“Hello, Marvey? It’s Adrian. I’m here at the circulation desk. Ms. Nancy and Ms. Natalie Kenton would like to speak with you, please.” Curiosity threaded through the library assistant’s voice and down the phone line.
“Thanks. I’m on my way.”
Adrian’s curiosity was contagious. Why were Nelle’s sisters here? Cradling my phone, I stood from my desk. The text notification chimed on my phone. My parents had sent another photo from their adventures in Peach Coast sightseeing. They’d made it to the beach, which was practically deserted on a late Thursday morning.
Wish we’d brought our swimsuits.
I chuckled. LOL! Next time.
Pocketing my phone, I went to meet the Kenton sisters. It was a short trek from my office to the circulation area. I located Nelle’s sisters right away. They stood within an arm’s reach of the intricate weathered oak desk. Even if Nelle hadn’t shown me photos of them, I would’ve known they were her younger sisters. They could’ve been triplets, which would’ve been strange considering they were each about three years apart.
“Good morning. I’m Marvey Harris.” I waited for the two women to return to the counter. “My sincere condolences on your sister’s death. I miss Nelle. I considered her a friend.”
“Thank you.” The one on the right was Nancy, the middle sister at twenty-nine. I was pretty certain. She had dark brown hair that hung in straight tresses to her shoulders. Her big cornflower blue eyes were full of shadows and grief.
Natalie was silent beside her. At twenty-six, she was the youngest Kenton sister. She’d dragged her dark brown hair into a hurried knot at the nape of her neck. Her turquoise blue eyes were a balanced mixture of anguish and anger. Nancy wore a simple brown dress that hung to her knees. Natalie was clothed in baggy gray shorts and an oversized black T-shirt.
I shared a look between the women. “Would you like to speak in my office?” I sensed Adrian and Viv straining to hear our conversation even as they assisted customers.
Nancy nodded. “Yes, please.”
I held open the oak, half-waist swinging door that separated our guests from the library’s employees-only section. “May I get you a coffee or some tea?”
Natalie broke her silence. “No. Thanks.”
“No, thank you,” Nancy responded at the same time.
After gesturing them to the two guest chairs in front of my desk, I closed the door to ensure our privacy.
“I wish we’d met sooner.” I circled my desk and settled onto my chair. “Nelle spoke about you a lot.”
Nancy took the seat to my right, leaving Natalie with the chair closest to my conference table. “She’s...She’d mentioned you as well. She said you were really nice for someone from New York City.”
I blinked. How should I take that? “Please let me know if there’s anything I can do to help.”
“Thank you.” Natalie was speaking again. “And thank you for the cards you sent. They were beautiful.”
“She was a special person.” The words felt so inadequate. I wish I could say more, do more.
Nancy cleared her throat. “The deputies finally released Nelle’s body to the funeral home. We’re making arrangements for her wake now. We hope you can attend.”
“Of course.” That went without saying. My heart hurt for them. I couldn’t imagine the pain and sorrow I’d feel if someone killed my brother. I blinked away tears just thinking about it. “I’m certain a lot of people will want to pay their respects.”
“And there are a lot of people I’m fixin’ not to invite.” Natalie’s voice trembled with anger.
“Nat, don’t be ugly.” Nancy’s voice was quiet, sympathetic, but firm.
Nelle’s younger sisters’ sorrow was like a being that had entered my office with them. I sensed Nancy’s battle with depression and it tore me apart inside. Natalie was entrenched in the second stage of grief, anger. How much of that was caused by her sister’s as-yet unsolved homicide?
I took a breath to settle my nerves. “I’m sorry to ask, but do you have any idea why anyone would want to harm Nelle?”
“No.” Nancy shook her head.
“Yes.” Natalie sat straighter on her chair.
I gave Nancy an apologetic grimace, then turned to Natalie. “Who?”
Agitation added volume and texture to Natalie’s voice. “A lot of people were jealous of my big sister all of her life. She was sharp as a knife, successful, admired, and beautiful.”
I offered both women a tissue from the box on my desk before taking one myself. Natalie’s assessment of Nelle’s qualities were true. “But who would be jealous enough to kill her?”
Natalie gave me a pointed look. “Who benefited from my sister’s death?”
