Jenn McKinlay - Due Or Die

But, no, she was home and she was safe and there were other people in the house with her. She’d be fine. She heard a snore come from the direction of the couch and she smiled.

She picked up the sleeping puppy and moved him onto her bed. She was so tired she didn’t even bother changing out of her clothes but climbed under the covers grateful for the warmth and softness that immediately enfolded her.

The next day, Lindsey sat staring at the computer monitor in her office. She felt restless today. Her hair was having static fits, so she’d combed it back from her face and styled it in one fat braid hanging down her back.

She had slept like the dead-probably not the best term to think of but accurate nonetheless. When she’d gotten up this morning, she couldn’t help but review in her mind who might have been responsible for locking them in the shed, and had it been a warning or had the person really hoped to cause them harm?

The first person who came to mind was Batty Bilson. When Lindsey had left her apartment this morning, Chief Daniels had been at Nancy’s questioning Carrie. Lindsey had added her two cents, but she doubted it would give him enough information to do anything.

She did an Internet search until she found the number she needed. She picked up her phone and made a quick call. She got lucky. Clyde Perkins had finished a job in town and was only a few minutes away.

Lindsey left her office and headed out to meet Clyde in the main lobby. At a quick glance, she saw that Ms. Cole was working the front circulation desk and Beth had a gaggle of kids in the children’s area. Jessica was working the reference desk, helping a person with the copier.

Lindsey knew Clyde the minute he walked into the building. The tool belt around his middle made it pretty easy to deduce.

“Hi, Mr. Perkins.” She greeted him and held out her hand. “I’m Lindsey Norris.”

His hand was thick with calluses, but as if to compensate, his grip was gentle.

“Nice to meet you,” he said. “Call me Clyde. Everyone does. If you call me Mr. Perkins, I’ll be looking over my shoulder for my dad.”

“And I’m Lindsey,” she said. She supposed she shouldn’t make a snap judgment, but she liked Clyde already. She couldn’t really imagine him murdering anyone.

“So, what was it you needed done?” he asked.

“I need our book drop changed,” she said. “Follow me and I’ll show you.”

She walked him over to the door that led into the book drop. She opened it and switched on the overhead light. The small room was chilly, as the metal door to the drop allowed the cold winter air into the room and there was no heating vent in there to combat the frigid temperature.

“This is our book drop,” she said. She stepped around the thin mattress on the floor to let him see the six-foot by seven-foot room. “The mattress protects the books from damage when they come through this metal door.”

Clyde nodded as he took in the little room and the metal slot. “And what is it you’re needing done?”

“Well, last week someone put a puppy in the book drop,” she said. She couldn’t help the scorn that filled her voice. “He could have died from exposure or hunger. We only empty the drop a couple of times a day and we’re closed on Sundays.”

Clyde frowned. “That’s just all-around wrong. That person should go to jail.”

“I agree,” Lindsey said. “But since I don’t know who did it, I think my best defense is to fix the book drop so that it never happens again.”

“How is the puppy?” he asked.

“He’s doing fine,” Lindsey said.

She couldn’t help smiling when she thought of Heathcliff’s morning antics in the snow. He really enjoyed bounding over the drifts, but he’d invariably land in the middle of one and it would take him a while to erupt out of it like lava out of a volcano.

“I took him to Dr. Rubinski and he got a clean bill of health.”

“Good, Tom’s the best.” Clyde shook his head. “I have a basset hound named Yoyo, and I just, well, I love that dog. I’d be powerfully pissed, pardon my language, if anyone harmed him.”

Lindsey nodded in agreement.

“Let me walk around and check it out from the front.” He left the small cold room and Lindsey waited. The drop banged open a few moments later and she saw Clyde peeking in at her. Then it shut and he arrived back in the room.

“I can make it smaller,” he said. “Big enough to return a couple of books at a time, but not so big that any wise guys will get the idea they can put anything but books in there.”

“That would be excellent,” Lindsey said. “Can you give me an estimate?”

“I’ll have it to you by the end of the week,” he said.

“Can I ask you something off the subject?” Lindsey asked. She knew it wasn’t fair to ambush him like this, but she just wasn’t sure how else she could work Did you murder Markus Rushton? into the conversation.

“Shoot,” he said. He pulled his tape measure off his belt and began to measure the opening to the existing drop.

“You were recommended to me by Carrie Rushton,” she said. She saw him go still at the name, and she hurried ahead so that he didn’t cut her off. “You did some work for them?”

“Tiled a bathroom,” he said. He began measuring again, but Lindsey could see the tension in his shoulders. “Nice lady, Mrs. Rushton.”

“She is,” Lindsey said. “She’s the president of our Friends of the Library.”

Clyde said nothing, so she tried to sound casual as she continued, “Terrible tragedy to lose her husband like that.”

He pulled a pad out of his back pocket and jotted down some numbers. “I suppose that depends upon whether you consider his loss an actual loss.”

Lindsey held her breath for a moment. Was he going to say more? What could she say to encourage him? She decided to go for it.

“Do you consider it a loss?”

“Look, me and Mr. Rushton, we didn’t get on, as anyone will tell you,” he said. “Do I think he should have been shot? Hell, no. But do I think it’s a real tragedy? Well, I’m sorry, but I don’t. That man was lazy, selfish and mean. Mrs. Rushton is a real nice lady. She deserves better than him.”

Lindsey nodded. She couldn’t argue the point.

“Is that why you really called me out here? To find out if I’m a murderer?” he asked. He looked over his pad at her. His brown eyes were shrewd, and Lindsey felt a telling heat warm her cheeks.

BRIAR CREEK

PUBLIC LIBRARY

“I really do need the book drop fixed,” she said. It sounded lame even to her.

“Uh-huh,” he said. Instead of anger, his voice was full of disappointment, which stung much worse than if he’d been angry. “I’ll get that estimate to you.”

“I’d appreciate that,” she said.

He walked around her, but in the doorway, he stopped and turned around.

“For what it’s worth, I was working a job out at the cottages, a kitchen remodel, at the time of Rushton’s death.”

“Oh, I didn’t mean to-” she began but he cut her off.

“Yeah, you did.”

Lindsey cringed. She was so busted. Her pained expression must have amused him, because he added, “It’s all right. Everyone knows me and Rushton were on the outs. The police asked me where I was, too.”

“I’m sorry,” Lindsey said.

Clyde shrugged as if it were no big deal, but she still felt bad that she had offended him. She watched him head toward his pickup truck. As he drove off, Beth appeared at her elbow.

“What was Clyde Perkins doing here?”

“I’m going to hire him to fix the book drop so that no puppies or any other critters can be shoved in it again.”