Lindsey met Police Chief Emma Plewicki at the main doors to the library. She had called Emma directly and told her about the dead stranger. She did not tell anyone on staff. She didn’t want to cause a panic, plus if someone in the library had done the deed, she didn’t want them to slip away.

She had no idea where Jack had gone or what he might know about the man in the room. The only thing she did know was that Jack was no murderer. She didn’t care how bad it looked; she wouldn’t believe it until she heard from Jack himself.

Emma Plewicki was built solid with glossy black hair that framed her heart-shaped face and big velvet brown eyes that, surrounded by long curly eyelashes, had beguiled more than one felon into confessing his crimes.

Emma stepped through the sliding doors and looked at Lindsey in question. Lindsey tipped her head to the side in a follow-me gesture. Emma turned to the two officers who had come with her.

“Cover the exits,” she said. “Close the library. No one enters or leaves without my say-so.”

“What happened?” Emma asked Lindsey. She whispered so as not to alert the other patrons in the building.

It was a wasted effort. Every head swiveled in their direction as they made their way to the back room. One officer checking out a book did not get noticed, but three officers with two blocking the exits were hard to miss.

Lindsey didn’t want to lie to Emma, for not only did she like the chief in a professional capacity but she liked her personally as well. Still, she wasn’t ready to bring her brother into it, so she decided to stick with the facts, just the facts.

“I opened the door to the room to check on the temperature,” she said. “It had been too cold to use earlier, so I was following up. It was even colder this time. When I went in to see why, I found a man lying on the floor in front of the fireplace. When I checked him, I could see he had been strangled.”

Emma snapped her head in Lindsey’s direction. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Lindsey lied. She knew that Emma knew she was lying, but Emma nodded, accepting the big fib, and they hurried down the hallway to the back room.

Beth was standing outside the room. Lindsey had asked her to stay there until she returned with Emma. She didn’t tell Beth why she needed her to stand outside the locked room, and Beth didn’t ask. They had been friends long enough that Beth knew that whatever it was, it was important.

“Okay, Beth,” Lindsey said. “Thanks for keeping an eye.”

Beth looked from her to Emma and back. She had taken off her steampunk hat and goggles and regarded Lindsey with a pensive expression.

“Is it a gas leak or something?” she asked.

“No, nothing like that,” Lindsey said. “I’ll explain later.”

“Wait out here, please,” Emma said as she pulled on a pair of blue latex gloves. Beth nodded.

Lindsey took out her key and unlocked the door. She pushed it open. It was still bitterly cold, as the window was still open. The body was exactly where she had left it.

Emma hurried to the victim’s side. She glanced up at Lindsey. “Was this where he was when you found him?”

“Right here but facedown,” Lindsey said. “I flipped him over to see if he was all right.”

Emma nodded and confirmed what Lindsey had already discovered. “He’s dead. I’m guessing strangled.”

Her tone was dry, and Lindsey knew she was trying to sound as normal as possible, given the extraordinary circumstance. It just wasn’t every day that you found a man strangled to death in the library.

Emma used her shoulder radio to call one of her officers, requesting he place a call into the medical examiner, then she continued examining the body. Lindsey didn’t want to interrupt her, but she wasn’t sure what to do about the library. Did she keep it open? Close it? What?

Emma left the body and was now studying the room. “Lindsey, can you tell if anything is missing from here?”

It was on the tip of Lindsey’s tongue to say, Yes, my brother, but she held it in. She scanned the room. The collection of craft books were on the shelves. The fire was still out. The window was open but otherwise not even the cushions on the comfy couch seemed to have been moved.

Jack, where are you? Lindsey thought but didn’t say. Instead, she said, “No, everything looks fine except for the window.”

Emma crossed to the window and examined it. She checked the lock and then moved back and forth and from side to side as if looking for something. Lindsey watched her.

“We might get lucky with a set of latent prints on the glass. It doesn’t appear to be broken,” she said. “Could it have been left unlocked?”

“It’s possible,” Lindsey said, knowing full well that it had been.

She felt a twinge of guilt at not telling Emma about finding her brother in here, but how could she when she didn’t know where he was or what had happened? She glanced at the dead man, and her knees felt weak with relief at the realization that it could have been Jack lying there. Then she felt bad about being relieved, as perhaps this man had a sister somewhere who would soon be mourning him.

A noise outside brought their attention to the door. The door banged open and Officer Kirkland stepped into the room.

“Sorry, Chief, but the ME is here,” he said.

“Thanks,” she said. “Show him in and then gather everyone in the library into another room.”

“The story time room in the children’s area will work,” Lindsey said. She liked it for two reasons: One, it was big enough, and two, it was on the complete opposite side of the building from the crime scene.

“Excellent,” Emma said. “Thanks.”

“If you don’t need me here . . .” Lindsey let her words trail off. She wanted to be the stalwart library director, but honestly, the dead body was giving her a severe case of the wiggins and she wanted out of this room in the worst possible way.

“Go ahead,” Emma said. “I’m sure Officer Kirkland could use the assistance.”

Lindsey did not wait for her to change her mind. She hurried out of the room, passing Officer Kirkland. He was a big-boned, redheaded farm boy newly minted from his public safety training, and he followed Chief Plewicki around like an eager puppy.

