The Unkindness of Ravens by M. Hilliard (readera ebook reader .txt) 📗

to open. I waited a few minutes, grabbed some paperwork and headed toward the director’s office.

Both Helene and Anita were there. I apologized for interrupting, explaining that I needed to drop off some things for Helene’s signature.

“But as long as you’re both here,” I went on, “I had an idea I wanted to run by you.”

I continued as though I was still forming the thoughts.

“I was thinking we should do something to honor all the work Joanna did for the library. Maybe a biography on the website, with some pictures and some of the video spots she did.” Joanna had covered a few library events for local news segments, all of them with Anita’s blessing.

“What a nice idea, Greer,” Helene said.

“Of course we want to do something,” said Anita. “But I thought we would wait and do something a bit more permanent.”

Like a plaque or a tree or something equally lame and of no help to me, but I tilted my head and pretended to consider it.

“Well, yes,” I said. “Perhaps something in the new library. Some part of the media center—but you’ve probably already thought of that.”

Anita looked gratified. But I needed her to do something now, and she was still not convinced. If she said she wanted the staff to keep their distance, I’d be risking her wrath by nosing around.

“It’s just that, well, we don’t want people to think we don’t appreciate everything she did.” I paused, hoping I wasn’t about to overplay my hand. “Or that we’re trying to hide anything. Some people are always looking for a scandal.”

Anita’s eyes narrowed. I had struck a nerve.

“So, if we got out in front of it, it would look better. I know it sounds awful, but I can’t get past my corporate spin control habit. And I would like to do something nice for Joanna.”

I shrugged, adopting a rueful expression. My corporate background was one of the things Anita had liked about my resume, since in her opinion everything could benefit from a more businesslike approach.

“You make an excellent point, Greer,” Anita said, drumming her fingers on Helene’s desk.

“I’d be happy to handle the project,” I said. “I worked with her on a few things recently. I’m sure I can put together a simple web page. Maybe we can even include a place where people can add their favorite memories of Joanna.”

You never knew who or what that might turn up, and it would be nicer than those online obit guest books.

“Greer may be right,” Helene said. “Vince has his hands full, and Joanna’s family isn’t from around here. It would be a lovely gesture, and politically I think it’s a wise move.”

“True,” said Anita, still drumming. “I’d forgotten Joanna had no family here. And we certainly don’t want that TV station she worked for to take charge and start sensationalizing the whole business.”

Anita thought for a few more seconds, but I smelled victory. I would be able to nose around openly, and I’d have an excuse to talk to everyone who had contact with Joanna.

“It’s settled then,” Anita said, pulling out a pad and pen. “Greer will put together something for the website, and we’ll have a memorial service on the manor grounds. A celebration of her life, we’ll call it. That sounds positive, doesn’t it?”

My jaw dropped.

“But Anita,” Helene said, “the staff time, library operations—”

Anita cut her off.

“Don’t worry, I’ll put the Friends in charge of logistics, the board members will contribute time and money as needed, and I’m sure some of the local businesses will be happy to help with refreshments. I’ll square everything with Vincent first,” she added. “We don’t want to seem intrusive.”

And before you could say, “Let’s put a bold face on it” Anita reached for the phone.

“Well,” I said. “I guess I’ll go get started.”

Anita waved me out. Helene followed.

“Sorry,” I said to her once we were out of earshot. “I didn’t think …”

“It’s all right, Greer. You were trying to do something nice, and though I wouldn’t have approached it this way, Anita may be on to something. This gives everyone something more positive to focus on than the fact that a woman may have been murdered in our building.”

But a woman had been murdered, and until I knew who did it, I had no intention of focusing on anything else.

Chapter Eight

The library was busy from the minute we opened. I could hear the hum of activity from my desk, and was grateful not to have to face all the curious villagers right away. Of course, I wasn’t safe from staff and volunteers, all of whom wandered into the office to either commiserate or try for a firsthand account of the finding of the body. Since this group was familiar with the manor layout and Joanna’s activities, I did a little discreet questioning in turn. All of them seemed genuinely distressed by events and sympathetic to the fact that I had tripped over a corpse, and of someone I knew at that. Several expressed the belief that they would have been promptly sick (I did get a little queasy), or possibly fainted (I never faint), or immediately panicked. I nearly had panicked, but for reasons I was not about to discuss. A couple had more contact with Joanna than I would have guessed, so I mentioned my web project and asked if I could call them later.

Around midday the stream of visitors slowed. I was reviewing a book order when Matthew Prentiss walked in. My interactions with him were always informal and pleasant. Unlike those board members only seen at meetings, Matthew and his family were regular library users. Though Felicity spent more time in the building because of her volunteer work, her husband stopped in both on his own or with their two boys. I categorized him the way I did every other patron: by what he read. Matthew dabbled in naval adventures, but preferred biographies and was currently working his way through the robber barons. I decided