Chapter Fifteen

We picked up our coffees and then drove back to the library in silence. Bertie kept her eyes fixed on the road ahead, and when I peeked at her out of the corner of my own eye, she appeared to be wrapped in thought. Whether she was remembering her long-lost youth and a tempestuous but ill-fated relationship with a single-minded Latin student, or thinking about what certain members of the Blacklock History Department might have to gain from the death of Jay Ruddle, I couldn’t tell.

I sat back in my own seat, sipped my latte, and stared out the window.

What we’d learned from Professor McClanahan had put Professors Elizabeth McArthur and Norman Hoskins at the top of my mental suspect list. College teachers were supposed to be mild-mannered people, wrapped in the clouds on top of their ivory tower. I’d worked in the libraries at Harvard, and I knew that stereotype was nowhere near the reality. No one would fight harder over a slight, imagined or otherwise, to their field than a university professor.

Under threat of the closure of their entire department, essentially negating their life’s work, I had no doubt academics could resort to extreme measures.

How extreme was the question.

Elizabeth and Norman (I must remember to refer to them as Lizzie and Norm) had been at the library for Louise Jane’s lecture. Did one, or both, of them come into the lighthouse unobserved? Did he or she silently climb the back stairs and confront Jay? Demand he award them the collection?

Did Jay refuse? Did he tell them he’d made up his mind, and Blacklock College was not the winner?

Did he, she, or both of them lash out in anger and then slip out again and join the throngs on the lawn to sip tea and lemonade?

Before I realized it, we were turning off Highway 12 and onto the lighthouse grounds.

“Are we going to tell Detective Watson what we learned?” I asked Bertie.

“I think we should. As the good detective continually points out, we are not officers of the law and thus don’t have powers of coercion or legal resources to reply upon. What we do have is our knowledge of the people involved.”

“True,” I said.

“It might not occur to Sam to specifically ask about the state of the History Department at Blacklock College. Institutions can be notoriously closemouthed to outsiders, although there’s nothing academics like better than to gossip among themselves. Even if Sam does learn that the History Department needed the collection to stay afloat, he might not realize how much Elizabeth and Norman need their jobs. Most people are under the impression university professors live a rarified existence of study and teaching with guaranteed-for-life jobs. Give Sam a call, Lucy.”

“Why me? Can’t you do it? He gets mad when I interfere.”

She switched off the engine and turned to me with a smile. “He respects your instincts and your drive to uncover the truth, Lucy. Although he’ll never say so.”

“I doubt that very much. The man can’t stand me.”

She simply smiled at me again, and we got out of the car and went to work

*   *   *

Inside the library, the fake spider webs and wobbly tombstones caught my eye. “Are we still going to have Halloween?” I asked Bertie. We had a full day of activities planned tomorrow for children, teens, and adults, but in light of Jay’s death, I wondered if Bertie might want to cancel it all.

“Louise Jane’s insistent on doing two more lectures, as scheduled. Not that I much care what Louise Jane wants, but Ronald pointed out to me that the children have been excited all week about the events he has planned for tomorrow, and he doesn’t want to disappoint them. They know nothing about the death of Jay Ruddle.” Bertie looked around. “So I gave in. If Jay had died here, in the main room, I would have refused, but…”

“But,” I said, “who can say no to Ronald?”

“He’s not the best children’s librarian in the state for nothing,” Bertie said. “I didn’t hire him to turn down his recommendations.”

“They are looking forward to it,” Charlene said from behind the circulation desk. “I’ve had a few phone calls this morning, checking that everything is still on.”

“Anything else while we were out?” Bertie asked.

“It’s been fairly quiet.” Charlene reached under the desk for her ever-present iPhone and earbuds. She could hardly wait to get back to the peace and quiet of the research library and crank up her music. Why she wanted to destroy that peace and quiet with the likes of Jay-Z and Nicki Minaj, I never did understand.

But Charlene was brilliant at what she did, and although she sometimes tried to impose her musical taste on the rest of us, everyone liked her too much to object (too strongly, at any rate). “Ronald told me you went to Blacklock College this morning.”

“We were doing a bit of sleuthing,” Bertie said.

“Did you learn anything?”

“Only that they were desperate to get their hands on the Ruddle collection,” I said.

“I … uh … I have something I should probably tell you.” Charlene’s eyes flicked from Bertie to me to Charles, sitting on the returns shelf, listening intently.

“What?” Bertie asked.