“Are you sure you don’t need me, ma’am?” he asked.

“No, I’m good,” Emma said. “I don’t think our vic is going to put up much of a fight.”

Kirkland narrowed his eyes. “It sure looks like he didn’t at any rate.”

Emma studied him. “What makes you say that, Kirkland?”

It was all the invitation he needed. Kirkland crossed the room to her side and pointed to the vic’s hands. “There’s nothing under his fingernails. If he’d put up a fight, there’d be blood or skin. He looks like he just had a manicure.”

Emma raised her eyebrows. “What else?”

“His clothes aren’t in disarray or torn. There are no scuffs on his shoes. If he’d kicked out at anything or anyone, there is no sign of it,” he said. He pointed out the pristine shine on the man’s leather shoes. “Since he doesn’t appear to have put up a fight, it makes me wonder if he was unconscious when the person attacked or if the strangulation marks are postmortem, trying to throw us off the real cause of death.”

Emma nodded. She clapped him on the shoulder, looking pleased. “That’s exactly what I noticed. Nice work, Kirkland.”

He beamed at her, and Lindsey was surprised he didn’t start wagging. Lindsey bounced on her feet in the hallway. She was really ready to move away now and go search for her brother.

“Emma—” Lindsey began, but the medical examiner pushed past her into the room. “Hi, Dr. Griffiths.”

He gave her a surly nod and Lindsey reminded herself that he wasn’t a bad guy. He liked to read travel books about Europe and dreamed of backpacking there one day, but Lindsey suspected that his pteromerhanophobia held him back and “one day” might turn into “never” if he didn’t get over his fear of flying.

“Go ahead and move the people in the library,” Emma said to Kirkland.

He nodded, looking reluctant to leave. Dr. Griffiths, a small man with a bald head, which was surrounded by a gray fringe that stuck out all around his head just like the bushy gray mustache over his upper lip, gave Kirkland no choice as he elbowed the rookie out of the way.

“Again, Plewicki?” Griffiths asked as he snapped on his own blue gloves. “What is it you people don’t get about being a sleepy coastal community?”

“Sorry, Al,” she said. She held her hands wide. “What can I say? Briar Creek has become a hot bed of murder and intrigue.”

Griffiths snorted and the hairs on his mustache fluttered. Lindsey turned away. She had no interest in watching this. Kirkland was rooted to the spot, obviously fascinated to see what would happen next.

“Come on.” Lindsey nudged him with an elbow. “You think this is interesting? We have patrons we have to disconnect from their Internet session. You may want to keep your Taser handy.”

“Seriously?” Kirkland asked, his eyes wide.

“Haven’t been in the library at closing, have you?” she asked.

“No, ma’am,” he said.

“Well, follow me, you’re in for a treat,” she said. She wondered if he could tell she was being sarcastic. A glance at his face, which was eager, made her suspect that he could not.

Lindsey saw Officer Wilcox standing by the door and noted that he and Kirkland exchanged nods. Reassured that everyone was following the same game plan, she cleared her throat, preparing to address the library.

“Everyone, I’d like to have your attention,” she said. A few people turned in her direction, but for the most part she was ignored. Lindsey sighed. She really needed to consider a public address system. “Everyone, please, we have a situation. I need you all to move into the story time room for a few minutes while we get everything sorted out.”

Her voice sounded strained even to her own ears. She forced a reassuring smile. “The officers will escort you back there, and you should be free to go in a matter of minutes.”

“What’s going on?” demanded Peter Schwartz. He was a crotchety older gentleman known for complaining about everything from the hardness of the chairs to the quality of the air-conditioning. And yet he came to the library every day to read the newspaper of which he was not a good sharer.

“The officers will explain in a moment,” Lindsey said. “Please, if you’ll follow me.”

“No, I’m not going,” Mr. Schwartz said. “Unless the building is on fire or there’s a bomb in it, I’m going on with my day.”

He snapped open the newspaper he’d been reading and returned to the sports page as if he were oblivious to the people around him moving reasonably to the back room.

“I’m sorry, sir, but our orders are to have everyone gather in the back room,” Kirkland said.

Lindsey admired his diplomacy. She knew from several accidental fire alarms over the past few years that there was always one customer who refused to budge, as if whatever they were doing was so much more important than avoiding being burned to death. It boggled.

She glanced at the bank of Internet computers and saw that Beth was efficiently locking the sessions in order to get the people moving. Several of their regulars had already gone into the story room to await further instructions.

Ms. Cole and Ann Marie Martin, the part-time circulation clerk, were also helping to guide people in the direction of the story room. Not for the first time, Lindsey was grateful that she had such a crackerjack staff who did as she asked without question.

“My taxes pay your salary!” Mr. Schwartz rose out of his seat and stood up on his tiptoes, trying to intimidate Officer Kirkland.

“Excellent.” Kirkland leaned forward, forcing Mr. Schwartz backward just a little. “Then while we’re in the back room there, we can have a long discussion about why I deserve a raise.”

Mr. Schwartz looked as if he was going to choke on his own spit. Lindsey stepped forward before he stroked out on the spot, not wanting to add another body to her quota for the day.

The next time someone made the observation that working in a library must be lovely because it was so quiet, she didn’t think she’d be able to hold back her laughter.