Buried in the Stacks Read online

  I nodded. “So I’ve heard.”

  Sally let out a deep sigh. “It must be so humiliating, having to live the way they do now. In that awful place, with no sense of privacy. People who were their neighbors staring at them.” Sally closed her eyes and grimaced. When she opened them, she sent me a meaningful glance.

  “How did your visit go yesterday?” She gave a little laugh. “I promise you, when I asked you to be our Sunshine Delegate, I had no idea that Dorothy would be your first case.”

  “It went okay. She’s in pain from her cracked ribs and twisted ankle. And her head aches. I met Dorothy’s sister and Fred, Dorothy’s husband.” I decided to omit Dorothy’s wild accusations. “I think she’ll be staying in the hospital a few more days. Are you thinking of visiting her? I’m sure she’d like to have more visitors.”

  I’d said it mostly as a joke since I knew the two women weren’t as friendly as they’d once been. Still, I was surprised when Sally reared back in her chair as if I’d asked if she planned to come to the library tomorrow dressed in a bikini.

  “I’d visit her in a shot, except I have tons of work to wade through in the next few weeks. And you did say she’s on the road to recovery.”

  “Looks like she is,” I said, though I knew nothing of the kind.

  “It sounds like Dorothy will be well enough to come back to work in a week or so. I’ll send her a get-well card, of course.” Sally stood.

  My cue to leave. I exited Sally’s office, puzzled by her reaction. It struck me that she intended to avoid direct contact with Dorothy. Not that anyone else on the library staff had offered to visit Dorothy. Still, Sally was the director. Our boss. I shrugged. At any rate, I’d fulfilled my duty as Sunshine Delegate where Dorothy Hawkins was concerned. I’d paid a visit and dropped off a basket of goodies. Surely, I wasn’t expected to call her or visit her again. I’d see Dorothy Hawkins soon enough, when she was back at work and up to her usual tricks.

  * * *

  My office phone rang the following morning just as I was coming in from setting up coffee for the new political discussion group.

  “Hi, Carrie. It’s Dorothy.”

  “Oh. Hi.” I drew in a deep breath. “How are you feeling?”

  “Lousy. My ribs hurt when I take a deep breath. Good thing I don’t find anything funny around this place. Laughing would be agony.”

  I didn’t know how to respond, so I said nothing.

  “I called to thank you for bringing me the basket and the Sue Grafton mystery. I was too zonked out on Sunday to even notice them.”

  “Well, enjoy them,” I said.

  “Thanks. I will.” Dorothy sighed. “I’d love to get out of this place. It’s driving me bonkers.”

  “When can you leave?”

  “Not for a few days. After that, I have to stay home until the doctor decides I can put weight on my bad ankle. I dread having to sit around the house with nothing to do.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” I said in my Sunshine Delegate voice.

  “I hope you’ll stop by the house and maybe bring me another mystery. Something by Anne Perry or Krista Davis. Or both.”

  “Of course.”

  “I have to go. I’ll call you when I’m home.”

  So … apparently disconnecting from Dorothy, the wounded, was not going to be as quick and easy as I’d thought.

  Chapter Five

  Tuesday and Wednesday passed peacefully enough. The temperature outside stayed in the low twenties, but there was no sign of snow in the forecast. The reading room had remained free of incidents and disruptions ever since Jimmy Balco had been barred from the library. Doris and Henry Maris continued to pass their days reading or dozing in the reading room except for the short time they spent in the computer room.

  Thursday afternoon I noticed Doris gazing longingly at the coffee shop. I wondered if she was hungry. Although the shelter provided an early breakfast and dinner when the residents returned, there was a good chance that the Marises didn’t spend the little money they had on lunch.

  I walked over to her and smiled. “Hi, Doris. I don’t think we’ve ever met officially. I’m Carrie Singleton, the head of programs and events here at the library.”

  “I know.” Doris gave me a ghost of a smile. “Harriet and Bosco’s grand-niece.”

  “That’s right. I’m about to take a break in the coffee shop. I love Katie’s pecan chocolate pie, but I dare not eat an entire piece on my own. Care to share one with me?”

