table, managing to sit more or less next to Pearl. The portly woman was just finishing a piece of chocolate cream pie. She looked up in surprise at Gracie’s sudden appearance, as did her sister, Camille, who stopped mid-bite.

“I was hoping to talk to Pearl for a moment if it's possible.”

The woman’s brown eyes narrowed, and she looked at Gracie suspiciously.

“It depends on what you’d like to talk about. We’ve really don’t have anything more to say about my sister, especially to anyone connected with the library.”

“I know this is a very bad time, but I’m helping out the library with the bookkeeping for a few weeks … and wondered if there were any library records still at the house.”

“Probably. I haven’t had time to go through her office yet.” Pearl responded.

“Would it be possible for you to check? We’re looking for some appraisals on a bequest to the library.”

“I’m staying for a couple of weeks, so I’ll look for them.” Pearl gripped the edge of the table, her knuckles turning white. Tears welled up in her eyes.

Camille put an arm around her sister. “Just leave your card, and Pearl will call you.”

“Sure. I’m so sorry. It’s just awful …” Gracie started.

“My sister was way in over her head,” Pearl managed, sniffing. “She just …”

The side door slammed, and Gracie whirled around to hear Helen yelling for someone to call 9-1-1.