Jeanne Glidewell - Lexie Starr 05 - Just Ducky (21 page)

It had been chilly in the library with the thermostat lowered while it was closed, but the temperature seemed to be dropping even more. I was shivering and wishing I hadn’t left my windbreaker draped across the back of the chair upstairs. Stone hadn’t even worn a jacket, so I asked him if he felt the temperature dropping too.

“I was just thinking about that,” he said. “I can hear the furnace running, but it sounds like its starving for air and struggling to operate properly. Do you know where the maintenance room is located, with the furnace, water heater, and all?”

“Yes, across the hall from the restroom upstairs.”

“Dang it! I was afraid of that, since I didn’t see any place down here it could be. Why don’t you come down here and sit by me. If I can hold you next to my body, I can help keep you warm.”

I moved down to the floor, where Stone wrapped an arm around me, and I found it did help significantly having his body heat radiating warmth to me. We began to talk about Stone’s projects at the inn, and what else might need to be updated. I found myself trying hard to concentrate and finding it difficult to do so. His comments were really confusing me for some reason.

“Why would we want to put a new toilet in the kitchen?” I asked. “Isn’t the one we got in there already good enough? Do we need a new one in the pantry, too?”

Stone turned my face towards his with his free hand, “Are you all right, Lexie? Suddenly you’re not making any sense.”

“I’m sorry. I’m beginning to feel light-headed.”

“I’m starting to get a headache, myself. I’m beginning to wonder if someone has done something to the furnace to affect the flow of oxygen to it, and allow carbon monoxide to build up in the building,” Stone said. “Confusion, light-headedness, and headache are all symptoms of carbon monoxide poisoning.”

“I don’t smell any gas. Can’t it be extremely harmful?” I felt as if I were about to pass out.

“Yes, even deadly. Carbon monoxide has no scent, which is why we didn’t notice it,” he replied. “Did you know a scent is intentionally added to natural gas so it can be detected? I recall seeing an old furnace back in that little storeroom on the other side of this basement. I’ll go check it out. Even though it looked antiquated, maybe it’s the one we hear running.”

“No, that furnace isn’t functional anymore. When it shot craps, they built the new maintenance room across from the restroom upstairs, and put the new one in there. I remember Ducky told me about it when she took me through the library.”

“We can’t stay down here breathing this toxic gas until later on this evening. We’ve got to come up with a way to get help. With the furnace upstairs, I can’t check it out, or turn it off. Oh, hey! There’s the fuse box on the far wall! Thank God! I can turn the power off to the furnace. We’ll just have to deal with the colder temperatures, which is better than being asphyxiated.”

“I’m not sure about that, Stone,” I said. “I think Ducky also told me they installed a newer, second fuse box in the new maintenance room to run power to the new furnace, water heater, and water softener. I might be thinking about the inn, though. Or maybe Wal-Mart.”

“What? Oh dear God! I need to get you out of here. Let me think,” Stone said. “There’s got to be a way to alert somebody.”

I saw him look up at the decrepit old door covering the fuse box, and was knew he was wondering if the door had rusted shut. I was also wondering if I’d fed our pet muskrat before we left the inn, and whether or not I should take banjo lessons. I couldn’t quite follow my own line of thought, but then nothing going through my head was making any sense to me, anyway. My mind was flitting from one thought to another, not stopping to focus on any of them for more than a few seconds. For a moment I couldn’t remember where I was, fearing I might be under-dressed for the occasion and wishing I’d taken the time to put on my best dress and new black heels. I really wasn’t completely aware of much of anything, other than the fact my butt was so cold it was beginning to feel numb.

I watched Stone walk toward me across a dark expanse. Then I felt him put one hand on either side of my face, and I tried to remember where we were. I recalled being locked in somebody’s nasty bathroom, but I didn’t remember being chilled to the bone at the time, like the way I felt now. Stone’s lips were moving and I concentrated as hard as I could to make out what he was saying.

“Don’t worry, honey. I’ve got an idea I think will get us out of here. Think hard. Are the lights on the front porch of the library on a timer?”

I closed my eyes tight, trying to get my bearings, and picture the front of the library. “I’m pretty sure Ducky told me they are on a sensor and automatically come on at dusk.”

“Good, I think my idea might work then. Fortunately, the breakers in the fuse box are marked. One is labeled ‘outside lights.’ I learned Morse code when I was a boy scout earning my ‘signaling’ badge. Flipping the breaker off and on will make the porch lights flash. I’ll use Morse code to send out an S.O.S. signal, and hope somebody sees it, realizes something’s wrong, and notifies the police. And just in case, I can use the code to say ‘call cops’ occasionally too, hoping somebody sees it and recognizes the code. It just might possibly work. It’s our best bet at this point anyway.”

“You’re so smart,” I think I said, maybe even out loud.

“At the very least, somebody might notify the cops about the lights flashing, knowing Ducky was found dead in the library just a week ago.” Stone was basically verbalizing his thoughts to come up with a workable plan, knowing I was finding it difficult to even stay awake. “But I need to hurry before both of us are overtaken by the gas, and I’m unable to even remember where I am.”

“Don’t worry, darling. You’re at the
Pink Floyd
concert with me. Hey! Did you say you were a boy scout? I think I was one too,” I said, mystified as to why Stone was looking at me with such an expression of concern on his face. Looking back, I’m sure he was wondering what I’d been smoking at that concert years ago to make me think I was there again. I was now seeing psychedelic hallucinations as my thoughts faded in and out.

