Saturday turned out to be another beautiful June day. Too lovely for a funeral, I thought, and felt a pang of guilt for feeling relieved that Aiden’s funeral was only for the immediate family and I wouldn’t have to go. Though last evening I’d overheard someone say there would be a memorial service in a week or two, which I planned to attend. I brought my lunch to work, intending to eat it sitting on one of the new benches they’d recently installed on the Green.
I was glad Angela was enjoying her honeymoon, but I sorely missed her and wanted to get her down-to-earth input regarding the latest I’d learned about Donna and Roxy and Aiden’s office staff. I also wanted to tell her that her mother was finally seeing her brother as the troublemaker she always knew him to be.
After glancing through my emails, I left my office to see if any of the ongoing programs were in need of attention. The large reading room looked deserted, with only a few patrons thumbing through magazines.
Smoky Joe came bounding over to greet me, and I bent down to pet him. “I’m sorry no one’s around to give you attention.”
Marion was shaking her head as she walked from the children’s section to join us. “I can’t remember the last time this place was so deserted. I have a children’s book author scheduled this afternoon, but I’m afraid she won’t have much of an audience.”
“I suppose it’s the good weather,” I said. “People want to stay outdoors.”
Even the knitting and crocheting group that met weekly was much smaller than usual. I had nothing pressing that needed attention. Except those dratted monthly financial reports Sally had us fill out.
The phone was ringing as I reentered my office. “Hi, Carrie. John here. I was wondering if you have any time to answer a few questions today.”
“I sure do. We’re having a really slow day here at the library. Want me to come down to the station?”
“I’d rather stop by the library, if that’s all right with you.”
“Of course.”
“Be there in ten.”
Minutes later, John arrived, a coffee cup in hand. He pulled my assistants’ chair from behind the desk and dropped into it, downed what remained of his coffee, tossed the container in the garbage, and stretched out his long legs.
“Did you go to Aiden’s funeral?” I asked.
John shot me an amused look. “I thought I was here to ask the questions.”
I shrugged. “Just wondering. In the movies, the detective always attends the murdered victim’s funeral. To observe if anyone looks guilty.”
“I happened to stop by to pay my respects, but no one looked especially guilty.”
“Too bad.”
John cleared his throat. “So, Miss Carrie Singleton, how well did you know the deceased?”
“Not well at all. I first met him at my friend, Angela Vecchio’s, bridal shower, which was held in his home two weeks before her wedding, where he died.”
“How did he seem at the shower?”
I thought back. “Fine.”
“In good health?”
“As far as I could tell. He came over to congratulate Angela and she introduced him to me and our three library friends. Then Donna’s cousin Roxy whisked him off to a seat at her table.”
“Roxy did, eh?”
“Yes.”
John jotted down a note in his small notepad.
“And the next time you saw Dr. Harrington was?”
“The night of the rehearsal dinner, which was the evening before the wedding.”
“Did you get a chance to notice him? Talk to him?”
“I saw him early on with Tommy Vecchio, looking uncomfortable as Tommy rattled on. Though Dylan and I sat at the same table as Aiden, I didn’t talk to him. Aiden left the dinner early—while I was in the hall talking to Angela. Dylan said he claimed he didn’t feel well.”
“Oh? Did he drive himself home?”
“Let me think. I believe he did. Roxy offered to drive him. Donna didn’t like that idea. She went home with Roxy later that evening.”
“Did Dr. Harrington seem ill to you?”
“He was rather quiet after having an animated conversation with Dylan earlier in the night. Donna said he was probably suffering from his allergies.”
“She didn’t seem concerned that he wanted to go home early?”
“No. Not at all. She was more bothered that Roxy offered to take him home.”
“Roxy again,” John commented.
He took me through the wedding, and I said that I’d noticed a few times that Aiden seemed wobbly on his feet and a bit out of it.
“Who was near him when he fell?”
“Dylan and I were the closest. Some guests were nearby. I don’t know their names.”
“Not his wife or Roxy?”
I thought a bit. “They were ahead of Aiden on the dessert line and had returned to their table. People were pressing forward to see Aiden. Dylan held them back while I pushed through the mob to get my phone to call you. When I looked, Steve and his best man were holding Donna back from throwing herself on top of Aiden.
John took me through the entire series of questions again. He made a few notations in his notebook, then he leaned back and gave me his full attention.
“Anything happen that evening or the preceding days you found odd or suspicious?”
“There’s Tommy, for one thing. He was furious that Aiden decided he couldn’t or wouldn’t back Tommy’s movie. Dylan and I heard him telling his girlfriend that Aiden would pay because no one disrespected Tommy Vecchio.”