  Doris’s expression turned wary. I was afraid she was going to tell me to keep my charity to myself, so I quickly added, “I can’t resist that pie, but I have to lose five pounds. They’re the most difficult pounds to lose.”

  Inwardly, I released my breath when she grinned. “You young girls. So nice and slender. You don’t have to lose even a pound. But I suppose you stay that way because you watch how much you eat.”

  “Shall we?” I asked.

  Doris glanced at her husband, dozing in the chair next to her.

  “He’ll be fine,” I said. “We won’t be long.”

  Smoky Joe chose that moment to appear. Doris bent down to pet him. “Such a lovely cat,” she said as she stood. “I had to give my Mittens away when we moved in with my son and daughter-in-law.”

  We sat down at one of the small tables in the coffee shop, and Katie Rollins, who now ran it, came over to wait on us. She was a robust, pleasant-looking woman in her mid-forties, and she clearly liked her new job. The selection at the coffee shop was more extensive now because Katie brought in baked goods that she made at home. I understood that patrons and a few of the library staff were placing orders with her for her cookies, cakes, and pies.

  “Good afternoon, ladies. What can I get you?”

  “We’re going to share a piece of your delicious chocolate pecan pie,” I said. “And coffee for me. Doris, coffee or tea?”

  “Tea, thank you,” Doris said.

  “Oh, and a few of your chocolate chip cookies to go,” I added as Katie was leaving. “For your husband,” I said to Doris.

  “Thank you,” she said. “Henry will love them.”

  Katie left, and I had no idea what to say next. I couldn’t very well ask how it felt to suddenly lose your home and your business and spend your nights in a shelter.

  “Do you like working here in the library?” Doris asked me.

  “I love it. After college I spent the next seven years living in various places and never settling down. And then last May I came to stay with my aunt and uncle. Uncle Bosco got me a job in the library. I was here when my predecessor had to leave, so Sally offered me the position. I was very lucky.” I smiled. “I think I’m just beginning to realize how lucky I was.”

  “Luck,” Doris said. To my surprise, she patted my hand. “Make sure you make the most of your good luck because you never know what’s in store for you.”

  Katie brought over two steaming mugs and returned immediately with two pieces of pie on separate plates. To my eye, they didn’t look like halves of one piece, but rather like two generous pieces.

  “To die for,” I murmured as I lifted the first forkful to my mouth.

  “This is delicious,” Doris said after she tasted her pie. “Thank you for inviting me to join you.”

  I told Doris about my favorite double-chocolate brownie recipe, and she mentioned a few of her own. Katie brought over a bag. “The cookies you ordered.”

  I moved the bag across the table to Doris. It felt heavy, and I knew there were a lot more than a few cookies inside the bag.

  I glanced at the clock. “I’d better get back to work, or Sally will have my head.” When Doris started to get up, I told her to sit there as long as she liked.

  “Thank you, Carrie, for being so kind.”

  I smiled, touched by her gratitude and wishing I could do more. At the cash register, I glanced down at the bill. “You forgot to charge me for the cookies,” I told Katie.

  “My treat. I feel awful for
the Marises. I even feel bad for that Jimmy Belco. I’ve a nephew like that. A well-meaning lad, but edgy and irritable and can’t keep a job. My poor sister and brother-in-law do their best to keep him out of trouble.”

  On the way back to my office, a gentle waft of air riffled my hair as Evelyn appeared at my side. “That was kind of you—treating Doris to coffee and dessert.”

  “Kind?” I felt frustrated. “Doris was hungry. I wish I could do more.”

  “You will do more, Carrie. I’m counting on it.” She disappeared as quickly as she’d come.

  The library phone was ringing as I entered my office. Susan Roberts, my assistant who worked late afternoons and a few evenings, reached for it. “Hello?”

  I grinned, thinking how A-type Trish would have greeted the caller: “Good afternoon. Programs and events. Trish Templeton speaking.” But I’d quickly learned to appreciate Susan’s creativity and her solutions to problems by viewing them in her own unique way.

