The Librarian's Last Chapter (2 page)

CHAPTER TWO

After checking for a pulse and not finding one, I
backed out of the room and slammed the door. How did I constantly find myself
in these messes? I peeked through the window at the poor woman, and then rushed
to the phone on her desk to ring the office manager.

“This is Sarah.” Her
nasally voice made me cringe. Sarah Boatwright, an attractive woman in her
mid-thirties had the voice of a saw.

“This is Marsha Steele.
Mrs. Grimes is dead.”

“Excuse me?”

“Dead. In her storeroom.”
My pulse pounded in my head.

“But the bell is about to
ring?”

“Seriously
?!
Are you insane? Call the police.” There might be a door
separating me from the corpse, but that wasn’t nearly enough of a barrier. Not
that I expected Mrs. Grimes to turn into a zombie and chase me down the hall,
but still.

“No, I mean, the library
is about to be flooded with students.” Sarah sighed. “You have to block the
door. I’m making the call to the police now.” She hung up.

I replaced the receiver
and spun in a circle. Block the door with what? I wasn’t big enough or strong enough
to hold out thirty-five teenagers.
The book fair crates.
I sprinted across the room and pushed. The thing weighed a ton. I put my
shoulder into it and pushed with my legs. Inch by excruciating inch, I managed
to block one of the double doors. How much time did I have?

I rushed to move the
second one, getting it into place as the bell rang. Moments later, someone
banged on the door. I leaned against the crate to catch my breath, realizing
then that I was now blocked in with a dead body. My legs refused to hold me,
and I slid to the floor.

“Mrs. Grimes? Why’s the
door locked?” A girl’s voice drifted through my barricade.

“Something is blocking
the door.” A boy said. “Me and a couple of the guys can push it open.”

“No!” I lunged to my
feet. “You can’t come in. There’s been a, uh, toxic chemical spill. Yeah.”

“In the library? Who is
this?”

The crates moved. How was
it possible that a couple of kids could move what took me a superhuman strength
to budge?

“Go get the principal.”

“Are you holding Mrs.
Grimes hostage?”

“Yeah, that’s it.” Silly
kids.

Soon shouts that Mrs.
Grimes was in the hands of a terrorist vibrated down the halls. I shook my head
and leaned against the crate. I pulled out my cell phone and pressed in Duane’s
number. It went to voice mail. Of course he won’t answer during class.

“Mrs. Steele?” Principal
Dean knocked on the door. “I need you to let me in.”

Finally, help had
arrived. I shoved against the crate until it moved just enough for him to
squeeze through.

“The police are on their
way,” he said. “I need to unlock the side door so they can get in.”

There was a side door? I
could have gotten out at any time. No, that would have left the poor librarian
alone.

He glanced at the store
room door as he made his way to another door behind a bookshelf. Finished, he
stood next to me. “She’s in there?”

“Yes. Strangled with her
scarf.”

“Are you sure she’s
dead?”

“Of course I’m sure. I
wouldn’t have called the front office if she weren’t.”

“What about the
students?”

“We sent the ones outside
the door to the gym.” Mr. Dean rubbed his chin. “I’m not sure how to proceed
here. We’ve never had a murder at the school before. Assaults, yes, but no one
has ever been killed.”

“The police will handle
it. I’ve had experience with these things.” Right. I usually ended up in harm’s
way with someone holding a gun to my head.

“That’s right. Our
resident mystery solver.” Mr. Dean tried to smile, and failed. Instead, the
attempt looked more like a grimace.

“I should have known
Marsha would be here.” Bruce Bennett, our very own Barney Fife, waltzed into
the library with an officer I’d never met. “This is Officer Bradford, the
rookie on our force.”

I already felt sorry for
the guy. No one should have to work that close with Bruce. “Nice to meet you, I
think. She’s behind that door.”

“Mrs. Steele found her,”
Mr. Dean said.

“Of course she did.”
Bruce opened the door, and the four of us stared at the body. He exhaled deeply
and waved the rookie in first. “Check out the scene. Where is that ambulance?”