“Elizabeth McArthur came into the library on Saturday when Louise Jane’s lecture was going on.”

I sucked in a breath. Bertie’s eyebrows rose. “Did you tell the police?”

“I told Detective Watson she was in here, yes, as they were trying to determine who was where when, but it has nothing to do with Jay. Not with his death anyway. She came to talk to me and didn’t go upstairs. As far as I know anyway. I told him that.”

“Talk to you? Why?” Bertie said. “And why didn’t you tell me this before now?”

“I was going to tell you, but then Jay Ruddle died, and it no longer seemed relevant. Ronald didn’t say why you were going to Blacklock College this morning, but”—her eyes slid to me—“as you and Lucy went together, I assumed you were asking questions about the death of Jay Ruddle.”

Bertie nodded.

“McArthur offered me a job.”

“Did she indeed?” Bertie said.

“She said if they got the Ruddle collection, which she assured me was as good as done, the college would hire me to manage it.”

“I don’t think Elizabeth McArthur is in the position to offer employment to anyone,” Bertie said.

“But she can strongly recommend,” I said, “if her department secured the collection.”

“If,” Bertie said.

“I didn’t turn her down outright,” Charlene confessed.

“If the collection came here, you’d be in charge of it, Charlene,” I said. “You know that.”

“McArthur offered me a considerable increase in salary over what I get here at the library, as well as a generous signing bonus.”

“Dependent on…?” Bertie said.

Charlene grinned. “Dependent on me sabotaging the Lighthouse Library’s bid and keeping them informed as to what we were up to.”

“Of all the nerve,” I said.

Bertie huffed.

“Aside from the fact that I love everything about working at this library, I’m not a snoop, even if I had some incentive to spy. Blacklock College would mean an extra hour’s commute, and I don’t need that in my life. No matter how much money they offered.”

“As you say, it’s irrelevant now, Charlene, but thank you for telling me,” Bertie said. “We know Professor McArthur desperately wanted the Ruddle collection. If she’d go so far as to attempt bribery, I have to ask what else she might have been prepared to do. I’ll be in my office for the rest of the day, if anyone needs me.”

I went into the break room to put my purse away and used the landline to call Sam Watson. I got his voicemail and said I had something to tell him. It would be up to him if he returned my call or not. I wasn’t as sure as Bertie that he didn’t sometimes consider throwing me in jail for interfering with the police.

When I returned to the main room, a young mother was dumping a pile of books, so high she had to peer over the top of it, onto the circulation desk. Charlene gave the books an approving look. “The twins’ reading must really be coming along, Sue.”

Charles settled himself on top of the stack. Sue laughed and gave him a pat. “I can’t take out books fast enough to keep up with them. Ronald has been a miracle worker. I can’t imagine what those two would do without this library. Hang around the back of the convenience store, most likely.”

I eyed her books. At Ronald’s suggestion, Sue had started her sons off on books for reluctant readers—short, fast-paced stories aimed specifically at teenage boys, many to do with the world of sports or adventure travel. Their taste was now expanding, and the stack included a few young adult detective novels. The topmost book was You by Charles Benoit. Exactly the thing that would appeal to potentially rebellious boys like Sue’s two. She plucked the latest Barbara Early cozy mystery off the returns cart. “And one for me. The day has finally arrived when I actually have time to read.” She sighed happily. Charlene gave Charles a nudge. He didn’t move, so the nudge turned into a shove followed by another, stronger one. He stood—or rather sat—firm.

“Come here, you.” I picked him up, thus giving him exactly what he wanted. If he could grin, I’m sure he would have.

When the door closed behind Sue and her pile of books, Charles went in search of someone else to admire him, and Charlene headed upstairs.

One of our library regulars, Mr. Snyder, an elderly man whose wife had died some months ago and whose children lived out of state, sat in the comfortable wingback chair in the magazine alcove, reading. Charles leapt onto his lap and curled himself into a purring ball. We knew Mr. Snyder came in for the company, under the pretext of reading magazines, and he was always welcome to do so. A man in his mid-forties, dressed in grimy jeans and a flannel shirt, with broken nails and work-worn hands, typed slowly and awkwardly with two fingers on the public computer.

“Are you finding what you need, Mr. Jones?” I asked him.

He looked up and gave me a grin that showed two missing teeth. “Slow and careful, Miss Lucy. Like you told me. This here machine’s not so scary once you get the hang of it.”

“Let me know if I can help with anything.”

