Tempest In The Tea Leaves Part 14

"Oh, honey, that child is plenty loose-with her wallet, anyway." She snickered.

"Now that I think about it, her house was full of really nice things. She must like to shop."

"She loves to shop, so much so it's become a problem for her." Belle looked around and then leaned in even closer to me, her eyes sparkling bright as though she loved a good piece of juicy gossip. "I heard she has a shopping addiction. That Home Shopping Network can be deadly."

"Don't I know it," I agreed. "My own mother is addicted. So where is Carolyn tonight, then?"

"Working at Gretta's Mini-Mart. Poor Carolyn had to take a second job. It's a shame things didn't pan out for her, really."

"What didn't pan out?"

"Word around town is that she was next in line for the management position at the library. Once Amanda died, everyone thought Carolyn would be a shoe-in. Especially with Maude Sampson retiring. But the board filled the position with some young whippersnapper from out of town, leaving poor Carolyn in the dust. Why, I heard tell that young woman is barely old enough to wipe her nose, let alone run the library."

"Have you met her yet?"

"Nope, and I don't plan to. She won't be getting a neighborly welcome from many. No siree. We here Divinians are a loyal bunch. We look out for our own." Lulubelle nodded sharply, her eyes cutting to mine. Belle might look like a big, bubbly, fun-loving woman, but she was as sharp as the blade my father uses for surgery and as tough as the steak my mother attempts to cook.

I was suddenly aware I'd better tread carefully when following my lead on Miss Hanes. One thing this new librarian and I had in common . . .

I, too, was an outsider.

But that didn't stop the questions from running through my mind. Why didn't Carolyn Hanes get the library job? Was she hurting for money because of her shopping addiction? Was she desperate enough to betray her best friend by working with the bigwig? What had he promised her to make it worth her while? Even more baffling was why the town historian Gladys Montgomery would be in cahoots with a man like Alex Pendleton.

Maybe it was time I got acquainted with this town's past.

Early the next morning, the pounding in my head was unbearable. I'd only had the one drink at Bunco last night. I wasn't that much of a lightweight, was I?

The pounding grew louder, and I suddenly realized the noise wasn't coming from inside my head. It was coming from outside my front door.

I glanced at my bedside clock. Eight A.M. on a Sunday morning. Maybe if I ignored it, whoever it was would go away. The pounding continued, and Morty pounced on top of the mattress from out of nowhere. He stared me down. I stared back.

"Can't you twitch your tail and turn them into a pile of dust or something, big guy?"

He gave me a look that said, You're on your own. I don't have time for you silly humans, then made a noise somewhere between a purr and a growl right before he pranced away.

I threw back the covers. Grabbing my fleece robe and slipping my feet into my enormous bunny slippers, I slowly scuffed my way downstairs to the front door.

"All right already, I'm coming." I yanked open the door without even looking and then groaned. "Mom? Dad? Seriously?" We had to stop meeting like this.

Mom pushed her way right past me, dressed in her Sunday best. "Chop-chop, darling. It's time for church." She blinked at my hair. "Are you getting gray? You must take after your father. You should have that Tracy woman down at the salon fix it. I heard through the rumor mill she's pretty good. I'd never let her touch my own hair, mind you, but since you don't seem to care much about your appearance, I'm sure she could do something to help."

"Gee, thanks, Mom. I'll keep that in mind." I didn't even bother to correct her and point out it was Tracy and her salon that had turned me gray in the first place. Pushing those thoughts aside, my mother's words registered and I gaped at her as though she were from another planet. "Church? We haven't been to church in years."

"Yes, well, maybe that's the problem," Dad said. "We need all the prayers we can get to clear your name. Dr. Wilc.o.x has rescheduled our dinner twice so far."

"Can you blame him?" Mom chimed in. "He's probably still wary of all of us now that we know about his blackmail intentions. To think he even considered breaking his vow as a doctor." She tsked. "Now, that's a man who could benefit from a morning in church. He obviously hasn't gone to ma.s.s in quite some time."

"Not everyone is Catholic, Mom."

"Doesn't matter. Confession is good for the soul. You should try it. Father Moody is a lovely human being."