Not that she needed one,
but I guessed it would be better if she left covered by a sheet rather than the
student body getting a glimpse of her face. My hands shook, and I grabbed the
teacher rolling chair.

“Don’t touch anything.”
Bruce shook his head.

“I’ve already touched the
door handle, the desk over there and this one, the phone, and those two crates.
Oh, yeah, and her neck.”

“For crying out loud,
Marsha. What are you doing here anyway?”

“Volunteering to help
with the book fair.” I guess my time would be finished now. No librarian, no
book fair.
Unless … I glanced at the locked drawer.
What if someone killed her for what was in that drawer?

No, Duane would kill me.
Still, I couldn’t help but wonder ‘what if’, especially after hearing the
conversation in the teacher’s lounge. People thought Mrs. Grimes had something
of value and experience had taught me that some people thought that a good
enough reason to kill.

“Do you feel up to
continuing the book fair, Mrs. Steele?” Mr. Dean leaned against the desk. “Mrs.
Grimes felt passionate about it, and the school could use the funds. It could
be a tribute to the poor woman. I don’t think it will hurt anything if we move
the date back two weeks. Have it around Halloween?”

“Oh.” Question answered.
Duane couldn’t be too upset if I snooped around while fulfilling a dying
woman’s wish, right? “Of course.” How difficult could a book fair be?

The ambulance arrived and
carted Mrs. Grimes’ body away. I sighed and stood, unsure of what to do next.
“I suppose there’s a lot of work left to do.”

“Yes. All the information
for the fair is in that box.” Mr. Dean pointed.

“Nothing is removed and
whatever it is you’re talking about will have to wait until we’ve done our
investigation.” Bruce shook his head. “Marsha, you’ve been involved in enough
crimes that you should know this.”

“But she died in that
room, not the main library.”

“Doesn’t matter. Go home
and I’ll be along in a while to take your statement.”

He’d taken enough
statements from me over the last few months to make a book. I grabbed my purse,
and the box of fair information, and then stormed out the side door. A group of
students, Lindsey included, congregated in the parking lot. Wasn’t anyone in
class?

“Mom? Were you held
hostage by the terrorist, too?” Lindsey rushed forward.

“There was no terrorist.
I found Mrs. Grimes dead.”

“Again? What is wrong
with you?” She withdrew, shooting daggers from her eyes while in the protection
of her friends.

“I have no idea, sweetie.
See you at supper.” I sashayed past the gawking teens as if I didn’t have a
care in the world when in all actuality my insides shook like the San Madres
fault.

I sat in my car and
waited while they wheeled Mrs. Grimes’s body out on a gurney. Although she was
a mean-spirited old woman most of the time I’d known her, it was sad to think someone
had closed the last chapter on her life.

I pulled into the alley
behind Country Gifts from Heaven and carried the book fair box into the store
with me. Mom waited on a customer, so I stuck the box, and my purse, under the
counter before reaching for one of the ruffled aprons Mom insisted we wear. She
swore it added character to the store. I thought it made us look ridiculous.

“What’s in the box?” she
asked once the customer left.

“Stuff for the book fair.
I’m in charge of it now.”

“Mrs. Grimes doesn’t have
time?”

“Not really.” I leaned
against the counter. “Someone killed her this morning while I was in the
teacher’s lounge. Principal Dean put me in charge of the fair.”

“Back up.” Mom held up
her hand. “Somebody killed the librarian in the library?” She rubbed her nose.
“Sounds like the plot of a really bad book.”

“Yeah, they choked her
with the silk flowered scarf she wore.”

“And now, you can’t stay
out of things if you wanted to, which I’m sure you won’t, because the principal
asked you to continue there until…?”

“Halloween.”

“Of course.” Mom shook
her head. “So, how do you propose to pull all this off without getting yourself
killed?”