The role of libraries is changing rapidly in these modern times, and one of the things we’re most proud of is providing a community for the lonely and a place to access public resources for the down-on-their-luck.

I’d barely settled myself behind the circulation desk, when we had unexpected visitors. Julia Ruddle came in, followed not only by Greg and Theodore but Anna and Dave. Anna wore a knee-length, tight-fitting, neckline-plunging red dress. A heavy gold necklace was around her throat, and matching earrings in her ears. She tottered across the marble floors in red stilettos with four-inch heels. Dave was dressed in a rumpled, pale blue shirt and beige trousers that had not seen an iron since they’d left the factory.

Julia looked at me. She jerked her head and opened her eyes wide, sending me a signal of some sort, but I failed to read it.

I stood up. “Hi. Welcome everyone. What brings you here today?”

“I thought Anna and Dave would like a tour of the lighthouse,” Julia said.

I snuck a peek at Anna. She looked as though she would like nothing less.

“Did you get moved into the Ocean Side okay?” I asked.

“Yes, we did.” Anna stifled a yawn. Charles leapt onto the desk, and she fell back with a screech. “Good heavens, what on earth is that creature doing here?”

“This is our library cat, Charles,” I said. “He’s very friendly.” As if to prove me a liar, Charles arched his back and spat.

“I cannot abide cats,” Anna said.

“Looks like the feeling’s mutual,” Julia muttered under her breath. She gave Charles a hearty pat.

“I hope I am not going to get home and find my clothes covered with cat hair.” Anna sniffed. “I am highly sensitive.”

“Wow!” Dave said. “That’s quite the model ship you have there.” He hurried over to the Rebecca MacPherson. “Look at this incredible detail, honey.”

Theodore suppressed a shudder as he turned away. I wasn’t the only one who noticed: Greg’s eyebrows rose.

“If I must.” Anna tapped her way across the floor and peered at the little model. “It’s full of holes. Good heavens, are those skeletons?”

“Fantastic, isn’t it?” Dave said.

“Dave and Anna would love to see the view from the top,” Julia said.

“I sure would!” Dave said.

Anna said something in Russian. It might have been “Are you kidding me?”

“It’s not as high as it looks,” Julia said. “Only two hundred or so steps.”

“The first hundred and ninety are the worst.” Greg said.

“Allow me to escort you.” Keeping his eyes firmly away from the model ship, Theodore gave Anna a small bow. “I myself am well acquainted with the history of the lighthouse and this stretch of the coast.” His fake English accent was back, and he’d tied a paisley cravat at his throat. I suspect the look he was attempting was jaunty, but instead the cravat threatened to choke him.

“Greg’ll go too,” Julia said.

“I will?” Greg said.

“Not necessary,” Theodore said.

“Off you go, everyone,” Julia said.

Theodore held out his arm and, with a roll of her eyes and a mighty sigh, Anna slipped hers through it.

“Last one to the top’s a dirty rotten egg.” Dave set off. “Come on, Greg, race you.”

Eight feet clattered on the iron stairs, some with considerably more enthusiasm than others. Four additional feet, of the feline version, followed, faster and much quieter.

“Teddy!” I called, “don’t let Charles onto the walkway.” He was a cat, yes, but I still worried that he’d leap off the railing after a passing bird.

“There’s a walkway!” Anna’s voice faded away as she made the first turn.

Julia let out a long breath. “Anything for a moment’s peace.”

“How’d your breakfast go?” I said.

“Fine. Why do you ask? Oh, you mean breakfast with Anna. Didn’t happen. I wasn’t going to wait until ten at any rate, so I ordered room service when I got up at six. Just as well. The lawyer my grandfather’s company arranged for me arrived this morning, and I spent some time with him. Anna called around noon, apparently having totally forgotten about meeting me. She didn’t forget to move into the Ocean Side, though.”

“Why did you bring them here?”

“I have to do something with her. She wanted to meet for lunch, and I countered by suggesting an outing. At least Dave’s keen.”

I glanced around the library. Mr. Jones stabbed at the computer and printed off reams of paper. Mr. Snyder had finished with his sports magazine and had gone on to Country Living. A few patrons browsed the shelves, but no one needed my attention at the moment. Bertie was in her office; Ronald, upstairs in the children’s library, preparing for today’s after-school program; and Charlene had buried herself in the rare books room.

“Do you want to talk about it?” I asked Julia.

“About my mother?” She gave me a wan smile. “She and my grandfather didn’t see eye to eye on raising me.”

