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

encounter, or had Gordon sent the note telling Rich to meet him? I needed to ask Watson what he knew about Frankland’s movements after leaving Jake’s. The detective had earlier told me that information was confidential, but now I had a good reason to insist—I had to defend myself against a threatened lawsuit.

It wasn’t long before Connor left the board meeting. He greeted some of the patrons he knew and then came to the desk. We exchanged our private smiles.

“Plans tonight?” he asked.

“I’m meeting Josie, Grace, and Steph after work. Sorry, girls’ night. You’re not invited.”

“I suppose I can live with that. If I must. Is your mom still in town?”

“Yes. She’s staying until Evangeline can take Rich home.” I lowered my voice. “Connor, would you say Gordon Frankland is mentally unstable?”

“I’m a dentist, not a psychiatrist, but I wouldn’t say unstable, no. He gets a kick out of making trouble, and he’s spoiled enough to have the money to indulge himself. Are you seriously thinking he might have killed Rich?”

“The thought has crossed my mind. Mrs. Johannsen, let me take those from you.”

The patron dumped an enormous stack of cozy mysteries on the desk.

“You’ve got a lot of reading ahead of you,” Connor said.

“I do wish Ellen Byron and Essie Lang would write faster,” Mrs. Johannsen said. “I’m reduced to reading my favorites a second time while waiting for new books.”

I checked her books out, dropped them into her canvas book bag, and she left. Another happy patron.

“It’s nice,” I said to Connor, “having a job where you help people and make them smile.”

“Rather than listening to complaints all day,” he said. “Speaking of complaints, I’d better get to the office and see what I need to clear up before the weekend. Sunday still on?”

“Yes, and the weather looks perfect.” We’d planned a picnic at the beach for Sunday. “I don’t suppose you’ve heard from the realtor lately.”

His mouth twisted, and he shook his head. “Nothing new. You might have to reconsider moving into my house.”

“Or you into the Lighthouse Aerie.”

“That would hardly suit,” Louise Jane said.

“Where’d you come from?” I asked. Louise Jane did seem to pop out of the woodwork at the most inopportune moments.

“I was upstairs doing some work with Daisy.”

“Where’s Charlene?”

“She and James went to the Elizabethan Gardens in Manteo.”

“Is Daisy okay with that?”

“Why wouldn’t she be? Historical gardens are one of James’s specialties, and maps are hers. Back to the subject at hand. You wouldn’t want to live in the library apartment, Connor. You couldn’t get in and out of the building without people wanting to stop you and tell you about a pothole in their street or that time garbage collection was late.”

He rubbed at the stubble on his jaw. “You’re probably right about that.”

“Of course I’m right. I always am. I’ll be upstairs if you need me, Lucy,” she said.

“Why would I—?” But Louise Jane was gone.

Once she’d left, Connor shook his head. Then he blew me a kiss and left.

The library board meeting ended and the members took their leave, clutching the budget papers and chatting excitedly among themselves. A few minutes later Louise Jane and Charlene came down the stairs together and slipped into the hallway heading to Bertie’s office. Both of them so pointedly didn’t look in my direction that my suspicions were instantly raised. What could Louise Jane and Charlene have to talk to Bertie about? And why was I not included in this talk? My suspicions only grew when they stayed in the office for a long time. Eventually the two of them emerged. Charlene went upstairs, and Louise Jane left the library at a rapid pace, head down, again avoiding glancing in my direction.

A couple of minutes later, Bertie came out of her office, purse over her shoulder, keys in her hand. “Have a nice weekend,” she called to me.

“Bertie, is something—?” But I was talking to a closing door.

Oh well. Something was up, and I’d find out what it was sooner or later. I announced closing time and checked out the last of the books. Ronald and Charlene left together, and I locked up after them.

Aside from wondering what Charlene and Louise Jane were up to, I’d spent a good part of the afternoon thinking about Gordon Frankland. I wasn’t as confident as Connor that the blasted man wouldn’t try to sue me for slander; all he wanted was to cause trouble and distress, and he wouldn’t care if the case was thrown out. If he’d killed Rich Lewiston, I wouldn’t think he’d want to draw attention to himself by engaging in a spree of legal activity, but maybe he thought he was clever enough to pull off a double play. Be so obviously in the face of the law the police would look straight through him when searching for the killer.

Before going upstairs to dress for my evening out with my girlfriends, I called Sam Watson. It was after six o’clock on a Friday in summer, but he answered. I guess, when he’s in the middle of a murder investigation, Detective Watson doesn’t worry about getting a start on his weekend. I told him briefly what happened earlier.

“Frankland’s a pest,” Watson said. “But it doesn’t sound like you have anything to worry about, Lucy. You didn’t openly accuse him.”

“I’m not worried,” I said. “Much. But I did have a thought. The word everyone uses for Gordon Frankland is pest. You just did. Is it possible he’s more than a pest?”

“Anything’s possible, Lucy. I understand what you’re saying, but I have no reason to think he was responsible for Lewiston’s death. He doesn’t have an alibi for the time, but that means little. The hostess at Jake’s saw him leave. She remembers because he complained about his steak. Said it was overdone.”

“Yeah, that sounds like him.”

“Right. The hostess didn’t see where he went once he was outside. He says he went straight home, but as he lives alone and regularly parks his car inside