“I’m not sure.” I plopped
into one of the wooden rocking chairs we had available for purchase. “Right
now, I’m going to focus on a Halloween themed book fair and how to sell lots of
books for the school. Then, I’m tearing up my volunteer badge.”

“Don’t be so dramatic.”
Mom grabbed a rag from the pocket of her apron and started dusting shelves.
“You should take a cruise. It was the best thing me and Leroy did.”

I had no idea what Duane
had planned for a honeymoon. All he would tell me was that he wanted it to be a
surprise. Personally, I was hoping for a European tour. But, before I could
focus my mind on that pleasant trip, I had to get through the next month.

Maybe Lindsey could help
me plan a book fair that high school students would actually enjoy. I grabbed
some quilt pieces and thread, ready to finish a lap quilt to sell in the shop.
Since Mom’s marriage to Leroy a few months ago, she’d turned over most of the
running of our business to me. While it also increased my share of the profits,
it almost doubled the amount of work I had to do. Now, add in the book fair,
and I was swamped. “Why don’t we sell some crafts on consignment?”

Mom stopped dusting. “Not
sell our own things?”

“We’d still do that, but
it would lessen the burden of having to provide all the stock ourselves. We
could be choosey about what we put on consignment, only using things that meet
our standards.”

“Let me think about it.”
Mom resumed her work, her brow creased.

She took a lot of pride
in selling only what we made, but the chore of keeping the shelves full was
almost more than I could handle alone. It had been months since Mom had sewed
anything. We already sold yarn and craft books. Having a consignment corner
wouldn’t be too far of a stretch.

“Okay.” Mom gave a
definitive nod. “But we have to be very picky about what goes on our shelves.
Put that quilt down. I want to get some Halloween type things finished this
week.”

“Oh, goody.” I moved to
the storeroom and pulled a foam pumpkin off the shelf. I’d carve something
cute, rather than scary, and put them on display in the front window. Folks who
wanted to keep their jack-o-lanterns for more than a few days should buy them
faster than I could carve.

I caught sight of a felt
witch’s hat and a time out baby with a chainsaw. I knew exactly what I’d do for
the upcoming book fair.
A haunted house.
Visitors
would have to enter the haunted halls in order to reach the books at the end.

It should be fun for
everyone.
Except me.
I hated haunted houses. What if
one of the people in costume were really a deranged killer using the haunted
house for their own evil purpose?

CHAPTER THREE

“A haunted house?” Mr. Dean tapped his forefinger
on his chin “We try to not highlight any religious holiday, Mrs. Steele.”

“Halloween isn’t a
religious holiday.” Seriously? “If we want the students to enter the book fair,
we need something to appeal to their age group. They seem to flock to that
haunted corn maze every year. This is right up their alley. Student council and
the PTO—a”

“PTSO,” he said. “The
name has been changed to Parent Teacher Student Association. We don’t want to
leave anyone out.”

Of
course not.
He probably gave all members of the football team a
participation trophy, too. “Then I should have more than enough help. We’ll
need to get started right away.”

He nodded. “Let my
secretary know and she’ll put it in the announcements. When do you want to
start?”

“Monday.” That gave me
the weekend to finalize more of the details.

He rubbed his hands
together, a wicked gleam in his eye that had me sitting straighter in my chair.
“I want to participate, too. This should be fun.”

I sure hoped so. I
stepped out of his office and into the small room next door. Cheryl Wright, a
former classmate of mine and the principal’s secretary, sat hunched over her
keyboard. The sound of clicking keys filled the room. “Good morning, Cheryl.”

“Hey, Marsha.” She sat
back and raised red-rimmed eyes in my direction. “What can I get for you?”

“I guess you’ve heard I’m
in charge of the book fair.”

She nodded as tears
welled. She reached for a Kleenex. “I don’t know how you can do it.
Poor
 
Mrs
.
Grimes. To meet such a fate, why I cry every time I think of it.”

