Murder of a Stacked Librarian (2 page)

Murder of a Sweet Old Lady
—March 2001

Murder of a Sleeping Beauty
—April 2002

Murder of a Snake in the Grass
—August 2002

Murder of a Barbie and Ken
—November 2002

Murder of a Pink Elephant
—February 2003

Murder of a Smart Cookie
—June 2003

Murder of a Real Bad Boy
—September 2003

Murder of a Botoxed Blonde
—November 2003

Murder of a Chocolate-Covered Cherry
—April 2004

Murder of a Royal Pain—
October 2004

Murder of a Wedding Belle
—June 2005

Murder of a Bookstore Babe
—September 2005

Murder of a Creped Suzette
—October 2005

Murder of the Cat’s Meow
—March 2006

Murder of a Stacked Librarian
—December 2006

And this is when the Scumble River short story and novella take place:

“Not a Monster of a Chance” in
And the Dying Is Easy
—June 2001

“Dead Blondes Tell No Tales” in
Drop-Dead Blonde
—March 2003

Scumble River is not a real town. The characters and events portrayed in these pages are entirely fictional, and any resemblance to living persons is pure coincidence.

CHAPTER 1

By the Book

S
kye Denison adjusted the stack of books in front of her, making sure that she was completely concealed behind their brightly colored spines. It was the morning of December 23, exactly a week before her wedding, and she was hiding out in the Scumble River Public Library.

She was supposed to be working on writing her vows, but in truth, things had gotten out of hand and she was avoiding all the people who were stressing her out. She’d known from the minute she set the date that her mother would drive her crazy, but she hadn’t anticipated that others would join May on that trip. As it turned out, the entire town had an opinion. From the flowers for the church to the menu at the reception, people stopped Skye wherever she went to lobby for their favorite selection.

Didn’t they realize that all the choices had been made months ago and it was far too late for Skye to change her mind now? Unless she just called off the whole shebang and went back to her nice, boring, regular life. Surely Wally wouldn’t mind delaying their marriage another year, or two, or ten. He was a patient guy and didn’t deserve the psycho bride she was becoming.

Skye’s fiancé, Wally Boyd, the town’s chief of police, had been strangely exempt from all the hoopla. It might have been his age—he was forty-three—or the fact that he had been married once before, or because he was male, but no one was making helpful suggestions to him about the decor or the food or telling him what not to wear.

Sighing, Skye closed
The Everything Wedding Vows Book: Anything and Everything You Could Possibly Say at the Altar—and Then Some
and added it to her camouflage pile. Next up was
Yes! I Will! I Do!: Your Step-by-Step Guide to Creating a Wedding Ceremony as Unique as You Are
. She examined the pale pink cover, then flipped it open to the index. As she ran her finger down the column, looking for the chapter on vows, a loud voice drew her attention to the circulation desk.

Chip Nicolet, the owner of the new health club, Guns and Poses, had backed librarian Yvonne Osborn against the counter and appeared to be enthralled with the beautiful woman’s many assets. The muscular man’s expression reminded Skye of her cat, Bingo, just before the Fancy Feast was spooned into his bowl—hunger, impatience, and entitlement all mixed together in a quivering mass of desire.

Yvonne had been substituting for Scumble River’s regular library director since June, and during that time, Skye had noticed that although the temporary librarian had the hourglass figure of a Playboy Bunny, her outlook on life was more like Margaret Thatcher’s than one of Hugh Hefner’s average cottontails. Apparently, Chip hadn’t gotten the memo on that, because he was staring at Yvonne’s considerable bustline and nearly drooling.

Happy for a distraction from her wedding woes, but more than a bit alarmed at the man’s belligerent attitude, Skye pushed aside a pillar of books and leaned forward to hear the conversation. She felt a twinge of conscience at blatantly eavesdropping, but anything was better than thinking about the big day looming on her horizon like a dentist appointment for a root canal. Why, oh, why hadn’t she eloped like her brother and his new wife had?

Skye saw that Yvonne was trying to shush Chip, but evidently the health club owner had never heard of the “whisper in the library” rule because he boomed, “Come on. Say you’ll go out with me.”