Poor man's ears would never be the same after listening to my mother's confessions, I suspected. I rubbed my temples. "And how did you hear about the librarian's file?"

"Small town, Sylvia." Dad grunted. "There's nothing too trivial for these people to gossip about."

Good Lord. I groaned, knowing he was right. Not to mention Divinity had a huge Catholic population. Half the town would probably be at nine o'clock ma.s.s to see if anyone knew what was in that file. Looked like I was going to church. I bit my lip, made the sign of the cross, and looked up as I mumbled, "Forgive me, Father."

Twenty minutes later we were headed to Sacred Heart Church on Mystical Drive a half hour early. We entered the small, quaint church with rows of pristine white pews and gorgeous stained-gla.s.s windows gracing the sidewalls. I had to admit there was something so peaceful about entering a church of any kind.

The pews were filling up quickly. The front rows were completely occupied by the Mad Hatters-aka the busybody church ladies who thought I was a devil-worshipping heathen just because I was psychic and hadn't attended ma.s.s since I'd moved to Divinity. Not to mention my first reading had ended in a little thing called murder. I had dubbed them the Mad Hatters because, frankly, they were crazy. Stubborn and opinionated and downright self-righteous.

Not even close to the churchgoing citizens they claimed to be.

I couldn't stand people who were hypocrites, and yet my mother chose to sit right behind them. "Good morning, Alice. Shirley. Mable." Dad followed close on her heels, tipping his head. "Ladies," he added as though they were all great friends.

Their red, purple, and green hats swung in our direction. They smiled a lovely smile at my mother and gave her a nod of approval, a charming smile at my father and showered him with expressions of adoration, then looked down their noses at me while turning their lips into a frowning purse of disgust. I just donned a sugary sweet smile and waved at them with my fingertips.

They harrumphed in return.

Then the most remarkable thing happened. Their pursed lips turned into nasty scowls as they looked toward the door of the church. I couldn't believe they'd found someone to dislike more than me. Craning my head around to look, I saw an average-sized woman with medium brown hair and plain features. Nothing unusual or outrageous about her clothes or makeup, either. I didn't understand what could possibly have caused such a negative reaction.

Until I noticed Carolyn Hanes. She'd focused on the newcomer, and a hurt look crossed her features. The hurt quickly turned to anger as she faced front once more, made the sign of the cross, and prayed to Jesus. The newcomer could only be one person.

The new manager of the library.

I'd heard the Historical Society was having a meeting that afternoon at the town hall. It was open to the public, so I decided to go and check it out. I slipped in the back as the meeting was in full swing, hung up my puffy coat on one of the last available coat hooks, and then slid into the last row in the back to listen to Gladys Montgomery.

"Calm down, people, I understand how you feel. I don't want to lose the library any more than you do. It's been a part of Divinity for ages, but we have to face the fact that it's not thriving. Alex Pendleton is a snake and only cares about making money. But he does have a point. The library is losing money. Our town is losing money. We need businesses to bring in revenue and jobs, but we just don't have enough land zoned for that sort of thing. And, frankly, we have other landmarks more worthy of saving. If we don't let him have the library, he'll take something else. It's all about compromise."

"What about the anonymous gift the library received?" someone asked. "I heard that will keep the library afloat for at least another year."

"And what then? What if there isn't another gift, and Pendleton has moved on?" Gladys asked. "Then the library closes and just sits there."

"Amanda Robbins would roll over in her grave to hear you talk like that," someone else said.

"I've spoken to Pendleton," Gladys went on, ignoring the comment about the librarian. "He would be willing to drop his pursuit of the old Divinity Theatre Hotel if we let him have the library. I know we don't want to lose the library, but like I said, it's not doing well anyway, and a bookstore would still provide books. Whereas the Theatre Hotel is ancient. It's been around much longer than the library and is therefore a more desirable candidate for National Historical Landmark status." Gladys's eyes lit up.

