Pouncing on Murder (24 page)

“Ha.” He scoffed. “My son tells me I’m made of money. And if money can’t help me do a favor for a friend, what good is it?”

Sniff
. “None, I guess. Trock, you’re—”

“Indebted to you for many reasons,” he said gruffly. “And stop blubbering. It’s unlike you, and far, far worse, it’s making me uncomfortable.”

Which made me laugh. I gave him the details of the event, asked how many books he could bring, asked if he had anything special he wanted us to provide, thanked him again, and ended the call. Then I jumped out of bed.

“Mrr?” asked a sleepy Eddie.

“Sorry, pal,” I said, grabbing my laptop from the other bed and turning it on. There were Facebook posts to
make and a press release to write and e-mails to send and an emergency flyer to convince Pam to create.

“This is going to be great,” I murmured. Trock hardly ever made public appearances in Chilson; it was his vacation home and he didn’t like to tape there unless the show’s schedule demanded it. To have him volunteer to attend the book fair—in the off-season, no less—made it even more of a special event.

The book fair was a go. “It’s clear sailing from here on out,” I told Eddie. “Nothing else could possibly go wrong.”

I really should have known better.

Chapter 16

T
he next morning I woke up to sunshine.

“Which is the best way to start the day,” I said to my unmoving feline friend. But his inactive state was understandable because slightly over half of his body was lying inside the sunshine and nothing short of an irresistible force was going to get him to relocate.

And since I had the morning off, nothing short of an immovable object was going to keep me from heading off into the wild blue yonder and checking out the timing on a couple of new bookmobile routes.

So as soon as I’d showered, dressed, and breakfasted, I was out the door and into my car, stopping only to get my standard provisions of a can of diet soda and a bag of popcorn.

I timed the possible routes while driving at bookmobile speed, and considering the parking options at three new homebound patrons. “It’ll work,” I said, nodding to myself. How I’d manage to squeeze the new routes into the current schedule was a different question, but it wasn’t one I was going to worry about on this gorgeous spring day full of open skies and sun and trees that were growing leaves as fast as I could watch.

But on my way back toward town, while driving over forested hill and lake-filled dale, my mind circled back to Henry and Adam.

How, I wondered, could I find out if Felix was being truthful when he said he hadn’t been on Henry’s property before Henry was killed? Who would be able to tell me? Was there anyone who might be able to—

A small mental lightning bolt zinged my brain all the way awake. “Duh,” I said out loud, and took the next left. Five minutes later, I was puttering up Irene and Adam’s driveway.

Irene opened the door. “Good morning! Is it a bookmobile day?” She peered outside.

“I was driving around, planning some new routes. I have a question for Adam, that’s all. Will he let me come inside if I don’t have any books?” I spread out my empty hands, palms up.

“No,” he called.

Irene laughed and opened the door wide. “Don’t listen to him. He’s only cranky because the doctor just told him he can’t start working again until the full two months is over.”

Which explained why Irene was here and not at work—she’d taken Adam to the doctor. “It’ll be here before you know it,” I told him. “And then you’ll be complaining that you have too much work to do.”

But the worried glance Irene gave her husband made me rethink my casual statement. Adam was self-employed. If he couldn’t get his clients’ work done on time, they’d go elsewhere, perhaps never to return.

There was nothing I could do about that, though, so I
perched on the edge of the couch and said, “Adam, I was wondering. Did you see anyone at all near Henry’s property? Not necessarily the day he died, but any time you were out there. A neighbor, a friend of Henry’s who stopped by, a door-to-door salesman, anyone?”

“Do you mean guys only?” Adam asked. “Because I don’t remember seeing anyone other than that redhead.”

“What redhead?” He’d never mentioned her. “When did you see her?”

“Day before Henry died. So, the first Saturday in April.”

“Was she a neighbor of Henry’s?”

Adam shrugged. “Henry said he’d never seen her before, but he also said a couple of houses on the lake had sold over the winter, so who knows?”

“What was she doing?”

“Not much.” He laughed. “Not the way she was dressed. Wearing those stupid little boots that aren’t really boots at all but heels that go past the ankle. No hat, no gloves, jeans tight as paint, and a short jacket that wasn’t long enough to keep her waist warm, let alone her rear end.”

