Lindsey had not expected to have to call out of work to spend the day cleaning her apartment. Generally, cleaning ranked in the top five of her least favorite things to do and it was amazing how the chore of dusting could be usurped by a good book. Not today, however.

Thankfully, the crafternoon ladies all popped in and helped, and it wasn’t long after Officer Wilcox left with his fingerprint kit and digital camera that order was restored. The most critical of all, of course, was making sure her books had not been harmed. Her first fear when she saw the pile on the floor had been that the person who had broken in had damaged the bindings and ripped the pages. After the bout of panicked nausea had passed and she discovered that they had thrown them on the floor in either a temper tantrum or to see if there was anything behind them, she felt like she could breathe again.

None of the books were rare editions or of any spectacular value beyond the sentimental, but they were hers and they comforted her and it hurt her to see them mistreated. As she placed the last of the books, an old edition of Dashiell Hammett’s The Thin Man, back on the shelf beside her other favorite of his, The Maltese Falcon, she felt as if she were back in control of the situation.

“Lindsey,” Stew Hardy called to her from the front door. “Here are the keys to your new locks.”

Stew had moved to Briar Creek from Ansonia just a few months before Lindsey had been hired as the library director. He was somewhere in his sixties and lived alone with a parrot named Mojo, who liked to hang out on Stew’s shoulder during the summer months and chat with the regulars at the bakery in town.

Despite being retired, Stew worked as a local handyman who specialized in locks. Lindsey knew he wasn’t much of a reader, but he sure put the library DVD collection to good use, his favorites being superhero movies.

“Thanks, Stew,” she said. She took her new keys and jiggled them. “Did I tell you we got the new Avengers movie in yesterday?”

“Sweet!” Stew said. “I know I’m first on the list.”

“Yes, you are,” she said.

“When do you think it’ll be ready?” he asked.

“I’m going to put a rush on it tomorrow,” she said. “Because I really can’t thank you enough for this.”

“Ha! Wait ’til you get my bill,” he said. He laughed at his own joke, which made Lindsey smile, and then he nudged her with an elbow. “Just joshing. I’d never overcharge for something like this. Damn shame someone decided to pick on you.”

“Thanks, Stew,” she said.

“Listen.” He looked serious. “My locks are good, but you need to be careful. Got it?”

“I promise,” she said. She waved as he headed down the stairs, and then she turned to go back into her apartment. There were still gouges in the wooden door where it had been pried open. She quickly glanced away, realizing that was a chore for another day off.

Lindsey knew tonight was going to be a bit unsettling, but she was determined not to be freaked out in her own home, even though she was.

Mary Murphy hauled a garbage bag holding the remnants of Lindsey’s couch pillows and dropped it just outside her front door.

“I think I got all of the pillow fill that was scattered,” she said. “Heathcliff was a big help, really.”

Lindsey smiled. She knew Heathcliff equated pillow innards with toys so she could only imagine what a help he had been.

“Dishes are washed,” Violet said as she joined them. “And I took the liberty of making a pot of coffee.”

“Terrific,” Nancy said. She gestured to a plastic container on the counter. “I brought some macaroons.”

Beth came out of the bedroom with a bucket and a sponge. “I think I got all the fingerprint dust residue off of your furniture.”

Violet and Charlene had taken on the chore of washing Lindsey’s bed sheets and blankets, which had been thrown to the floor. They came out of the bedroom behind Beth, having just remade the bed.

“Your place is no longer sullied by the break in,” Violet announced.

“I truly can’t thank you all enough,” Lindsey said. “It would have been a very long and scary day for me if I’d had to do this all by myself.”

“That’s what friends are for,” Nancy said. She opened the lid off the macaroons and passed out some napkins.

Mary plunked six mugs down on the counter and began to pour the coffee while Violet put out the bowl of sugar and a small pitcher of milk.

Lindsey felt as if her throat was too tight with emotion to choke down a macaroon, but she gratefully reached for a mug of steaming hot coffee.

“So now that we’re all together,” Beth said, “start talking.”

Lindsey sputtered on her coffee. She gave her friend a wide-eyed look. She loved her friends, but she didn’t think it wise to talk to the entire group about her brother or his possible connection to the dead man or the break-in.

“So a sleepover at Sully’s last night?” Mary asked.

Mary was Sully’s little sister, so to say that this was uncomfortable was putting it mildly.

“What book was I supposed to be getting for our next crafternoon?” Lindsey asked. “Beth, you were lobbying for The Secret Garden, weren’t you?”

“Yes, and I already have copies for all of us,” she said. “And that was the lamest attempt at a subject change ever.”

Lindsey rolled her eyes. “Does the word awkward mean anything to you?”

