Due or Die (4 page)

“Why do I think there is more to this story?” she asked.

“Not really,” Milton said. Then he sighed. “Bill is a very bitter man. He never got over losing Anna to me and tried to best me at everything I have ever done. I went to Yale, he went to Princeton. I bought the oldest house in town. He inherited his family’s estate, which is the biggest house in Briar Creek. I married Anna, he married her cousin. It’s ridiculous. You’d think after sixty years the man would get over it.”

“I can see why you abstained,” Lindsey said. “That was a good call.”

Milton opened his mouth to say something, but just then Ms. Cole announced that the library would be closing in ten minutes. Lindsey glanced at her watch in surprise. Where had the evening gone?

She heard the sound of footsteps and saw that the Friends were making their way down the stairs at the end of
the room. Ms. Cole heard them, too, and she hushed them as only Ms. Cole could do. It sounded like something between a snake’s hiss and the crack of a whip.

The Friends immediately quieted down. Most of them waved and kept on walking out of the building, but Carrie and Mimi stopped by Milton and Lindsey to talk.

Milton pumped Carrie’s hand up and down in congratulations and she beamed.

“I’m so excited,” Carrie said in a rush. “Mimi and I have a ton of ideas to help get some cash flowing into the Friends’ bank account. Warren told me we have some rare books that have been donated to the Friends. If we can’t use them in the library, I bet we could sell them in an on-line auction and make a fortune.”

“She’s going to be a great president,” Mimi said. “No more of Bill’s spinning his wheels in indecision. We’re going to make some changes.”

“That’s wond—” Lindsey began but she was interrupted.

“The library is now closed!” Ms. Cole barked from behind the circulation desk and they all jumped.

The others exchanged startled glances and hurried toward the door.

“We’ll talk more tomorrow,” Milton said to Lindsey. “Ladies, may I escort you to your cars?”

Mimi simpered and Carrie grinned as Milton bundled up and led them out the front door into the brisk January air.

Lindsey helped shut down the building, switching off the computers, copiers and coffeepots and finally setting the alarm. Even after almost a year, she still got tense when she
only had fifteen seconds to get out the back door after she activated the system.

Per usual, Ms. Cole set off across the parking lot to her compact sedan without so much as a good night.

“Do you think the lemon is aware of how off-putting her personality is?” Beth asked Jessica and Lindsey as they stood, watching the older woman stride away.

“I think she likes who she is,” Jessica said. “The lemon is all about maintaining order, and I think the library gives her a place, her own little corner of the universe, to maintain order within. I think it gives the lemon a purpose.”

“That sounds about right,” Lindsey said. “And I do think she enjoys her work in her own way.”

Ms. Cole had been nicknamed
the lemon
long before Lindsey had come to work in Briar Creek, so she didn’t feel it was her place to tell the staff not to call her that. Besides, with Ms. Cole’s perpetual pucker of disapproval, it was hard to argue against the name, as it was a dead-accurate description.

“Do either of you want a ride?” Jessica offered. “You’re going to freeze biking home in this.”

“We’re tough,” Beth said. As if to prove it, she made a muscle with her right arm, which was completely invisible under her bulky coat.

“Crazy is more like it,” Jessica said, and she climbed into her car with a smile and a wave.

Lindsey thought she might be onto something with the crazy comment. When she had moved from New Haven to Briar Creek, Lindsey had committed to a greener lifestyle and sold her car. She hadn’t really considered how cold that lifestyle would be, however, when winter came.

“Buck up,”
Beth said, as if sensing her unhappiness about the bike ride ahead. “Just think how much better your butt looks now that you’re biking every day.”

“Yeah, and I’m going to need a firm behind to keep people from noticing the toes that go missing due to hypothermia,” Lindsey said.

“Are we feeling a little whiny?” Beth asked.

“No, yes, a little,” Lindsey said.

“Come on, get moving, you’ll warm up and feel better and you can reward yourself with a decadent dessert when you get home.”

Beth wrapped her scarf about her head, dumped her purse and book bag in the basket on her bike and set off on her cruiser.

Lindsey watched the blinking light on Beth’s bike alerting motorists to her presence, then followed her example, trying to ignore the stinging cold that made her eyes tear up.

