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THE LIBRARY WAS BUSTLING when I returned. I checked in on Luna, who gave me a thumbs-up from the children’s section where she was expertly giving advice to a mom who wanted to find books similar to the Harry Potter series. I could hear Luna’s animated voice as she compared Percy Jackson and the Olympians and the Ranger’s Apprentice series with the Harry Potter books.
I still had a few minutes left on my lunch hour, so I headed to the lounge to check on the orange cat and to finish off the last few bites of my lunch. As soon as I opened the door, he made a trilling noise and jumped to his feet to wind himself lovingly around my legs.
I sat on the floor and he crawled into my lap, bumping his head against my neck. “What a sweetie,” I said to him, rubbing him under his neck as his whiskers quivered with delight. “We’re going to come up with a great name for you so we don’t have to keep calling you orange cat.”
The cat pulled his head back to stare piercingly at me with his beautiful green eyes. It was almost as if he knew what I was saying. For the next few minutes, I sat with him and loved on him and felt my stress level plummet. He really was the sweetest cat ever. Then, I gave him a final rub and got to my feet to finish off my lunch. He watched me intently as I finished my grapes. I looked in the bag of supplies that the storytime mom had dropped off for the cat. Sure enough, she’d forgotten nothing. I pulled out a bag of cat treats and gave him a few.
Remembering Wilson’s edict to set up a cat naming contest, I pulled out my phone and took a few pictures of the orange cat who was now lying on his back and grinning lazily up at my phone, I picked the best one and made up a quick flyer on the breakroom computer, then printed copies and put them all over the library to advertise our ‘name the cat’ contest. I put it on all the library social media sites, too.
Then I figured I could use the cat to announce the self-defense class. Not that one had anything to do with the other, and it was a totally gratuitous use of the cat, but a cute picture might get in front of more patrons on social media than otherwise. The orange cat was now dozing, snoring lightly, and I took a picture and posted the self-defense class info with a header saying “Don’t be caught napping! Learn self-defense moves on Monday with Whitby’s new sheriff!” I made a face. It was corny, but maybe it would get some shares. The cat looked adorable after all.
Once I left the breakroom, I helped a patron figure out how to find some genealogical information on her family and she was pleased to find out how much information was available online (and for free). Then a patron asked me to help her set up a new email address because her old one was overrun with spam. I showed her how to send a group email to let all of her contacts know about the email address change. I shelved some books, added books that had been requested by patrons to the holds shelf, and then talked with some folks who were coming up with names for the cat. So far, we seemed overrun with Kitty, Max, Milo, Tigger, and Felix. It was a good thing it was a contest and not a vote. The mild-mannered orange cat wouldn’t be the type to mind any name, but I kind of hoped for something more original for him.
Finally, there was a lull in the library while the patrons were all focused on the book, periodical, or computer they were looking at. Luna walked up to me.
“How’s it going?” I asked. For me, first days had always been stressful. But Luna looked as comfortable as if she’d been in the Whitby Library all of her life.
“It’s great. I love the patrons here. The parents have been terrific and the kids have been adorable. I felt good about helping them find a new series or picture books and the library has an awesome collection, just like you said. I’m looking forward to the storytime this afternoon,” said Luna.
“Good,” I said. “Do you have any questions for me at all?”
She grinned at me. “As a matter of fact, I do. What’s the status of the orange cat? I saw he and Wilson were looking very cozy with each other in the breakroom.”
I grinned back at her. “Apparently, we now have ourselves a library cat.”
Luna gave a whoop. “I hoped so! I spotted one of your flyers and thought it would stink if we had to give him away after coming up with a name for him. That’s awesome! That cat could win anybody over.”
“Now we just have to figure out a name for him,” I said dryly.
Luna asked, “While you were out at lunch, did you hear any news updates? You know, about your date?”
I said with a smile, “You’ve been away from Whitby for a while. We don’t really have that kind of news coverage here. It’s definitely going to make the newspaper, but it’s not on radio or TV or anything.”
“Oh, right.” Luna made a face. “I’m just curious.”
I glanced around, but no one was within earshot or needed help. I said, “But I did go to the salon where Mary, Roger’s former coworker works.”
Luna’s eyes opened wide. “Find out anything?”
“She definitely wasn’t happy with Roger, that’s for sure. She admitted she felt he’d cut her out of a promotion, although she was a little cagier about how she ended up at the tanning salon. But she says she was working at the time Roger would have been murdered, so I suppose she has an alibi.”
