Buried in the Stacks Read online

  I put my desk in order and then went searching for Smoky Joe. I found him in the children’s room, sitting beside Marion at her desk. She wore a guilty expression, so I suspected she’d just given him a forbidden treat. I scooped him up and brought him back to my office, where I put him into his new carrier. He squawked a bit as I carried him out to my car in the parking lot.

  “I know it’s confining, but it’s for your own safely. You only have to stay in the carrier until we get home.”

  “Meow!” was Smoky Joe’s unhappy response.

  Darkness had fallen, and the January wind chilled me to the bone. It was late Friday afternoon, and I was lucky to have both Saturday and Sunday off. Sally had offered to introduce the jazz musicians performing Sunday’s concert since she and her husband would be attending anyway. And she’d asked Trish, one of my part-time assistants, to work that afternoon, when Trish rarely worked on weekends. Now I wondered if my sudden extra vacation day was meant to soften me up so I’d say yes when Sally asked me to take the Sunshine Delegate job.

  Other than my Sunday plans to visit my cousin Randy’s family, the weekend was one huge void. My boyfriend, Dylan Avery, was still out of town, working on his last case for his employer before starting out on his own. Angela was deeply involved in her wedding plans. My great-aunt and -uncle were enjoying Florida’s warm weather, and my father, with whom I’d recently reconciled after years of estrangement, was in Atlanta, being trained for his new position with the company that Dylan would soon be leaving.

  I drove halfway around the Green, admiring the shops and galleries that, like the library, were once large residences built a century or two ago. Some, like my aunt and uncle’s house, were still private homes. I drove up the rise to the end of their long driveway and stopped in front of the detached garage.

  “Be right back,” I told Smoky Joe and headed for the kitchen door.

  Brrr! The chill of the empty house ripped right through my zipped-up parka. I filled the watering can I’d left on the counter and watered the plants in the kitchen and dining room. I took a fast look around. Everything appeared to be in order, so I locked the door and returned to my car.

  I drove slowly to my cottage, which was located on the Avery property a few miles outside of town. Back in October, soon after I’d gotten the position of head of programs and events at the library, I’d answered Dylan’s ad. I was able to afford it because the rent he charged me was ridiculously low. Shortly after, I discovered that Dylan had been my brother’s friend when Jordan and I had spent summers on the family farm when we were little. Now Dylan and I were dating. Because of his job, we’d been apart a good part of the time, but I hoped that would soon change when he set up his own investigating office here in Clover Ridge.

  Back at the cottage, I opened a can of tomato soup and made myself a tuna salad sandwich. Not a very appetizing dinner, I had to admit, but I wasn’t very hungry. Smoky Joe, on the other hand, chowed down his dinner like a hungry wolf and begged for a few treats. I wandered into the den, where I flipped through TV channels and then decided to settle down with the novel I was reading instead. My only interruption was Dylan’s phone call an hour later. We chatted about nothing in particular for half an hour or so before hanging up.

  Saturday morning I went to the mall to buy presents for Randy and Julia’s kids and discovered great sales going on in all the stores. I ended up buying a doll for four-year-old Tacey, a book for her older brother, and a sweater and a blouse for me. My father called to say he was settling into his new apartment in Atlanta. Jim sounded excited. and I was happy for him. I was glad he had a normal job like other people, instead of scheming to pull another heist that could very well land him in jail.

  The next day, I was taking full advantage of a quiet Sunday morning in my bathrobe, browsing through the newspaper and sipping a second cup of coffee, when my cell phone rang. It was Sally. I hoped she wasn’t about to ask me to work that day because Trish couldn’t come in as scheduled. I wasn’t about to disappoint my cousin Randy and his family.

  “Good morning, Carrie. I’m calling to let you know Dorothy Hawkins is in the hospital.”

  “Sorry to hear that. What happened?”

  “Her husband just called. She was shopping at the supermarket last night. As she was putting her packages into the car, she slipped on black ice and fell. Turns out she twisted her ankle, cracked a few ribs, and suffered a concussion. Fred said she’ll have to stay in the hospital for a few days.”

  “That’s too bad.”

