"A Murder In Milburn", Book 3: Death In The Library (12 page)

“What!” Nora sprang up.

“Oh. I mean… I just assumed.” Mrs. Mullally looked very embarrassed. “Could your honor make sure that last statement is struck off the record?”

“Mrs. Mullally are you serious? Was he really planning to propose to me?”

“As far as I could tell, yes,” she replied. “I suppose I’ve ruined the surprise. But honestly, everyone in town knows. May Almand was talking about it just the other day. There’s no way you couldn’t have suspected.”

“Well, I didn’t.”

Mrs. Mullally covered her eyes with a hand, then peeked out from between her fingers. “Any chance you can pretend you never heard me say it?”

“I will,” Nora said, a little calmer. “In any case… like I said, things are weird between me and Harvey right now.”

“Why?” Mrs. Mullally asked.

“Well…” Nora told her the whole story.

Mrs. Mullally nodded as Nora spoke, interspersing her nods with “ummhmm”s and “no!”s. When Nora was finally done speaking, Mrs. Mullally said, “You’re right. It was unfair of me to tell him off. He’s trying hard, poor boy.”

“But you see my point, don’t you? Why didn’t he tell me about Selena? Why didn’t he tell
anyone?
”

“Why should he?” Mrs. Mullally asked.

“Because… because it’s the right thing to do.”

“Maybe it was,” Mrs. Mullally said. “But I could see how he might have rationalized it. He might have thought that he’s only going to attract attention, and that might ruin the project he’s worked so hard for. Besides which, it might be nothing. The sheriff himself was confident from the start that it was her crazy ex-boyfriend who’d killed her. Isn’t that right? You’re the only one who thinks otherwise even now. I’m sure if Sean himself had come to Harvey, Harvey would have told him every detail.”

“Y-e-s,” Nora said hesitantly.

“Interesting though. I never even remembered that Selena’s
real
father was from Milburn. He moved out to California so long ago. Funny because one of the reasons her mother moved here was to get away from him.”

“Well… it worked.” Nora smiled.

“That family’s had a bad time,” Mrs. Mullally said. “Selena’s father’s brother, what was his name now, Brick? No, Clay. Clay Jarvis. He married a nice young girl, who died of cancer, so that he was alone with his daughter Helen. His second marriage was to JJ Wallis’ Aunt Maude. We all know how badly that ended!”

“I don’t, actually,” Nora said. “I think I might have heard the story before, but it’s just not coming to my mind.”

“Oh, it was quite terrible,” Mrs. Mullally said. “A tragic, tragic thing. Maude got life in State prison for it. Maude poisoned her step daughter. At least, that’s what I remember. I’m not very clear on why and how. Clay was so devastated that he killed himself a year later.”

“That’s… that’s just terrible.” Nora sprang up suddenly. “But now I remember. JJ’s Aunt Maude!”

“Yes dear?”

“Alan told me something about it,” Nora said, beginning to pace. “Last year…”

“Alan Bridges? The town drunk? I wouldn’t listen to much he said,” Mrs. Mullally laughed.

“Alan told me that Helen was seeing an older man. The rumor was that she was seeing Sean’s father. Alan implied that Maude was wrongfully charged with the crime.”

“Oh that Alan, he’s got an absolutely wicked tongue.” Mrs. Mullally turned red. “Dracon Senior was absolutely incapable of doing anything of the sort. Alan should be ashamed. Everyone knows he just hates Sean for no reason.”

“Well, in Alan’s eyes, Sean unjustly imprisoned him,” Nora said.

“Well, Alan deserved to be in jail,” Mrs. Mullally said. “In any case, I remember now.
 
Helen was in no way dating Dracon Senior. She was dating an older man, all right, but Maude made her stop. Helen protested and they had quite a few fights. There was one particularly violent fight in which Maude threatened to kill Helen if she didn’t start being more obedient. It was really quite nasty and quite a few of the neighbors overheard them. Helen even shouted back that she’d rather die than obey a tyrant. The police thought that might be why Maude poisoned her in the end.”