“No.” Yvonne’s expression was adamant. “Now move aside and let me do my job.”

“I promise you, you’ll have a good time,” Chip persisted, edging closer.

“I seriously doubt it.” Yvonne took a deep breath, causing her chest to expand and Chip to stare. “Is there a book I can help you find?”

“A book?” Chip looked confused.

“You know, those items lined up on the shelves.” Yvonne pointed to the crowded bookcases around the room. “The reason you came into the library.”

“I know what a book is. What? Do you think I’m an idiot?” Chip snarled. “I just didn’t realize anyone still read them.”

“Yes. Many people whose attention span is longer than a television commercial still read books.”

“I’ll make a mental note of that,” Chip jeered.

“That might be difficult for you to do since your pencil is obviously out of lead.” Yvonne’s voice was cool. “And since it doesn’t appear you’re here for any of the library’s usual services, is there something else I can help you with? Perhaps directions to the bathroom?”

“What?” Chip wrinkled his brow. “Why do you think I need to go to the can?”

“Frankly”—Yvonne placed her palms on Chip’s well-developed pecs and pushed, but he didn’t budge—“I don’t think about you at all.”

“Well, you should.” His gaze dropped to her curvy bottom. “A hottie like you should be hooking up with someone like me, not acting like a nun. Who are you saving it for?”

“Myself.” Yvonne finally managed to step to the side and wiggle past him. “I’ve found that I’m much better company than most men.”

The library was divided into two main rooms, and Yvonne pushed a cart toward the section where Skye was sitting. A few wooden chairs and tables shared the cramped space with jam-packed bookshelves and racks stuffed with magazines. Yvonne stopped a few feet from Skye and started reshelving novels, pointedly ignoring the man who had followed her.

When Chip moved in front of Yvonne and put his palm on her shoulder, Skye’s initial twinge of alarm grew stronger, and she dug her cell phone out of her tote bag, ready to call for help.

“Go out with me tonight. There’s a new spot in Kankakee that’s supposed to really rock,” Chip wheedled.

“No.” Yvonne glanced down at the wet spot where his fingers had rested and said, “If you’re perspiring this much standing still, I’d hate to see you dancing.”

“If you ain’t sweating, you ain’t doing it right,” Chip boasted. He smoothed a hand over his shaved head. “If you don’t want to go to a club, we could grab a pizza and go to my place.”

“No.” Yvonne reached around him and slid a hardback into place, straightening the spine before adding, “Thank you, but I have other plans.”

“Babe, you don’t know what you’re missing.” Chip flexed his right arm, making his biceps bulge. Although it was winter, he had on a short-sleeved black T-shirt, formfitting jeans, and leather trainers.

“I know exactly what I’m missing,” Yvonne assured him, narrowing her baby blue eyes. “Just because I don’t want to date a Neanderthal like you doesn’t mean I’m living a life of chastity.”

As Yvonne reached around him again, Chip’s hands spanned her tiny waist and pulled her against him. “Don’t call me a Neanderthal.”

“Would you prefer that I call you a caveman?” Yvonne stood perfectly still, seeming unwilling to give him the satisfaction of struggling. “Or perhaps
Homo sapiens neanderthalensis
?”

As Chip’s face turned the color of the Scumble River fire engine, Skye rose to her feet to intervene, but before she could move toward the out-of-control jerk, Chip roared and leaped backward, clutching his groin. Skye’s attention had been on the health club owner, but when she turned to look at Yvonne, she saw the librarian tucking a pink palm-size stun gun into her blazer pocket.

Chip stared at Yvonne for a couple of seconds, then threatened in a shrill voice, “You’ll be sorry for that, bitch. You may look like Jessica Rabbit, but just remember, she was easy to erase.” He hobbled out of the library, muttering about women who didn’t know their place.

Yvonne met Skye’s concerned gaze and shrugged. “He’s not the first man to confuse how I appear with who I am.”

“I’m sure he isn’t,” Skye sympathized. She’d learned long ago that being a round woman in a world obsessed with sticklike supermodels wasn’t easy either. “Are you afraid he might retaliate?”