To my recollection,
Cheryl cried over just about everything. In school, she’d cried at hearing the
school’s fight song, over every sport loss, and every time someone read a
poetry assignment in English class. Not to take anything away from her mourning
Mrs. Grimes, but I had a hard time digging up any compassion. “It was a
horrible thing.”

“And you were the one to
find her.” She fluttered a hand toward me. “You poor thing.”

“Yes, well…Mr. Dean sent
me in here to ask you to announce that I am looking for student council members
to volunteer for a haunted house I’m putting on to draw attention to the book
fair.”

“I can do that. What
fun.” Her withdrawn face said she thought it anything but fun.

“We’ll have the book fair
the two nights before Halloween. I’ll have some fliers made up and put them on
the counter in the front office. Will that be all right?”

“Perfect.” She turned
back to her computer.

Dismissed, I headed to
the front office. Janet Snyder, head of the PTO, no PTSO, stood chatting with the
attendance clerk. “Just the person I wanted to see.” I grinned. “I’m looking
for volunteers.” I explained my plan for the book fair.

Her eyes widened. “A
haunted house at a school? Mr. Dean approved this?” She shook her head. “I
don’t celebrate Halloween.”

“Maybe not, but the
majority of the students do.” I still had tons of high school age kids ringing
my doorbell every year. “Maybe you could work the book fair aspect and leave
the other to the students?”

“I could do that. But all
the decorations will give me the
heebie
jeebies
. You should also ask Mrs. Grimes’s book club
members to help out as a tribute to her. They’re older women, but they could do
some of the more menial type tasks.”

“That’s a good idea,
thanks. Have the police opened the library yet?”

“It’s only been a day.
Give them time.”

“Then do you know how to
get in touch with the book club?” I cocked my head. Who got her panties in a
wad?

She scribbled a number on
a piece of paper. “Here’s the phone number for Norma Rae Jennings. Mrs. Grimes
was head of the club, but Norma Rae is the second-in-command.”

“Thanks.” I shoved the
paper into my pocket. Instead of calling, it might be more beneficial to join
the club and get to know the other women before blurting out my request over
the phone. As if I had time for one more thing. Maybe I could get Mom to join
instead.

My cell phone rang as I
crossed the parking lot. I smiled to see Duane’s face pop on the screen. “Hey.”

“How’s your morning? I’m
between classes and thought I’d give you a call.”

I unlocked the door to my
Prius and slid inside. “It’s going okay. I’m finalizing some details on the
book fair.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard of the
haunted house. I’d like to be a part of that.”

“Really? That would be
awesome! You can be the chainsaw wielding maniac.”

“Perfect. See you at
dinner. Love you.”

We hung up, and I drove
back to the shop. Having Duane present would help keep the students’
shenanigans at a minimum. None of the boys would want to anger the football
coach.

Bruce and the new officer
strode across the parking lot and entered the library from the side door. What
could they possibly have left to do? I really wanted access to the locked
drawer.

I slid from the car,
locked it, and ducked inside the library side entrance before anyone could stop
me. Bruce and Officer Bradford were in the back room where Mrs. Grimes was
killed. I needed to find the key to that drawer, and fast.

The low murmurs of their
voices propelled me to search through desk drawers. I was most likely searching
for a small gold key, the type used for filing cabinets. What if she’d worn it
around her neck? I didn’t remember seeing a lanyard. Would the office manager
have an extra key?

Wait. She’d had the key
in her hand when she’d ducked into the back room. I bit my bottom lip. I
couldn’t go in there with Bruce.

“What are you doing here?
We haven’t allowed access to the library yet.” Bruce marched toward me.

“The side door was open.
I need some things, like—” I searched around for something, anything, and
grabbed a notebook off the desk. “Notes.”

His lips thinned. “That’s
my notebook.” He held out his hand. “You’ll have access to the library again
tomorrow.”

I handed over the book
and tried to peer around him. “What are y’all looking for?”

“That’s none of your
business.”

“But I need something out
of there.”

“Tomorrow.” He pointed at
the door.

