Chapter Eight

 

Gillian and Bennett left the library together. Lucy remained in the break room talking on her cell phone. Lindy placed a hand on James’s arm. “There’s something I want to talk with you about before I leave.”

“Okay,” James said. He looked around for Scott and Francis and saw them at the computer station. They’d watched Sheriff Huckabee’s statement too and now had their heads together talking a mile a minute.

“Let’s move over near the checkout counter,” James said. “I can feel a cold breeze coming in from the door.”

“The situation is this,” Lindy began. “I’m concerned about my students. They’re not reading books. I don’t think they’re using the school library or this one at all.”

Scott and Francis approached and Lindy waved them over.

“Have the three of you noticed that high school students are coming into the library less?” Lindy asked.

Scott nodded. “For sure.”

“I agree. We don’t see the young ones in here as much anymore,” Francis said from the great height of his late twenties.

“What do you think they’re doing instead?” James asked. “Or do I want to know?”

“They’re spending all their free time posting to various social media sites,” Lindy replied. “Some of that’s okay, but I believe it’s gotten out of hand. It’s like their eyeballs are glued to their phone screens. I understand it’s the thing nowadays, but I think it’s detrimental. Phone use is banned in class, but I can’t control what they do when the bell rings.”

“We need to get them reading more and interacting with one another instead of their phones,” James mused.

“Exactly,” Lindy said. “But how? I thought you might have a suggestion, James.”

“I don’t know. I’d have to think about it.”

Scott and Francis exchanged a long look, then Scott nodded.

Francis spoke. “Scott and I have been tossing around an idea called Story Surprise. What we’d do is wrap a couple of dozen books in brown paper. Don’t worry, Professor, we’d use grocery bags to keep the budget down.”

“Then we’d write, like a hint, on the paper,” Scott said, “of what the story inside is about. Kids would have fun picking out books based on that alluring tidbit.”

“There would actually be two copies of each book. Like, I know we have two copies of Agatha Christie’s And Then There Were None, so we’d include that one for sure,” Francis said. “Then, we could have a Story Surprise party here at the library.”

“Yeah,” Scott said. “Everyone who’s participated comes in and holds up their book. They match up with the other person who’s read the same book. The two sit down and talk about the story. We’d have good snacks, too.”

Francis nodded eagerly. “Excellent snacks are critical, dude.”

Lindy hooted with laughter. “That is genius! My students will love it!”

James stopped himself from puffing out his chest with pride. “Lindy, didn’t I tell you I had the best two library assistants in the world? Scott and Francis, can you start on the project right away?”

The twins beamed. “Absolutely!” They hurried down to the end of the counter, where Scott grabbed a notebook and pen. The two then darted into the fiction stacks, talking a mile a minute.

“Those are good young men,” Lindy said, gathering her coat around her.

Lucy appeared. “Are you leaving, Lindy?”

“I’d better. Look how dark it is outside. I’m late getting supper on the table. Luis’s mother has probably taken over the kitchen while telling her son what a second-rate wife he has.”

“I hope that’s not the case, but if it is, you tell him that improving young minds is worth delaying his meal,” James said.

After Lindy left, James turned to Lucy. “Well?”

“Murphy was released ten minutes ago. She said she was going home to shower and change clothes. Then she’s headed to the Red Bird. She wants to pick up her things from there.”

James nodded. “And maybe talk to some of the actors. I’d like to question them myself. I’m going to the Red Bird.”

“I’ll meet you there,” Lucy said. “I’ve got to take my patrol car in case I get called out.”

A few minutes later, James sat shivering in the Bronco despite wearing his warmest jacket and wool scarf. While he let the truck warm up, he saw snowflakes begin to land on the windshield. He craned his neck and looked up at the tall light pole in the library parking lot. Against the light, he could see the snow coming down fast. Hoping this wasn’t the big snowstorm the meteorologist kept predicting, James pulled out his cell phone and dialed Jane.

“Hi, sweetheart. Are you on your way home?” she answered.

James resisted the urge to ask how she was feeling. “Not exactly. Did you see Sheriff Huckabee’s statement on the news?”

“Uh-huh. Excuse me a moment, James. Eliot! Don’t touch the Crock-Pot! Remember how it gets hot around the top.”

James could hear his son moaning in the background. “Is he all right?”

Jane chuckled. “He’s fine. Wants his dinner, is all.” She lowered her voice. “Now he’s collapsed onto the living room rug, clutching his stomach and saying that he’s going to die of hunger if he doesn’t eat right now. That chili you made in the Crock-Pot this morning has the whole house smelling delicious.”

“It’s no-meat. I found the recipe online.”

“I can’t wait to dig in myself. You’re spoiling me. I may have to appoint you cook after our little girl is born.”

“You know I’ll do anything to help out. Listen, honey, Murphy is headed for the Red Bird to get her things. I want to go down there and talk to her in person, hear what she says happened last night. I’m not at all convinced she killed Edwards.”

“I know you and Murphy were close at one time.”

“We were, but I’ve come to believe that none of my other relationships worked out because I was still in love with you.”