  Dorothy, the reference librarian, was the one staff member with whom I didn’t get along. Nobody did, except Evelyn, who happened to be Dorothy’s aunt. Dorothy had a sour disposition. What’s more, she made it her business to ferret out people’s secrets, which she threatened to expose if they didn’t do her bidding. She had it in for me especially because she’d taken it into her head that she should have been named head of programs and events when the position had become available in the fall. Right now we shared an uneasy truce.

  Sally cleared her throat. “I know visiting Dorothy in the hospital must be the last thing you want to do, given your history, but as our Sunshine Delegate, it would be a nice gesture. She’s close by—at South Conn—and you needn’t stay more than half an hour. Unless you have other plans, of course. In which case, a flower arrangement or basket of fruit would be in order.”

  “No, I don’t mind stopping by to see her,” I found myself saying. Evelyn, who seemed to be the only “person” in the library who cared for Dorothy, would appreciate the gesture.

  Sally released a deep breath. “Thanks, Carrie. If you stop by the library, you can pick up the mystery she put on reserve. It just came back this morning.”

  “Of course. And I’ll bring her a small fruit arrangement.”

  “She’ll like that. I know how difficult Dorothy can be, but she means well—most of the time.”

  You should know, I thought, as I headed to my shower. Dorothy and Sally had been good friends until Dorothy had tried to coerce Sally into giving her my position.

  Forty-five minutes later, I set down an ample supply of food for Smoky Joe and set out for South Conn Hospital. I’d been there a few weeks ago to visit my father, who had gotten himself into a spot of trouble. More than a spot, actually. I found myself smiling when I thought about Jim Singleton. He seemed really excited about his new job. I hoped that meant he’d given up his larcenous ways for good.

  My cell phone jingled. When I saw it was Dylan, my heart beat faster.

  “Where are you off to?” he asked.

  “How did you know I was in the car?” I asked.

  He laughed. “I’m an investigator, remember?”

  “How could I forget.”

  “Which is partly why I’m calling.”

  Oh no! “Don’t tell me. Mac has you working a new case.”

  “Absolutely not. I told him I wouldn’t take on anything new under any circumstances. But we got a new lead on the case I thought I was finishing up. Turns out the crime ring is much larger than we’d thought. Several heists have been planned and executed by a hierarchy of thieves. We’re working with a few police departments now.”

  I groaned. “How long will that take?”

  “No idea yet, babe, but I told Mac I’m here only ’til the end of the month. That’s a promise. And I’ll do my best to make it home next weekend.”

  “You’d better,” I said vehemently. “I miss you.”

  “I miss you too.”

  I slowed down as I joined the traffic approaching the Green that was the heart of the village of Clover Ridge. “Would you believe me if I told you I’m on my way to visit Dorothy Hawkins in South Conn?”

  Dylan whistled. “Is she sick, or did she get into a fistfight with someone at the library?”

  I laughed. “Neither. Seems she slipped on some black ice last night at the supermarket.”

  “On Saturday night? She and her husband must lead very dull lives.”


  “Sally didn’t mention if he was with her when it happened.”

  “But why the visit? I know you’re the new Sunshine person or whatever, but couldn’t you have sent her something instead?”

  “I suppose, but I know it would please—” I stopped before I uttered Evelyn’s name. Dylan had no idea that I had a relationship with a ghost. I planned to tell him one day, but certainly not during a phone conversation. “Sally,” I finished lamely. “She thought it would be a nice gesture. Since I have the time, I agreed to go.”

  Dylan chuckled. “Not a bad move, come to think of it. You’ll be scoring points with your boss. Always good to have those on hand when you need to ask for a favor.”

  “I don’t mind going to the hospital for a short visit.”

  I heard chatter in the background. “Gotta go, “Dylan said. “Talk to you later.”

  When I reached the Green, I stopped at the boutique food market for one of their elegantly wrapped food baskets, then pulled into a spot behind the library and made for the circulation desk, where Angela checked out Dorothy’s mystery for me. The lineup of patrons prevented us from saying little more than to agree it was pretty darn ironic that as soon as I’d become Sunshine Delegate, I was obliged to visit Dorothy in the hospital.