Chet Little was promoted to Nelle’s job, but would he have killed for it? And what motive would he have to kill the other people on the list—a list I couldn’t discuss with Nancy and Natalie? This may not be the right time to pursue the investigation with Nelle’s sisters.
Nancy changed the subject. “We’re here because we heard Malcovich Savings and Loan has declined to keep the gift commitment it had made to our sister and the library.”
Natalie scowled. “Our sister secured that commitment and gave her word to the library. The bank didn’t have the right to withdraw it.”
Tread gently. “Chet Little explained there were other charitable programs the bank wanted to support at this time. We were disappointed but don’t begrudge another nonprofit the opportunity to receive donations.”
“Chet Little.” Natalie spoke the name of her sister’s interim replacement like she was spitting out rotten meat. “Isn’t he precious.”
I blinked. To my understanding, aren’t you precious was a close relation to bless your heart. Both were ambiguous as to whether the speaker was being empathetic or insulting. In this instance, it was obvious Natalie wasn’t paying a compliment to her sister’s former coworker.
I continued. “Nelle understood the library’s value to the community. In fact, she came to us to offer support. I’m hopeful with a little time and effort, I can persuade Chet to be a champion of the library also.”
“You’d be better off talking to a fence post.” Natalie shifted on her chair, crossing her legs and folding her arms. She was tall but slight, and her anger seemed to swallow her, just like her shorts and T-shirt.
Nancy gave her younger sister a worried look before returning her attention to me. “We realize the bank’s decision has put the library’s fundraiser in a bad spot. That’s why, as Nelle’s sole beneficiaries, we want to make a donation to the library in her memory.”
I pressed a hand to my heart. “Thank you so much. That means a lot to me personally, and I know the library team will be very moved by your gift.”
For the first time, a trace of humor eased the strain and sorrow that shadowed Natalie’s thin features. “You don’t even know how much we’re giving you yet.”
I spread my hands. “We’re grateful for every donation, especially one made in your sister’s name.”
Nancy revealed the size of the gift. My eyes stretched wide. Shock knocked the breath from me. I opened my mouth, then closed it.
“It’s not as much as what the bank had originally promised.” Nancy shrugged. “But it’s what Nelle would’ve wanted. She’s always loved libraries.”
I swallowed the emotion that fought to settle in my throat. “I don’t know what to say. ‘Thank you’ doesn’t feel like enough. It’s a very generous gift. On behalf of the library, thank you so very much.”
Natalie stood. Nancy and I followed suit.
The youngest sister adjusted her tan purse on her left shoulder. “We’ve heard that you’re trying to find the person who killed our sister. That’s more than enough thanks. But please be careful. Nelle wouldn’t want anything to happen to you.”
My thoughts went to Spence. I didn’t want anything to happen to him or anyone else.
“Why can your parents read a map but you can’t?” Jo was lending a hand clearing the dining table after my impromptu dinner party Thursday evening.
“Don’t be judgey.” I packed the dishwasher as my guests carried plates, glasses, silverware, and serving trays in from the dining room.
Unlike Spence, I wasn’t opposed to my guests helping with the cleanup. Did that make me a horrible host? Probably.
“I’m not judging.” Jo started to wash the pots and pans I’d left soaking in the sink. “I’m just curious as to why the first day your parents arrive in Peach Coast you can set them loose with your car and a map, yet after five months you still can’t find your way around town even using your phone’s GPS.”
“It would help if she’d listen to it.” Spence’s voice was dry as dust. He set the entrée plates on the counter above the dishwasher.
“She’s always been too impatient to read instructions. I think the same thing applies to directions.” Humor thickened my father’s words. He added the silverware and serving spoon to the counter. “Cooking instructions, assembly instructions—not even with a bribe.”
Lifting my head, I gave my father a taunting look. “Perhaps you had the wrong bribe. Should’ve tried chocolate.”
“The dinner was wonderful, Marvey.” Nolan returned the pitcher of lemonade to the refrigerator. “Thank you again for including me.”
“Of course.” I smiled. “Thank you for coming.”
Mom set the leftover rigatoni on the counter beside the refrigerator while she hunted through cabinets for the aluminum foil.