“Last night she said he kept her away from you. Is that what happened?”

She nodded. “Nothing was ever said, and I was too young when my father died to understand, but children have a way of finding these things out eventually. My grandfather was absolutely furious when my parents married. He wanted my father to take over the business from him, and my father wanted to be a musician. Granddad indulged him for a while, or so I’ve been told by some of the staff over the years…”

I assumed she meant maids and gardeners, chauffeurs, and the like.

“… thinking he had to get it out of his system. But, instead of eventually settling down, my father married Anna, and he lived the rest of his far too short life in her wake. Then he died. My grandfather blamed her for that.”

“Why?”

“My father was killed in a car accident. They were in London. Anna had been fired from her latest gig that afternoon, and she went on a huge bender. My father drove around the city trying to find her. He eventually did, and he managed to talk her into coming back to their hotel. Where I, apparently, waited with a hotel babysitter. After I turned twenty-one, I managed to get a copy of the police report, unknown to Grandfather. There’s no suggestion my father had been drinking that night, but he suddenly pulled out of his lane straight into oncoming traffic. Grandfather was convinced he’d been fighting with Anna, and either she distracted him or grabbed the wheel. And so my father died. My mother was unharmed. Underlings were sent to London to retrieve both my father’s body and me. Anna had to travel back to America in economy class. We never lived under the same roof again, but Grandfather gave her an allowance for many years. I suspect that allowance was conditional. The condition being that she’d stay away from me. Which is what happened. She sent me presents on my birthday and Christmas, usually arriving late. We met a handful of times, but always as part of an organized outing. A Broadway show, a trip to the zoo, or an art gallery, followed by lunch in a restaurant. Grandfather’s driver would take me to meet her and pick me up after. She’d kiss me on the cheek and say how beautiful I was becoming, and then walk away.”

“That’s incredibly sad.”

Julia’s eyes wandered to the spiral iron staircase. “Just as well. I don’t think Anna’s the mothering type.”

“Still, she came to be with you when she heard that your grandfather died.”

“Maybe I’m the suspicious sort, Lucy, but I have to ask why. Two years ago, when I turned twenty-five, the allowance he was giving her ended. I don’t think she has much in the way of financial support. Her career isn’t going well, to say the least. I follow her activities on the Internet sometimes. She’s incredibly talented. They say when she was a teenager, she was considered the most promising violinist of her generation, but she can’t get much work anymore. No one in the classical music world will trust her. If she does happen to land a gig, it usually ends in tears and temper tantrums.”

“What about Dave? Can he support her?”

She shrugged. “I’d never even heard of him before last night. He doesn’t look like a man with money, but these days you can’t always tell, can you?” She stared off into the distance. A tear formed in the corner of her eye. “It would have been nice to have had a mother.” Her voice was very low.

Charles returned from the climb to the top and leapt onto the desk. He gave a soft meow and stretched out a paw toward Julia. She wiped her eyes and scooped him up. She held him close, and he comforted her.

I felt myself smiling. If Charles believed in Julia, then I would too. “Your parents were both musicians. Do you play?”

“Oh, no. Perish the thought. You can be sure Grandfather never let me anywhere near an instrument. I know now that he was terrified I’d follow in my father and Anna’s footprints. When the other girls at school were in music class, I had an extra art or French lesson. I enjoy classical music, though.” She put Charles down and then lifted her hands and let her fingers dance through the air. “I sometimes find myself playing the air piano, although I’ve never so much as touched a key. I wonder if I inherited some sort of musical talent. Better not to find out; it never did either of my parents any good.”

Footsteps sounded on the stairs as the rest of the group descended. Anna clung to Theodore’s arm with one hand, and in the other she carried her shoes. Greg and Dave followed, talking football.

“Wasn’t that interesting?” Theodore said.

“Most interesting.” Anna turned to Julia. “Such a nice young man.”

“He is,” Julia said.

Theodore beamed. “Have you been to the Wright Brothers Memorial, Mrs. Makarova? It’s very interesting.”

“No, I have not.” Anna slipped her shoes back onto her feet. “But I’d love to see it. Is it far to go?”

“Not at all. Julia and I were planning to go there one day soon, weren’t we, Julia? No time like the present.”

“Wonderful. Let’s do that. David, darling, why don’t you and Gordon here—”

“Greg,” said Greg.

“—go back to the hotel. There must be some tedious sports game or other on the television.”

“I’d like to see the Wright Brothers too,” Dave said. “First in flight and all that.”