  “Oh, hi, Dorothy. How are you? Sure. She just walked in. I’ll put her on.”

  Susan and I exchanged grimaces as I reached for the phone.

  “Hi, Carrie. Fred brought me home yesterday, and I’m bored to tears. Do you think you could drop off a few mysteries for me after work? I finished the Grafton, and I don’t have anything to read.”

  “Sure,” I said and asked for directions to her house.

  She told me, then added, “Please see if the latest Charles Todd and Ann Cleeves mysteries are available. If they aren’t, I’d love to read the first Maisie Dobbs book by Jacqueline Winspear. I’ve been meaning to start the series, and now I have the time.”

  “I’ll check.”

  “Much appreciated,” she said and hung up.

  Susan laughed. “So now our least favorite staff member thinks you’re her personal assistant.”

  “I don’t mind. She’s home now, and this should be the end of my duties as Sunshine Girl—at least where Dorothy’s concerned.”

  Susan handed me a paper. “I finished working on the graphics for the April–May newsletter and started a list for possible new programs.

  “Hmm,” I said, reading aloud. “A group reading by a psychic. Interesting. Plant a vegetable garden in the spring for the elementary school crowd.” I turned to her. “That’s Marion’s department, not ours.”

  “I know. But I thought it was a good idea.”

  “So it is. And a visit to the old cemetery at night. I like that. An ongoing poetry workshop. A Jeopardy or trivia evening.” I smiled at her. “These are all great ideas, Susan. I’ll run them by Sally, see what she says.”

  “And look! I’ve been working on the Valentine decorations.” She held up a colorful sketch of red hearts and a cupid with a bow. “Of course this will be a collage and three-dimensional. What do you think?”

  “I think you’re very talented and we’re lucky to have you.”

  “I’ll work on these the next few evenings at home, and we can put them up next week.” Susan winked. “After all, Valentine’s Day is only a few weeks away.”

  “Ms. Roberts, are you implying something by that comment?”

  Susan was grinning when she left to check on the adult programs in progress while I read the newsletter she’d been working on. Her selection of photos and her own little sketches were spot on and creative. Not for the first time, I wondered if she shouldn’t be working at a job that made better use of her artistic abilities.

  At four o’clock, I took over from Gayle at the hospitality desk. All of us took turns hosting the desk where patrons signed up for various programs. I enjoyed having the opportunity to chat with our visitors and learn which programs and events they enjoyed and which they didn’t much care for. Susan took my place at five. Smoky Joe appeared suddenly and rubbed against my leg.

  “Time to go home, buddy, and don’t you know it. But first I have to pick out a few books for Dorothy.”

  I plucked the latest Vera mystery by Ann Cleeves from the new books section and the first two Maisie Dobbs books from the stacks and carried them to the circulation desk.

  “I thought you preferred to read on your Kindle,” Angela said as she was about to check them out.

  “These are for Dorothy.”

  Her lips twisted into a grimace. “Oh.”

  I laughed. “You’re as bad as Susan. The doctors sent Dorothy home, and she’s bored. She asked me to drop off a few mysteries for her to read.”

  “In that case, I’ll check them out to her.” Angela reached behind her. “I’ll put them in a library cloth bag. She can return it when she comes back to work.”

  “Thanks, Ange. I’ll tell her.”

  Dorothy and Fred’s home was only a five-minute ride outside of town. A large SUV straddled the middle of their two-car driveway, so I parked in front of their small colonial-style home.

  “I promise not to stay long,” I said to Smoky Joe, who meowed his dissatisfaction from the new carrier, which he still didn’t much like. I felt guilty each time I placed him inside it, but he had to travel in the carrier to and from the library and the vet’s for safety reasons. Still, I felt relieved when he resumed his grooming. Maybe he was getting used to the carrier, after all.

  I grabbed the sack of library books and followed the cement path to the Hawkins’s front door. I rang the bell and waited. Nothing. I rang it again.

  When no one answered the bell to let me in, I knocked. I waited another minute, during which I decided to leave the books and take off, when an apologetic Fred opened the door.