What had she been thinking when she sold her car? On Sunday, she was going to look at the classifieds. Surely, there was a small economical and environmental vehicle out there that wouldn’t harm the planet and could get her from point A to point B and keep her from feeling like a human Popsicle.

Mercifully, Briar Creek was a small town and she only had about a mile to go to get to her house. She followed Beth to the end of Main Street, where the road forked. Beth went to the left toward her beach house and Lindsey to the right to her top-floor apartment in an old captain’s house.

At least the roads were clear now. Last week, after a snow storm, she’d
had to walk for three days until the bicycle path was clear enough to be used again.

With her long, curly blond hair stuffed securely in her helmet as extra insulation, her ears were completely muffled and it took her a second to register the sound of a car engine coming in her direction.

She knew even with her blinky light on, she was not very visible, so she glanced over her shoulder to see where the car was, and her heart stopped in her throat. With its high beams on and its engine revving, the car was headed straight for her.

A
screech of brakes clawed the stillness of the winter air with a talon’s sharp edge. Lindsey jumped off her bike while still in motion, and yanked it with her onto the front lawn of the nearest house.

The driver’s side door of the car was shoved open, and Lindsey was sure she’d scared the poor driver as much he’d scared her.

“I’m all right!” she called out.

“Well, that’s unfortunate!”

Lindsey reared back as if she’d been slapped. “Excuse me?”

The person was short and tiny, and as she hopped onto the front lawn beside Lindsey, she was immediately recognizable. Marjorie Bilson.

“You heard me,” Marjorie snapped. “How dare you run
Bill out of office? He has worked tirelessly all these years with little or no thanks, and then you come along and have him replaced with one of your cronies.”

There were so many things wrong with the venom Marjorie was spewing that Lindsey was at a loss as to where to begin in correcting her.

“You’re wrong,” she said.

“Liar!” Marjorie accused. Her hair was disheveled, her coat wasn’t buttoned and she looked as if she were on the brink of having hysterics.

“Marjorie, this really isn’t the time or place to have a conversation like this,” Lindsey said. “I’m working tomorrow. Why don’t you come and see me at the library and we’ll talk about it.”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“I…”

“Is everything all right out here?”

Lindsey heard a storm door open on the house behind them and turned to see a man chugging down the walk. He was pulling his dressing robe tight around his middle as he hurried toward them.

“We’re okay,” Lindsey said, realizing she was only speaking in the most general of terms, given that calling Marjorie okay was definitely stretching it.

When Lindsey turned to address the man, Marjorie took the opportunity to hurry back into her car. With the slam of her door and a squeal of wheels on icy blacktop, she was gone.

“Did she hit you?” the man asked. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

Lindsey shook her head. “No, she didn’t hit me.”

“You’re shaking,” he said.

She looked down, and sure enough, her gloved fingers were trembling and it wasn’t from the cold.

“My wife and I were just making some tea, would you care to join us?” he asked. “I’m Tom, by the way, Tom Rubinski.”

“Oh, thank you, Tom,” she said. “I’m Lindsey. I appreciate the offer, but I live just up the road. I’ll be home in less than a minute.”

“If you’re sure,” he said. He looked dubious so Lindsey forced a smile even though it was an effort.

“I’m sure,” she said. Then she hesitated. Maybe he could help her with information. “Tell me, do you know Marjorie Bilson?”

“Batty Bilson?” he asked. “Is that who that was?”

“Batty?” Lindsey repeated. She didn’t like where this was going.

“Yeah, I went to school with her,” he said. “She has issues.”

“Is running people over with her car one of her issues?” Lindsey asked.

“Not until tonight,” Tom said. “I’d say this is a first, but I can’t swear to it.”

“Do you suppose one of her issues could be Bill Sint?”

Lindsey went to lift her bike off Tom’s lawn. He stepped forward and took it out of her hands and lowered it to the walk for her.

“Thank you,” she said.

“Bill Sint? The old guy who lives on the Sint estate on the other side of the bay? The one with the unnaturally black hair and twitchy eyebrow?”

It
was a good description and made Lindsey smile. “The same.”

