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

to give him a closer look now that he was related to one of my murder suspects.

“Give me a second,” I said, waving toward Jilly’s chair. “I’ve been trying to get this done all morning.”

He sat as I hit some buttons. Once I heard the printer whirring, I turned to face him. We began a version of the same conversation I’d had all morning, and I assessed our youngest board member.

Matthew Prentiss was that particular type of man whose success was based on having gone to the right schools and playing an acceptable game of golf. Their numbers are legion. Reasonably, but not excessively good looking, they are bright but not clever, well-dressed though never fashionable, and pleasant rather than charming. I had encountered several in my corporate life and found them to be manageable unless something or someone threatened their belief in their own superiority. Matthew was unlikely to encounter that here in Raven Hill, where his life-long residency and profession automatically provided some status. He appeared a genuinely nice, hardworking man, and if I needed someone to draw up a will or handle a real estate transaction, I’d hire him. If I wanted a real barracuda, I’d look elsewhere. Still, there was no way to know how he reacted to serious stress, and the desire to go into politics raised some questions. Possibly he wanted to “give back to the community.” He would do well in local politics. Being a big fish in a small pond suited him, and he would take care his small pond was well looked after. Raven Hill could also be a stepping stone to higher office. I wasn’t sure he could hack that, and I wasn’t sure how far he’d go to protect his interests in either scenario.

I tuned back in to what Matthew was saying. He deviated slightly from the usual script.

“I hope this hasn’t put you off Raven Hill,” he was saying. “We would hate to see you go. Although it had to be horrible, finding Joanna. I understand you two were close.”

Interesting. I thought he knew the story from my job interview.

“We were friendly. We worked on a few things together, and we knew each other in college. And I must confess,” I flashed him a big smile, “we bonded over our outsider status. We used to joke about how long we would have to live here before people stopped referring to us as “new.” I think I’m going to be the “new librarian” until the day I retire.”

Matthew laughed.

“Seriously, people have been very nice, but I’ll never be considered a real villager. Not like you.” I paused. Then I added, “Or like Vince and Felicity.”

Matthew’s mouth tightened briefly at the linked names, and he sighed. I raised an eyebrow.

“Truthfully, I’m a little worried about Felicity. She’s very upset. She’s always been a worrier. I keep telling her it was probably an accident, but she’s been jumpy ever since we found out. Felicity and Joanna were never close, but they’d been spending a lot of time together lately. I don’t know …” He trailed off, and gave me a questioning look.

“They were working together quite a bit on the sale.” I said. “So, I suppose it’s only natural.”

Matthew was quiet for a moment. I waited. Finally, he nodded.

“I guess you’re right.” He stood. “I’m glad to hear you’re not thinking of leaving us. But you should consider some time off, maybe visit friends or something. I’m sure Helene would approve it, and I’d certainly weigh in on your side.”

Helene might approve a little vacation, but Lt. O’Donnell wouldn’t.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be fine,” I said. “And I have no plans to resign. I couldn’t possibly subject my replacement to a lifetime of being referred to as the ‘New new librarian.’”

It took him a second, but he got it. He laughed and said, “Glad to hear it. But remember, if anything comes up that concerns you, feel free to give me a call.”

He headed out the door. I pondered his motives as I bolted my lunch. Real concern about his wife? Or his future career? Genuinely nice guy or a Boy Scout covering his ass?

Hard to say, and worth keeping an eye on.

Business was brisk in the reading room. That was both good and bad. It made the time go by faster but kept conversations with the curious brief. Mindful of Miss Marple and the importance of tittle-tattle, I wanted to see who might ask too many questions, or perhaps not enough. There was a steady stream of unfamiliar faces at Circ; apparently a number of village residents had suddenly recalled unpaid fines. Presiding over the cash register, Dory was in her element as she fielded questions. From what I could hear, she stuck to the board-approved message in terms of what she said, but implied a great deal more in how she said it.

Though books were still our stock in trade, Friday afternoon reference shifts ran heavily to movie questions as people looked for weekend entertainment. Today was no exception. Hardcore film buffs reserved new releases well in advance, but still arrived early in the afternoon to scan the shelves and quiz the librarian in case there was something they’d missed. The topography of the area made streaming services hit or miss, and many of our patrons had long been in the habit of stopping in to chat while they picked things up. I’d taken dozens of requests, dismantled a display, and excavated the overflowing book drop. While I had frustratingly little time to ask leading questions, I did have a reason to be all over the reading room. It let me keep an eye on the unfamiliar faces that were lingering, and there were a few.

There was no obvious police presence in the building. I’d bet Anita had squashed the idea of anyone in uniform, but was equally sure O’Donnell had one or more people on the property. It was a small force but I only recognized a few