Jenn McKinlay - Due Or Die

BRIAR CREEK

PUBLIC LIBRARY

The feel of hot breath across her chest woke Lindsey the next morning. Heathcliff, or rather the puppy, was dead asleep with his head on her shoulder. She felt her mouth curve up in a smile. He was a snuggler. How cute was that?

She glanced down and his fuzzy head tickled her chin. He was lying pressed close beside her, and she wondered if he had been cold or scared during the night and had sought comfort in closeness. Either way, she knew she was going to have to find a home for him and fast. He was too charming for his own good, and despite what Tom the vet had said about pit bulls or pit bull mixes being put down just because they had pit bull bloodlines, she knew she’d be able to find someone to take this sweet young dog.

With that in mind, she got them both suited up to go outside. She was standing in the backyard with him when Nancy poked her head out of the back door and called her over.

“What are you going to do with Heathcliff while you’re at work today?”

“I don’t know. I hadn’t really figured it out yet,” Lindsey answered. Nancy was holding out a steaming cup of coffee to her, and Lindsey took it with a grateful smile.

“Leave him with me,” Nancy said. “I’ll puppy sit for you.”

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely. Honestly, it’ll make me feel safer to have a barker around.”

Lindsey glanced across the yard. All of the houses on this street were old and big and sat on very large lots. She had never noticed before how isolated they all were, probably because when Charlie was in residence, the horde of musicians that came and went were nonstop, making the place feel as busy as the New Haven train station. Until now, the quiet had been a nice reprieve. Now it was just creepy.

“He’s all yours,” Lindsey said. “I took a picture of him this morning. I’m going to put up some flyers and see if anyone is missing him. Hopefully, he’ll be reunited with his people soon.”

Nancy pursed her lips but said nothing. As the puppy trotted into Nancy’s first-floor apartment, to be spoiled rotten no doubt, Lindsey raced upstairs to get ready for work, dropping off Heathcliff’s essentials with Nancy on the way out.

Things were quiet at the library. Maybe it was just the hullabaloo of the day before, or perhaps the crazy events of the week, but Lindsey found herself relieved to be answering normal questions on the reference desk and writing up her weekly report for the mayor’s office.

It was midafternoon and she had just called Nancy to make sure the puppy was behaving-he was-when she heard two women talking over by the new-book area.

She recognized one as being on the high school PTA, but the other woman was a new face, not a regular library user. They both appeared to be in their late forties, with the requisite rounded figures and hair dyed improbable shades of blond to hide the gray.

“Well, I heard that she was having an affair,” the PTA woman whispered to the other.

“Really?” the woman asked.

“Marjorie didn’t say, but I got the feeling it was an inappropriate liaison,” the PTA woman said. “I’ll bet she was sleeping with a married man, probably one of the doctors at the hospital where she works. You know, she always works the night shift.”

The woman’s voice was sly, as if working nights was proof of anything.

“Do you think poor Markus knew?”

“I doubt it,” the other woman said. “He trusted her so completely, besides the poor man never left his house. He was disabled, you know.”

“I didn’t,” the other woman clucked. “Do you think she shot him so that she could be with her doctor?”

“I don’t know. I mean, if her doctor is married, he’d have to leave his wife, wouldn’t he?”

“Oh, I just had a horrid thought,” the other woman said. “If Carrie shot Markus to be free of him, would she shoot her doctor if he refused to be with her or would she shoot his wife?”

“Oh, dear,” the PTA woman said. “We could have a serial killer on our hands.”

Lindsey felt her teeth set. She didn’t like gossip as a rule, especially malicious gossip about a friend. Since one of the women had mentioned Marjorie’s name, she got the feeling Batty Bilson was the one planting the seeds of the malicious talk.

Knowing that it was none of her business, Lindsey rose from her seat anyway and approached the two women.

“Good afternoon,” she said. “Was there anything you needed help finding?”

The two women looked startled at her approach, sort of like kids caught pilfering cookies out of the cookie jar when they’ve already been told it’s too close to dinner.

“Uh, no, I’m good,” the PTA woman said. She held up a current bestseller.

“Well, there’s a young adult series called Gossip Girl that is quite the gripping read, if you’re interested,” Lindsey said.

The PTA woman had the grace to blush while the other one gave Lindsey an irritated look and said in a rather snotty tone, “I’m fine, but thanks so much for your concern.”

“Anytime,” Lindsey smiled. Okay, it was really more a showing of teeth, but she figured she should get points for trying.

She turned and headed back to the reference desk. A glance at the circulation desk and she saw Ann Marie give her a sly thumbs-up from behind her computer.

So, Ann Marie had heard their conversation, too.

Lindsey shook her head. How could anyone believe that Carrie would cheat on her husband and kill him? Truly, it mystified, especially if Batty Bilson was the source of the gossip. Everyone knew the woman was a few slices short of a loaf; how could they listen to her?

She was not surprised to see the two women leave the library shortly thereafter. When the doors slid open again a few minutes later, she glanced up and had to smile as Edmund Sint made his way into the building, looking as if the drafty bitter air from outside was chasing him into the library’s welcoming warmth.

He unwrapped the plaid scarf from about his neck and pulled off his leather gloves as he approached the desk.

“Hi, Edmund,” Lindsey said. “What brings you in this afternoon?”

“This freezing weather has put me in the mood for a noir mystery,” he said. “Who can you recommend?”

“That depends. Are you looking for old-school Mickey Spillane or modern Ian Rankin?”

“Hmm, let’s go modern,” Edmund said.

“Follow me,” Lindsey said.

She walked him over to the fiction shelves.

“I’m surprised to find the library still open,” he said.

“Oh? Why’s that?” she asked as she crouched to find the selection of Rankin titles.

“The weatherman said a nor’easter is coming,” he said. “That’s why I need to stock up on reading material in case the power goes out. Uncle Bill’s library is a dead bore. I need something to keep me entertained if we get snowed in, otherwise I’ll be stir-crazy within hours.”

“A nor’easter?” Lindsey frowned. She had heard there was a snow storm in the forecast but nothing as dramatic as a nor’easter, which typically brought hurricane-force winds and arctic cold.

“If you’ll excuse me,” she said. “I’d better go check on this.”

“Absolutely,” he said. “It’s already started snowing.”

Sure enough, now that she stood close to him, she could see the damp spots on his jacket where the snowflakes had already melted.

Lindsey hurried back to her desk. A glance at the window and she could see the swirling snow falling outside. She hadn’t really paid it much attention before. She quickly brought up the weather website on her computer and typed in the zip code for Briar Creek.

The forecast was not good: bitterly cold temperatures, gale-force winds and lots of snow. They were supposed to be open for a few more hours, but if this was just the start of it, she didn’t want her staff to have to drive home in this weather.