“Anything else come to mind?”
“Roxy was all over Aiden, which annoyed Donna. I don’t blame her. Roxy’s behavior would annoy any wife, even if her marriage had problems.”
John raised his eyebrows. “Was the Harrington marriage in trouble?”
“I’m not saying they were heading to divorce court, but Donna’s sister Frankie told me that Donna was unhappy.”
“Because of Roxy?”
“I don’t know. But when Roxy tried to comfort her right after Aiden died, Donna shoved her away. Those two have a strange relationship—squabbling one minute, best buddies again the next.”
“Did you get the sense that Roxy and Aiden were having an affair?”
I shrugged. “I really couldn’t say. She acted like she had a right to his attention.”
“And how did he respond?”
I thought a moment. “He tolerated her attention.”
“Tolerated, eh?”
“Yes. He didn’t pursue Roxy or initiate contact when I saw them together. Vera, Aiden’s office manager, thought they were having an affair since Roxy was always stopping by the office, but his partner Nick didn’t think that was necessarily the case.”
John shot me a look of fake surprise. “Vera and Nick? You just happened to run into them and they offered you their opinions on Dr. Harrington and Roxy’s relationship?”
Oddly enough, that was exactly what had happened, but I had the good sense not to say. “I chatted with them at Aiden’s wake. Didn’t I mention it?”
“No, you didn’t.” John grinned. “Carrie Singleton! You can’t help investigating a murder, can you?”
I shook my head vehemently. “I’m not investigating. Simply keeping my eyes and ears open. Last night I went to Aiden’s wake to pay my respects, and Vera and Nick were standing in front of me in line. Vera struck up a conversation. Honest! She’s very friendly.”
“All right. I believe you.” John got to his feet. “Thanks, Carrie.”
“Is that all?” I asked.
“Yes, unless you have something more to tell me.”
“I don’t.”
“You sound disappointed,” John observed.
“Do you have any more information about the poison given to Aiden?” I asked.
“They’re still thinking it was thallium—a colorless, tasteless element that’s slow-acting.”
“Then the murderer may not have been at the rehearsal dinner or the wedding.”
“He or she may have been at those events but administered the poison a day or two earlier. Several possibilities.”
John opened the door to let himself out. “If you should happen to learn anything that has a bearing on this case—and I do not want you snooping around—please pass it on.”
“Of course. You know I will.”
He’d no sooner left than Evelyn made an appearance. Her lips were pursed in disapproval. “I’m surprised at John Mathers—telling you one thing when he means quite the opposite.”
I laughed. “He can’t help himself. On one hand, he feels obliged to protect me by instructing me to leave the investigation to him. On the other hand, I’ve been too resourceful in the past for him to ignore my input, especially since I have gotten to know the important people in Aiden’s life.”
“Who do you think killed him?”
I rubbed my chin as I considered her question. “I don’t know. I imagine the police are investigating recent thallium sales and searching homes, but so far there’s no evidence pointing to any one person—as far as I know.
“The poison was administered days earlier, and Aiden was in the company of several people—Donna, Roxy, Tommy, the people who work in his office. Patients. Which leads to the question: Who had reason to want Aiden dead? His marriage was in trouble. He might have been having an affair with Roxy. Tommy Vecchio was furious at him. And he planned to talk to Dylan after the weekend.”
“Now that’s interesting,” Evelyn said. “I wonder if he wanted Dylan to investigate a theft or a crime.”
“Donna said that recently Aiden had been spending evenings shut inside his home office. Maybe he was worried about his practice.”
Evelyn laughed. “Or he could have been sexting with his lover.”
“Evelyn!” I said, pretending to be shocked.
“I know. The things I learn from patrons’ conversations.”
I felt a chill of cold air as she dropped into the chair John had recently vacated. “Have you figured out how you’re going to find my brother?”
“I found out where Michelle lives. I went to see her, but she wasn’t home. I’ve been too occupied with Aiden’s murder to plan my next step. For all we know, Harold died some time during these past fifteen years.”
She shook her head. “I sense he’s alive, though I have no idea where he might be. You have to find him! Poor Michelle’s about to be turned out of her apartment. I’m worried she’ll fall ill or harm herself.”
Something about her concern didn’t feel right, but I couldn’t put my finger on it.
“Michelle’s lease is probably up at the end of the month, which is only a week or so away. I’ll drive over to her apartment during my lunch hour. Hopefully, she’ll be in this time.”