  My thoughts were with Evelyn as I returned to my car. By now she must have heard the news about Dorothy’s accident and was probably worrying about her favorite niece. When I came into work tomorrow, I’d be able to give her a full report on Dorothy’s condition.

  Going to the hospital before noon proved to be a smart move. I had no trouble finding a parking space in the large lot that would be filled with circling cars in a few hours. I asked for Dorothy’s room number at the reception desk, then took the elevator up to the third floor. It was the same floor my father had been on—clearly the section for injuries and accident victims.

  The door to 315 was open. Still, I knocked as I entered, smiling at the woman in the first bed and her two visitors. Beyond the curtain divider, Dorothy was lying in the bed by the window. Though the shade was up, allowing the pale sun to light up the room, her eyes were closed.

  “Dorothy,” I said softly.

  When she didn’t respond, I figured she was asleep. I sighed with relief. My duty done, I set the cellophane-wrapped basket and book on the nightstand and tiptoed out, careful not to disturb her.

  I was halfway across the room when she called out so softly I barely heard her. “Who’s there?”

  “It’s me, Carrie.” I retraced my few steps and looked down on her. Her eyes were still closed.

  “Why are you here?”

  “I’m the library’s new Sunshine Delegate. I’m sorry you fell and hurt yourself. I’ve brought you some fruit and Sue Grafton’s Y is for Yesterday. It came in this morning.”

  “Thank you.” She surprised me by saying, “Please sit down.”

  I sat down on the chair beside the window. Dorothy pressed the button that raised the head of the bed, grimacing as she struggled to partially sit up. She had a cast on her twisted ankle. I knew she was in pain, because there was little the doctors could do to help her cracked ribs mend.

  “Can I get you anything? Call a nurse?” I asked.

  She gestured to the pitcher on her tray. “Just some water, please.”

  “Of course.”

  I filled a cup halfway and studied her as she drank thirstily before holding out the cup for me to fill again. No sign of the disdainful sneer that was her usual expression. Her shoulder-length black hair, which until today I’d seen only in a neat pageboy, was tangled and disheveled, and her face, devoid of her trademark fuchsia lipstick and pencil-thickened eyebrows, looked ashen. Dorothy was in her early fifties, but today she appeared younger and vulnerable.

  “Do you know how long they’ll be keeping you here?” I asked.

  “Probably a few days. I’m not sure.”

  Not sure? Dorothy makes it her business to know everything about everything. But maybe her medication was making her dopey.

  “I suppose they’re giving you something for your pain.”

  She huffed. “I wish. My doctor said they can’t give me pain meds because they might affect my breathing. Then I could develop pneumonia and die.”

  “Oh.” Her gloomy answer left me speechless. I racked my brain, trying to come up with something else to say, when a woman burst into Dorothy’s half of the room, bringing a whiff of Chanel No. Five in her wake. She was slender and blonde and elegantly dressed in a mink jacket over a pale pink silk blouse, leather pants, and high leather boots. The area suddenly seemed crowded.

  “Dorothy, dear, I just heard! Well, actually, Fred called me last night, but I couldn’t come see you a minute sooner. Tammy had me on the phone for an hour, terribly upset about a problem she’s having at work, and needed my opinion—not that I know beans about the kind of financial deals she arranges, but she values my insight into relationship dynamics. Then Gerald asked me to sew a button on his favorite suit before he left for an important brunch meeting. Finally, I drove to the mall, ate the tiniest of lunches, and bought you this yummy box of chocolates! Now, where shall I put them?”

  “Carrie, this is my sister, Frances Benning. Frannie, Carrie Singleton. Carrie works in the library with me.”

  “How very nice to meet you, Carrie, but I go by Francesca, as Dorothy well knows.” She placed her small, well-manicured hand in mine. I was enthralled by her coral-colored nails that glittered with sparkles.

  “Nice to meet you too,” I said, marveling at how different the two sisters in front of me were. Francesca seemed so bouncy and full of life, while Dorothy was dark and gloomy and as sour as vinegar.