“No, you wouldn’t.” Anna tucked her hand through Julia’s arm, so she had Teddy on one side and her daughter on the other. Dave and Greg were pointedly left out of the circle. “Perhaps a little lunch on the way. I’m sure you know the absolute best places, Theodore.”

“I do.”

“That’s settled then. We’ll all meet later for dinner. Lucy, you will join us, of course.”

“Me?”

“Consider it a command performance. Come along, everyone.”

Julia gave me a “what can you say?” shrug.

“I have another engagement tonight,” I whispered to her.

“That’s fine. Anna will soon forget she invited you.”

“Did you know that the entirety of the Wright Brothers’ inaugural flight covered less distance than the length of a modern passenger jet?” Theodore asked.

“Is that so! That is fascinating,” Anna exclaimed. “I love an educated man, don’t you, Julia?”

“What do you think of the Yankees’ prospects for next year?” Dave asked Greg.

The door swung shut behind them. Charles leapt off the desk and went upstairs to see what Ronald was up to.

I wondered at Anna’s sudden fondness for Theodore and her abrupt dismissal of Greg. Was she thinking Teddy would be a better match for Julia? Better for Julia as in able to be influenced by Anna?

Entirely possible. Teddy, if he thought Anna had any influence over Julia in matters of the heart, would leap at the chance to get the mother in his camp. The resumption of the fake accent and bookish attire might be an attempt on his part to impress Anna.

When it came to cui bono from the death of Jay Ruddle, Anna obviously did. She had Julia back in her life; she might have expectations that Julia would inherit and thus help her mother return to the lifestyle to which she wanted to become accustomed. It was possible, likely even, she hated Jay for his attempts to control her and limit contact with her daughter. Anna had good reason to kill Jay Ruddle.

But she had not been in the Outer Banks when he died. I suppose it was possible she’d lied about being in Europe and snuck onto the library grounds unobserved, climbed the stairs, killed Jay, and crept out again.

I had trouble seeing it. I didn’t think Anna could do unobserved.

The phone on the desk rang, bringing me back to the here and now.

“Lighthouse Library. Lucy speaking.”

“What is it, Lucy?” growled Sam Watson.

For a moment, I thought he’d reached down the phone line and plucked thoughts about Anna straight out of my head. Then I remembered Bertie and my trip to Blacklock College. “I uncovered something you might find of interest. In the Ruddle case.”

He sighed. “I suppose I have to hear it.”

“Only if you want to. It’s about Blacklock College. The other institution in competition for the Ruddle collection.”

“Lunch?” he said.

“What?”

“I haven’t had lunch yet. Josie’s in fifteen minutes.”

“Okay,” I said, but he’d already hung up.

After our trip this morning on non-library business, I hadn’t planned to take a lunch break. On a previous occasion, Bertie had told me I could take time off to investigate a killing that affected the library community. I called her office now. “Sam Watson wants to meet me for lunch.”

“See what I told you, honey? He values your opinion.”

“He values my cousin’s baking, but that’s beside the point. Can someone watch the desk for me?”

“I’ll do it myself. We have a meeting of the library board this evening. Perhaps if I tell them I don’t have the budget ready, they’ll cancel.”

“I can ask Ronald.”

“I’m joking, Lucy. I have the budget fully prepared and ready to be torn apart. I also have all my counterarguments mustered.” She put on her world-weary library director voice. “‘No, Curtis, we cannot resume meeting at a restaurant, with lunch at the library’s expense. No, Diane, we are not going to install a Jonathan Uppiton memorial fountain. Not now, not ever.’ It’ll be a nice break to take the desk.”

“I doubt I’ll learn anything,” I said. “Watson is of the opinion that information flows in one direction only. Me to him. If I do, I’ll let you know.”

I went into the break room for my purse and drove into town to Josie’s.

*   *   *

In the height of summer and around the holidays, Josie’s Cozy Bakery can be a madhouse. But in late October, as the Outer Banks settles into the off-season, several tables were empty, and the lineup at the counter was only three deep. Watson and I arrived at the same time. He held the door for me and said lunch would be on him. He told me to grab a table in a quiet corner while he got our orders.