“Do you think she did?”

“Doesn’t matter if I think she did,” Mrs. Mullally said. “The police thought she did, and the judge thought she did, and the jury thought she did.”

“But did you?”

Mrs. Mullally hesitated. “If you’d asked me before whether Maude was capable of harming her own step-daughter, I’d have laughed at you. Maude as I remember her, was a very gentle and sweet lady. But who knows? I know that when serial killers are unmasked, the people around them gasp and say,
But he was so kind and gentle! An upstanding citizen!
”

“I’ve heard that too,” Nora said.

“Exactly,” Mrs. Mullally said. “Some people are born psychotic, and can easily fool the world around them into believing otherwise. It’s when you live with someone day in and day out that you
really
get to know them, though there are quite a few wives who later find out that their husbands were not quite saints. I think when the BTK killer was unveiled, his wife protested that she genuinely had no idea about his activities.”
 

“Who was the man?” Nora asked. “The older man Helen was dating?”

“Well, now. You know I don’t like spreading rumors,” Mrs. Mullally said. “Besides, it was such a long time ago, and I don’t want to put a marriage at risk because of it.”

“Oh go on, I won’t tell a soul,” Nora insisted.

“All right. If you promise.”

“I do.”

“Brett Almand,” Mrs. Mullally said. “The rumor is that she was seeing Brett. But she was only seventeen and he was twenty six and engaged to the daughter of the town’s richest man. Long story short, Maude put a stop to it.”

Nora leaned against the wall, a little stunned.
 

“Don’t look so stunned,” Mrs. Mullally said. “It can happen.”

“But… Mayor Almand?” Nora said weakly. “He can’t sit or stand until May tells him to.”

“Men are complicated creatures. I think he felt almost forced into marrying May,” Mrs. Mullally said. “In any case, he came around I’m sure. Brett hasn’t strayed in all his years of marriage. He’s been a good husband.”

“Has May been a good wife?”

“Oh, she’s a bit strict with him, but she’s done wonders for his career, hasn’t she?” Mrs. Mullally said. “After all, there’s no doubt, he wouldn’t be Mayor if it weren’t for his wife and her campaigning.”

“Mrs. Mullally, do you think there’s the slightest chance that Mayor Almand had anything to do with Helen’s death all those years ago?”

“Oh heavens, no. Maude did it. She was in state prison for life. She died of cancer recently, I heard.”

“She was convicted, yes,” Nora said. “But Maude protested that she was innocent right until the end. I know, because JJ was trying to reopen her files before he got murdered. I’d even considered at the time that perhaps he was murdered
because
he was trying to reopen those files. As it turned out, I was wrong, but…” Nora took a deep breath. “Maybe Selena was investigating this too?”

Mrs. Mullally shrugged. “Now I don’t really know much about Selena. You did say she had an interest in the house with the yellow gate.”

“She did. Don’t you think that’s funny? That she could be looking that up and then be murdered?”

“Don’t you think it’s funny that the boyfriend who had physically abused her in college decided to come back into town years later, and that Selena was murdered that very day?” Mrs. Mullally asked. “I think there’s a much stronger case arguing for Robert having done it.”

“True,” Nora said. “Robert’s the only one who can have attacked me and Grant.”
Or is he?
In Nora’s mind, there was a vision: the library door, wide open, a body visible in the light the streetlamp threw in. Who had known that she would be there? Only Harvey. But also, potentially, Brett and May Almand.

Nora felt her heart leap up. If Harvey
had
been there, watching for her outside the library, could he not be a witness? He must have seen someone come in or go out! Grabbing her phone, she texted him, and waited breathlessly. In a few minutes, she had her answer.

