Buried in the Stacks Page 5

  Chapter Six

  Roger’s hands formed fists as he loomed over his sister. “You are the cruelest, most selfish person I know.” He stomped out of the room.

  “Roger, don’t go. She doesn’t mean it,” Fred said, chasing after his brother-in-law.

  Dorothy turned to me “Sorry you had to witness that, Carrie. If my brother put half the effort he wastes on get-rich schemes into getting a decent job, he’d be a wealthy man. Poor Fred is dazzled by anything Roger suggests because my brother is a math whiz and was a football hero in high school.”

  I stared at her, so self-confident and sure of herself. So very much Dorothy once again. “But Dorothy … about Fred.”

  “Yes?”

  “I don’t understand. When I saw you in the hospital, you were terrified of him.”

  “Of Fred?” she scoffed. “Why would I be afraid of my husband? You met him. He’s the sweetest man around.”

  “He does seem very nice, but in the hospital you said he knocked you down outside the supermarket. That he wanted to … kill you.”

  “Really? I said that?” Dorothy looked truly puzzled.

  I nodded. “Uh-huh.”

  “I can’t imagine saying any such thing. It must have been the meds talking.”

  “Don’t you remember? You told me you were afraid of Fred.”

  “I remember slipping on the ice as I was putting the groceries in the car.”

  “Was Fred with you?”

  Before she could answer, Fred returned to the living room, shaking his head. “Roger’s beside himself. I hope he doesn’t get into an accident, driving in that state.”

  Dorothy turned her attention to her husband. “Now, Fred, don’t you go worrying about Roger. He’ll calm down. That boy has to learn not to expect us to bail him out when he wants to get involved in some hair-brained scheme.”

  Fred shrugged. “I thought it sounded like a fine proposition. But perhaps you’re right.” He glanced at my half-empty mug. “Would you care for another cappuccino, Carrie?”

  “No, thank you.”

  “But I’d love a cup of lemon tea,” Dorothy said.

  “Coming up, my love.”

  Fred disappeared into the kitchen and I stood, having decided that my Sunshine visit was now over. Dorothy was on the mend, and she didn’t appear to be in any danger from her husband, despite what she’d said in the hospital.

  “I brought you a few mysteries from the library. They were checked out to you, so please return them when you come back to work.”

  “Thank you so much,” Dorothy said. “I’ve set aside the book I finished, so you can put it back into circulation.”

  She pointed to the bookcase across the room. As I went to get it, my glance landed on several vases on display. They varied in color, size, and shape, but on closer examination, each was striking in its own right.

  “What beautiful vases!” I exclaimed.

  “Thank you. My vase collection is my pride and joy. Some of them are antiques.” She cocked her head. “More valuable than you’d imagine. Carrie.” Dorothy’s voice softened as she spoke my name.

  “Yes?”

  “I want to thank you for visiting me in the hospital and for stopping by today. It’s meant a lot to me.”

  I shrugged. “Well, I am the Sunshine Delegate.”

  Dorothy smiled. “We both know you didn’t have to visit me in person, regardless of Sally’s orders.”

  I grinned at her. “That’s true.”

  “I admire you, Carrie Singleton. You have more gumption than most people in this town.”

  “Well, thank you, Dorothy,” I said, touched by the only kind words I’d ever heard her utter.

  Fred brought Dorothy her tea and walked me to the door.

  “Thank you for visiting today,” he said. “I know you two have had your differences, but I can tell—Dorothy feels a special link to you, Carrie.”

  I suppose it’s because she knows I’m in touch with her Aunt Evelyn. “She seems to be feeling better.”

  “She is. The doctor wants her to stay home another week, and then she should be strong enough to go back to work.”

  * * *

  Evelyn pursed her lips as I related the events of my visit the next day. We were downstairs in the empty meeting room, where I’d gone to retrieve some typing paper from the supply room.

  “So, Ernie Pfeiffer’s up to his old tricks. And he has the gall to prey on my family!”