Irene and I shared a glance. “Sounds as if you got a close look,” Irene said. “She was pretty, too, I bet.”

“Not my type,” Adam said, shaking his head. “Seriously high maintenance. And definitely not the kind of girl who’d be able to take down a tree, let alone a huge one in a certain direction at a certain time.”

I wanted to speak up in defense of womanhood, to say that you never knew what people were capable of, that it didn’t do to underestimate anyone, but Adam was
getting that “I need a nap” look, so I thanked him and got up to leave.

“I’ll walk you out,” Irene said.

Outside, clouds were sliding over the sun, so instead of a comfortable chat in the sunshine, we stood next to my car, shivering in a rising wind.

Irene hunched her shoulders and rubbed her upper arms. “There’s something I need to tell you. I know I’m probably being stupid and please don’t tell anyone because it’s probably not true, but I have to tell someone, and you know all about this, so I thought you’d be the one to tell.”

“Okay,” I said, not smiling, because in spite of her run-on sentence she seemed deadly serious. “Tell.”

She blew out a breath. “I think there might have been another attempt on Adam’s life.”

•   •   •

“Here’s where I figured we’d put the big guy,” Gordon said.

Gordon, whose last name I hadn’t figured out, was the owner of the company who was supplying the tents for Saturday’s book fair. Tent rental had originally been my boss’s idea, and I’d objected to the expense at first, saying that it was a small fair, that we could hold it inside the library, but he’d told me to use my imagination. This had, of course, irritated me no end, since I was the one with the imagination, not him, so I’d stood there in his office and closed my eyes, trying to see what he was seeing.

“Ah,” he said with patronizing satisfaction. “You’re picturing it, aren’t you?”

I was, and it was wonderful. In my head, the library grounds had turned into something between a circus and a medieval fair. White tents with high peaks, colored streamers, vendors hawking their wares, and people milling about everywhere.

“You’re right,” I’d said, opening my eyes. “The tents alone will attract interest.”

“Hmm?” Stephen’s attention had already returned to his computer. “Oh, the tents. Yes. See to it, Minnie, will you?”

And so I did. And I was. Which was why I was walking around the library lawn with Gordon, making last-minute placement decisions that I hoped would turn out okay, because a significant percentage of my brain was still thinking about what Irene had said that morning.

“We were at the hospital,” she’d told me, hugging herself against the wind. “They’re doing all that construction, putting on that big addition, remember? I’d wanted to drop Adam off at the door, but he wouldn’t let me, said he was perfectly capable of walking across the parking lot.”

“Sounds like him,” I’d said, smiling.

Irene hadn’t smiled back. “The problem is, with the construction, the sidewalks are all torn up and they want you to walk all the way around that annex building to get to the front door and I could see that Adam was getting tired, so I made him cut across the grass.”

I’d felt my brow furrowing in the effort to picture
what she was talking about. “Doesn’t that mean you were walking through the construction area?”

She’d nodded. “It was shorter by at least a hundred yards—you could see a path where a lot of people had gone that way. And there was no one working there, so I didn’t have a problem doing it. When we left the building, we walked back the same way and”—she’d hugged herself even tighter—“and this huge pile of bricks fell on the grass right next to Adam. It almost hit him.”

“Right over there.”

The male voice brought me back to the here and now. I blinked, and there I was, standing on the library lawn, working out the future location of tents. “I’m sorry,” I said. “What was that? My mind was wandering.”

Gordon nodded, a sideways sort of smile on his face. “I bet. You probably have a thousand things to do between now and Saturday morning.”

Actually things were pretty much set, but it was nice of him to be so understanding. “Thanks. Tomorrow I’ll be out on the bookmobile, so it’s today and Friday to finish up.”

“You run the bookmobile?” His face lit up. “I’ve seen it around, but I didn’t realize that was you.”

I beamed. He had a sympathetic personality and he liked the bookmobile. If he hadn’t been a little too old for me and, if the ring on his finger was any indication, already married, I’d have thrown myself into his arms. “We’ve been on the road for almost a year and I get requests for new stops almost every week.”