“I don’t really remember,”
Harvey texted her.
“I know the door was closed when you went in, and the door was open maybe half an hour later when I burst in. I didn’t have my eyes glued to the door the entire time I was waiting outside. But I’m fairly sure I would have seen if a car had approached or someone had entered. Or maybe I missed something. Are you seriously still investigating this? After everything that’s happened? For your own sake, Nora, you have to stop this. It’s Robert and they’ll find him any day now.”

But Nora knew she couldn’t. Not when the answer seemed so close to her reach.

*****

Chapter 16

Selena’s house was a two story A-frame hugging a country road and surrounded by the mountains. Unlike Tina’s house, which had the glamour of a celebrity residence, or Mrs. Mullally’s charming cottage, which had
character
, Selena’s house looked… sterile. Maybe it was the construction scaffolding that still clung to it, but the house looked as if it were put there as a part of a film set. Nora parked her car and stared as she got out, thinking that it looked like something out of a Spielberg movie, perhaps. White exterior, grey trim. Somewhat shaggy yard with a few flowering trees randomly planted at the edges.
 

Nora wandered in, and inside too, the house was very... sterile. For a creative person, Selena had taken no effort at all to decorate her home or personalize it in any way. The living room had a TV and a single leather couch and coffee-table. The bedroom and bathroom were sparse too, with minimal IKEA furniture, all black. Not a single painting hung on the wall, nor a post it note. The cupboard, when Nora opened it, had seven dresses neatly hung, and a few pairs of jeans.

Then, in the upper floor, Nora encountered the study. She let out a gasp.

Books, piles and piles of books, cluttered the floor starting from a few that had even spilled over to the staircase. They were like a fortress’ walls, looking nigh impenetrable from where she stood.
 

As she slowly picked her way across them, Nora took time to appreciate the various prints that hung on the walls, bold modern artworks, and sculptures whose meaning she could not decipher, although she appreciated their smooth flowing lines.
 

The study itself consisted of a large walnut dining table, and a huge CEO’s chair. An old computer had clearly been on it, probably taken away by the police. Notes and books were sprawled across the table too, though Nora had no doubt that the police had taken many of them away as evidence.
 

She picked her way across to a glass display case whose key still hung in its lock. All seven of the books that Selena had published were proudly displayed there, along with letters from fans and a scrapbook full of newspaper clippings. As she opened this, a neon colored hair floated out, and Nora felt a shudder go through her. These books were more a piece of Selena than that sole floating hair.
 

Slowly, she began to skim through the books, looking for highlights and notes, and Selena had made plenty. Almost all of them self-critical.

Horrible!
She had written in more than one place.
Improve next time. Needs more depth.

Other comments, equally cutting, appeared everywhere.
 

Do people seriously like this? It’s disgustingly bad writing.

That character is not a character. It’s a transparent plot device.

Could I have been any more obvious?

“Don’t be so hard on yourself,” Nora wished she could have said to her. Selena had clearly been a perfectionist, pushing herself to do better each time.
 

Over time, a funny thing happened. Try as she might to skim through, Nora felt herself falling into the world, reading the books and short stories Selena had written.

A particularly touching one, was called
A Traveling Christmas
, and described a happy family, roaming the country in their van, even as the roads were covered in snow the parents very much in love, the young child playing in the back and making faces at the vehicles that passed. Eventually, the van broke down, and the parents began to have a huge argument on the side of the road, as the child stayed inside, reading her book.

Nora felt tears come to her eyes at the matter of fact crispness with which Selena wrote, the inevitability of the family’s breaking apart, all clearly understood from one fight on the side of the road. Selena, Nora knew, had undoubtedly gone through something similar.

The last sentence of the story was:
Life, she understood, was better when you travelled.
Underneath, Selena had scratched out a note, perhaps many years later,
Better line - Life was better when you travelled, and more meaningful when you came home.

At some point, reading through this, Nora’s eyes began to droop. Outside, the sun had already begun to sink beyond the mountains, converting their graphite bodies into a sleek gold. She took a deep breath of the air, and rested her head for just a second on the desk.