"Don't you see? We are so close. The National Park System Advisory Board has already had their meeting and has recommended the hotel to the secretary of the interior for potential landmarks. His final decision should be made in a couple of weeks. If we don't give the library to Pendleton, then he will most certainly pet.i.tion the secretary to try to stop the hotel's landmark status so he can put his bookstore there. The hotel would make a wonderful museum, and once it becomes a landmark Pendleton won't be able to touch it. I know we have some tough decisions ahead, but what choice do we have?"

"A lot of our citizens are hurting for money, too, not just this town. How do you think they will be able to pay for books or afford to go to a museum?" someone else chimed in. "At least with the library open, our citizens have some sort of free entertainment. And think of the children. The library hosts wonderful programs for the children and gets them interested in reading. The kids won't read half as much if their parents can't afford to pay for books."

"Don't forget the seniors," Maude Sampson said. "For some of us, the library is all we have left."

"The library can't close down," Bernard Sampson added, sitting tall and solid by his wife's side. "Those who are retired have no place else to go." He glanced at his wife, and his jaw worked beneath his skin. He jingled the change in his pocket. "My wife needs that library, plain and simple."

"You may not have a choice, Ms. Montgomery, but I do," said Ms. Smith, the new manager of the library. "I now have Amanda's vote and am proud to say I agree with her decision. The library stays."

"I'm sorry, Mr. Sampson." Gladys straightened her spine and burned daggers from her eyes at Ms. Smith. "As president of the Library Board, I've called for a revote."

"But Ms. Robbins was the deciding vote, and Ms. Smith said her vote still holds. The results will be the same," yet another citizen pointed out.

"You never know. Some votes might be swayed after today's meeting," Gladys said.

"My thoughts exactly," said a tall blonde in an expensive suit, carrying a tiny dog in her purse, as she entered the back of the town hall.

No one recognized the stranger, save one. Gladys's pale face gave away all. This had to be the mystery woman she, Carolyn, and Pendleton had been trying to sway with no luck.

"That's why I've decided to double my gift to the library," the woman finished with a satisfied smile, chorused by several gasps around the room and an eruption of cheers. "That's right, good citizens of Divinity. My name is Lucinda Griswold III. Your library might be running out of funds, but my pocketbook is not. I have a huge soft spot for libraries, and your town is simply divine." She locked eyes on Gladys. "I think I'll stay for a spell."

Gladys gripped the podium, looking like she might be sick.

Grabbing my coat off the hook, I slipped out the back of the town hall as quietly as I could. I decided to walk and think for a while. Pa.s.sing the ice rink in the center town park, I strolled down the business district and ran into Detective Stone.

"Hey, Tink, I was looking for you. Where are you coming from?" He fell into step beside me.

"Church with my parents and then the town hall meeting."

"Church?"

"I go." I hoisted my chin high in the air. "Just not as much as I'd like to since I've been here."

"I'm not questioning that or judging you. I simply can't imagine you sitting in a pew with your parents like one big happy family."

"Trust me, there was a lot of praying involved." I snorted.

"So how'd the meeting go?"

"Very interesting." I told him about all the details that had come out during the meeting. How Gladys wanted to trade the library to Pendleton in order to keep the hotel in hopes of making it a landmark. And how Pendleton had promised higher-paying jobs to library employees, which explained Carolyn's interest. Then I finished with, "I still think the three of them were in cahoots to get rid of Amanda since she was the deciding vote to keep the library open. They probably hadn't counted on Carolyn not getting the manager position at the library, and they especially didn't count on the anonymous gift."

Mitch looked thoughtful as we walked. "What I don't understand is this Griswold woman. She has more money than she knows what to do with, obviously, but why Divinity? Why this small library?"

"That's what I keep wondering, too. There has to be more to this story. We're missing something."

"Agreed. We need to find a possible link to digoxin for the trio and look more into Miss Griswold's background. Friends, enemies, grudges, et cetera. Anything or anyone to connect her to Divinity."

"I'll see what I can come up with. How about you? Anything new?"

"More dead ends. What about your father? Any luck with the doctor?"

"Not yet." I blew out a breath. "I'm still worried. What if none of these leads pans out?"

Mitch stared at me for a long, intense moment. "We don't have any hard evidence on you, Tink. Unless the murder weapon suddenly shows up at your house, you're fine."

