Three Can Keep a Secret, page 4
That was one way to put it.
“Anita wasn’t an easy woman to like,” I said. Understatement. I could think of a couple of staff members who loathed her, Millicent being one. “And yes, this week particularly, she’ll be missed.”
“Is there any word on what happened? I understand she went off the road, but people are saying it wasn’t an accident.”
“That’s what I’ve heard,” I said, as I stood to rinse my dishes. “It’s possible she was run off the road.” I didn’t mention the potential blow to the head afterward—that hadn’t been verified, and the police would release that information when they saw fit.
“Witnesses?” Millicent asked.
“I don’t know. It seems unlikely given where she was.”
“Hmm. I suppose there will be an autopsy, and a—what do they call it? A toxicology test?” Millicent said.
“I would think so,” I said. “Is your shoulder still bothering you?” Millicent was once again massaging the joint.
“Hmm? Oh yes, yes, it is,” she said, standing and going to the teapot. “I’ve tried all sorts of things, but nothing works all that well when it gets colder. My doctor recently recommended CBD oil, of all things. I believe Anita was using it too—ski season is just around the corner.”
“I’ve heard it’s good for that,” I said. “Well, I’m off. Let’s hope we have a quieter afternoon.”
I left Millicent to her tea and went back to my office. I was surprised by her comment about Anita. Cannabidiol oil was one of the things I’d given her information about in relation to her knee. I could swear she’d harrumphed at it when I ran through the list of things I’d found. But you never knew. She might have heard the same thing from her doctor that Millicent had.
I’d reached my desk when I realized I’d left my book in the staff room. If I didn’t get it now, I’d forget, so back I went. I walked in to find Millicent rummaging through the cabinets. She jumped and gasped when she heard the door.
“I forgot my book,” I said. “Are you all right?”
“Yes. You startled me,” she said. “I can’t seem to find my tea. I picked up a special blend at the new tea shop off Main, and it’s not on my shelf.”
“A few people have brought things in from there. Maybe someone used it accidentally. I’m sure it’s here somewhere.” Total Tea was a new addition to Raven Hill. I hadn’t tried it yet, but enough of the staff had that I recognized the shop’s distinctive tins. I was hoping it was for serious tea drinkers and not too much of a “shoppe.” I needed something for my mother for Christmas, and she was a real tea connoisseur.
I turned and picked up my book. From behind me I heard Millicent say, “Ah, here it is,” and close the cabinet. She went toward the kettle with a bright red tin in her hand.
“Enjoy your cuppa,” I said, taking my leave once again. Back at my desk, I thought about Millicent as I updated the weeding schedule. She wasn’t quite herself. Anita’s death had stressed us all, but Millicent seemed jumpy, which was very out of character for her. I’d always found Millicent distant and, if I were honest, a little intimidating. But Helene had asked me to help her in the archives over the summer. We needed to shift a large group of bound volumes to make room for a donated collection of records, and Millicent couldn’t manage the heavy lifting. It had evolved to me spending a few hours a week with her, doing whatever small tasks needed to be done, leaving her to help researchers. We’d developed an easy camaraderie. She had a wide variety of interests and formidable research skills, and I learned a great deal working with her. I’d eventually shared the story of my husband Danny’s murder, and my concerns about the investigation. Millicent had asked thoughtful questions, suggesting a few things worth looking into. I’d thought, a few times, that she seemed a little short of breath and tired easily. It was possible she was just feeling her age. I hoped I looked that good and was that sharp four decades from now, but eighty years took its toll. I’d keep an eye on her.
There were a lot of people that merited keeping an eye on, though for different reasons, I thought as I went through some of the more mundane tasks on my to-do list. When I’d tried to come up with a suspect list the previous night, I’d run out of steam before I’d run out of names. It seemed everyone had some issue with Anita—but enough to kill her? Though you never knew what would flip somebody’s switch. And had it been planned or opportunistic? Would that change the list much, if at all? Plenty of people knew her schedule, her car, or where she lived.
But how many knew all of that? Particularly, what time she left here last evening. There had been quite a crowd, but most of the people on the book sale committee left while Anita was still looking for her glasses. Millicent was the most likely suspect among the staff, but I’d seen her leaving as I walked to the reading room. Granted, I hadn’t seen her pull out, but neither had I seen her car in the street or the main lot. Jilly had been closing, and she was jumpy about something, but I left before her, and Anita’s car had been gone when I walked out. Hadn’t it? Pretty sure it had. It seemed like there was something else, though. Something she’d said before she left. Something else to do? I stopped and thought, but the memory was just out of reach. It would come to me. I hoped. I shook my head, sent some reports to the printer, and pulled out a pile of purchase requests.
Anita didn’t have many fans among the rest of the staff, but I couldn’t see any of them killing her, and certainly not the two that were there Monday night. Same was true of the Friends, as far as I knew. If Jennie asked me to, I’d put together a list of who’d been around when I arrived, but I thought the killer would be found closer to home. From what Meadow had said, Sloane was furious with her mother. If she hadn’t actually threatened to kill her, she’d come close. Everyone described her as high strung—I hadn’t interacted with her often enough to know—but if that were the case, I couldn’t see her planning to off her mother. It would have to be in a fit of rage.
