Sand City Murders (44 page)

Eddie took off with squealing tires. I rolled on more cautiously and was more than thankful that no one behind me had pulled out a shotgun. I was also happy to see no one was following me when I turned off to Captain’s Way. Hmm, Eddie seemed to remember our conversation about frozen food and that made me wonder what Durbin recalled as well.
Were we back to timeline number one?

***

Fynn called my cell early that evening and asked to be picked up from the police station. Ten minutes later I drove him to the library. We could have easily walked. It was a beautiful evening and the distance between the two buildings was probably less than a mile. Nonetheless, he requested a ride.

“We must be there at six.”

“I think the library’s open till seven tonight.”

“Yes, but Mrs Lovely is expecting us.”

“Expecting us?”

“I telephoned and made an appointment.”

“That seems a little unnecessary.”

“I thought it was the polite thing to do.” The inspector turned to smile at me. “Patrick, allow me my little ways, please.”

“Alright, sorry.”

“And here, this is for you.” Fynn handed me a parcel, neatly wrapped in brown paper.

“What’s this?”

“A book of course. You will need it.”

“Me?”

I pulled alongside the white picket fence and we walked through to the main entrance. As far as I could tell the library was empty. Mrs Lovely was behind the front desk as usual. She wore the same dress with the tiny purple flowers on it that I remembered from last time.

“Gentlemen, please come in. And thank you for being so prompt.” Mrs Lovely was practically beaming. I started to appreciate Fynn’s tactics. She led us through into her inner sanctum, a spacious reading room behind the checkout area. “I don’t normally do this but I thought I’d prepare a small tea. I hope you don’t mind. Oh, and Mr Jardel, I do hope Mr Dickens will join us.”

“About that, Mrs Lovely….” I started to explain. Fynn gave me a sharp elbow and nodded to the parcel with a glance. “The book… yes, well it seems to have gone missing…” Fynn gave me another jab. “But I have this.”

“I see,” she said, her disappointment was palpable. She turned to face me. I handed her the parcel. She opened it quite slowly. “Well, a replacement copy. I suppose this will do. It looks to be in fair shape…” Mrs Lovely looked over the book a bit more carefully. She examined the binding and studied the title page with great care. The color suddenly drained from her face. She seemed a bit unsteady on her feet and I helped her to a chair.

“Are you alright?”

“I’m not sure,” she replied and looked up at me with moist eyes. I think she was beginning to tear up. “I am certainly not an expert, but I dabble…” she stammered.

 I smiled, not understanding her reaction at all.

“I cannot possibly accept this,” she whispered and looked back and forth between Fynn and I.

“But we insist,” Fynn said and grinned broadly.

We?
I wonder why he said that.

“Well, give me a moment please, my heart is aflutter.” She put her hand on her chest as if to calm herself. She motioned for us to sit and we did. Annabel put the copy of Dickens down and began to pour out three cups of tea. “Well, this is most unexpected. I’m quite speechless.”

“I hope not,” the inspector said, but with a kind tone. “We are in great need of your help.”

“My help? Whatever for?”

“Two matters bring us here, Mrs Lovely, and they are somewhat related. First, your witness to the tragedy in the park, and second, about your microfiche machine.”

“Related?” she asked shrewdly. “How could these things be related?”

“Let us start with the second, eh?” Fynn asked pleasantly enough and added a smile.

“Go on.”

“The machine is working again?”

“Yes, I left you a message, Mr Jardel.” She looked at me.

“Yeah, thanks, that’s why we’re here.” I took a sip of tea. “Do you remember when I came in and asked about it the first time?”

“Of course. You gave me a generous donation in that regard.”

“You mentioned someone else was interested in using the machine as well.”

“Someone else? I’m not sure I recall anything like that… oh yes, wait, there was another man...”

“And you gave me a very vivid description of him.”

“Yes, yes, now I remember. The man in white… He was an older gentlemen. Quite distinguished. He had an extremely well manicured beard. And he was very tall, I seem to remember.” Mrs Lovely paused. “He was also wearing a hat and I was surprised that he didn’t take it off.”

“What sort of hat?”

“A fedora”

“A fedora?”