“Oh, James Henry, I’ve never loved anyone besides you. I love you more every day. Go talk to Murphy and see what you can find out. I swear I think you’re a police investigator in a librarian’s clothes.”

James couldn’t help feeling proud that Jane thought so, but he knew the success he’d had with past murders was all due to teamwork with the other supper club members. “Okay, if you’re sure.”

“Mom!” Eliot howled.

“Young man, mind your manners!” Jane told their son. “James, I see snow coming down. Drive carefully and you can tell me all about what Murphy says when you get home.”

“Can I bring you anything?” James asked.

“Like ice cream?” Jane said and laughed. “Thank you, but no.”

After exchanging “I love yous,” James disconnected the call and got on the road south. Pleased that the snow wasn’t sticking to the roads and making them slick, he made good time. He parked next to Lucy’s patrol car outside the Red Bird and walked to the front door, then glanced back to make sure the Bronco’s lights were off and groaned. Deputy Keith Donovan’s black Camaro was parked at an obnoxious angle on the opposite side of the parking lot. “Great,” James muttered.

Inside, Donovan stood at the entrance to the living room with his legs drawn apart in a cowboy-like stance. He turned his head at James’s arrival and glowered. “Looking for food? Rats try to get in places they don’t belong when it’s cold outside.”

“I’m certain you’re an expert on the subject, but I’m here to meet Lucy.”

The tall redhead curled his lip. “Thought you were married now. Besides, she’s over there by the sofa, mooning over Sullie. Like he cares. Can’t take his eyes off Amber Ross, the makeup gal. Don’t blame him. I wouldn’t mind some alone time with her myself. Heck, that author, Valerie Norris, would do if Amber’s not available.”

James told himself that Gillian would advise him not to waste his energy on taking offense at Donovan’s remarks. He looked past the aggravating deputy into the red-themed room.

In one corner, a card table had been set up. The Hearth and Home actors—Brandon Jensen, Joel Foster, Amber Ross, Valerie Norris, and a tubby man who James recognized as Doug Moore—sat around the table playing Monopoly and talking as they had in the show. At the end of every episode, the children and their parents would play the board game and discuss whatever life issues had cropped up during the evening’s show. This always ended with conflict resolution and lessons learned combined with life-affirming and hopeful messages. James figured this grown-up photo shoot would mean a lot to fans and reunion attendees.

A photographer adjusted what looked like huge white umbrellas with bright lights, then called out, “Okay, everyone, play the game like in the olden days and smile at one another while I get these shots.”

“Woof! Woof!” Doug Moore answered.

Brandon, wearing what James thought looked like a very expensive blue sweater that complemented the actor’s eyes, said, “What’s Doug doing now?”

Valerie, her blonde hair up in a French twist, stylish glasses perched on the end of her nose, looked at Brandon and rolled her eyes. “Doug’s got the dog piece. He said he’d only bark throughout the game.”

“Woof!”

“Do I have time to check my lipstick?” Amber asked.

Joel said, “It’s perfect, don’t worry.”

“Still the peacekeeper, eh, Joel?” Brandon remarked. He lifted his left arm and stretched so that his sleeve raised a couple of inches. A gold watch glistened in the bright light.

James wondered if Brandon was the most successful of the actors post-show and what he did for a living now. Or, maybe, since Hearth and Home repeats still aired on cable channels, the actors received hefty residuals.

The sound of the front door opening and closing behind him caught James’s attention.

Murphy, looking far from the polished author, newspaper owner, and partner in a development scheme, took one look at Keith Donovan and Lucy and pursed her lips. She had on jeans and a white puffer coat. Her face was devoid of makeup.

Donovan turned toward her, his hand going to his gun holster as if Murphy were an armed, dangerous criminal. “Where do you think you’re going?”

Lucy came forward, hands folded across her chest. “Sheriff Huckabee said she could get her things.”

Totally out of character, Murphy bowed her head and waited for permission.

James said, “Hello, Murphy. I thought I’d help you pack up.”

Murphy glanced at him and nodded.

“Hold the phone here,” Donovan said. “Who said you could, Henry? I’m in charge of the crime scene.”

James looked at Lucy.

“I did,” she said. “You can leave, Donovan, now that I’m here.”

“No way,” the deputy snarled.

“Let James go with Murphy,” Lucy said on a sigh. “She’s not in our custody. We can’t control who she associates with.”

Thanks a lot for that glowing recommendation, James wanted to say, but he bit his tongue and walked behind Murphy up the stairs. Donovan followed. When they reached the third floor, James pulled down one end of the crime scene tape that crossed the bedroom door. Murphy turned the doorknob, switched on the light, and walked in. She held the door open long enough for James to enter, then closed it.

“I’ll be right outside here,” Donovan called. “Don’t try anything funny, librarian. Always sniffing around my crime scenes, dang it.”

“Why are you here, James?” Murphy asked. She looked around the room at the stripped bed, at the lone female cardinal on the mantelpiece, and the fingerprint dust everywhere.

James waited until her gaze rested on him again before he spoke. “I want to help. All of us do. Tell me what happened.”

Murphy dropped her head into her hands and burst into tears.