  “Ah, Carrie! So sorry. We were talking and didn’t hear the bell. Come in, come in!”

  I followed him into the small hall, past the staircase, to the den at the back of the house.

  “I don’t know what’s wrong with you! That man is the last person you want to get involved with. He’s crooked through and through. Don’t you remember—?”

  Dorothy, reclining in a lounge chair, an afghan draped across her lap, was arguing with a good-looking man in his mid-forties. She stopped mid-sentence to greet me.

  “Hi, Carrie. Sorry we didn’t hear the bell. I’ve been trying to knock some sense into my brother’s head. Carrie, meet Roger Camden. Roger, Carrie works with me in the library.”

  We nodded to each other. Roger eyed me speculatively. A Romeo type. He was so obvious, I almost burst out laughing.

  “Sit down, Carrie. I promise this won’t take long,” Dorothy said.

  “Well, I—”

  “Can I get you a cup of coffee? Tea?” Fred offered.

  “I’m really not—”

  “Carrie loves her coffee. Make her a cappuccino with lots of cinnamon.” Dorothy nodded to me. “Fred can’t boil a hard-boiled egg, but his coffee’s to die for.”

  I was about to insist I was only here to drop off the library books she’d asked for, when Roger stopped staring at me and returned to the conversation I’d interrupted.

  “Dorothy, you’re being short-sighted. Ernie’s admitted to having pulled a few dodgy deals in the past, but he swears this project is clean and aboveboard. And time is of the essence. We can’t sit on this too long. There are other investors—”

  Dorothy roared with laugher. “Right. Other investors. They’re lining up to hand over their money. People don’t change, Roger. You’re the one that’s short-sighted when it comes to Ernie Pfeiffer. Have you forgotten what he pulled on your own aunt and uncle? They had to go to court to get back some of what he stole from them.”

  “Did you say Ernie Pfeiffer?” The words tumbled out before I could stop them. The man who had tricked Evelyn and her husband out of most of their money.

  Roger was about to respond to his sister. Instead, he closed his mouth and frowned at me.

  “Sorry. I don’t mean to interfere in your private discussion, but I recognized the name.”

  “Don’t tell me Ernie’s bamboozled you out of money in the short time you’ve been living in Clover Ridge,” Dorothy said.

  “No, I met
him in the hospital last month. He was my father’s roommate.” And thinks of you as the Dragon Lady.

  Dorothy waved her hand dismissively. “Unfortunately, he lives next door to us. You couldn’t wish for a worse neighbor. He refuses to take care of his property. If he mows twice in a summer, it’s a lot.”

  “Yes, he mentioned he was your neighbor.” And that you tried to sue him several times.

  Fred came in, carrying a steaming mug of cappuccino, which he set on the table in front of me. I sipped. Heavenly!

  “Thank you—this is delicious.”

  “Told you,” Dorothy said. She turned to her husband. “It’s bad enough that Roger’s all gung-ho about Ernie’s next scam, but I don’t know why you want us to get involved.”

  Fred smiled at Dorothy. “Because, dear, I think it’s a safe way for us to make some money. Roger’s checked out the proposal very carefully. He even called the bank that’s involved. It’s all aboveboard and looks to be a safe investment. We should go for it.”

  “I don’t think so.” She cast a baleful eye at him. “Let Roger go ahead and throw away his money if he wants to, but don’t include us.”

  Fred cleared his throat. “The thing is, I told Roger I’d cover part of his investment—just until it starts paying, that is. And if you agreed, of course.”

  “I see.” Dorothy turned to look at her brother. I watched his ears redden under her stare. “And how much are we talking abut here?”

  “Thirty thousand each,” Roger said. “I only need ten to cover my share.”

  “Sorry, Roger, I don’t approve. And we don’t have ten thousand dollars to join another loan that somehow never got repaid.”

  The blush spread to Roger’s cheeks. “I’ll pay you back everything, as soon as the first money comes in.”

  “Money for your kids is one thing. A gamble on one of Ernie’s schemes is another.” Dorothy pursed her lips. “In fact, I think I’ll call that man and give him a piece of my mind.”