“Fine.” I whirled and
headed back to my car. What a waste of time that had been. If Mrs. Grimes had
stuck the key in a pocket or her purse, I’d never get my hands on it. All that
would be handed off to the next of kin. Who was her next of kin? I drummed my
fingers on the steering wheel. Her personal effects had to go somewhere.

I didn’t know why,
exactly, but I knew whatever was locked in that drawer had a bearing on her
death. Call it a snoopy woman’s intuition. I started the car and drove to the
shop. I had giant spiders to make. I’d decided I really didn’t like Halloween.
Who came up with the stupid so-called holiday anyway? Within a couple of days’
time, I found myself neck deep in darkness.

I should have chosen a
harvest theme for the book fair, but that wouldn’t attract the traffic we
needed. I owed it to Mrs. Grimes to put on the best book fair the school had
ever had.

I entered the shop to the
sight of customers standing four deep at the counter. Not one of them had
anything in their hands to purchase. At the jingle of the door, they all
turned.

“There she is!” They
rushed me.

I stumbled backward onto
the sidewalk. My feet slid out from under me. I landed in an unbecoming heap on
my backside.

“You found Mrs. Grimes?”
An elderly woman held out her hand. The strength in her arms as she helped me
to my feet belied her frail appearance. “I’m Ingrid Jennings. This is my
daughter, Norma Rae. Harriet was the president of our book club.”

Harriet? How did I not
know Mrs. Grimes’s first name after all these years?

“We heard you were with
her in her final moments.”

“I was.” I dusted off the
back of my denim jeans, hoping I hadn’t knocked one of the sparkly sequins off.
Some days seemed to scream for the overalls I used to wear.

“How was she? Did she say
anything about her dear friends?” Ingrid cocked her head, much like a bird.

“No, she put me to work.”
I pushed past them and took sanctuary behind the counter. “What do they want?”
I hissed at Mom.

She shrugged. “You.
They’re all nothing but Nosey Nellies.”

The crowd followed me
back inside. “Oh, no.” Through the window, I spotted my nemesis, Stacy Tate,
resident reporter of River Valley.

She elbowed her way
through the women. “Well, well. It looks like Marsha is knee deep in trouble
again.”

“I thought you left town
after the last fiasco.” The woman had almost been killed by the deranged
ex-wife of a man she’d cheated with.

“I only took a leave of
absence.” Stacy pulled a notebook from the oversized red leather bag she
carried. “May I interview you? Thanks. Tell us what you found in the high
school library.”

“Lots of books.” I would
not make this easy for her.

“Marsha.” She narrowed
her eyes. “Wouldn’t you rather have a friend interview you? We miss you at the
paper. Your gossip column was the hit of the town.”

What a liar. Since the
moment I spilled the beans about her breast enhancement surgery, Stacy had been
out to get me. “I wasn’t in the library when Mrs. Grimes was killed. I found
her after returning from the teacher’s lounge.” I shuddered.

Stacy’s pen flashed
silver as it scratched across the pad. “Were you frightened? What did the
victim look like? Can you tell us how she was killed?”

Even I knew not to give
out too much information. If I said something, even inadvertently about the
murder, Bruce would slap handcuffs on me faster than a hummingbird’s wings
fluttered. The man was only waiting for his chance.

“She looked dead.” I
crossed my arms. “You know I can’t divulge any facts.”

At the word dead, the
onlookers gasped. What? They thought she’d look like Sleeping Beauty? “Ladies,
we have work to do. If you aren’t going to make a purchase, we need to ask you
to leave. You’re keeping paying customers from entering the store.”

No one waited outside,
but I didn’t need an audience when dealing with Stacy. She usually left me
feeling, and looking, like a fool. Lord, give me patience.

Ingrid rushed forward and
slipped a pink sheet of paper in my hand. “We have a club meeting tonight. We
hope you can join us. You, too, Gertie.” She led the group from the store.

“Are you going to solve
this mystery like you did the other two?” Stacy’s eyes gleamed.