And then there was the husband, usually the prime suspect in cases like this. People always described him as pleasant and mild-mannered. In other words, the nice one. Anita was the mean one. But I’d always thought that if he were so nice, he’d have less tolerance for Anita’s manipulative ways. I didn’t know a lot about him. I spoke to him when he came in with his grandson or when Anita roped him into doing things for the library. The grandson, Caleb, was about five. Richard had endless patience with the kid and whatever his current interests were. They’d spend hours picking out books, looking things up, and requesting out-of-system items. A lot of them ran toward the mechanical. Right now, they were into circuits and electricity. I couldn’t fault him in the grandparent department, though I wondered how well he got along with Sloane.
As far as the library projects went, he served as a general handyman and builder for whatever event or fundraiser was going on. Library maintenance was handled by local tradespeople on contract, but other events were handled by volunteers. Richard had been an electrician by trade, third-generation owner of a family business, since sold. Dory had told me that. “Of course, he went to college,” she’d said. “Anita’s too much of snob to marry a tradesman. He studied business administration or something. My Bill always said he thought Richard liked the hands-on part of it better. The two of them worked on some new construction together, and he said Richard used any excuse to leave the office and work on-site. But still—he was the owner, and that business was a nice earner. Made a bundle when he sold it. And Anita has expensive tastes.”
Had the Hunzeker marriage been a happy one? Hard to get an honest appraisal when one half of the couple was universally disliked. Mary Alice might be my best bet—she’d lived here almost as long as Dory and was more likely to stick to facts. I looked up at the staff schedule pinned to my bulletin board. Mary Alice was in tomorrow. I’d talk to her then. Time to give all my attention to my job. That lasted all of five minutes. I heard a strange, muffled noise coming from the next cubicle. I rolled my chair out to see, and my mouth dropped open.
It was Jilly. She was leaning on her desk, her face blotchy and red, sobbing like a lost soul.
Chapter Five
I grabbed my box of tissues and plunked them on her desk as I went by to close the office door. Then I came back and rolled my chair over to her.
“What happened?” I said.
Jilly sniffled. She didn’t meet my eyes.
“Or if you’d rather not talk about it …”
She waved her hand. “Gimme a sec,” she said, and took a big swig of water from the bottle on her desk. She blew her nose and sighed. Then she squared her shoulders and looked at me.
“There’s no easy way to say this. I’m a suspect in Anita’s murder.”
I was dumbfounded. And speechless, which was a rare occurrence. After gaping at her for a moment, I said the first thing that came to mind.
“But she left before you. You had to close. And you’re not a killer, Jilly.”
I realized, too late, that I should have started with that last bit. Jilly just smiled.
“Thanks for the vote of confidence, Greer,” she said. “And for spelling out my alibi. But there’s more to it than that.” She took another sip of water.
“You don’t have to tell me,” I said. But I hoped she would. I’d seen Jilly face down toddler tantrums, teenage terminal boredom, and unhinged parents, but I’d never seen her like this.
“No, it’s all right. I need to talk to someone. You see, Anita found out something, something about my past. Something—not very nice. She wanted my support for her new building plans, and, well …”
“She was blackmailing you?” I was aghast. This was low, even for Anita.
Jilly sighed again. “I guess you could say that. I don’t think that she thought of it that way. She didn’t come right out and say it, but the implication was there. I really didn’t know what to think. I still don’t. But I didn’t kill her.”
“Is there anything I can do to help?” I said.
“I don’t know if anyone can help. Helene gave me the rest of the afternoon off. I’m going to talk to a lawyer. But maybe you could help me think it all through. You’re good at this kind of thing. I was so shocked when the police talked to me. I pulled myself together enough to say I wanted to talk to an attorney before I answered any more questions. They were very nice about it, but I’m going to have to go make a statement tomorrow. I’m not sure I’ll be at work. Would you mind stopping by my place tonight? I can tell you the whole story, and you can pick up the costume. We can order takeout.”
“I’d be happy to help, if I can,” I said.
“Great. I better get going. I’ll see you later.”
I went back to my desk while Jilly packed up her things. Once she was out the door, I popped up. I wanted to talk to Helene, and with Jilly likely out the next day, I was going to have to redo the reference desk schedule. Again. Anita was becoming as irritating in death as she had been in life.
Helene was in her office. I knocked, and she gestured to the chair in front of her desk. She looked exhausted.
“I’ve spoken to Jilly,” I said. “She told me what’s going on. I find all of this unbelievable.”
“I know,” said Helene. “I don’t know what to think anymore.” She rubbed her eyes, then said, “I get the impression from Sam that they don’t have a solid case against anyone. They’re talking to a lot of people, he said. They’re in the archives with Millicent now. He said they’d want to see you too. Everyone who was here on Monday night.”
“Well, I’ll either be at Reference, checking to see if Cheryl is available tomorrow, or at my desk, making calls. I’m going to presume Jilly either won’t be here or won’t be in the mood to deal with a busy desk shift.”
