Лори Касс - Cat With A Clue

“Did you do this?” I asked.

She shook her head. “The only addition of mine is a dent in the desk when I was five, from riding my tricycle too fast. It was the last Benton to own the store, my great-grandfather, who did all this.”

“By himself?”

“Pretty much, or so the family story goes. He’d wanted to go to sea, but as the only male Benton, he was obligated to take over the store. Back then they ran tabs for people and would sometimes trade. One of their customers paid for a full year of groceries with maple planks cut from trees he’d felled on his land. Great-grandpa sold some, but used the bulk of it for this.” She smiled. “Or so the story goes.”

“You don’t believe the story?”

“In my family, the stories get better with every generation, so it’s hard to know the truth.” She tapped the desk. “Take this, for instance. I grew up hearing it had been given to Great-grandpa by President Roosevelt for saving his life during some hunt.”

“Not true?” I asked.

“When I took over the store, I crawled underneath the desk during a cleaning frenzy and found the manufacturer’s label. Made in 1923.”

“Didn’t Roosevelt die just after World War I?”

“In 1919.”

“Hmm.” I studied the desk. “Who made it? Maybe there was some association with the name.”

“The desk?” She looked at it, too. “Something to do with kitchens. Something Furniture. Pot, pan . . .” She snapped her fingers. “Kettle. Kettle Furniture.”

A report I’d written in sixth grade bounced out of my brain. “Kettle Hill,” I said. “The Spanish-American War. Kettle Hill and San Juan Hill were where the big battles took place.”

She considered the possibility for half a second, then shook her head. “Don’t see it. Thanks for trying, though. By the way, I’m Rianne Howe,” she said, standing up and holding out her hand. “You’re Minnie Hamilton, and I’m not sure why we haven’t met before today.” After we shook, she waved me to a chair. “I love libraries, and I think your bookmobile is the best thing that has happened to this town since Cookie Tom opened up.”

I beamed. “We welcome volunteers on the bookmobile. Julia and Eddie and I love to have new folks along.”

“Sounds like adding one more might make it a little crowded.”

“Well, one of us is a cat. He doesn’t take up too much room.” I thought about what I’d said, then added, “Most of the time, anyway.”

Rianne laughed. “So, what can I do for you? I’d love to make a donation to the library, but I’m still trying to figure out how to make sure this store actually turns a profit.”

“You haven’t been running the store very long?” I asked.

“Technically I took over when Grandpa Cal retired six years ago. I was downstate then, managing some big-box retail stores. No one else wanted to run this place, and I couldn’t stand to see it go out of the family, so I said I’d do it.” She looked around the office, smiling. “But we wanted our youngest to graduate from high school first, so I hired a manager. Then when Brian graduated last June, we started making plans to move up. My husband’s an RN. He got a job with Lake View Medical Care Facility, and here we are.”

It wasn’t an unusual story, but there was one part of it I was curious about. “It seems odd that with seven children and who knows how many grandchildren, you were the only DeKeyser who wanted the store.”

“That’s because you don’t know how much work it is. My grandparents were wonderful people, but one of their strongest beliefs was that a strong work ethic made for strong character.”

“Sounds like my mother,” I murmured.

“Each and every DeKeyser relative,” Rianne said, “worked in this store when they were kids. After school, on weekends, through the summer. Probably half the kids in town worked here, too, but it was the DeKeyser kids who had to work harder and better.” She gave a wry smile. “No nepotism in my family. Raises? Not a chance. Holidays off? Not for a DeKeyser. It was our store, and we have to live up to its reputation.”

“I can see how that would sour you on working here.”

“Yet this is where I want to be,” she said. “I even got a degree in retail management. Go figure.”

“It was your fate,” I said, although I wasn’t certain I believed in fate.

“Maybe.” She looked around the room again. “Though it’s more likely,” she said, half smiling, “that I just want to be able to play with the ship’s wheel every day.”

“Every office should have one,” I said, slipping my hands under my thighs so I didn’t reach out to give it a whirl. “But I’m not here for a donation. If you have a couple of minutes, there are a couple of things I think you should know.”

“Sounds serious.”

I sighed. “Sorry, but yes. I assume you heard about the break-in at Pam Fazio’s store the other night?”

“Horrible thing,” Rianne said. “I would have been over to help, but I was downstate last weekend for a wedding. How is Pam doing?”

“Cranky that she’s going to get weird tan lines with a cast on her arm,” I said. “And it’s the break-in at Pam’s store that got me thinking. I’ve talked to the police, but I’m not sure they’re taking it seriously.”

“Haven’t I heard that you’re dating Ash Wolverson? Isn’t he training to be a detective?”

Sometimes this town was way too small. “Yes, and he’s not sure I’m right about this.”

“About what?” Rianne asked.

“I think everything that has gone on the last couple of weeks is all about books. Or maybe even one book.”

“Not sure I’m catching this,” Rianne said, leaning back in her chair.

Yes, folks, it’s true. Everyone in town thinks Minnie Hamilton is a nutcase. Nevertheless, I forged ahead with my theory. “Your grandmother’s funeral—and I’m so sorry for your loss—was what brought Andrea Vennard to town. That’s when—” I looked at her. “Um, I haven’t figured out the relations, exactly. Was Andrea your cousin?”

“She was a great-niece to Grandma Talia, which made her my . . .” She frowned. “Second cousin? Anyway, I knew her more from school than through family, and even then not very well. She was a few years ahead of me.”

I nodded. “Andrea came north for your grandmother’s funeral and was killed in the library. The Friends of the Library book-sale room was vandalized soon after that. Then the bookmobile was broken into, and Pam’s store was burglarized.” I held up the fingers I’d been using to count. “Four incidents that involved books.”

Rianne looked puzzled. “But there was a lot more damaged in Pam’s place than books.”

“Yes, but when you look at the pictures we took of her store before we started cleaning, you can see that it was the books that were tossed around the most. Nothing was stolen from Pam’s. Not one thing.”

“Huh.” Rianne leaned back a little farther and let out a long, slow breath. “That’s downright weird.”

Hurray! Finally, there was someone who understood my concerns. “So, there are two things I wanted to talk to you about. One, if you could think of any possible link between Andrea and your grandmother, something beyond the normal family connection.”

Rianne’s eyes grew distant as she tried to come up with an idea. When I could see that she was coming up dry, I said, “What about books? Did your grandmother have any valuable books? Or maybe a journal?”

“The only valuable thing my family has ever owned is this store,” Rianne said, glancing around fondly.

Another brilliant idea bites the dust. “If you think of anything, will you let me know?”

She nodded. “Sure. What’s the second thing?”