I swallowed, my throat suddenly dry. "Right," I said, shoving my hands in my coat pocket, and then I went into a coughing fit.

"You okay?" Mitch patted me on the back, and I jerked away.

"Fine, fine. I don't like to be touched when I'm coughing." That sounded ridiculous to my own ears, but I could not let the detective get too close to me.

He held his hands up. "Oh-kay. Whatever you say, Tink, but just for the record,you're acting weird again."

"Don't you know by now that weird is my middle name?" I faked a smile. "It's a trendy city thing."

"Yeah, let's go with that." He slid his sungla.s.ses over his eyes, but that still didn't hide his expression. He must think I'm totally whacked. "I'm going to look into the public records. Do some digging. I was going to ask you to dinner, but you don't look so good. Maybe you should lie down."

"Good idea." I kept my hands in my pockets. "Catch you on the flip side." I turned on my heel and took off as fast as I could until I rounded the dead-end road to my house.

Stopping, I glanced around several times until I was certain I was alone. Finally, I pulled my hand out of my pocket, tightly holding the contents.

Just as I suspected. Another small bottle of digoxin like the one that had been in my cupboard. There was no name on the prescription. It had been scratched off just like the other bottle as well. But how on earth did it get there?

I had taken my coat off in the town hall during the meeting and hung it up on the coatrack in the back. Someone at that meeting must have slipped the digoxin inside. A chill ran over me. The real killer was trying to set me up to take the fall.

Everyone in town knew I was a suspect with no alibi but also no murder weapon. If they could get Detective Stone to find me with the evidence on my person or in my house, then I was screwed. We'd formed a truce of sorts, but he still thought I was a quack, and he didn't trust women. He wouldn't hesitate to haul me off to jail, case closed. I had to up my game and solve this case before the situation spiraled out of control.

Things were about to get ugly.

13.

Later that night, I walked into Smokey Jo's to grab a bite to eat. A little freaked out over the whole killer-stalking-my-every-move thing, I didn't feel like being alone. Even big, bad, spooky Morty could sense something was off and had disappeared-and he was far from a coward. Meanwhile little ole fraidy-cat me was a nervous wreck, and I couldn't even share it with anyone.

I couldn't tell my parents because they would stick to me like wet tea leaves even more than they already were or, knowing them, hire a bodyguard. And I couldn't tell Mitch because he wouldn't believe me. He'd confiscate the digoxin as the proof he needed to arrest me. I didn't dare tell Jo or Sean because I didn't want to involve them or give the detective an excuse to arrest them as accomplices. So, basically, I was on my own.

I found a spot at the bar and tried to decide what to eat for dinner. Glancing around, I noticed the place looked pretty empty tonight. Just a few locals, and- My jaw fell wide-open.

Detective Grumpy Pants and Lucinda Griswold III?

It hadn't taken him long to find another dinner date. I set my jaw and narrowed my eyes in his direction. I knew when he'd said he was going to ask me to dinner, he hadn't meant as a real "date." But it still irritated me that he'd moved on so quickly.

My rational side knew the detective in him was just checking her out, but my emotional side suspected the man in him was checking her out in another way. He looked so relaxed, leaning back in his chair, his arm draped over the back and his knees spread wide. Lucinda said something, and Mitch threw back his head in a laugh. The grin that crept across her face was s.e.xy as h.e.l.l and full of promise. Even worse, Mitch smiled a real and genuine full smile with crow's-feet and all.

Something in my chest, that I refused to put a name to, tightened. Like it or not, I realized, my vision was coming true. The heartache had begun, and I was terrified there was nothing I could do to stop it.

"Hey, la.s.s, why so down?" Sean tapped my cheek, capturing my attention.

I jumped, placing a hand on my aching chest and then inhaling deeply. "Sorry. It's been a weird couple of days."

"Is there anything I can do?" He leaned across the bar, his firm biceps fully flexed and on display. "Say the word."

"You already have." I squeezed his arm, the corners of my mouth lifting along with my spirits. "You always cheer me up, Mr. O'Malley."

He placed his hand across his heart. "Then may the G.o.ds bless me as I slip peacefully into the night knowing I have accomplished my sole mission in life."