Spence and Nolan were waiting for us on my porch when Jo and I pulled into my garage Saturday evening. I opened the front door and Nolan rushed in.
“Are you all right?” He caught Jo’s shoulders. His eyes, wide with concern, scanned her face and head before sweeping over her body.
Phoenix sidled up to my leg and issued a feline throat clearing. Translation: We need to talk.
Jo filled in the details of the disturbing events for Spence and Nolan while Phoenix and I carried her suitcase up to the guest room.
“It’s just for a few days.” I lowered my voice as I carried Phoenix in my left arm and dragged Jo’s suitcase up the stairs with my right. “And you like Jo, although not as much as Spence. It must be the whole male-bonding thing.”
Phoenix gave me a cat eye roll, which I took as his grudging approval of our temporary houseguest. After depositing Jo’s luggage, I made quick work of putting fresh sheets on the guest bed before returning to the living room.
“Would anyone else like dinner?”
My unexpected guests accepted my invitation. I was a little intimidated by the thought of cooking for Mr. Spencer Holt, Peach Coast’s most lauded chef, but what could go wrong with spaghetti and meat sauce?
Nolan pinned me with wide, worried eyes. His blunt features were tight. “This is the killer’s second warning. We need to either find another way to identify them or leave the investigation to the deputies.”
While I made the pasta, Spence made the salad, and Jo drew Nolan aside to help set the table.
“I’m puzzled by the differences between the two messages.” I scrolled through the photos on my cell phone to bring up the image of the message left on Jo’s TV. I handed the device to Spence. “The first message was a letter written by the killer. It was very specific. They admitted to planning to kill Spence and threatened to kill me.”
“‘Mind your business or you’ll be added to the list.’” Spence gave my phone to Nolan. “But this one’s an order, ‘Stop protecting him!’ I assume they’re referring to me.”
It was chilling to think of Spence as the subject of the message, delivered by an intruder who’d assaulted Jo. They’d put one friend on their hit list, assaulted another, and threatened me. We needed to stop this person. “Could those messages be from different people?”
“That would support our theory that two people are behind these killings.” Jo laid out the placemats and folded dinner napkins at each setting.
“We should take this information to the deputies.” Nolan followed Jo around the table, adding glasses and silverware to the placemats.
Jo shook her head with enough force to propel her ponytail. “The deputies think the intruder got into my house because I’d left my doors unlocked. I didn’t.”
Nolan leaned back, apparently caught off guard by her vehemence. “You need to be kept safe.”
Jo spun to face him. “And this threat needs to be taken seriously. The only person doing that is Marvey.”
I rushed to correct her. “And I couldn’t do this without all of you and the librarians.”
A heavy silence settled over the kitchen and dining room. Tensions were reaching a boiling point. We were starting to snap at each other when the real villain was someone out there. A few minutes of peace would help us to refresh and regroup. Spence made quick work of the salad and I served the spaghetti and meat sauce. We gathered around the dining table, accompanied by the scents of oregano, tomato sauce, and parmesan cheese.
“I’m sorry I snapped at you, Nolan. I didn’t mean to.” Jo’s smile was a warm olive branch.
Nolan squeezed her hand. “I know. You’ve been through a terrible experience.” He shifted his eyes to me. “Thank you for being there for her and keeping her safe.”
“Of course.” A sip of iced tea eased my dry throat. Jo’s was one of the worst calls I’d ever received. “And thank you for keeping Spence safe.”
Nolan’s eyes twinkled as he considered Spence from across the table. “You learn a lot about someone when you live together even for a short time.”
“Nolan’s a slob.” Spence nudged aside his empty salad bowl.
“And Spence likes to sneak up on people.” Nolan spun his spaghetti around his fork.
I shook my head, smiling as Jo rolled her eyes. “We have to find out how the intruder got into your house, our library, and my office. If we could figure out their trick, we may be able to identify them.”
“We have to be careful.” Nolan looked to Jo. “Just because you’re not on the list doesn’t mean you’re safe.”
A sobering but necessary message. “The good thing is Spence and Brittany are safe tonight. Our investigation may have disrupted the killer’s schedule.”
“But now we don’t know what to expect from them or when.” Nolan looked around the table before returning his troubled gaze to me. “They’re going off script.”
“That’s fine. I didn’t like the original one.” The one that marked four people for death.
“Marvey Harris. May I help you?” I was working through lunch late Tuesday afternoon when my desk phone rang.
I’d hesitated before swallowing a bite of my chicken parmesan on whole grain sandwich to answer the call. I hadn’t found an eatery that sold chicken parm sandwiches. It wasn’t popular in the South. I’d had to make my own. It wasn’t bad for my first effort.