  “Not if Dorothy has anything to say about it. She said she was planning to call him and give him a piece of her mind.”

  Evelyn sighed. “Good for Dorothy! She’s the only one of my sister’s children with a lick of sense. Frances is a social climber. She probably wishes she were living two hundred years ago, so she could be the lady of the manor. And poor Roger.” She sighed again, more deeply this time. “Spoiled growing up and never developed a backbone. He’ll try any quick scheme to make a buck. It’s a good thing his wife is a guidance counselor at the high school, or I don’t know how they’d be feeding their four children.”

  “Dorothy’s feeling better and should be back at work soon. She claims she’s not afraid of Fred and never was.”

  “See? I told you,” Evelyn said. “Being injured and in the hospital can do something to the mind. At least I can rest easy about her.”

  I locked the supply closet, and we started up the stairs. As we reached the main level, we heard angry voices coming from the reading room.

  “Oh, not again!” I said. “I can’t believe Jimmy Balco had the nerve to come back here after being banned.”

  A crowd of angry patrons was standing around a person who was trying to speak. When I got closer, I saw that the person being mobbed was Doris.

  “I most certainly did not take—”

  “Yes, you did!” a white-haired man insisted. “I saw you staring at Leslie’s pocketbook.”

  “What’s going on?” I asked the woman beside me.

  “She—that homeless woman who comes here every day—stole Leslie Todd’s wallet.”

  “Really? Are you sure?”

  The patron glared at me. “Leslie got up to talk to a friend. When she came back, her wallet was gone.”

  “But why does she assume that Doris Maris took it?”

  The patron wrinkled her nose. “That’s her name?”

  “Yes. Doris and her husband used to live in the neighborhood. I don’t think—” What did I think? I hated to think that Doris was a thief, but I knew nothing of the situation.

  “Anyway, this Doris was sitting across from Leslie. People said she kept giving Leslie the eye.”

  Before I could respond, Sally appeared and led Doris and the small woman who’d been gesturing wildly into her office. Another woman insisted on joining them.

  “Oh, good! The police have arrived!” my informer exclaimed.

  I turned. Sure enough, Lieutenant John Mathers had entered the library. When he spotted me, he drew me aside.

  “What’s up, Carrie? Sally called and said a woman’s wallet was stolen. Witnesses claim they saw who took it.”

  “I know, but I have my doubts.”

  “Where’s Sally? In her office?”

  “Yes. With the two women involved.”

  In two strides, John was halfway to Sally’s office. Without thinking, I followed him. As he entered the office, I caught sight of Henry. He had a look of terror on his face. He tried to catch the attention of a man speaking to two women by tapping on his arm. When the man noticed him, he drew his arm away. I walked over to him.

  “Henry, are you looking for Doris?”

  He nodded.

  “I’ll bring you to her.” I took his arm and opened the door to Sally’s office. “Doris is in here.”

  The office, though considerably larger than mine, was crowded with seven of us inside. Leslie, the woman who’d been robbed, was speaking nonstop in a shrill tone.

  “I didn’t take your wallet,” Doris said. “I didn’t. I swe
ar I didn’t.”

  “I saw you watching her,” the other woman said to Doris. “As soon as Leslie got up, you must have grabbed her wallet.” She looked at John. “Open her pocketbook. See if it’s there.”

  “You can look if you want,” Doris said, unzipping her pocketbook. “See? Nothing. Just as I said.”

  “You must have hidden it somewhere. So you can get it later,” Leslie said.

  “They should never let the likes of you in our library!” her friend said with a sneer.

  Doris sent me a look of anguish. I moved closer and took her hand. The two women glared at me.

  John asked the two women for their names.

  “I’m Leslie Todd and this is my friend Marcy. Marcy Faraday.”

  John looked at one, then the other. “I intend to get to the bottom of this. Mrs. Maris does not have the missing wallet in her possession. We must consider that there might be another explanation.”