I found a place at the back, nearest the doors to the kitchen. I peeked inside and saw my cousin, elbow deep in pastry dough. I called out, and she gave me a wide grin and a wave of floury fingers. I sometimes thought that heaven must smell like Josie’s Cozy Bakery. Hot pastry, warm fruits, melting sugar, freshly ground cinnamon and nutmeg, rising bread. The espresso machine hissed as it emitted clouds of fragrant steam. Josie’s bakery was rapidly becoming the spot for coffee, baked goods, and light lunches in Nags Head, and I was pleased to see it. My cousin worked hard to make it a success, so hard that the very thought of her schedule made me want to go for a nap.

I knew Watson, like all police officers, liked to sit with his back to the wall, facing the room, so I took the other chair. He soon arrived and handed me a sandwich and a cinnamon-topped latte. For himself, he had a large coffee, black, and a ham and Swiss sandwich with a coconut cupcake on the side. He dropped into a chair and unfolded his paper napkin. “Okay, Lucy. What do you have to tell me?”

Not one for small talk, Detective Watson.

Josie made the best cupcakes. I eyed the thick white frosting and sprinkle of toasted coconut enviously. If I wasn’t careful, regular meetings at my cousin’s bakery would put twenty pounds on me before I knew it.

“Don’t tell CeeCee,” Watson said.

“Huh?”

“About the cupcake. She’s after me to watch what I eat. I can’t continue to put the groceries away the way I did when I was a police recruit, or so she tells me. I know that, but I pretend not to.” He bit into his sandwich. “What have you learned?”

“Two things. First, Bertie spoke to a friend who’s a professor at Blacklock College.” I didn’t say that we’d gone to the college ourselves, and I didn’t mention Bertie’s past history with our informant. I just laid out what we’d been told. “Charlene told us that the people from Blacklock tried to bribe her. They said if she spied on us, they’d give her the job of curator of the collection. If they got it, that is.”

“When did this happen?”

“Saturday. At the lecture. She says she told you Elizabeth McArthur was in the building, but not what they talked about.”

He nodded. “I bet that went down well.”

“As well as could be expected. They obviously don’t know Charlene.”

“That’s all interesting, Lucy.” He finished his sandwich, wiped his fingers on a paper napkin, and carefully peeled the paper away from the cupcake. I tried not to stare as the cake, as white and fluffy as a cloud upon which angels rest, came into view. “You’re telling me the folks from Blacklock College wanted the Ruddle collection, and they wanted it badly. Fair enough, but that’s no motive for murder. Killing him has the opposite effect, and anyone should have known that. The man’s estate has to be settled, and there are no guarantees as to what his heirs plan to do with it.”

“Agreed, but I’m pointing out that the Blacklock people were desperate to get it. Maybe one of them went up to the rare books room with Jay, and he told them he’d made his decision, and it wasn’t in Blacklock’s favor. Hearing that, did Norman or Elizabeth strike out at him in anger?”

Watson broke off a huge piece of cupcake, tossed it into his mouth, and chewed. “Want some?”

“What? Oh, no, thank you.” I patted my sandwich, still untouched. Talking to Watson makes me far too nervous to eat. “I’ve got plenty here.”

“If you say so.” He took a bite of pure icing. I thought I might swoon.

“I’ll keep your information in mind,” he said. “I hadn’t considered this collection to be worth killing over, but if someone’s job’s on the line because of it, that’s another matter altogether.”

I felt as I had back in school when my mother praised me for getting ninety-three percent on my seventh-grade Civil War essay. My father had asked what happened to the other seven percent.

“You said two things.” The last crumb of cupcake disappeared. “What’s the other?”

“Julia’s mother’s in town. She got in yesterday.”

“I didn’t know that, but that’s natural enough, isn’t it? Her father-in-law died, and she wants to be with her daughter.”

“It’s not exactly a normal mother–daughter relationship. Were you aware that Jay Ruddle paid Anna—that’s Julia’s mother—an allowance on the condition that she stay away from Julia while she was growing up? The allowance began when Julia was three years old, after her father died in an accident for which Jay blamed Anna, and it ended when Julia turned twenty-five. That was only two years ago. It’s possible Anna has recently run out of money.”

Watson’s eyebrows rose, and for the first time ever, I thought I’d surprised the detective. “I was not aware of any of that. Was this Anna in town at the time in question?”

“She says she was in Europe. She’s a musician.”

“I’ll check into that,” he said. “Is her last name Ruddle?”

“It’s Makarova. Anna Makarova. But that might be a stage name. She’s a classical musician.”

“Easy enough to find out.” He pushed his chair back.