“Good afternoon, Marvey. It’s Trudie Trueman. How’re you?”
The New Yorker in me wanted to speed the conversation along and get back to work. But when in Rome...“I’m fine. Thank you, Trudie. How are you?”
“I’ve been busier than a moth in a mitten.” She sounded exhausted. Even if I hadn’t heard the saying before, I’d have understood her meaning. “There’s a lot of work to do and things to learn as I take control of my family’s business. That’s the reason I haven’t been able to return your messages. I’m so sorry.”
“I understand. Taking control of the company’s a huge responsibility. It’s been in your family for nineteen years, hasn’t it?”
“That’s right.” Trudie’s tone was surprised as though she hadn’t expected me to know that. “My parents started it my first year of high school. But I didn’t call to bend your ear with my life’s story. You probably didn’t expect to hear from me about your fundraiser, did you now? Mama and Daddy weren’t known for their charitable gift giving. They were richer than Croesus, but they’d still squeeze a quarter so tight the eagle would scream.”
I smiled at that Southernism, too. “I appreciate your returning my call.”
“Of course. But I’m not contacting you to make a standard contribution. Rumor has it you’re looking for a replacement donor since Malcovich backed out of its commitment to the library.”
Awkward. I searched my mind for a diplomatic response. “Malcovich Savings and Loan has been a valued library supporter.”
“Well done.” Trudie laughed softly. “It was shabby of them to pull out of the fundraiser, especially at such a late date. I’m sure if Nelle was still alive, she would’ve pitched a hissy fit with a tail on it.”
Probably. “Peach Coast has a lot of charitable causes and the bank wants to contribute to as many as possible. We’re just grateful it’s willing and able to continue to support us.”
“Well, I’m calling because I’m willing to take the bank’s place as your lead donor, or rather my company is.”
For a moment, I lost my breath. Was I dreaming? I struggled to breathe again. “Trudie, that’s very generous of you. Thank you.”
“Please, no thanks are necessary. It’s my pleasure. I consider this part of making Peach Coast my home again.”
My relief was incredible. I felt as though a fifty-pound backpack had been removed from my shoulders. Seriously, was I dreaming? “Thank you so very much, Trudie. I’m beyond grateful and I know the other librarians will be too.” Now no one would have to worry about being out of a job next summer.
“You’re all very welcome. I’ll just fill out the paperwork that you sent me and we’ll be good to go.”
I couldn’t wait to tell Corrinne and the other librarians. Maybe our summer goals were achievable after all. At least Trudie had given us another chance.
“We’re still a bit short of my fundraising goal.” I shared the disappointing news about the library’s Summer Solicitation Drive campaign with Jo, Spence, and Nolan over lunch at To Be Read Wednesday afternoon. After spending the rest of the weekend at my home, Jo had returned to her place Monday. Thankfully, she hadn’t had any trouble since her scare Saturday.
We’d chosen a table toward the front of the café, surrounded by the scents of seasoned meats, fresh rolls, savory soups, and strong coffee.
“How short?” Nolan asked. He sat across the table from Jo with Spence beside him.
Spence had started referring to Nolan as his bodyguard since his friend was doing his best to stick to Spence like gum until we found the killer. I suspected he was only partially joking. Spence had remarked more than once that he found the situation frustrating.
On the other hand, acting as Spence’s shadow was giving Nolan a lot of extra opportunities to spend time with Jo. I watched his gaze once again drift toward my friend as though pulled by a magnetic force. Jo smiled at him before dropping her gaze. Knuckleheads.
I named the estimated fundraising shortfall in response to Nolan’s question. “It’s discouraging because we would’ve exceeded our goal if the bank hadn’t withdrawn its support.”
“I’m sorry, Marvey.” Jo’s expression crumbled with disappointment as though it was her campaign and ultimately her job on the line. “I know how hard you worked on this project.”
Spence jumped in. “Let’s not admit defeat yet. There are ten days left to the campaign. More contributions will come in and some of the companies that haven’t responded to your solicitation yet might come through.”
“You’re right.” I gave him a grateful smile. “I’d given up hope of hearing from Trudie Truman, but she called me yesterday afternoon and offered to take the bank’s place as our lead donor.”
Jo applauded. “Congratulations!”
Spence lowered his sweet tea. “That’s terrific.”
“Trudie Trueman?” Nolan asked. “She’s your new lead donor?”
I regarded Nolan from a warm bubble of joy. “Yes, I was so relieved to get her call. She didn’t offer as large a gift as the bank, but if it wasn’t for her donation, we’d have an even greater deficit to overcome to reach our goal.”
