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Grayson said, “Well, that was a lot to unpack. I feel sorry for the guy, though. I think the loss of his wife really hit him hard.”
“His house, too,” I said. “But I totally understand where he was coming from. Of course he wouldn’t want to live next door to his ex-wife and her new husband. Why would he? It makes sense that he’d move away and buy something over here.” I paused. “Did you notice he seemed to think that Victor was murdered in the house?”
Grayson nodded. “I wonder if he was just trying to show that he didn’t know anything about the murder. Or if he genuinely didn’t know anything about it.”
“Or if he was just too intoxicated to remember what the cops had told him,” I said dryly. “All of those things are possible.”
Grayson asked, “Do you know this Joel Burns he was talking about?”
“Some. I’ve seen him at the library before.” I frowned. “Wait a minute. I think I’ve seen his name recently somewhere else.” I pulled out my phone.
“On social media, maybe?”
I shook my head. “I haven’t really been online that much lately, aside from doing research.” I scrolled through my Google docs on my phone. “Here it is. He’s one of the speakers on the mental health and well-being panel we’re hosting at the library on Monday.”
“Oh, right, I remember seeing that and thinking I needed to send one of our reporters to cover the panel. But if Joel is going to be a speaker, I’d like to be there myself.” Grayson took out his own phone. “I’ll make sure the panel is on my calendar for Monday.”
A scratchy voice said, “You guys shouldn’t be on your cell phones during the block party.”
We turned like guilty children to find Zelda glowering at us. I put away my phone hastily. “I was just checking on a library event, Zelda.”
This didn’t appease her, however. “You’re off work. You should be having fun.”
Grayson and I hastily assured her we were having fun, although possibly not right at that second. We put our phones in our pockets.
“Things are going great with the block party, Zelda,” said Grayson, giving the woman a reassuring grin.
Zelda, however, looked pretty strung out and as if she might pull out a cigarette at any time. I had the feeling she didn’t care much about being a hostess. She wasn’t a hostess, of course, but she seemed determined to fill that role.
Zelda croaked, “Not really. People aren’t following my guidelines.”
There was no way to argue this. No matter what people were doing, Zelda would think they were breaking the rules.
Now Zelda turned her focus completely on me. I wondered what sort of infraction I’d committed. I saw Fitz watching us from the cottage window, his tail wrapped around his feet. Zelda said, “Saw you talking to that murderer yesterday.”
I blinked at her. “I’m pretty sure I didn’t speak with any killers. Where? At the library?”
Zelda made a scoffing sound as if to say I didn’t go anywhere else but the library. She wasn’t all that wrong, of course. “You were talking to that Veronica Carpenter.”
So much for patron privacy. Zelda just guaranteed that Grayson knew for sure the identity of the patient who was so unhappy with Victor.
Before I could say anything in Veronica’s defense, Zelda continued in a furious tone. “Dr. Sullivan was my doctor. I know that woman is responsible for his death. She killed my doctor.”
Zelda clearly viewed Victor Sullivan’s death as a personal affront. She added, “The woman who’s always taking you away from your work.”
I stifled a sigh. Zelda couldn’t seem to get it through her head that a big part of my job as a reference librarian was to sit down with patrons and assist them with projects. I tried again, as Grayson gave me a sympathetic look. “Research is an important aspect of my work.”
“I’m not having that,” snapped Zelda. Now she did take out a cigarette. “I know that woman did it. I saw her. Yelling at him. Now I have to go find another doctor.”
Grayson asked, “You saw this Veronica yelling at Victor? When was that?”
Zelda gave Grayson a grim smile, as if rewarding him for fully comprehending the issue. “Thursday. It happened Thursday.”
That was the day before Victor’s murder. I said, “You actually saw this? Veronica told me she hadn’t spoken to Victor Sullivan in a long time.”
“Of course I saw it! Right in the street outside the grocery store. She yelled at him. And Dr. Sullivan just looked like he wanted to get away from her. But she didn’t have to kill him. I don’t like having to find a new doctor.”
Grayson said, “No, that’s really difficult. I’m sorry, Zelda.”
Zelda rewarded him with another smile. Then her expression darkened again. “Saw you talking to Roger. That guy is causing me a headache,” she said, glaring at Roger’s back. I was thinking Roger had perhaps escaped because he was staying out of Zelda’s way. It wasn’t a bad strategy.
“Something’s wrong with Roger?” asked Grayson.
Zelda’s previous approval of Grayson abruptly ended. She rolled her eyes as if indicating that if Grayson had any sense, he would immediately see what was wrong with Roger. “Have you seen his mailbox lately?”
Grayson gave the question careful consideration. “I’m sure I have, but I didn’t pay close attention to it.”
Zelda waved her hands in the air. “It’s horrible! It’s not up to the HOA code. Okay, so he wanted to replace his mailbox when he first moved in. Good for him, but he didn’t get the standard mailbox for the neighborhood. They’re all supposed to be consistent. But he put some monstrosity up. I’m sure he’s not up to USPS standards for size or height. I’m going to report him.”
Quite the welcome to the neighborhood.
Zelda continued. “Then there’s his yard art. Have you seen his yard art?”
Grayson and I shook our heads.
“Flamingoes!” she fumed.
I said, “Interesting choice. I didn’t realize they were back in fashion.”
Zelda muttered. “All different colors. Not just pink.”
“Even more of an interesting choice, I said.
“Did you see his wind chimes made from empty beer cans?” demanded Zelda.
I was beginning to think I needed to spend more time on that end of the street. “They sound very whimsical,” I offered.
Zelda said darkly, “Changes have gotta be made.” Her expression boded ill for Roger Driscoll. “The stuff I have to deal with. Of course, my free dinner at Quittin’ Time with Linus tomorrow might be okay.” Her expression showed she found that very unlikely.
“It sounds like you’ve had a rough week,” said Grayson. “But the block party is a huge success. Look around—everyone is having a great time. We’re all coming together, making connections with our neighbors. It’s a really nice event.”
Which was when, naturally, everything went horribly wrong. A dog broke away from his owner and merrily ran up and down the street, scarfing down food from every table he passed. Neighbors tried in vain to grab his leash, but the dog was far too fast. The grand finale, before he was finally captured, was when he knocked an entire table of barbeque over and delightedly gobbled up the spoils of his raid.
Zelda’s face was quite a picture. She took another long drag on her cigarette in a futile attempt to steady her nerves. I glanced over at Grayson, wondering how he could put a positive spin on this particular setback. “They’ve got the dog now,” he said cheerfully.
Zelda just glared coldly. Which was when a sudden rainstorm blew in, dumping buckets of rain on us and extinguishing Zelda’s cigarette quite effectively.
“Gotta close it all down,” she snarled, stomping away. “Last block party!”
Grayson helped me grab my salad, plates, and the table. Already soaking wet, we scrambled for the house.