The next thing I remember was a big, burly firefighter carrying me up the stairs and out onto the front lawn of the library. Somebody strapped an oxygen mask on my face and instructed me to take long, deep breaths. I looked up and saw Stone, wearing his own oxygen mask, staring down at me and tenderly stroking my arm.

“Erg, hey, crung, spoot, Stone, mally,” I croaked, trying to put two words together that made sense.

“Don’t try to talk, honey. Just take deep breaths. We’re safe now, and you’re going to be just fine.”

Twenty minutes later, Stone was talking to Wyatt, and another detective I didn’t recognize. The rookie officer, Clint Travis, was walking from the side of the library toward the other two cops with a balled up piece of material. When he held the wadded-up item up to show it to them, I realized it was my light blue windbreaker. I could hear the men talking. “This was stuffed in the exhaust pipe of the furnace which protrudes from the east side of the building. It was clogging the pipe, making the carbon monoxide back up inside. Since it’s heavier than oxygen, it would sink and pool in the basement first.”

“Damn, I should have thought of that,” Stone said. “I could have taken Lexie up to sit on the top stair, where the air would have been the freshest and had the highest content of CO2.”

Wyatt put his arm around his friend, and said, “Don’t beat yourself up, Stone. Coming up with the ideas of flashing the porch light on and off was brilliant, and probably saved both of your lives.”

“Who saw my signal and called it in?” Stone asked Wyatt.

“Tom Melvard, the janitor, was waxing the floor in the pharmacy across the street and noticed the lights flashing. Since he also does janitorial work at the library, he knew something wasn’t right and got concerned. He doesn’t know Morse code, per se, but like most adults, he recognizes the S.O.S. code. He called 9-1-1 and we came right over. We used Tom’s key to get in, and quickly searched the building for whoever was sending out the help signal. Thank God Tom saw the flashing lights before you both were overcome by the fumes, Stone.”

I felt much better by then, and removed my mask so they could hear me clearly, “Remind me to thank Mr. Melvard when I see him next Tuesday, Stone. Could someone please drive me to Casey’s so I can use their restroom? I’ve had to go since the very moment I heard the dead bolt slide shut. I’ve never in my whole life regretted my addiction to coffee as much as I have today.”

Thirty minutes later, we were on our way to the ranch to join Wendy and Andy for dinner. I had retrieved my cell phone, along with the box of Ducky’s personal items to take to Quentin, and called the kids to let them know we were going to be a little late. I explained only briefly what had delayed us, because I had a feeling the events of our day would be the main topic of conversation at the supper table that evening.

Stone used his phone to call Elroy Traylor and explain why he hadn’t met him at eleven to go fishing. As Stone had expected, Elroy just assumed he’d changed his mind, and headed out to the pond alone after waiting twenty minutes for Stone to show up. I guess we all have our priorities, and apparently, concern for Stone’s well-being wasn’t currently on Traylor’s list.

* * *

As I’d anticipated, our supper conversation Wednesday evening was primarily about the events of our long, trying day, and included the obligatory sermon from Wendy about the foolishness of our actions. I was accustomed to being preached to by my daughter, but I saw Stone blanch when she said, “You two need to grow up and leave all detective work to the police department. What part of ‘to protect and to serve’ don’t you guys understand? That’s what cops are paid to do. All anyone expects
you
to do in the community is to live peacefully amongst your neighbors, respect others, treat them like you’d like them to treat you, and donate half your stinking income to the tax roll.”

I hate when Wendy treats me like I’m her unruly child, with a noticeable lack of respect, and a great deal of impatience. When she was growing up, I was expected to lecture her when she did dangerous, irresponsible things that could potentially harm her, but I was not expected to accept having our roles reversed later in life. When she brought up the subject of paying taxes, I saw an opportunity to change the topic of discussion. She was ticked off about a letter she’d received from the IRS, so it didn’t take much to get her off the subject of our childish behavior, and up on her soapbox about the audacity of the government auditing an honest, hard-working taxpayer like herself.

After supper, Wendy and Andy took Wyatt, Veronica, Stone, and me, out to the barn to meet our new grand-chias, and I had to agree baby alpacas were the cutest little critters I’d ever seen. All in all it was an enjoyable evening. But I was anxious to get home, take a long hot bath, and a Percocet for my throbbing headache, and call it a day. With any luck at all, I wouldn’t dream about passing out at a
Pink Floyd
concert.

Chapter 14

Thursday was a quiet day at the inn. We had paying guests that checked in early that morning, but none that required special attention. I knew the days were ticking off rapidly, and the library would be opening back up before I knew it.

I don’t normally act like a lazy slug, but I found myself worn to a frazzle from the events of the week. The day was overcast and drizzly, and our guests spent most of the day in front of the fireplace in the parlor, curled up and reading books they’d borrowed from the inn’s small library.

I was so bummed out by the lack of progress we’d made in our investigation into Ducky’s death that the last thing I felt like doing was cooking. So I declared it an official pizza party type of night, and had Domino’s deliver supper for us and our guests. I vowed to snap out of my blue funk and get cracking on the case the following morning. With any luck at all, clues would begin to pour in, and all the hens would soon be coming home to roost.

* * *

I woke up Friday morning with a sense of foreboding, and a need for speed. I was aware I only had a few days left before I took over my head librarian position at the library, and felt no closer to proving to the police department someone had killed Ducky. If I was going to accomplish my goal of obtaining justice for her, Stone and I would have to speed up our search for the truth. But hanging over my head, like a bad haircut, was the feeling that justice would not be served without sacrifice on my part. Nothing worth having ever came easily, and I felt sure this time would be no exception.