The whole house smelled of spicy pasta sauce, savory meats, garlic and sharp cheeses. I hadn’t intended to make that dish for my parents’ welcome dinner. I’d planned on something a bit more regional as a special, surprise treat. But they’d arrived in between trips to the grocery, and my cupboards were almost bare. Rigatoni ingredients were all I had that would stretch for my parents and the friends I wanted them to meet: Spence, Jo, Cecelia, and Nolan. In addition to the meal, my dining table also had strained to accommodate the seven of us. My father and I had lugged the extra leaf from my basement.
Plucking the aluminum foil from a top cupboard shelf, Mom wrapped the leftover rigatoni in preparation for storing it in the fridge.
“After a while, one would think you’d get tired of always getting lost.” There was a definite teasing tone in my mother’s voice.
Cecelia carried in the salad bowls. “If impatience is her worst fault, I’d say you should be thankful. You’ve done a wonderful job raising your daughter. She’s quickly become a valuable member of the community. In less than a year, she’s already left her mark on this town.”
I looked toward Spence’s mother in surprise. “Thank you for saying that.”
My parents exchanged a proud look.
“That’s always nice to hear.” Mom led the group into the living room. “But we wish those marks didn’t include homicide investigations.”
She and my father sat together on the sofa. Phoenix curled up on her lap. Spence, Nolan, Jo, and I carried blond wood dining chairs into the living room.
My stomach muscles knotted in dread. I loved my family and didn’t want to give them any reason to worry about me. But I also loved my friends and didn’t want to desert them when they needed me most. I was torn between two loyalties that shouldn’t have to be in conflict.
“Mom, Dad, you taught me the importance of helping people in need, especially family and friends.” I set my hands on my hips. “That’s all I’m trying to do.”
“We understand.” Mom looked at Dad beside her. “And we’re proud of you, Marvey. We’re not opposed to you helping your friends, but you can’t expect us not to worry, especially when you don’t tell us what’s going on.”
Fair enough. I gave my parents an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry.”
“I can imagine how unsettling that’s been for you.” Cecelia gracefully lowered herself onto the armchair. She smoothed the skirt of her linen dress over her knees and crossed her feet at her ankles. “You’re hundreds of miles away and unfamiliar with the town and its residents.” She met my gaze from across the room where I’d set my chair beside my parents. “But if it hadn’t been for your daughter making the connection between the list she found and Hank’s and Nelle’s suspicious deaths, we wouldn’t have realized Spence’s life was in danger.”
Dad shifted on the sofa to face me. “You believe the connection between the people on the list is the local high school?”
“That’s our strongest theory.” My eyes dropped to the sofa cushion. Dad had wrapped his right hand around Mom’s left hand as they lay on the sofa between them.
Mom frowned at Spence. “But you’re class of 2008. The other people on the list are class of 2006. Besides your alma mater, what did you have in common during your high school career?”
Spence was seated across the room near his mother. “Ma’am, the one thing we all had in common was the school newspaper. Brittany Wilson was its editor in 2005 and 2006. Coach Hank Figg and Nelle Kenton were her top reporters. And I was editor in 2008.”
Dad’s eyes circled the room. “One thing’s certain. Everyone on the list is very successful in their careers.”
I stood to pace. “I’ve wondered if that’s significant as well. But there are other lawyers, business owners, and executives who’ve graduated from the local high school and still live here.”
Dad turned to Spence. “Your times on the newspaper are two years apart. Did you cover any of the same stories?”
Spence spread his hands. “Sir, Brittany and I kept computer files of the newspapers we edited. We all went through them, but nothing jumped out at us.”
I gestured toward Cecelia. “Ms. Holt brought me the 2006, ‘07, and ‘08 yearbooks. There weren’t any commonalities across those years.”
Mom shifted Phoenix from her lap and rose to wander the room. “What happens when we set aside their graduation dates and focus on the school paper? Hank, Nelle, and Brittany worked on the paper in 2006.”
“And only Spence worked on the paper in 2008.” I paced toward the fireplace.
Mom faced me from the other side of the mantel. “What happened while Hank, Nelle, and Brittany were on the paper in 2006 that affected the paper in 2007? That’s what connects Spence to the other three.”
“We’ve been looking at the wrong year.” My eyes grew wide with realization. I turned to Spence. “It’s not 2006 or 2008. We need to look at 2007.”
Dad looked around the room. “So, who had a really bad 2007?”