“Please, I’m a children’s librarian. It’s hard to define awkward when you dress like Babar the Elephant and do finger plays and felt boards every week,” she said.

“She has a point,” Violet said. She blew on the steaming coffee in her mug and asked, “So how did Robbie take the news?”

“What news?” Lindsey asked.

“That you and Sully are back together,” Charlene said. Both she and Violet gave Lindsey reproving looks, no doubt because Robbie was a longtime family friend.

“You are?” Nancy asked, looking delighted.

“Hold the phone,” Lindsey said. She held up her hands in a gesture to stop the crazy talk. “I fell asleep on Sully’s couch. There is nothing, and I do mean nothing, else to report.”

The looks of disappointment were almost comical, except of course, for Charlene and Violet. They looked hopeful.

“Stop that!” Lindsey said to them.

“What?” the mother and daughter asked in unison.

“Thinking that I am going to take up with Robbie and give him a reason to stay in Briar Creek,” she said. “He’s married, remember?”

“Kitty is just his business manager,” Charlene protested. “I’m sure he’ll file the divorce papers now, especially if he knows it bothers you.”

Mild frustration had Lindsey biting a macaroon in two. “It doesn’t bother me, because he and I are just friends.”

Nancy and Mary exchanged a pleased look.

“Sully and I are just friends, too,” Lindsey said, squashing their moment.

“Well, it must be nice to have two men interested in you,” Beth pouted. “Heck, I’d be happy if one man looked my way and wasn’t swept off by some exotic beauty . . . ouch!”

Lindsey kicked her ankle to stop her from saying any more.

“Oh, was that your foot?” she asked. “Sorry.”

Beth frowned at her, but the others were already assuring her that she would meet someone someday.

“Beth, you are a wonderful woman,” Charlene said. “Any man would be happy to have you.”

“Really? Then I’ve been alone for over a year because why exactly?”

“Mostly because you picked a clunker and stayed with him for too long,” Nancy said. Beth looked about to protest, but Nancy shook her head. “I know he died a horrible death but really, dear, you need to have your boyfriends vetted. He was not a keeper.”

Beth sighed and rested her chin on her hand while she absently stirred her coffee. “You’re right.”

“What about using an online dating service?” Mary asked. “I know of two couples who met that way and they seem very happy.”

“I tried,” Beth sighed. “The first guy wanted to know how much money I made. The other guy wanted me to send him proof that I owned my house. I’m telling you, ladies, it’s just weird out there.”

“Maybe you could meet someone doing volunteer work,” Charlene said. “You could be a baby snuggler at Yale–New Haven Hospital or a dog walker at the Humane Society.”

“No,” Beth said. “I’ve tried all of that. I even attempted to join an adventure club where you go hiking and boating and do all sorts of cool stuff. Everyone was coupled off after the first two weeks and the cheese stood alone. In case you’re wondering, I am the cheese, the stinky kind apparently.”

“Well, that’s a good thing,” Nancy said. They all looked at her and she explained, “Cheese gets better with age.”

Beth burst out laughing. She hugged Nancy close and said, “And that is why I love you; you know just what to say.”

When the crafternoon ladies left, Lindsey sank down on her sofa and Heathcliff jumped up beside her and planted himself on her hip. He was a cuddly dog by nature, but she wondered if his canine sensors had picked up on the fact that things were not normal and he felt a need to keep close.

She scratched his head. “It’s okay, buddy, we’ll stick together and be just fine.”

But it wasn’t fine. According to Emma, there was still no ID on the dead man in the library. Jack was missing, and no matter how many times she checked her phone, there was no text or e-mail from him to give her any peace of mind.

Now someone had broken into her home and they’d been looking for something. It certainly hadn’t been a who, because they wouldn’t have felt compelled to destroy all of her pillows and toss the place. No, this had definitely been a thing they were seeking, but what?

It was getting dark outside, and she knew she needed to feed Heathcliff and take him for a walk before settling in for the night. She sat staring out the windows that gave her a view of the bay and the islands, willing herself to get up.

A creak outside her door made her insides clench. Her pulse kicked into triple time and Heathcliff launched himself off the couch to charge the door with his ferocious barking growl fully engaged.

Lindsey crossed to the door. She figured she’d play it up just in case her destructive visitors had returned.

“Down, boy!” she ordered. “And don’t go for the throat. If you kill again, they’ll euthanize you for sure.”

Heathcliff cocked his head at her in a look that said more plainly than words that she was overselling it. Lindsey shrugged.

“Lindsey Norris, that is quite possibly the worst performance I’ve ever heard,” a man’s voice with a distinctive British accent said through the door. “Now, let me in, I brought dinner.”

Lindsey yanked the door open and there stood Robbie Vine, carrying a large pizza and a bottle of wine.