  The two friends started to speak at the same time. John raised his palms. “Please allow me to finish. Mrs. Todd, where was your pocketbook when you went over to talk to your friend?”

  “I left it on my seat.”

  “Did you leave it open or closed?”

  “Closed, of course.”

  Henry cleared his throat. “Excuse me, but I’m quite sure you left it open.”

  Six pairs of eyes turned to stare at him.

  “You’re just saying that to protect your wife,” Leslie Todd said.

  Henry blinked, and for a moment I thought he’d lost his train of thought. “No, I’m certain. You unzipped your pocketbook to search for something. You retrieved a tissue and handed it to her.” He pointed his finger at Marcy Faraday. “Then you stood suddenly and dashed off, I don’t know where.”

  “Right. You gave me a tissue,” Marcy said as she remembered, “and then you noticed Grace Parris heading for the exit. You said you wanted to talk to her about getting you and Larry tickets for Sunday’s show.”

  “If you left your pocketbook open, it could have fallen on its side, and your wallet might have slipped out,” I said.

  “I don’t remember seeing it on its side when I returned,” Leslie said.

  “Did you look under your seat?”

  “I thought we did,” Marcy said.

  John headed for the door. “Why don’t the three of us take another look? Perhaps we’ll manage to put this matter to rest.”

  Doris and Henry remained in the office with Sally while I followed John and the two women to the section of the reading room where they’d been sitting. Most of the crowd had dispersed, though a few patrons stood in one corner talking. John asked the gentleman now occupying the seat that Leslie had been in to stand, and the two men peered under the chair while Leslie and Marcy searched the surrounding area.

  “It’s not here,” Leslie said. She glanced at Sally’s office, then at John. “Maybe we have the wrong person. The husband knew that I’d left my pocketbook open. He must have taken my wallet. You should have frisked him, Lieutenant.”

  An idea suddenly struck me. Smoky Joe had taken to batting objects around the cottage. Which meant he was probably doing that here in the library. “I think we should expand our search. Leslie’s wallet might have dropped to the floor, and then Smoky Joe might have batted it into a corner.”

  “If that isn’t the most far-fetched idea I’ve heard!” Marcy said.

  “I think it’s worth a shot, don’t you?”

  We didn’t even have to ask for help as five patrons who had been watching us search spread out and peered under shelves and into corners. I even looked behind the counter of the coffee shop.

  After several minutes passed, I was beginning to think that my suggestion was a waste of time after all, when an elderly man came running into the reading room, waving a wallet in his outstretched hand.

  “I found it! I found it!”

  We gave him a round of applause.

  He presented it to Leslie with a bow, which earned him more applause.

  Leslie hugged him and thanked him profusely before stowing the wallet in her pocketbook.

  “Where was it? Where was it?” patrons demanded.

  “Could you believe? It was in the children’s room, under a chair.”

  “Smoky Joe,” I murmured to John.

  As though on cue, the mischievous feline appeared, bushy tail in the air, and rubbed against my leg.

  Everyone burst out laughing. By now, Doris, Henry, and Sally had stepped out of her office. I was greatly relieved to see Leslie approach them and offer what appeared to be a sincere and heartfelt apology.

  “A very unpleasant experience for Doris and Henry,” Evelyn said.

  I nodded in agreement. “They’ve been made to feel unwelcome. At the same time, the patrons feel threatened by their presence.”

  “Something has to be done, and soon,” Evelyn said.

  Chapter Seven

  Sally must have felt that something had to be decided about the homeless people camping out in the reading room, because she called a meeting of the department heads at noon the following day. Without Dorothy, there were five of us: Marion Marshall, the children’s librarian; Harvey Kirk from computers; Fran Kessler, Angela’s boss at the circulation desk; Sally; and me. We gathered around the oval table in the conference room. Sandwiches, cookies, and urns of coffee and hot water for tea were set out on the smaller table at the far end of the room.

  “Help yourself,” Sally invited as she sat down at the head of the table.

  “Oh my. Big doings,” Harvey murmured.