“Wait!” I said. “What’s happening with the case against Julia? I’ve told you about two possible suspects—three if you consider two people from Blacklock College were at the library when Jay died. There must be more. The man was a ruthless businessman. He would have had enemies.”

“He made some enemies over his lifetime, yes. Quite a few it would appear. But all that happened a long time ago. He was retired. He was eighty-two years old.”

“Some people carry a grudge for a long time.”

Sam Watson stood up. He placed his hands on the table and leaned toward me, looming into my space. I braced myself, determined not to be intimidated. Around us people came and went, drinks were made, and food served. A woman laughed, and in the kitchen someone yelled, “Hey, watch that!” The busy bakery fell away as Watson stared into my eyes. “Thank you for bringing that information to my attention, Lucy. I shouldn’t have to remind you once again—but I will—not to interfere in my investigation.”

“I’m not interfering,” I said firmly. “I am helping.”

“If you’re gathering information specifically designed to take attention away from your friend, that’s interfering. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” I mumbled, intimidated.

“You and your book club should read a Sherlock Holmes story next.”

“I suppose we could do that.” I wondered why he’d changed the subject so abruptly.

“Perhaps A Study in Scarlet. Pay particular attention to the line ‘It is a capital mistake to theorize before you have all the evidence. It biases the judgment.’”

“I…”

“You’ve decided Julia Ruddle did not kill her grandfather. You then began to gather evidence to support that hypothesis. Meaning, Lucy, you are working backward. It’s a good thing you’re not the detective, and I am. Sherlock Holmes also said, ‘I wish you simply to report facts to me, and you can leave me to do the theorizing.’ The Hound of the Baskervilles.”

“I didn’t know you were a Sherlock aficionado.”

He straightened up. “Stay out of it, Lucy.”

He walked away, and I watched him go. Watson was right. I was not a detective. I didn’t want to be a detective. But I believed in Julia’s innocence, and for her sake as well as Theodore’s, I wanted to do what I could to help.

Josie slipped into the recently vacated seat. “You’re having lunch with Sam Watson? What’s that about?”

“I’m trying to help the police. Like the good citizen I am.” I unwrapped my sandwich and took a moment to admire it. A bakery-made baguette stuffed with thick layers of beef tinged a slight pink, runny cheese, glistening onions, and a handful of bright green herbs. I knew from past experience it would taste as good as it looked.

“Did he appreciate your help?” Josie asked.

“This time, I think he did. Although it would kill him to admit it.”

“A bunch of reporters were in here earlier. I couldn’t help but overhear them talking. They say the granddaughter did it.”

“She didn’t.”

“If you say so, sweetie.”

“I do, but unfortunately, as Detective Watson recently pointed out, what I say is totally irrelevant.” I took a bite of my sandwich. It was so yummy, I momentarily forgot all about murder and the dark cloud of suspicion hanging over Julia.

Josie started to get to her feet, and that brought me back to earth. “Josie?”

“What, sweetie?”

“You ever hear about any of the wild horses from Corolla making their way this far south?”

She laughed. “Heavens no. They’re totally protected. If they got out of their sanctuary, they’d be hit by a car the first time they tried to cross the road. Or fed cheeseburgers and fries, almost as fatal, although slower. Even if they stuck to the beach, someone would be sure and call the police or the wildlife authorities if they saw a horse strolling past. Why do you ask?”

“No reason. Have wild horses ever lived around here?”

“Long ago, maybe. But not these days. There are horseback-riding outfits in Nags Head who take people for a ride in the woods and along the beach. Do you want to go riding? Aaron can suggest some places. He worked at a stable one summer when he was in junior high. I don’t remember which one, though.”

“Just wondering,” I said.

My cousin gave me a look. Then something in the room caught her attention, and her eyes widened. “Speak of the devil.”

I whirled around, half-expecting a spectral gray horse to have wandered into the bakery. Instead, I saw Julia Ruddle and Theodore Kowalski. Anna wasn’t with them.

A small smile touched the corners of Julia’s mouth when she saw me, and she waved. She said something to Theodore, and they changed direction. “Hi, Lucy,” Julia said. “Fancy running into you.”

“Julia, do you remember my cousin, Josie O’Malley? You met at book club on Friday.”

“I remember.” Julia noticed Josie’s flour-dotted apron, blue and white, with the bakery’s logo of a croissant curling around a lighthouse. “Josie? Is this your place? It’s lovely.”

“All mine.” Josie stood up. “And I’d better get back at it. Nice seeing you again, Julia. My condolences on the death of your grandfather.”

