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Authors: Leslie Meier

BOOK: Valentine Murder
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“I certainly intend to.”
They all turned in surprise to look at a slight, pale man with a long upper lip, rather like a rabbit, who was standing in the doorway.
“Let me introduce myself. I'm Detective Lieutenant Horowitz. I'm with the state police, and I'm in charge of the investigation.” He paused, studying the group. “So, who wants to go first?”
CHAPTER FOUR
“Gingerbread Man, climb on my back and I will carry you safely across the stream,” said the clever fox
.
“A
s president of the library, I suppose that honor falls to me,” said Gerald. He glanced at Chuck in a silent plea for support and received a little nod. “What do you want to know?”
“Let's start with the introductions,” said Horowitz, pulling a notebook out of his pocket. As Gerald named each member of the board, Horowitz made a notation in the book, jotting down that person's address and phone number.
Lucy wondered if Horowitz would acknowledge her; after all, she first met the state police detective years before when she had been working at Country Cousins, the giant catalog retailer, and discovered the owner, Sam Miller, dead in his car. When her turn came, however, he didn't show the slightest flicker of recognition and treated her exactly like the others. Maybe her appearance had changed, she thought. After all, she wasn't getting any younger.
When Horowitz had finished getting all the names he looked up from his notebook and studied the group, letting his gaze rest on each of the directors. As he studied them, Lucy noticed a slight shifting of chairs, as if the individual members were joining together to present a united front against this outsider. Their reaction made her feel oddly isolated. She wasn't really part of the group yet, and after hearing them talk about Bitsy, she wasn't sure she wanted to be. Finally, Horowitz spoke.
“Let's go through the events of the morning—who got here first?”
“That would be Bitsy,” said Gerald. “The victim.”
“When was that?”
“I'm not absolutely certain of the time, but she was supposed to begin work at nine. I arrived at ten, when the library is due to open, and found the doors locked. I knocked and she let me in. She said she had been working and forgot the time.”
“If the library doesn't open until ten, why did she come in at nine?” asked Horowitz.
“To prepare for the day, to do paperwork, that sort of thing,” said Gerald.
“What was she doing when you arrived?”
“Something at the computer, I think,” said Gerald. “It was on when I came in but the screensaver program had started. Flying toasters or some such nonsense.”
Horowitz consulted his notebook. “And you were here for a meeting?”
“That's right. We're all members of the board of directors.”
“And what time was the meeting supposed to start?”
“At eleven,” said Gerald.
Horowitz looked sharply at Gerald. “You came an hour early? What for?”
Gerald looked a bit uncomfortable. “Well, I wanted to go over the agenda.”
“Anything special on that agenda?”
“Not really. Everything was pretty much routine.” He paused and studied his hands. “We had received the contractor's final bill for the new addition and needed to authorize the last payment. That was the only new business.”
“Any problems about that?”
Gerald waved a hand in the direction of the new children's room. “I think the addition pretty much speaks for itself—everyone's delighted.”
A small “hmmph” of dissent could be heard from Miss Tilley's corner of the table, but everyone else nodded agreement, eager to show support for their leader.
“Any conflicts among the board members? Problems with Bitsy?”
“Oh, no,” said Gerald. He couldn't resist glancing furtively toward Chuck, who gave him the slightest nod.
“All one big, happy family?” asked Horowitz.
“Absolutely,” said Gerald, his voice a bit too loud.
Horowitz nodded. “Okay—who came next?”
“I guess that would be me,” said Corney, who had prepared her explanation. “I came early because I wanted to see the furniture in the new addition.”
“And what time was that?”
“Let me see,” said Corney, producing a leather agenda and opening it. She ran down a list of things to do with a neatly manicured finger. “I stopped at the post office and the florist shop on the way, oh, and I stopped in at the garage to make an appointment to have my tires rotated. It must have been about ten-fifteen when I got here.”
“Thank you,” said Horowitz with a tired little sigh. “What did you do when you arrived?”
“Well, first I took off my boots and put on my shoes—I do so hate to track snow onto the carpeting. It's really bad for the fibers and it's no bother to bring shoes if you have an attractive tote. They're available in a variety of fabrics and coordinate with almost any outfit.”
Lucy was suddenly self-conscious about her snow boots, which she hadn't thought to remove, and was glad they were hidden beneath the table.
“And then I hung up my coat in the closet,” continued Corney, who seemed determined to turn every answer into a lifestyle lecture. “Good clothing is an investment, you know, and it lasts so much longer if you take proper care of it. After that I went to see the new children's room and I chatted a bit with Bitsy. I looked around some more and then I joined the others in the office. Maybe it was ten-thirty or so.”
“What was Bitsy doing then?”
“I believe she was choosing a book for story hour,” said Corney.
“When is story hour?”
“At eleven.”
“The same time as the meeting?” Horowitz sounded doubtful. “Isn't that kind of unusual?”
“Not at all,” said Miss Tilley, eager to clear up the confusion. “As directors, we felt our valuable paid staff was better employed elsewhere during meetings. We wished to avoid any duplication of effort.”
Horowitz shook his head and frowned. “Wouldn't it be more usual to include her—for input?”
“We found Bitsy's input most valuable,” said Chuck. “She always came for the last half-hour or so, after story hour, to give a report and answer questions.”
“I see,” said Horowitz, dropping the matter. “Okay—let's summarize. It's ten-thirty. Mr. Asquith is in the office, and the victim is in the children's room with Ms. Clarke. Is anybody else here?”