  “I bet I know what it is,” Marion said.

  I had my suspicions but said nothing as I reached for a turkey and avocado sandwich on rye. When everyone was seated and munching away, Sally began her address.

  “I know you’ve all heard about what happened yesterday. One of our patrons, Leslie Todd, left her seat in the reading room to speak to another patron. When she returned, she realized her wallet was missing. Other patrons claimed that Doris Maris, a woman from the homeless shelter, stole it. I was forced to bring in the police to resolve this matter.

  “It turns out that the wallet hadn’t been stolen, after all. It was discovered in the children’s room. I’m assuming Smoky Joe, our library feline, had batted it around until it ended up there.”

  “There’s a good reason why patrons are—” Harvey began until Sally held up her hand.

  “Please let me finish what I have to say. Then I want to hear all of your thoughts and feelings, and hopefully we’ll find a resolution to this matter.

  “No one was to blame in this case, but perhaps patrons were quick to blame a homeless person because a few of them have been spending a good part of every day in our library. Mostly they sit and read or even doze, but there was one young man who caused a few disturbances and had to be barred. Our policy is to allow people to spend time in our facility. We do not prevent people from sitting in the reading room unless they disturb other patrons.” Sally looked at each of us.

  “Yesterday neither Doris nor Henry Maris did anything inappropriate, yet Doris was accused of stealing. Clearly, their presence and that of other homeless people is upsetting our patrons. We have a situation that I hope we can resolve so that it benefits everyone involved.”

  “But Doris and Henry Maris aren’t patrons, are they?” said Fran.

  “Their shelter is located in our district. And even if it weren’t, we wouldn’t limit their time spent in the library unless they exhibited disruptive behavior.”

  Marion frowned. “I don’t know if I’d use the word ‘disruptive,’ but occasionally they’ll come into my section when Gayle or I am reading a story to the children. Aside from their distracting the children, I don’t feel comfortable having them in our room.”

  “My cousin said a scruffy-looking man was talking to her son and his friend when she went to pick them up. Now she won’t let her children come to library programs unless she can stay with them,” I said.

&nb
sp; Sally grimaced. “That won’t do. Clearly, we have to set limits.”

  “Who’s going to watch them and make sure they remain in the reading room?” Harvey Kirk demanded. “Every day an older gentleman wanders into the computer room. He sits down at a computer, is clearly confused, then asks me to help him. A young guy used to come and hog a machine until I told him he had to leave. He complained that he couldn’t get on the porn sites.”

  “I hate to be the one to say it, but they’re unkempt. They smell,” Fran said.

  Suddenly, everyone was speaking at once. Sally raised her hand and established order. “All right. What I’m hearing is that you wish we didn’t have this problem, but we do. The question is, what can we do about it. Any suggestions?”

  I thought a moment. “Is there any other place where they could stay during the day? Someplace warm and comfortable?”

  “Most of them go to the mall,” Fran said. “They wander into the stores and shops. If they cause a ruckus, the security guards are called to escort them out to the center corridor.”

  “They probably get bored just sitting around,” I said.

  Everyone turned to stare at me.

  “They wouldn’t be bored if they got a job,” Harvey said.

  “A few of them work,” Sally said. “Unfortunately, they don’t make enough money to rent an apartment, and so they have to stay in a shelter. A few own cars and sleep in them during the warmer months, but it’s much too cold now.”

  “Too bad there’s not a place where they could stay and be comfortable during the day. Where they could read, watch TV, or play board games,” I said.

  Marion said, “At my last civic association meeting, a neighbor mentioned she’d joined a group that was starting up a day program for the homeless. A few residents got together to buy an abandoned house right here in town. It’s rundown and needs lots of repairs, so I doubt it will be ready for use any time soon.”

  “Well, that’s encouraging,” Sally said. “Meanwhile, we’ll be more vigilant these next few months. The problem will ease up when the weather turns warmer.”

  “Only to be repeated next winter,” groused Harvey.