“We lived downstate when I was a kid,” he said, “and
there was a bookmobile stop practically at my front door. I grew up thinking it stopped there just for me.” He grinned. “Funny the things you think when you’re a kid.”

“I’m not sure that ends when you grow up,” I said.

He laughed. “So, is driving the bookmobile as much fun as it looks like? Please don’t say it’s not. You’ll ruin my last illusion.”

“Not a chance,” I said firmly. “We even have a bookmobile cat.”

“Eddie.” He nodded. “I’ve heard of him.”

My cat, bookmobile ambassador to the world. I made a mental note not to tell him. Catlike, he already had an inflated view of his own importance.

“Which means you knew Henry Gill,” Gordon said.

As non sequiturs went, this was an excellent one. And a little creepy. “How do you know that?”

“Got a cousin Bob who does property management. Used to be in real estate. Well, I guess he still has his license, but he doesn’t use it much anymore.” Gordon shrugged. “Anyway, he takes care of some summer places over near Henry’s, and with Henry being the only year-round guy out there, they’d talk once in a while.”

My guess was that Bob had done most of the talking.

Gordon smiled. “Henry told Bob about the bookmobile and its cat and the nice ladies who helped him find books.”

Sudden tears pricked at my eyes. “So annoying,” I said, “him being nice behind our backs like that.”

“That was Henry all over,” Gordon said, nodding.

A small, but very bright, lightbulb belatedly clicked
on in my head. “So, your cousin Bob,” I said. “Does he take care of Cole Duvall’s property? He’s on Rock Lake, practically right next to Henry.”

“Sounds right,” Gordon said. “Big guy, married into money?” He laughed. “Wish I’d done that. This working-for-a-living stuff is getting old. But if you’re looking for a property manager, give Bob a call. He’s okay, even if he is one of my blood relatives.” He said he’d get me his cousin’s phone number, and we moved on to locating the next tent.

On the outside, I was calm and professional and focused. On the inside, however, I was mentally high-fiving it with serendipity.

•   •   •

Inside the library’s break room, however, there was no high-fiving, no fist bumps, and it didn’t look as if serendipity had a chance of gaining a foothold any time soon.

I looked from Holly to Josh and back to Holly, then at the wall clock. There was only five minutes until our self-mandated mutual break time was over. If I was going to smooth over whatever was going on, I had to leap straight into the fray, no time even for a short bout of recaffeination.

After one longing glance at the coffeepot, I said, “What’s wrong? No, wait, let me guess. Stephen’s going to eliminate the library’s children’s section because the kids are too noisy.” As an opener, I’d had better, but it was better than nothing.

Holly sniffed. “He won’t tell me his new address.”

I glanced over at Josh and he shrugged and took another sip from the coffee mug he was clutching. He’d
given me the address a couple of weeks ago and I’d driven past once, just to see. Though it was an older house, it had a reasonably new roof and the windows had been replaced. Not very big, but Josh was a single guy and it should do him just fine.

“I bet he’s told you,” Holly said, narrowing her eyes. “He has, hasn’t he?”

Josh glared at me. It was a clear warning to keep the location to myself.

Now what was I supposed to do? There was only one course of action that could take this little scene in a positive direction. Immediate diversion.

“Remember I told you that a car almost ran over Adam Deering?” They nodded. Reluctantly, but they nodded. “Well, his wife, Irene, says she thinks someone tried to kill him a second time.”

“What?” Holly looked shocked. “That’s horrible! Did she tell the police?”

“Hang on,” Josh said. “If she’s only thinking it, she must not be sure. What happened, exactly?”

I wasn’t sure, either, which was one of the reasons I wanted to talk this over. I passed on what Irene had said, telling them about the construction, the long walk, and about the bricks that had come so close to crashing down on his head, bricks that might have hurt him badly, or even killed him.

“What do you think?” I asked. “Accident or intentional?”

“Intentional,” Holly said.

“Accident,” Josh said at the same time.

Which was just what I’d figured they’d say. I glanced
up at the clock. “One minute left. You each have thirty seconds to make your case. Holly, you first.”

“Had to be on purpose,” she said. “If there was no construction going on in that spot, no workers would have been up there. Bricks don’t fall down by themselves. Someone had to push them over.”