“You know, a hat from the nineteen thirties or forties, like something Humphrey Bogart would wear in a movie.”

“You told me he was familiar to you, that you had seen him before. Do you know who he is?”

“No… I don’t know his name. Let me think a moment.” Annabel took a sip of tea. “I seem to believe that he is a doctor, and that he is from Fairhaven.” Mrs Lovely made a face of frustration. “I’m sorry, that’s all I can bring to mind at the moment.”

“Did he have a cane? Or a walking stick?”

“Ah, you asked me that before, I think. No, I don’t remember anything like that.”

“Did you happen to notice his shoes?”

“Of course, I always notice a man’s shoes.”

“And?”

“Italian.”

“You’re sure?”

“Without a doubt.”

“It wasn’t Mr Chamblis?”

“Mr Chamblis? I certainly know the name, but I don’t think I’ve ever met him in person. Obviously, not a lover of books.”

“I agree with you there.” I sank back in my seat and saw Mrs Lovely’s eyes dart to her new possession. Her expression changed markedly to what I could only describe as longing.

Inspector Fynn spoke up, very delicately, “And the dreadful thing you saw this morning… can you say more about it to us?”

“I made a complete statement to the police officers. I’m sure they’ve filed a thorough report.”

“Rest assured they have. But in your own words, can you tell me what you saw on this terrible morning.”

Mrs Lovely settled in her seat, took another sip of tea and began, “I was earlier to work than usual. I walked from my cottage, along the path that circles the park. It was very quiet, there was no one about. One of those misty mornings, but quite chilly… the fog had yet to burn off. It wasn’t raining, but it was decidedly wet outside. I glanced up at the park and saw two figures sitting on the bench, talking, it seemed to me.”

“Could you hear what they were saying?”

“No, I actually heard nothing. I can only presume they were talking. They may have been kissing for all I know. I can say they were sitting right next to each other. They were engaged in something.”

“Can you describe these people?”

“There was the woman… that much was obvious. The other was a man, tall, I would say, dressed in dark clothes. I didn’t see his face at all. You understand the path is quite far from the top of the park… a hundred yards at least.”

“Tell us what happened next.”

“Well, I thought nothing of it at the time. I walked along as usual. The view there is obscured by some hedges and trees— you know the place I mean. When I came to the next clearing, I could see the man was standing now, and oddly I thought of Fred Astaire.”

“Why would you think of this?”

“It seemed to me the man was dancing. He had a hat and a cane, and was twirling it about. Absurd, I know, but that’s what came to mind.”

“Was he wearing a fedora?”

“More of a trilby, I would say.”

“And then?”

“I walked on… to the next clearing, I suppose, and glanced up again. By now my curiosity was piqued.”

“What did you see?”

“The man and the woman had embraced each other, just at the sculpture, indeed she was laying right on top of it and the man was, well, fondling her, I would say.”

“And what came to mind then?”

“I thought it was quite scandalous at first, and then considered that they might be posing for a photograph. It seemed to be the only thing that made sense.”

“That’s all?”

“The next time I looked up he was gone.”

“Gone?”

“Almost like he disappeared into thin air.”

“How’s that?”

“I turned my attention away for only a few moments and he wasn’t there anymore.”

“Anything else?”

“Well, I opened up as usual, and about an hour later I glanced up at the park and noticed the woman was still lying on the sculpture. I was quite alarmed by this… and seeing as she had not moved in all that time, I called for an ambulance.”

“Well, thank you, Mrs Lovely. That is a very good account of events.” The inspector gave her a gracious smile.

“And now you must tell me how these two things are related.”

Fynn and I looked at each other.

“A murder and a light bulb. How are these two things possibly related?” she asked again.

“You have illuminated everything, Mrs Lovely… you have shed light on the very man we regard as a suspect for the latest murder.”

“Dear me… Have I now?” A small expression of anxiety passed across her face. She put her teacup down hurriedly. “Do you mean to say they are the same man?”

“It may be so.”

“I can’t see how that’s possible. One man wore a fedora and the other had a trilby.”

“As you say…” Fynn gave her a serious expression.

“And, am I in any danger? I mean to say, as a witness?”

