Лори Касс - Gone With The Whisker

Holly studied me. “Does this have to do with Rex Stuhler’s murder?”

“Not sure yet,” I said. “If it does, I’ll let you know.”

Eventually.

* * *

At lunchtime, I hurried home for a quick peanut butter and strawberry jam sandwich—see Mom, I’m eating fruit!—encouraged Eddie into his carrier, and drove him up to the bookmobile, where I’d done the preflight check before I’d left the library. One of the things I’d wanted to do for ages was expand the bookmobile’s summer hours, and now that Graydon had settled in as library director, he was taking over a lot of the work I’d been doing when I’d been stuck as interim director. All that meant I was able to squeeze in an extra half bookmobile day and it was wonderful.

Julia was waiting in the parking lot, leaning against the side of her SUV, looking like a 1950s teenager with her hair in a ponytail, a bright white T-shirt, and rolled-up jeans.

“Nice look,” I said, unlocking the bookmobile door.

“Yes, isn’t it?” She checked her ponytail in the bookmobile’s side mirror and slightly rearranged its pink polka-dotted bow. “I lost a bet with my husband and now I have to dress like I was when we met.”

I eyed the bobby socks and flat sneakers. “In what universe did you wear clothes like that?”

“Playing an extra in Grease .”

That explained the particulars of the clothing, but not the rest of it. “You going to tell me about the bet?”

She arched one eyebrow and gave me a slow smile. “Are you sure you want to know?”

“Well . . .”

“Mrr!” said Eddie from his carrier, which was still in my hand.

Julia leaned toward it and whispered loudly, “I’ll tell you later, okay? But it involved a bottle of wine and a new negligee.”

“All righty, then,” I said, suddenly wanting to change the subject. “This morning Josh was asking about new servers. Again. And Holly wants to buy more technology for the youth sections.”

“This is about the Larabee money?” Julia climbed aboard ahead of me, sat, and accepted the cat carrier I handed over. “There you go, my feline friend,” she said, strapping Eddie in snugly. “The board hasn’t decided?”

“Not yet.” We buckled our seat belts and I started the engine. “What do you think should be done?”

“I’ve been thinking about this,” Julia said, her voice shifting to a serious tone. “And the only real answer is a full set of Sookie Stackhouse books.”

“That would be nice,” I agreed, “but even with all those books, there would still be a lot of money left.” Thousands and thousands and thousands of dollars, actually. “What else?”

Julia waved off the question. “I’m part time. My opinion doesn’t matter a tinker’s you-know-what.”

“It matters to me,” I said.

She reached over and patted my shoulder. “And I love you for that, my dear, but I know my place in the world of the Chilson library and I’m quite happy not having an opinion. Safer that way.”

I made a rude noise in the back of my throat. If she’d wanted to play life safe, she never would have left Chilson in the first place, let alone become a successful stage actor.

“Opinions get you into trouble,” she said, squiggling comfortably in her seat as we reached the outskirts of Chilson and headed into the rolling, wooded countryside. “Did I ever tell you about the time the director of a Streetcar Named Desire production asked for my opinion on his directing?”

As she told the story, which ended with a thrown chair and a damaged stage set, part of my brain was thinking about Rex Stuhler and Barry Vannett. Was their difference of opinion on the proposed trail a deep enough motive for murder? Or were there deeper reasons out there waiting to be uncovered?

“Mrr!”

Julia looked down at Eddie. “You know what? That’s exactly what I told him.”

I grinned, getting an inkling of what she’d been like to work with onstage, and tried to focus on enjoying the rest of the tale. But it was not to be, because Julia diverted to a completely new topic.

“Speaking of opinions,” she said. “Do you have any on Rex’s murder?”

“Too early to tell.” I glanced over and saw her looking at me. “What?”

She tapped her chin with an index finger. “Just wondering. Is it possible that we saw something, the last day Rex was on the bookmobile, that might be a clue?”

“I can’t imagine what.”

“Me either.”

We sat in silence a minute, then Julia said, “Say, you were outside with Mr. Eddie for a while, answering the call of kitty nature. Did you see anything?”

I shrugged. “Just a couple of cars going by. I remember wondering where they thought they were going, it being a dead end road and all. Then, when they didn’t come back right away, I figured they were hiking or something.”

“Do you remember anything about the cars?”

For maybe the first time in my life, I wished I’d actually paid attention to vehicles. Even better, that I had a habit of memorizing license plate numbers. “The second one was an old sedan with a bunch of stickers on the back bumper.” I’d been too far away to read any of them, but they’d all been bright pink. “And the car was kind of noisy.” Eddie had flattened his ears as it drove past. “The first one was a truck, just crawling along. I remember thinking it was probably a new truck, and that the driver didn’t want to get any gravel dings or dust on it.”

“So we have a noisy car and a new truck, and no real reason to think they’re connected to Rex’s murder.” Julia nodded. “We’re halfway to solving this.”

“Mrr,” Eddie said.

* * *

The rest of the day flew past, as per usual on the bookmobile, and in the blink of an eye we were back in Chilson, lugging books from vehicle to library. The chore didn’t take long with two people working, and soon Eddie and I were back at the houseboat. Which was empty. I opened the carrier, Eddie sauntered out, and I went to look at the whiteboard. To my surprise and delight, Kate had actually left a message.

Went up to Great-Aunt Frances and Otto’s to eat. Back later.

Smiling, I erased her note and added my own. Going for a walk, then over to the house. Back later.

I nodded. “What do you think of that, Mr. Edward? My niece and I are communicating!”

Eddie didn’t say a word, so I went on the hunt, and found him in the tiny bedroom closet, up behind my shoes. It had been his favorite place a year or two ago, but I hadn’t seen him in there since.

“Is this another phase?” I asked, looking down at his curled-up self. “I’m fine with it, as long as you don’t chew anything.”

One yellow eye opened, then closed.

“Right. Well, I’m off for a walk.”

Eddie sighed and curled himself a little tighter. For some reason, this made me smile, so it was with light spirits that I headed outside. It was a Wednesday, but it was also only four days after the Fourth of July, so it was a guarantee that the sidewalks of downtown Chilson were near peak capacity.

To avoid that, I walked the block parallel to the main street. One street over, the pedestrian and vehicular traffic was minimal. I felt a bit smug as I made long-ish strides past the parking lots and backs of buildings. From back here, the downtown’s architectural mishmash was even more apparent. Our mix of hundred-year-old buildings and new buildings, brick and wood, expensive and not, all summed up to create a business district whose appeal could never have been planned. The main street was almost exclusively retail, and the side streets were filled with professional businesses that didn’t need the higher foot traffic and retail stores that didn’t want to pay astronomical rent.