Luna said, “Well, naturally that’s what she’s going to say. But honestly, who’d notice if she stepped out for a few minutes to knock him off? It’s not like the tanning salon has a line out the door, does it?”
I considered this. “True. And the salon is actually very close to Roger’s house, if she were willing to cut through some private property to get there. The problem I have with it is . . . why now? I’d think if you were unhappy about getting let go, you’d commit murder right after you were let go. I’m thinking a few weeks or a month has gone by. Mary already has a tan from the salon. Why not just get revenge on Roger right away, right after she’d lost her job?”
Luna shrugged. “Maybe it just festered for a while like a wound that doesn’t heal. Or maybe now the layoff is really hitting hard. Maybe she’s developed a health problem and her current insurance isn’t good. Maybe she’s just miserable at her job and is angry she’s not an investment counselor anymore.”
I said slowly, “Or maybe she thought getting rid of Roger right after she was laid off would make her too much of a suspect.”
“There you go again! Your deductions are right on, Nancy Drew” said Luna.
I said, “I probably need to fill in the police chief.”
Luna shrugged. “Sure. But isn’t he doing some sort of self-defense thing here on Monday? I saw it on the social media feed. You could just tell him then. So who’s the next suspect? Did you get any leads on who else had a beef with Roger?”
I hesitated and then slowly said, “Mary said there was an investor who was upset with Roger for some bad advice he’d given him. Apparently, he’d lost a lot of money.”
“Did she give you a name?” asked Luna.
“She did. And I actually know him. He’s a friend of mine—he was one of my college professors. There’s absolutely no way he could have done it. He’s never displayed temper, ever. He never even raised his voice in class. He was an amazing teacher, and he’s always been so patient and kind. He’s one of those types of people who always has a twinkle in his eye.”
“Sure, but keeping your cool in a classroom and keeping your cool during a bad financial transaction are two different things. You know how people can be when it comes to money. Nobody wants their standard of living to go down,” said Luna.
“It has to be someone else. It sounds like Roger might have been the kind of person to make a lot of people angry.”
Luna leaned forward. “You know most murders are committed by someone the victim knew. Or family. What’s this guy, Roger’s, family like?”
“I did have a chance to talk to his sister for a while. She indicated they had a good relationship,” I said.
“Naturally she’s going to say that. But what impression did you get from her?” asked Luna.
I thought about this for a moment. “Honestly, I felt like I wasn’t hearing the whole story. And for such a devoted brother, the police chief thought it was weird he didn’t have pictures of Heather or her child up.”
Luna said. “Makes sense to me. Now, on to another subject. What do you do here in Whitby when you’re not at the library? I need some ideas. I’m pretty locked down with my mom right now, but I want to have some good plans for when she’s back on her feet.”
I snorted. “When I’m not at the library? Is this a trick question?”
“Oh, come on! You’re young and attractive. You seem fun. You’ve got to be doing more with your time than working here, reading, and finding dead bodies,” said Luna dryly.
I blew out a deep breath and tried to think. “Yeah, I do some stuff, but it’s probably not the normal activities of your usual thirty-something. I run sometimes . . . although I’ve gotten off-track with that lately. I like to go hiking on the Blue Ridge Parkway trails. Occasionally, I’ll be part of the local theater—they have an amateur production company that is fun. And then I replace the birdseed at the park on Thursdays.”
I stopped this rendition as Luna gave me a horrified look. “Note to self,” she said, “Find Ann some fun things to do.”
I heard someone calling my name and turned around to see Roger’s Great-Aunt Emily walking toward me. She had tears in her eyes and was clearly distressed.
“I should get back to work,” murmured Luna. “Talk later.”
I gave Emily a quick hug, and she clung onto me as if for dear life. “Oh, Ann!” she moaned.
“How are you holding up?” I asked, pulling back to take a look at her. “Let’s sit over here and have a talk.”
We walked over to sit down in the cozy armchairs near the fireplace and the periodicals. I was glad for Emily to sit down. Whether from her tears or distress, she was wobbling unsteadily on her feet. The last thing I needed was another emergency on my hands.
Emily visibly tried to pull herself together, blinking her eyes and dabbling at them with a torn tissue. She sighed and said, “As I was trying to say, I’m so sorry you had to go through that yesterday, Ann! How awful it must have been for you; you were thinking you were going out for a fun evening and then . . .” She gave a great, shuddering sigh. “I feel so very terrible. I engineered this entire situation! I should never have tried matchmaking. It's just that I have so much time on my hands and not enough to do.”