“I was,” said Hayden. “When I arrived I saw Corney and Bitsy talking.” He nodded nervously. “I went to join them but Corney had wandered off, so I spoke with Bitsy.”
“What did you talk about?”
Hayden shrugged. “Books. Nothing of consequence.”
“All right,” said Horowitz impatiently. “How long did you talk about nothing with the victim?”
“A few minutes. Then I asked her about the addition figures. She told me Gerald had them in the office and I went there.”
Horowitz narrowed his lashless eyelids. “You were concerned about these figures?”
“Not at all,” Hayden hastened to assure him. “Just curious. This was a big project and I wanted to know if it came in under budget.”
“Did it?”
“You're darn tootin” it did,” said Ed, leaning back in his chair and propping one ankle on his knee. “If Ed Bumpus says it's gonna cost so much, that's how much it costs.”
“You were the contractor?” Horowitz raised his pale eyebrows.
“Not for this job, no. But I've got the experience and I took charge of things for the board. Made sure it got done right. And under budget.”
“And what time did you arrive this morning?”
“Lemme see—I guess around ten-thirty. Maybe later. I saw him,” he stabbed a finger toward Hayden, “talking with Bitsy when I came in. I went straight to the office, to make copies for the meeting. Danged machine didn't work.”
“When you got to the office, who was there?”
“Just him,” said Ed, pointing to Gerald with a thick finger. “Nobody could get the machine to work, so when Bitsy came she went off to the front to make the copies on the coin machine. That's when he came in and her, too,” he said, pointing to Hayden and Corney.
“That's right,” said Miss Tilley in a clear, precise tone. “I came as I always do at a quarter to eleven. The volunteer responsible for the circulation desk had not shown up, something that unfortunately is not all that unusual. I noticed that quite a few books had been returned, and someone was waiting to check one out, so I took charge temporarily. While I was at the desk two directors came in—Lucy and Chuck.” Miss Tilley clucked her tongue. “They were both late.”
“I was late,” admitted Lucy, with an apologetic little smile. “It was ten past when I arrived. I greeted Miss Tilley, sent my daughter over to the children's section for story hour, and went into the office to join the others. They were ready to begin the meeting, but Bitsy hadn't started story hour, so I went downstairs to get her.”
Horowitz held up his hand. “Whoa. When did Bitsy go downstairs? And why?”
“It must have been close to eleven by then,” said Gerald, looking to the other board members for confirmation.
“I think that's right,” agreed Corney.
“And why did she go downstairs?”
“To get something, I guess,” said Ed, scratching his chin. “She kinda ran off.”
“As if she'd just remembered something?” asked Horowitz.
“Yeah,” said Ed.
“Let me get this straight, now,” said Horowitz. “Mrs. Stone went downstairs to get Bitsy sometime after eleven-ten. Where are the rest of you?”
“Well, we were leaving the office, on our way to the conference room,” said Gerald.
“All of you together? As a group?”
“No. I went to the front to get Miss Tilley,” said Corney. “That's when Chuck arrived.”
“Okay. Mr. Canaday, Miss Tilley, and Ms. Clarke are in the front by the desk. Mr. Northcross, Mr. Asquith, and Mr. Bumpus are leaving the office. Mrs. Stone is downstairs. Is that right?”
They all nodded.
“And all this time nobody was alone? You were all in each other's company all the time?”
The directors exchanged uneasy glances.
“There was quite a bit of coming and going,” admitted Corney, looking around the table. “I certainly couldn't say that for sure.”
“I admit it—I made a pit stop,” said Ed. Seeing Horowitz's puzzled expression he added, “You know—the men's room.”
Horowitz nodded.
“And I went into the reference room,” added Gerald. “I went to get the gavel. It's stored in a closet there.”
“Before this goes any further I'd like to know what you're getting at,” said Chuck. “You seem awfully interested in our movements. Is one of the directors under suspicion?”
“At this point of the investigation everybody's a suspect,” said Horowitz.
“That's ridiculous!” exclaimed Gerald. “None of us killed Bitsy. It must have been someone from outside—the workroom has an outside door, you know.”
“I know,” said Horowitz. “That was one of the first things I checked.”
“And?” inquired Chuck, taking over from Gerald.
“Nobody came in that way.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“It was locked.”
“Of course,” agreed Chuck, nodding thoughtfully.
The directors avoided each others' eyes, and carefully studied the small section of table directly in front of each of them while Horowitz went on.
“Whoever killed her either came in through the main door—or had a key to the outside workroom door.”
Lucy felt the room begin to swirl around her as the image of Bitsy's body came back to her. She tightened her grip on the arms of her chair.
“That doesn't mean one of us did it. The library's a public building. Anyone can come in,” said Gerald.
“That's true,” said Horowitz. “Did you see anyone who seemed suspicious?”
“No,” volunteered Lucy. “The only people here besides us were the mothers and children for story hour.” She paused and added helpfully, “I had them all write down their names before they left.”
“Did any of you see anyone else?” asked Horowitz.
The directors shifted uneasily and shook their heads.
“Just because we didn't see anyone doesn't mean that someone didn't come in,” insisted Chuck. “Perhaps someone who had a personal score to settle. And with all these bookshelves, it would be easy for someone to remain unnoticed.”
Horowitz nodded. “I'll keep that in mind. Thank you all for your cooperation. I know it's past lunchtime and you must be hungry. You're free to go now, but I'd like you all to remain available to assist in the investigation.”

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