“Not a chance. One thing my ex-husband and his business partner taught me was how to take care of myself.” Yvonne patted her pocket. “And I have some little friends to help.”

“Where did you get that Taser?” Skye asked. “I’ve never seen one so small.”

“Online. Best ninety dollars I ever spent.” Yvonne handed the gadget to Skye. “Since you’re the psych consultant for the police department, you should convince the city to buy you one. I can give you the details.”

“Thanks.” Skye examined the tiny device, then returned it to its owner. “I doubt the mayor would approve the expense. He thinks my services are pretty useless.”

“Even though he’s your uncle?” Yvonne asked. Then, without waiting for Skye’s answer, she added, half to herself, “Of course, he actually thinks the entire PD is pretty useless.”

Skye opened her mouth to ask what Yvonne meant, but the librarian spoke again before Skye could form the question. “How about requesting the weapon from the school district? As the school psychologist, you probably deal with some fairly violent adolescents.”

“True.” Skye’s eyebrows shot up. “But I’d never Taser one of them.” She added under her breath, “Maybe one of their parents, but not the kids.”

“Everyone needs to be prepared for the consequences of their actions.” Yvonne crossed her arms. “Especially teenagers.”

“Right.” Skye decided it was time to end the conversation and pulled a book from the pile toward her. “I better get back to writing my vows or I’ll be ad-libbing next Saturday.”

“Yes, you’d better.” Yvonne headed toward the small office wedged into a corner of the library, but said over her shoulder, “I hear your wedding is the social event of the season around here. You don’t want to ruin it by being unprepared.”

Skye shivered. It was probably just bridal jitters, but she had a bad feeling that something would mar her big day. She only hoped that all of her carefully laid plans didn’t unravel like a poorly sewn bridal gown.

CHAPTER 2

A Book in the Hand

S
kye stared at her to-do list. Why, oh, why had she thought it would be a good idea to get married the week after Christmas? Not only did she still have holiday gifts to buy and wrap—she also had a million and one last-minute details to attend to for the wedding.

Okay, she knew why she had agreed to the date. As a school employee, she had only two choices if she wanted any significant time off—winter break or summer vacation. Last spring, her mother had insisted summer was too soon to plan a large wedding, and her fiancé had said he wasn’t waiting until the next June rolled around. So, December 30 had been a compromise. When she had made the decision, it had seemed the obvious solution. Now, faced with the reality, Skye realized she should have just said no.

At least Wally was handling the honeymoon arrangements, and his father, Carson, was taking care of the rehearsal dinner. Both men had wanted to surprise her, so she had no idea what was going on with either event. And she didn’t care. She’d be happy as long as the honeymoon was somewhere warm and private, which Wally had assured her it was, and the dinner was nearby so that no one had to worry about getting home safely, which her future father-in-law had guaranteed.

Telling herself that she was lucky to have the week prior to the wedding off from work, Skye left the library and set out on her errands. Right now, the most urgent matter was buying the rest of her family’s Christmas presents.

Since Scumble River was located seventy-five miles south of Chicago, shopping was limited unless you were willing to drive to either Joliet’s or Kankakee’s malls. Considering it was two days until Christmas, the last thing Skye wanted to do was try to negotiate the kind of madness those retail outlets were currently experiencing.

Which left the Gift Box in Clay Center. The sprawling shop sold everything from wine to jewelry to gourmet food and was the only place within a half hour where she could get the items she wanted.

Fifteen minutes later, Skye was wondering if she’d made the right decision in avoiding the malls. The Gift Box’s parking lot was jammed and she’d already circled it twice without finding an empty spot. Finally, she saw brake lights a few cars down and eased into position. Turning on her signal, she gripped the steering wheel of her ’57 Bel Air and prepared to do battle for the space. It was almost a letdown when no one else noticed the opening, and she pulled in without having to fight to the death for the slot.

As she expected from the crowded parking lot, the place was packed. Accepting that this would be neither quick nor easy, Skye examined her options. Most of the gifts she needed were little stocking stuffers. She’d given in and ordered the big presents online. Despite her best efforts to remain a technophobe, she was becoming fairly adept at the computer. Now if she could just figure out all the options on her cell phone—or at least remember to keep it charged . . .