Nolan didn’t appear as relieved as the rest of us. If anything, he seemed even more troubled. “Is Trudie making a personal contribution or is this coming from her family’s company?”
“The gift’s in her company’s name.” This couldn’t be heading in a good direction. “Nolan, what’s on your mind? You’re making me very uncomfortable.”
“I’m sorry.” His sandwich forgotten, Nolan slid a look toward Jo and Spence before returning his attention to me. He lowered his voice. “Trudie’s company’s no longer a client, but I’m still not comfortable betraying her confidentiality.”
“And I wouldn’t ask you to.” I sensed his turmoil from across the table. It was like a sound wave pushing against me.
“At the same time, I don’t want to put you or the library in a bind.” Nolan lowered his voice again. “Let’s just say, if Trudie’s made a generous donation on behalf of her family’s company, well, that dog won’t hunt.”
My eyes dropped to my ham and cheese sandwich. Having lost my appetite, I nudged the plate aside. “When you suggest I shouldn’t rely on a generous gift from Camden County Construction Contractors, how generous do you mean?”
Nolan shook his head. “If I were you, I wouldn’t depend on any gift from Trudie’s company.”
Jo gaped at him. “Are you saying her company doesn’t have any money? But Camden County Construction Contractors is one of the biggest employers in town.”
Nolan raised his hands. “I’m not comfortable saying anything more.”
Spence’s eyes were dark with regret. “I’m so sorry, Marvey.” He frowned at Nolan. “I hadn’t realized Trudie’s company was in such a dire situation. They submitted a bid for expanding my family’s bed and breakfast. It was the lowest one, but we turned them down. One of the higher bids included better quality materials.”
I took a deep drink of my soda to ease my dry throat. That bubble of joy hadn’t lasted long. “Thanks for the warning, Nolan. Our volunteers and I are still working the phones and making other contacts. At least we’re on track to do better than break even, which will help persuade the board to support it again next year.”
Nolan sat back against his chair. “I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news, and sorry that I can’t give you any more details.”
I exhaled a heavy, frustrated breath. “This isn’t your fault at all. Why would Trudie do this? Surely, she knows she doesn’t have this kind of money. Then why would she make a promise she can’t possibly keep?” I pressed my lips together, cutting off the rest of my rant. I could hear the stress and temper in my voice.
Nolan spread his hands. “I’ve gotten to know Trudie. There are a number of reasons she would have made this offer. She probably thought the donation would help her to appear successful. Appearances have always been important to her family.”
Jo shook her head. “Maybe she thought replacing Malcovich and being listed as the fundraiser’s lead donor would be a good advertising opportunity for her company?”
“That’s possible.” Spence nodded as he considered Jo’s theory. “The fundraiser’s supported by several prominent companies. You can’t underestimate that kind of positive exposure. It could help boost her company’s profile.”
“Those are all good theories.” I looked from Spence to Jo and Nolan. “There’s just one problem.”
Nolan frowned. “What’s that?”
I held his gaze. “What was she planning to say when we asked for her check?”
Nolan dragged his hand over his close-cropped hair. “That would’ve been bad. I could see her writing the check. And I have no doubt it would’ve bounced.”
Urgh! “Now I have to tell Corrinne, Viv, Floyd, and Adrian that Trudie’s donor pledge is bogus.” I blinked back tears. The thought of delivering that crushing news to my friends broke my heart. It made our fear of future layoffs seem more real.
“We’ve got enough on our plate, Phoenix.” I’d settled at my dining table to enjoy an after-dinner cup of lemon herbal tea Wednesday evening. “The bank backed out of its donor commitment. The replacement donor isn’t as flush as she’d led me to believe, and I’m running out of time to stop a serial killer. I don’t think I can take on anything else.”
Phoenix didn’t stir from his napping position, curled up like a ball beside my chair.
“Thanks for caring, pal.”
I shifted my attention to the index cards on which I’d taken notes on the investigation: impressions on the high school newspaper articles and yearbooks, summaries of the targets’ social media accounts, and interview synopses.
I’d been shuffling and reshuffling them for almost an hour, spreading them across the table, hoping reviewing them out of order would trigger a fresh perspective on the case. So far, nothing.
When my doorbell rang, I leaped from my chair. Hopefully, it would be Spence or Jo—or both. Three heads were better than one. Maybe they could look at the random cards and find a clue or link I’d missed.
I checked my security peephole. My porch lights weren’t on. The sun was still strong at six o’clock on a June evening. But my eyes must have been playing tricks on me.