“Not at all. Your identity has been kept strictly confidential. I’m quite sure Mr Jardel will not print your name in his newspaper.”

Mrs Lovely glanced up at me and I gave her a reassuring smile.

“Would you like me to speak with Detective Durbin? Send around an officer to the library?”

She considered the offer for a few moments and then politely declined. “I’m sure I’ll be fine, but thank you.”

We left Mrs Lovely quite breathless and eternally grateful it seemed.

“Okay, inspector,” I asked once we were outside. “What’s with the book?”

“Ah yes, it was a first edition I picked up. Quite rare. I thought it was an appropriate gift, and I think she was quite pleased by it, don’t you?”

“Where did you get it? How did you know?”

“It’s nothing really. I found it at a bookshop in London some years ago…”

***

The next morning, back at the office, everything was exactly the same, just as it should be, right down to Frank’s San Diego Padres cap.
Frank, have you ever even been to San Diego?
Then I started noticing a couple of odd things. First off, I saw Jo-Anne come out of the
Chronicle
office just as I arrived. I smiled but she did not, nor did she give any glimmer of recognition.

“Who was that who just left?” I asked Miriam at reception, who seemed the same as always.

“Some girl, looking for a sales job.”

“Really. What, for the summer?”

“I guess. Ask Eleanor... she just interviewed her.”

By the afternoon I came to realize things were a bit different, make that completely different. Little things at first, like finding the overdue library books in my office drawer. I’m sure they weren’t there before. And Joey… formerly the happiest person on earth seemed to be quite sullen. I immediately missed his perpetual grin. Jason seemed the opposite… And, I got wind of a new collaboration: Jason and Amy working together on liquid layouts that could convert the paper into a web page with a few clicks of a button. Joey sullen, Jason smiling. I don’t ever remember Jason smiling... Amy and Jason best buds? Something was very wrong.

 Melissa had fallen from her pedestal of perfection as well. She dragged herself into the office, head down and in a bitchy mood. I don’t even think she was wearing makeup. I saw dark circles under her eyes, her hair was kind of straggly and she was wearing baggy shorts.

Miriam was my constant, she was my rock, she never changed… wait… on her desk, her name tag read
Mariam
.

I thought about the treasure too. I wondered where it was buried now. The same place? Probably not. I gently broached the subject with Joey.

“Hey Joey, you still remember where we buried the treasure, right?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Never mind…”

A few minutes later he shuffled over to my cubicle. “What’s this?” I asked when Joey threw down a big pile of papers on my desk. He wasn’t smiling at all.

“It’s the golf course.”

“What golf course?”

“The one we designed, remember? I printed out the Google maps and Amy put in the graphics. I checked them. It’s all done. Just waiting on the scorecards.”

“What are you talking about?”

“The Summer Contest… the Frisbee Golf Competition, remember? Winner take all?”

I did not remember at all. Sand City was way too windy to make this practical, let alone possible.

“Whose idea was this?”

Joey glanced across the office at an oblivious Frank Gannon.

“Remind me what he said…”

“Are you kidding?” Joey seemed upset.

“Sorry, too much on my mind lately.”

Joey sighed. “Arg, it’s complicated, remember: You play, you’re spotted, you get a scored receipt. There’s a five person playoff at the end of the summer…”

“Wow, that is complicated. I still say we should’ve done a Sand Castle Competition.”

“Hmm, sand castles… that’s a good idea for next year.” Joey shuffled back to his cubicle but stopped, and turned to say, “Oh, I talked to Marvin.”

“The Milkman?”

“Yeah.”

“And?”

“Somebody broke in, ransacked his house… but nothing was stolen.”

“Hmm.”

“That’s it? That’s all you can say?”

I looked at Joey, he almost seemed angry. “Wish I could say more…” I replied. “If nothing was taken from his house, well, I guess it’s a dead end. I got nothing.”

“If it wasn’t a dead end, where were you going with it?”

“I thought Marvin might have seen something up on the bike path, or even found something. But I guess I was wrong.”

“Wasn’t Doc Samuels’ place ransacked?” he persisted.

“It was.”

“So somebody is looking for something?”