“Thank you,” she said, and Josie slipped away.

“Do you mind if we join you?” Julia asked me.

“Please do.” I’d scarcely taken two bites out of my sandwich. I rolled it back up in its wrapping to enjoy at work later. “I thought you were going to the Wright Brothers. Where’s Anna?”

Julia dropped into the seat recently vacated by Detective Watson and then Josie. The table was for two, but Teddy dragged a chair over and squeezed himself in.

“We didn’t get any further than the outlet shops,” Julia said. “As soon as she saw them, Anna let out a mighty yell.”

“I thought I’d hit something,” Theodore said. “Gave me quite the fright.”

“She mustn’t have noticed them earlier,” Julia said. “Anyway, nothing would do but we had to pull in. We hit Sunglasses Hut and then Coach. She’s now trying on dresses, and that got a bit too much for Theodore.”

“Not at all,” he said. “I was happy to offer her the benefit of my advice. A man’s point of view is always appreciated, as your mother pointed out.”

“Okay, I’ll confess. The steady parade of clothes was getting too much for me,” Julia said. “We arranged to go back and pick her up in an hour. I shudder to think what this is costing me.”

“Costing you?”

“I gave her my credit card. Anna”—Julia made quotes in the air with her fingers—“forgot hers at the hotel.”

“Can I get you something, Julia?” Theodore asked.

“Just a latte, please.”

He went off to join the line without asking me if I wanted anything.

“I didn’t like to talk about it earlier, when we were in the library with everyone around, but have you heard anything more from the police?” I asked Julia.

She shook her head. “Questions. More questions. Watson didn’t come himself, but he sent someone to the hotel this morning. Another round of the same questions I’ve answered a hundred times already. I don’t think that Detective Watson’s at all competent. He’s got a bee in his bonnet about me and won’t let it go.”

I shifted uncomfortably. Good thing Watson had left before Julia arrived. She wouldn’t have continued to be friendly with me if she’d seen me having lunch with him. Never mind that I was trying to help her. And the best way to help Julia was to find the real killer.

Theodore put the drinks on the table. A latte for Julia and a hot tea for him. “If you’re talking about Detective Watson, I’m thinking of paying a call on him myself. I can tell him Julia had nothing to do with her grandfather’s death.”

“I don’t think that would be wise,” I said, “unless you have solid evidence. Watson doesn’t like what he sees as people interfering in his cases.”

“It’s so nice of you to care.” Julia smiled at Theodore. “But I have to agree with Lucy. He’s not going to listen to you. You scarcely even know me.”

Theodore puffed up his chest. “I know you well enough, Julia, to know that you have a kind and loving heart.”

“You’re so sweet,” she said.

He puffed up some more.

“I want to go home,” she said with a heavy sigh. Deep smudges lay under her eyes, and I suspected she hadn’t slept much, if at all, last night. “I need to take my grandfather back to New York to make funeral arrangements. I need to mourn properly.”

“I have to get to work.” I gathered up the remains of my sandwich. “Call me if you need anything.”

“Thank you,” she said. “I’d like to spend some more time at the library, if I may.”

“Of course you can.”

“I like your library. I like it a lot. I’d love to have a look through your rare books room. My grandfather might not have wanted me to take control of his collection, but he did insist on me having a firm knowledge of East Coast nautical history.”

“You’re welcome any time,” I said. “Charlene would be delighted to talk about it with you. Tomorrow’s Halloween, and we’re having a variety of festivities. As well as children’s parties upstairs, Louise Jane will be speaking again, telling different stories from the ones on Saturday, no doubt less child-friendly ones, and we’ll have refreshments after.” Theodore hid a shiver under the pretext of adding sugar to his tea. “The teenage party is at five, and the adult one, at seven. If you’re free, why not come? Some people will be in costume, but many won’t.”

“I’d like that.”

“I hope you don’t mind that we’re still celebrating Halloween. After the death of your grandfather, I mean.”

“Why would I mind? Life goes on, doesn’t it? And you have your jobs to do. Granddad would have approved. He liked your library because it was a vibrant community center.”

“Excellent idea.” Theodore gathered his courage around him like a cloak. “I hadn’t been planning to go the library tomorrow evening, as I find Halloween excessively childish, but if you are going to be there, Julia, I’ll also participate in the festivities. If you’re interested in the history of the area, my family has lived in the Outer Banks since…”

I stopped at the counter on my way out. “One coconut cupcake to go, please.”