“Don’t worry about me,” I said, giving her hand a quick squeeze. “I promise you, I’m fine. It was a terrible evening. But I can’t imagine how you must be feeling, trying to cope with your nephew’s death. That must have been such an awful shock for you.”
Emily nodded, an exhausted expression on her face. “It was. I think it’s really just now settling in. I couldn’t believe Roger was gone and in such a violent way. It’s so very disturbing. Heather called me as soon as she could to let me know.”
“Yes, I saw Heather last night at Roger’s house,” I said slowly. “I felt bad for her.”
“And there don’t seem to be any leads to tell us what happened,” said Emily sadly. “It just seems like the perpetrator disappeared into thin air. It’s so unfair to Roger—just starting out with a life of his own. And poor Heather—it must have been such a shock for her. Although, you know, Heather is just a rock; she is so organized and amazing. I think she keeps her emotions in check. Then the emotions come out sometime later and ambush her.”
I nodded. “I’m like that too, sometimes. It’s fine to keep your feelings inside . . . until one day when the dam breaks when you least expect it.”
Emily sighed. “She’s such a good girl, you know. She took care of her mother for years when she was suffering from cancer. I don’t know how she did it with a job and a baby in tow. I tried to help her out when I could, but the truth is I just didn’t have the stamina for it. But all the radiation and chemo treatments seemed to work, finally! We were so grateful. She’s in remission now, bless her. She decided the house and yard were too much for her, so Heather found a good retirement community for her to move to. It was quite a job, too. Heather helped her pack up some things and had a yard sale for the rest.” She sighed. “If only she could have had some help. If Roger could have maybe driven her to chemo treatments and that sort of thing.”
“Perhaps he was too busy with work?” I asked.
Emily apparently wasn’t the type to speak ill of the dead. “I’m sure he wanted to help. But you know how some men are.”
Not particularly. Not when it came to not helping out with a family emergency. But I nodded at Emily to encourage her to continue.
“He would pop by from time to time. He always made his mother laugh and that would cheer her up for a while. But I think it really troubled him to see her like that.”
I bobbed my head again in understanding although I was becoming increasingly glad that I hadn’t had that date with Roger. I’m sure it also troubled Heather to see her mother ‘like that,’ but she was able to move past it and help to nurse her.
Emily continued as if needing to come up with additional excuses for Roger’s slack behavior. “He also had a lot of things going on at his office at the time his mother was sick. There was some sort of flap with a fellow employee that he talked about a lot. Apparently, she was a real piece of work. The office was good to get rid of her.” She paused. “I’m sure he did help to a certain degree. He probably advised Heather on the business aspects of the sale. He was wonderful at business. It’s just a pity he was taken from us so soon.”
Roger had not even been dead for 24 hours and I’d yet to hear anyone say really wonderful, glowing things about him. Even his great-aunt Emily was struggling to find something other than ‘wonderful at business.’
But Emily looked so tired and dispirited that I wanted to try to distract her for at least a few minutes. She’d been a regular patron at the library since far before I started, and she was always cheerful and made me smile when she was here.
“Again, I’m so sorry about Roger. I know the police are working very hard to find who’s responsible for his death.”
She reached out and briefly squeezed my hand. “Thank you. You’re such a calming influence, Ann.” She laughed. “And I promise I won’t set you up on another date again. My matchmaking days are over. I’ll just have to figure out another way to spend them. Solitaire? Crosswords?”
I frowned and then said slowly, “I think you actually live in my neighborhood, don’t you, Emily?”
She nodded and I continued, “This is kind of a long shot, but the homeowner association president is really looking for volunteers to help serve on the board. Do you know Zelda Smith?”
Emily smiled. “Only a little.”
“Ms. Smith has been dying for me to serve, but I just don’t have the time to fit it in with my job being as busy as it is.” I hesitated. “I don’t think it would be much fun, but you mentioned you were looking for something to do.”
“You’re such a sweet girl. Actually, that’s exactly the sort of thing I should be doing. I guess Zelda just gave up asking me after so many years. But now I really do need to do something like that. Thanks, Ann. I’ll get in touch with her.” Emily reached out and patted my arm.
I said, “On a totally different subject, may I distract you for just a few minutes? You haven’t met our latest librarian here.”
“Oh, the new children’s librarian? I saw her briefly when I first came in.” From Emily’s expression, I could tell she didn’t have a wonderful first impression.
