Лори Касс - Borrowed Crime

Stephen went back to the window. “Apparently Mr. McCade has used his powers of persuasion to convince the family to donate the proceeds not to the library, but to”—he paused—“the bookmobile. That’s the second item I wanted to discuss.”

Though I was already sitting down, I wanted to sit down again.

“The library world,” Stephen went on, “is buzzing with the news. I’m surprised you haven’t received phone calls about this.”

Not yet, but I had received seventy-three e-mails.

“The Chilson District Library,” he said to the window, “is becoming a library of note, and I have to say that you, Minnie, are primarily responsible.” He gestured toward his desk. “I’ve received a letter of support for the bookmobile from an Andrew Burrows, a kindergarten teacher at Moulson Elementary, I believe. It is signed by sixty-two people.”

I opened my mouth, but nothing came out.

“The library board and I have received numerous such comments. Each of the letters, phone calls, and e-mails we’ve received speak of you and the bookmobile in great and glowing terms.”

Stephen was passing on compliments? Who was this man, and what had he done with my boss?

“This leads me to the third item.” He folded his arms and rubbed his chin. “You may not be aware, and as a matter of fact, I quite hope you’re not, but I’ve been grooming you to be the next library director.”

I squeaked, but Stephen kept rolling.

“Not for five years and ten months, of course, which is when I anticipate that my retirement savings will reach my target amount, but it’s never too early to start training your successor, not if you want your institution to be properly run after you’re gone.”

Properly? I almost snorted.

“The reason,” he said, “that I’ve been so hard on you the past year was to test you, to see if you have the right stuff. The library board will, of course, make the final decision, but at this point I can say with certainty that the job is yours.”

He’d been testing me? The nights I’d worked late, the hair I’d pulled out, the off-hours research I’d done, all in the name of meeting one of Stephen’s challenges—all that had been a test?

My chin went up again, but slowly it came down. Maybe testing me had been a good way to determine my suitability. There were worse ways. Probably.

“I can see that you’re surprised,” Stephen said, which was when I realized he’d been watching my facial expressions in the window’s reflection. “There’s no need for you to make a decision at this juncture, but after all you’ve done for this library, I thought it reasonable to inform you of my plans.”

“Thank you,” I murmured. “This is a lot to think about.”

“I understand.” Stephen pulled out his chair. “If you have any questions, feel free to ask.”

As if. I thanked him again and started to stand.

“Oh, and Minnie. The fourth thing?”

“Yes?”

He smiled faintly. “Your cat. I know all about him.”

“My cat?” I froze, half-up and half-down.

“Eddie, I believe his name is.” Stephen straightened his computer monitor. “I’ve known he was on the bookmobile from the first week.” He chuckled. “Did you really think I didn’t know what was going on?”

“Oh. I . . . uh . . .”

“Minerva.” Stephen sighed. “If you’re ever going to sit behind this desk, you really need to learn to speak more coherently. Please work on that.”

“Yes, sir.” I stood and, on extremely wobbly legs, I made my way back downstairs, where my friends were waiting for me.

Chapter 20

“So, the bookmobile is financially safe and sound?” Aunt Frances asked.

I beamed at her. “Thanks to Cade’s painting. It’s not enough to create an endowment, but it’ll keep us on the road for a long time.” My heart sang with happiness at the idea.

“And Stephen has known about Eddie all along?” Aunt Frances asked.

Or that’s what I assumed she asked, because she was talking while her mouth was full of popcorn. Bad aunt.

For the twenty-first time in the last three minutes, I pushed Eddie’s head away from the popcorn bowl. “That’s what he said.”

I still found it hard to believe. If he’d known the whole time, why hadn’t he just said so? I’d spent a lot of energy trying to keep Eddie’s bookmobile presence a secret. If I’d known that Stephen had known, I’d have put that time to better use. Maybe I would have finally finished reading James Joyce’s Ulysses . Probably not, but maybe.

“So Eddie and the bookmobile will ride again.” Aunt Frances reached out, pushed Eddie’s head away, and took another handful of popcorn. “I couldn’t have managed it better myself.” She gave me a wink.

I smiled, but it faded as I studied the fire, its orange peaks dancing. Most of what had happened had been luck, both good and bad. Good that funding for the bookmobile had dropped from the sky, but horribly bad for poor Roger.

“Mrr.” Eddie bumped my elbow on his way across my lap.

“Hey!” I pulled his head out of the popcorn bowl. Time twenty-two. “That’s not for Eddies.”

He gave me a disgusted look and slithered up onto the back of the couch.

“Allison Korthase.” Aunt Frances shook her head. “She had so much potential.”

She’d had it all, as far as I could tell. Intelligence, beauty, money—yet that hadn’t been enough for her. She’d wanted more, much more, and had murdered to get it.

Eddie bumped me on the back of the head. Absently, I reach up to pet him, wishing that I’d been smart enough to figure out before Roger had been killed that Allison had had the capacity for murder. How, I didn’t know, but if, for instance, I’d known that—

“Hey!” I saw Eddie’s white-tipped paw snaking down to the popcorn bowl. I batted it away. “This is not cat food. Your bowl is in the kitchen.”

He turned around and sat on the back of the couch with his hind end against my head.

Aunt Frances laughed. “You should see his face.”

“Oh, I have a good idea of what it looks like.” If Eddie had the power to disintegrate me on sight, I would have been a small heap of powder months ago. “You know what else Stephen said?”

My aunt did the one-eyebrow thing. “About the bookmobile or about Eddie?”

“Neither,” I said, then reconsidered. “Or maybe both.”

Aunt Frances looked at my cat. “It’s a pity she can’t be more clear.”

“Mrr,” he said.

“Do you want to hear or not?” I asked.

“Yes, please.”

“Mrr.”

So I told them about Stephen’s not-so-imminent retirement and about his plans for my future.

“You don’t sound overly excited,” Aunt Frances said.

I plunged my hand into the popcorn. Becoming a library director had been my career goal for years. In college, I’d often fallen asleep while dreaming about the library I’d one day direct. Even since moving to Chilson, I’d thought about the changes I might make as director. But in the past year, I hadn’t thought about it much. Hardly at all, as a matter of fact.

“I’m not sure,” I said slowly, “that I want to be library director, if it means giving up the bookmobile.”

Eddie’s tail thumped against the back of my head.

“You are so weird,” I told him.

“Well.” My aunt used the napkin on her lap to wipe her fingers clean of butter. “You don’t have to make the decision today.”

“Not even this month.”

“So no need to worry, right?”

“None.”

“Then I say it’s a perfect time to pop another bowl of popcorn. Just because it’s Monday night doesn’t mean we shouldn’t celebrate.” She stood. “Eddie, you staying or coming with?”