Evelyn opened her mouth as if she was about to speak, then closed it without uttering a word. I sensed she wanted to tell me to go see her niece this very minute, then thought better of it. After all, I was employed by the library and couldn’t very well leave during working hours in order to investigate on her behalf. But I was happy to do it during my free time. I wanted to help Michelle and that meant tracking her down as soon as possible.
At noon, I exited the library’s parking lot and called Dylan on the off chance that he was free to talk. He was playing golf today with a friend who lived a few towns away. I was glad he had found time to do something relaxing. I was in luck. He and his friend and the two men they were playing against were taking a break so we had a minute or two to chat.
“John stopped by the library to ask questions regarding Aiden’s murder.”
“Yeah. He texted me. I told him I’d stop by the precinct when I was done here.”
“I’m on my way to see if Evelyn’s niece, Michelle, is home. Evelyn’s worried about her, and for good reason, but dropping in like this on the chance that she’s home is like shooting fish in a barrel.”
“Does she have a car?” Dylan asked.
“I don’t know, but I bet her husband took it when he emptied their bank account.”
Dylan gave a snort. “A real standup guy. In that case, if she’s not home I’d check out stores within walking distance.”
I thought a minute. “What a great suggestion. There’s a block of shops near her apartment.”
I heard voices in the background.
“Gotta go. I’ll pick you up a little after seven.”
I smiled, thinking of Dylan as I drove to Michelle’s apartment. I was getting used to having a man in my life—always in touch to talk about anything good or bad that happened during the day. I liked the sense of continuity we had developed, and that he supported me when I needed support, like when my mother had come to Clover Ridge.
Enough! I told myself. I was beginning to sound like lovey-dovey Angela.
Minutes later I parked half a block from the entrance to Michelle’s garden apartment unit. I felt nervous as I climbed the stairs to her apartment since there was no way I could bring up her long-departed Aunt Evelyn as the reason for my visit. I should have worked out my story on the drive over instead of mooning about Dylan.
Still, I rang the doorbell, hoping that a brilliant idea would come to me. I could be a long-lost relative. And then what?
But I needn’t have worried because, though I rang and rang, there was no answer. I decided to try her neighbor once again. Before I even stepped in front of her door, it flew open and Bobbie was pushing out a stroller.
“Hi!” she greeted me. “I was wondering if you were ever coming back.”
“Well, I’m here, but I see Michelle’s out again.”
“She’s running a few errands. She has to be back by two because I’m driving her to see a room she might rent.” Bobbie made a face. “I told her that neighborhood isn’t safe, but she said that’s all she can afford until she gets another job.”
“Has she been looking for a job?”
“She tried once or twice, but getting turned down only made her feel worse. She’s hoping the medicine her doctor prescribed will help lift her depression.”
I thanked Bobbie and headed for the shops a block away. I peered inside the Dollar Store, the take-out Chinese restaurant next to it, then walked through the small supermarket, but there was no sign of anyone resembling the girl whose photo I’d seen on Facebook. I entered the large drugstore and walked through the shampoo and conditioner aisle when I became aware of loud voices coming from the pharmacy area in the rear.
“I know your prescription is valid, Mrs. Forbes, but if you can’t pay for the medicine, I’m afraid I can’t give it to you.”
Michelle! I walked toward her.
“I know this credit card is okay,” Michelle said, her voice shaky. “I keep it for emergencies. Please try it again.”
“Sorry. It’s been canceled.”
“That can’t be! How did he get to this card, too?” Michelle burst into tears.
The pharmacist’s voice softened. “I am sorry, Mrs. Forbes. Perhaps you can borrow the money from a friend or a neighbor. Right now I have to ask you to step aside and let me help the other customers.”
Michelle rubbed her eyes. She left the line and nearly bumped into me. “Sorry,” she mumbled.
“I’m sorry you were unable to get your medicine, Michelle.”
She stared at me. “How do you know my name?”
Think fast, Carrie. I plastered a wide grin on my face. “My name’s Carrie Singleton. I’m a librarian at the Clover Ridge Library. I knew a few of your relatives who used to work there.” True enough.
“But that still doesn’t explain how you know who I am.”
I drew a deep breath. “Someone overheard a conversation mentioning you were having difficulties, and I thought I’d stop by to see if I could help.”
Michelle’s brow wrinkled because she realized there were missing pieces.
“Tell me, how much is the medicine you need?”
“Thirty-five dollars.”
“I’ll lend you the money for the medicine, if we can stop for coffee nearby so we can talk.”
Michelle blinked as she thought. “You went to my apartment! Bobbie said a family friend came by.”
“That was me. Let’s get your medicine then have a chat.”
“All right,” Michelle said and led the way.