“Luna? She’s great. And I’ll introduce you to her, too. But I meant our feline visitor . . . as yet unnamed. Maybe you can enter our contest, too.” I handed her one of the flyers from a nearby table. “Actually, a lot of people have been entering our contest already today. But I’m hoping for some better ideas.” I noticed the stack of papers on the circulation desk where our patrons had been returning their votes had gotten larger since the last time I checked.
Emily’s eyes opened wide. Apparently, I had pegged her correctly as a cat person. “A cat? Here? In the library? How wonderful!”
“He’s a beautiful orange cat. From what I’ve heard, he was one of Elsie Brennon’s cats.”
“Oh, the poor woman. I was so sorry to hear about her car accident. And surprised! Elsie always drove twenty miles an hour,” said Emily sadly. “I’m sure she would be so happy to know her cats were all right. She set such store by them, you know. They were almost like children to her. She always showed me their pictures.”
I asked, “Do you remember what the cats looked like?” I asked.
“An orange and white cat and a tabby,” said Emily promptly. “But I couldn’t tell you their names, for the life of me. It’s a good thing you have a contest. Not that cats really respond to their names unless they feel like it.”
“Those sound like the cats we rescued. The tabby has already tentatively been adopted. The orange cat had such a rough day yesterday that I’ve had him cooped up in the breakroom. The vet asked me to keep him quiet after he was fixed. But I’m thinking a change of pace might be good for him. Would you like to take a book or a magazine into the Whitby historical room? I don’t think he’s quite ready to be in the rest of the library today, but I’d like to see how he does with you in another room.”
Emily beamed at her. “I’d love that.”
When I joined Emily again in the small room lined with old pictures, letters, books, and other Whitby artifacts, she was sitting in a large armchair with a cooking magazine in front of her. Her eyes widened at the sight of the orange cat purring in my arms.
I set the furry boy down on the floor and he immediately put two paws tentatively on the seat of Emily’s chair as if asking permission to jump up and join her. What cat ever does that? The cat my great-aunt had had years ago trod all over my laptop and me with no compunction whatsoever. In fact, he’d seemed to revel in my dismay when he’d typed all over whatever document I was working on.
Emily clucked at the cat and he gave an easy jump up, bumping his head on her hand and rubbing his cheek against her before quickly settling down on her lap with a contented purr. He was dozing soon after.
Emily looked at me. “I think he’s ready for the general library population. Seriously, Ann—what a sweetheart he is.”
The cat had so far won over everyone who saw him. “I may give that a go tomorrow. Today was supposed to be a quieter day for him, but I’m not sure he’d even be overwhelmed at all with a room full of people. When the library closes tonight, I’ll let him explore the rest of the library while it’s empty and I’m still here to supervise.”
Emily said, “And you’re still trying to figure out a name for him? With the contest?”
“Luna and I thought we’d review the entries later and see which one seems to be the best fit,” I said. Although the contest appeared to be really good today for patron involvement and awareness of the cat, I felt like we needed to dignify the furry boy with a name as soon as possible. This wasn’t a contest that I was willing to let go on for weeks. “Do you have an idea?”
Emily gently stroked the cat’s orange fur, and he purred louder in his sleep. “It would be fun to give him a literary name, wouldn’t it? If he’s to be a library cat? I may have an unfair advantage over the other folks entering the contest because I got to meet him. But he seems to me like he’d be a great Fitzgerald. Like F. Scott, of Gatsby fame, of course. He likes the good life, I think.”
I gave her a smile. “Honestly, I could see that. And he’s definitely the cat version of a man of the world, too, considering he was plucked from a culvert.”
“Fitz for short,” Emily said, scratching the cat under his chin to another explosion of purrs.
“It’s a good name,” I admitted. “I’ll jot it down and see how it compares to our other entries. Because it’s open to all our patrons, including kids, we’re sure to get our fair share of ‘Fluffies’. Nothing against Fluffy, of course,” I added, since who knew what Emily’s various cats were named?
“He definitely likes the good life,” Emily reiterated. “Look how contented he is. I don’t think you’re going to have a problem with him trying to get back outside the door.”
“That was another of my concerns,” I said. “The last thing I wanted was for us to embrace him as a library cat and then have him disappear the next time a patron walks in or out the door.”
“I just don’t see him being one to hover by the door looking for a chance to exit,” she said.
“And you’re our cat expert,” I said with a grin. “Thanks, Emily.”
“Thanks to you,” she said. “This has made my day. I’ll just sit in here for a while with my magazine.”
“When you’re ready to go, just text me and I’ll slide him back in the breakroom,” I said, jotting down my number.