“I can’t say for sure. I do know that Batty tends to love with her whole heart but not all of her mind, if you know what I mean. If I remember right, she had to go away for a couple of years in high school because she developed an unhealthy crush on our chemistry teacher,” he said.

Interesting. Lindsey wondered if she was seeing a pattern here.

“Wow, so Batty has a thing for Bill. Man, he’s old enough to be her father, possibly her grandfather.”

“Ew,” they said together.

“So, why is she coming after you?” Tom asked. “Does she think you’re competition for his pruney old heart?”

“Oh, no,” Lindsey said with an adamant head shake. “But, she seems to think I had something to do with his being removed as president of the Friends of the Library; I didn’t, but she didn’t seem overly concerned that she almost ran me down to discuss it.”

Tom gave a low whistle and then he peered at her eyes, which were her only visible feature through the layers of scarf and bike helmet she had on her head.

“Oh, hey, Lindsey. I know you,” he said. “Or at least, I’ve heard about you. You’re Lindsey Norris, the new librarian.”

“Not terribly new,” she said. “I’ve been here almost a year.”

“You’ve turned my buddy Sully into a regular library user,” he said. His eyes were teasing and Lindsey was happy that her scarf covered the hot flush that she could feel warming her face.

“He’s an avid reader,” she
said. “He has excellent taste in fiction.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t think it’s the books that have him giving his library card such a workout.”

“Tom, what’s going on?” A petite woman, also in her bathrobe, came hurrying down the walkway. “Your tea is getting cold.”

“Gina, come and meet Lindsey,” he said. He turned to Lindsey and said, “This is my wife, Gina.”

The corners of his eyes crinkled and his voice dropped a note or two when he said her name. It was obvious that Tom Rubinski was very much in love with his wife.

He looped his arm over his wife’s shoulders and said, “Check this out: Batty Bilson has a thing for that old coot Bill Sint, and she nearly ran Lindsey down because Batty thinks she’s responsible for his being booted off of the library’s Friends group.”

Gina stared at her husband and then at Lindsey. “Really? That’s mental even for Marjorie. Are you all right? Would you like some tea?”

Lindsey glanced at the small woman and smiled. “No, thank you, really, I’m fine.”

She recognized Gina Rubinski immediately. She had been in the library several times over the past few months checking out baby name books. Lindsey wondered if the Rubinskis were expecting, but knowing it was none of her business, she didn’t dare ask. That did not stop her from looking at Gina’s belly however. If she was pregnant, she wasn’t showing.

“You’d better get back inside, Tom; your patient needs you,” Gina said.

“Oh, gotta go,” he said. “I’m
a vet, and we have a golden retriever about to deliver her first litter. It looks to be nine pups. We can’t even come up with that many names.”

Lindsey smiled. So that explained the baby name books. “Nice to meet you, Tom.”

“You, too, Lindsey,” he said. Then he grinned and added, “Say ‘hi’ to Sully for me.”

His wife glanced between them with a curious look but didn’t comment, for which Lindsey was grateful.

“Good night, Gina,” she said.

“Good night.”

Lindsey climbed on her bike, and with a wave, she pedaled to the end of the street. She was pleased that she only glanced over her shoulder five times to see if Batty’s sedan appeared out of nowhere.

This clinched it. Between the weather and this near-death experience, she was definitely going to have to look into buying some sort of car. At the very least she could get a motorized scooter, which would still be ecological but would give her enough speed to outrun Batty if she had another episode.

And maybe she’d start carrying a bag of nails with her, too, Lindsey thought grimly as she shut her bike in the stand-alone garage, relieved to be safe at home.

T
he weather remained unforgivingly windy and bitter for the next week. Interestingly, every time Lindsey and Beth left the library in the evening and started to unchain their bikes, Sully happened by on his way home from the pier.

“It’s too
cold for that,” he shouted out the window. “Hop in and I’ll give you a ride.”

Lindsey’s mama hadn’t raised her to be a fool and neither had Beth’s. They let Sully load their bikes up into the back of his ancient pickup truck and happily climbed into the toasty warm cab.

For unknown reasons that Lindsey did not dwell upon, Sully always dropped off Beth first, which meant she got to ride in the middle of the bench seat and spend a few minutes alone with him every evening on the ride from Beth’s house to her own.