“Sorry I’m so stupid.” One of his ears twitched back, so I knew he was listening. “And going on the assumption that I should be telling all the important beings in my life the important things that are going on in my life, I need to tell you that Rafe now knows I’m looking into Rowan’s murder.”
Both his ears swiveled.
“I hope that’s good news for you. But now things are going to get more complicated because Rafe says he wants in. That he wants to help.”
Eddie started purring.
“Really? You’re purring?” I sighed. “Is this a guy thing? Because I have to say I’m not looking forward to being tag teamed once we move into the house.”
The purrs continued.
Cats.
“The next question is, how do I involve Rafe? It’s not like I have a task list I could split in two. It’s more of a winging-it thing for me.”
Eddie continued to purr, which was comforting but no real help. I picked up the remote, then laid it down. “Out of all the suspects—”
“Mrr?”
“Right.” I nodded. “Let’s review. We have Sunny Scoles, restaurant owner, but not an owner of a food truck due to Rowan’s loan denial, which could be because of an inflated dollar request.”
I waited, but Eddie didn’t say anything. “Moving on. We have Land Aprelle, handyman and woodworker, who had a huge fight with Rowan soon before she died.” I suddenly remembered that Anya had more to say about that. And I would have texted her about it, but my phone was out of reach. Later. I’d text her later.
“Then there’s Stewart Funston, cousin with the sugar packets, and Hugh Novak, who wanted sugar packets and who is moving heaven and earth to get the township to build a new hall, something that Rowan was committed to preventing.”
“Mrr.”
“No idea what you’re saying. And at the bottom of the list there’s the lovelorn and wannabe film guy, Bax Tousely. Which brings up the question, how do I find out more about him? And not the surface stuff. I need the deep-secret-sometimes-scary stuff.”
“Mrr!”
Ding!
Eddie yelped at the exact moment my phone dinged with an incoming text. “Nice timing.” I inched forward, almost falling off the couch in the process, and with one finger pulled my phone close enough to pick it up.
Rafe: Whatcha doing
Me: Sending you a text in a complete sentence.
Rafe: Time waste
Me: And what have you done with all that time you’ve saved?
Rafe: Renovated house
Me: Point to you.
Rafe: Thx
Me (after a short pause): Who do I know that would talk to me about Bax Tousely and keep quiet about it?
Rafe: Rgessie
Me (after staring at the screen for a moment): Who?
Rafe: Fat fingers meant Thessie
Me: Thessie Dyer?
Rafe: Friend w Bs little sister
Me: Thanks! You just helped with Rowan’s murder investigation.
Rafe: Cool gotta go glue setting
“And if that’s how easily it’s done,” I said to Eddie as I scrolled through my phone’s contacts list, “maybe this working together thing should have started a long time ago.”
“Mrr,” Eddie said, and rotated around so that his back faced me.
Thessie was my former bookmobile assistant, Thessie Dyer, now off at college. My thumbs hovered over the phone. If I texted her, she’d probably reply quickly, but texting would be an awkward way to do this. I hesitated, then pushed her phone number.
After three rings, Thessie actually picked up the phone. “Minnie! What’s up?”
“Checking that you’re still sure about majoring in library and information science.” Though I loved my job, it wasn’t for everyone, and I wanted to make sure my young friend knew the bad side as well as the good before making a major life decision.
“Absolutely,” Thessie said. I could almost see her, nodding so hard that her long straight black hair bounced up and down. “Can’t think of anything I’d rather do. But . . .” She hesitated. “Would you mind if I didn’t come home to work in Chilson? I mean, it’s home and all, but have you ever been to the library in Grand Rapids? The main one, downtown? It’s amazing. And a friend and I are going to the East Coast for spring break—we want to see the Library of Congress. Wouldn’t it be the coolest thing in the world to work there?”
I laughed. “It would be wonderful.” If you liked big cities, which I didn’t. “Go where life takes you and don’t look back. Except every once in a while in the summer, because it’s nice here.”
“You got it,” Thessie said. “Now tell me why you really called.”
“Can’t put anything past you, can I?”
“That’s what happens when you’re trained by the best.”
My smile slipped. “Rafe tells me you’re good friends with Bax Tousely’s younger sister.”
“Caitlin? In middle and high school, we were pretty close. Not so much now that we’re at different colleges.”
“Okay, but how well do you know Bax?”
“As much as you’d know the older brother of your high school friend. Why?”
I scrambled for a response. “A friend’s daughter might be interested in dating him, and she’s had some bad experiences. Did you ever see him lose his temper?”
“Bax?” She sounded astonished. “I don’t think he has a temper. He never lost it, not even when Caitlin and I were messing around on his computer and accidentally ruined a video he was doing for the school’s theater group. I mean, he was mad for a second, but then he just said he’d be able to do it better and faster the second time.”
I thanked Thessie for the information, but just as I was about to hang up, she said, “You know, I kind of forget this, but he changed after that Valentine’s thing with Anya Bennethum. He was always quiet, but that’s when he got even more quiet. Didn’t come out of his room hardly at all, except to eat.”
Hmm. That didn’t sound good. Not at all. Thessie and I chatted a bit more, and when the call ended, I asked Eddie, “Well, what do you think?”
All I got was a blinking stare, but I mentally moved Bax Tousely up toward the top of the suspect list.
• • •
The crate of books I carried from my car into the Lakeview Medical Care Facility was heavy enough that I probably should have split it into two trips. But snow was blowing horizontally and night was coming fast, so I chose speed over being smart and staggered across the parking lot, hoping like crazy that I didn’t drop the thing and spill library books all over creation.
Step by step, I labored my way to the front entrance. The automatic double doors swooshed open as I approached, and I heaved a huge sigh of relief as I escaped the frigid, howling wind.
“Thought about coming to help you,” Max Compton said. “But it was more fun to watch.”
I thumped the crate down on a handy table. “Glad I could brighten your day.” My words came out in puffs, as I was still out of breath.
Max rolled his wheelchair a little closer. “My dearest librarian, you brighten my days with your very presence. It’s your visits that keep me alive. Without you, I would languish. I would fail to thrive. I would—”
He stopped talking as I held out a large-print book. It was the latest from John Sandford, Max’s absolute favorite author.
“Are you lending that to me or taunting me with it?” he asked, squinting up at me.
“Reach out and see.”
He grinned. “A touch of surprise to spice up the day. How delightful. But hark! Unless my ears are failing me, which wouldn’t be a surprise because the rest of my body has done that already, I hear the footsteps of our Heather.”
It was indeed Heather, one of Lakeview’s certified nursing assistants, and one of the CNAs who’d cared for my artist friend Cade when he’d stayed there after a stroke. Having the bookmobile stop by Lakeview had been the brainchild of the three of us, and it was a rousing success. I stopped by once a month to read out loud to a group, and also stopped every couple of weeks with a crate packed full of items I’d come to learn would be popular with residents.