  Francesca perched on the edge of the bed and shook her head in mock dismay. “I don’t know why you had to go food shopping on a Saturday night. All that black ice. I hope you’re considering suing the store. Gerald would be happy to start a suit on your behalf. Just give him a call when you’re up to it.”

  Dorothy chortled. “I’m sure he’d be very happy. By now your husband must have lawsuits against every business in town.”

  “Now, Dorothy, he’s only thinking of what’s best for you. If you slipped and fell because the supermarket didn’t clear the parking lot properly—”

  “I don’t want to talk about it!” Dorothy said.

  Francesca glanced at her diamond-studded watch. “Just look at the time. I must be going. We have early dinner plans, and I’ve so much to do before we meet our friends. Heal quickly, Dot. I’ll try to stop by again.”

  She bent down to kiss Dorothy’s cheek, but Dorothy pushed her away.

  “Love to Fred.” To me, she called out, “Nice meeting you, Carrie.”

  When she was gone, Dorothy lay back against her pillows and shook her head. “There goes my little sister, Frannie.”

  “She’s very pretty,” I said.

  “And doesn’t she know it. Marrying Gerald has made her even more of a phony and a snob. I wonder which of them decided to turn Frances into ‘Francesca.’”

  “You two seem very different,” I said.

  “I believe in living within one’s means. My sister thinks she’s royalty and deserves to live in a castle.”

  “How are you feeling, my love?” a man’s voice said suddenly.

  Dorothy and I turned to the man who, I assumed, was her husband, Fred. He was of medium height, balding, and had a pleasant demeanor. In his hand, he held a bouquet of mixed flowers in a cellophane wrapper.

  “Not much better,” Dorothy answered. She turned her head quickly when Fred tried to kiss her cheek. Was that a look of terror in her eyes?

  “Hello, I’m Carrie Singleton,” I said, to cover up for what I thought was an awkward moment.

  “Nice to meet you.” Fred reached across the bed with his right hand, and we shook.

  He looked down at the long-stemmed flowers. “I suppose I’ll have to go find a vase for these.” He chuckled. “I’m sure the nurses must have a collectio
n of vases, with so many patients receiving flowers.”

  I stood. “I think it’s time I—”

  Dorothy gripped my wrist. “Stay awhile. Please, Carrie.”

  “Of course.” I sat down.

  Fred smiled at Dorothy. “I’ll be right back. Anything you’d like me to get you in the café?”

  “One of their blueberry muffins would be nice. Lightly toasted and buttered.”

  “Be back when I’m back,” Fred said cheerily as he took off.

  I glanced over at Dorothy’s roommate. Her visitors had left, and she was dozing as her TV droned on. “You seem upset, Dorothy. What’s wrong?”

  She grabbed my hand. “Please, Carrie, don’t leave me alone with him.”

  “You mean Fred? You’re afraid of your husband?”

  She bit her lip. “He knocked me down outside the supermarket. He wants me dead.”

  I stared at her, wondering if she was delusional. I’d been involved in a few homicide cases and knew only too well that people did actually murder other people, even in a small town like ours. Accordingly, I was aware that people often pretended to be nice, when their motives were less than genuine. But my ability to sniff out the bad guys was developing. I didn’t get the impression that Fred Hawkins was anything but the sweet guy he appeared to be.

  “Dorothy, I know you suffered a trauma when you fell. And lying in a hospital bed makes some patients loopy and confused.”

  “I’m not crazy, if that’s what you’re getting at.”

  That was more like it! It was a relief to have the old Dorothy back. “I didn’t say you were.”

  “Just stay with me until Fred comes back, and I’ll convince him to go home.”

  “All right,” I said, not wanting to upset her further.

  Dorothy closed her eyes. A minute later she was fast asleep.

  Chapter Three

  Two hours later, I was on my way to Randy and Julia’s home, still wondering if Dorothy’s fear had any real basis. I had no problem calling John Mathers, the Clover Ridge chief of police, to tell him what she’d said. John and I were now friends after a bit of a rough start. But I’d since helped out in a few homicide investigations, and I knew he would take my concerns seriously.