Deadly Ever After by Eva Gates (distant reading .txt) 📗

“Do you know that for sure?”

“No, I don’t, but if I were him, I would be. If Rich was in danger of losing everything, and if Evangeline doesn’t have immediate prospects in that area, then maybe … You have to admit it, Mom, both of them had a motive.”

“I will not admit anything of the sort. The idea’s preposterous.”

“Ricky doesn’t seem all that interested in his legal career. As feeble as it seems to be.”

“What does that mean?”

I nibbled on a piece of toast and thought. “I honestly don’t know, Mom. Then again, maybe his career will start to be important to him now that his father’s dead and he’s next in line to be the Lewiston name on the door. You did say he’s thinking of heading in to work.”

“I have no idea what’s going through Ricky’s mind, dear. Millar has never been what I’d call full of praise for Ricky’s legal acumen or his work habits. But people can change, and the sudden death of a parent is a powerful incentive for reevaluating one’s life. Enough of that. I enjoyed your book club last night. It was fun and an interesting discussion. You have some intelligent friends.”

“That I do,” I said. “Talk to you later, Mom.”

We hung up. I finished my soup, washed up my few dishes, and headed downstairs to the library.

I was wearing a light pair of ballet flats today, so my feet made no sound on the iron stairs as I descended. Charlene’s door was open just a crack. Remembering how she’d shut it in my face the other day, I was about to hurry past when I heard voices. Louise Jane and Charlene don’t usually see eye to eye on the pursuit of historical knowledge, so I was surprised that Louise Jane was in Charlene’s office. I pricked my ears up, and I might have leaned slightly to one side in order to catch snatches of their conversation.

Louise Jane: “So soon? … wait a moment longer than … have to.”

Charlene: “… England. Mom will …”

“What does Bertie …” Louise Jane must have turned, so I didn’t hear the rest of the sentence.

Charlene: “… good timing. You’ll be …”

“Have you lost something, Lucy?”

I jumped and felt color rushing into my face. Louise Jane stood in the doorway, her hands on her hips.

“No. Nothing. I haven’t lost anything. I was wondering what I’d been intending to do. Getting absent-minded in my old age. Nice seeing you, Louise Jane. Have a nice day.” I took the steps two at a time.

Behind me, Charlene’s office door slammed shut.

Friday afternoon the board of the Bodie Island Lighthouse Library met for their regular meeting. Recent departures from the board meant several new members would be joining them today for the first time.

“I’m not looking forward to this, Lucy,” Bertie said as I laid pens and paper and water glasses on the long table in the staff break room.

“You never look forward to board meetings,” I said.

“This one less than usual. I hate numbers, as you know, and the board will be going over the proposed budget for next year with a fine-toothed comb. I suppose I should be grateful Mrs. Fitzgerald managed to talk Cindy McMaster into coming on board. Goodness knows we’ve long needed a proper accountant, but Cindy’s a stickler for accounting for every penny. I’ve lost count of the number of times she’s called me over the last week for a full explanation of one line item or another.”

“Does she love libraries and books?” I asked.

“Oh yes. With a passion.”

“Then we’re lucky to have her.”

“That’s true, although sometimes I almost miss Diane and Curtis. They might have hated the library and everything it stood for, but Curtis always insisted on having our meetings at a restaurant and enjoying a nice lunch—”

“With free-flowing wine.”

“With free-flowing wine. All on the library’s budget, of course. Cindy balked at getting in cookies from Josie’s. I believe Mrs. Fitzgerald’s baking today’s treats herself in order to economize.”

I smiled at my boss. The look on Bertie’s face didn’t match her words. The library had been preciously close to having to close recently when unforeseen expenses threatened to exceed our ability to pay for them. The library community had come through and we’d been saved. But money was always on our mind.

“Connor’s been invited to come and say a few words to the new board,” Bertie said. “How’s the house hunting going?”

“Don’t ask,” I said. We went into the main room to greet the board members as they arrived.

Connor held the door for Mrs. Fitzgerald, and the rest of the board trailed in behind her. I was introduced to the new members, including Cindy McMaster. I recognized Cindy as a regular patron, but it was nice to formally meet her. She was in her early sixties and couldn’t have looked less like an accountant in a calf-length, multicolored, multilayered dress, rows of earrings in her left ear, clanging bangles covering her wrists, and spiked gray hair dyed purple at the tips.

Then again, I’m often told I don’t look like a librarian—whatever a librarian looks like.

I took Mrs. Fitzgerald’s cookie tin from Connor, and he gave me his private smile.

“If you’ll follow me.” Bertie had begun to lead the way when the door flew open and Gordon Frankland stomped in. He checked out the group and said, “Good. You haven’t started yet.”

“Mr. Frankland,” Connor said. “Are you a member of the library board?”

“No, but I have a few things to say to them.”

“This is a preliminary budget meeting, so it’s closed to the general public. When the budget’s ready for approval and discussion, the public will be invited to participate.”

“You mean, when you’ve decided what you want to do, the so-called public will be allowed to parrot their approval.”

“That’s not the way it works.”

“Of course it is. It’s always the way it works. This library’s a drain on the resources of the community. You need to be charging for access to the lighthouse and the marsh as well as your