“I wish I could help,” Helene said, “but I’m being pulled all over the place. Maybe Millicent can give you a little more desk time. Although she seems tired lately.”
“I think so too. I’ll only ask if I’m out of options. I sometimes have to remind myself that she’s in her eighties. She’s such a force.”
“Yes, she is. But I think your plan is a good one. I’ll approve any extra hours for the part-time staff. It’s not like the board will give me a hard time about it. They don’t know if they’re coming or going at this point.” She threw up her hands. “Well, this is not what they signed up for, is it? Approving budgets, photo ops at library events—that’s more their speed. Just keep me posted.”
“Thanks, I’ll see what I can do with the schedule,” I said, and went out to the reference desk. To my relief, our part-time librarian, Cheryl, was happy to pick up the extra hours. She reminded me that she had three kids, and Christmas was less than two months away. “Any day shifts are fine. Evenings, I just have to make sure my husband will be home with the kids,” she said.
With one more thing crossed off my to-do list, I went back to my office. I wondered what was going on up in the archives, but I could always drop in on Millicent later. Jennie knew where my office was, so if the police wanted to talk to me she’d come looking. As it turned out, I didn’t have long to wait. I’d just started revising the schedule on my computer when she appeared.
“Got a few minutes?” she said.
“Sure, I’ve been expecting you,” I replied, hitting the “Save” button. “Where’s Sam?”
“Downstairs, in the book discussion room. He said it would be more private, but I think he wanted to stop in the staff room and get another cup of coffee.”
We went down to the manor’s lower level, where the enormous original kitchen had been split into a staff break room and a conference room used for book discussions and small meetings. The door to the book discussion room was ajar, and inside sat Lieutenant Sam O’Donnell, a notebook and a cup of steaming coffee in front of him. We exchanged greetings, and Jennie and I sat down. Sam began, with his usual laid-back, informal air.
“We’re trying to get a handle on everything that happened Monday night. I understand you were here.”
“I was, briefly. I had forgotten something, and since I was off the next day, I came back for it. I got here right after the book sale committee meeting ended.”
“Run through it for me, from the time you got here. Who you talked to, who you saw, where everyone was—everything you can remember.”
So I did. My chat with Felicity, meeting Anita in the office, talking to Jilly, then checking out my movie and leaving. Sam had me go through it twice, the second time with a lot of questions on who left and when. I made a mental note of what Sam was most interested in. Jennie and I were friendly, and Sam found me useful, but neither would give me any information on a current investigation unless they had to. I’d have to figure it out for myself.
“And you’re sure you saw Millicent leaving as you came into the building?” Sam asked.
“Yes. I didn’t speak to her, but I saw her walking to the front door, with her coat on, carrying her handbag. She often parks in the old lot, and when she does, she comes and goes that way.”
“So you didn’t see her car at any time in the main parking lot in the back of the building, or anywhere between here and Main Street?”
I shook my head. “I recognize her car, and it’s not usually in the main lot, so I would have noticed, especially since I’d seen her go out the front. No, it wasn’t there.”
“And when you left, Anita’s car was gone?”
“Yes. Well, I think so.” I frowned. “Maybe not. I didn’t look for it. It wasn’t in her usual spot, but there was a minivan partway down the row of spaces near the street. I’m pretty sure that was someone here to pick up the new page. I don’t think she has her license yet. I wouldn’t have seen any cars behind that.”
“Do you remember what other cars were in the lot?”
“Jilly’s and David’s—they were closing. A few others. There were people in the reading room when I got my DVD, but no one I recognized. I didn’t recognize the cars either.”
“Hmph,” Sam said. He was quiet for a minute. Jennie looked up from her notes.
“Go back to your conversation with Anita. Start at the beginning,” Sam said.
I ran through it again. Once again, I felt like I was forgetting something. When I was done, he asked, “Did anything strike you as odd or out of character while you were talking to her?”
“Well, she did seem chattier than usual, more upbeat. Anita was usually all business. And the misplaced glasses—she never did things like that, at least not that I knew of. I’d call her ruthlessly organized, if you know what I mean.” I stopped, picturing the file box. Some folders were labeled, some handwritten. More of them handwritten, actually. That was strange.
“You found that file box she had, right? Snap top, with a handle?” I asked.
Sam nodded. Jennie flipped back through her notebook, then nodded as well.
“She always had that at meetings. She worked on a laptop, but she liked to print out documents and take notes by hand. She told me once that she felt staring at a screen ‘impeded effective communications,’ or something like that, so she never used it in meetings. It was strictly pencil and paper. She would type up her notes later. Then they’d go into a neatly labeled folder. But Monday night there were a bunch of folders with handwritten names on the tabs. More handwritten than not. I don’t know what it means, but it seems odd.”
“And you got a good look at them?” Sam said.
“I did. I was on the floor looking under things for her glasses. The box was on the floor beneath the table. When she stepped out to take a call, I decided to check the box for the glasses. She’d never admit she tucked them in and forgot, but I thought it was worth a look.”
That was not entirely true, but that was my story and I was sticking to it. Sam gave me a long look. I saw Jennie start to smile and look back at her notes. Sam sighed.
