“Heard he was working hard this summer.” Ash turned his kayak to run parallel with the lake’s shore, and I did the same. “Maybe he’s trying to save enough money to buy a house. He’s lived with his sister for how long? I bet her husband’s ready to see him go.”
Though that last part was undoubtedly true, I was fairly sure Mitchell’s new work ethic wasn’t a product of his brother-in-law’s urgings.
“I’ve been thinking about what you told Hal this morning,” Ash said.
For a moment, I had no idea what he was talking about. Hal who? I almost asked, then, at the last second, I remembered that Detective Inwood, unlike Lieutenant Columbo, did indeed have a first name, and that it was Hal.
When Ash had arrived at the marina with two kayaks, I’d given him the same spiel I’d given the detective as we wrestled the boats off the top of his SUV and into the water.
“And?” I asked now. “Please tell me you had a magical leap of insight. A brilliant flash. Any kind of flash.”
“Sorry.” Ash leaned back and rested his paddle across the kayak’s cockpit. “What I was thinking was that almost everybody in town worked for Benton’s at one point in their life. I grew up in Petoskey, so I don’t know for sure, but from what I heard, the DeKeysers treated all of their staff like family.”
“A dysfunctional family?”
Ash laughed. “What other kind is there? No, what I meant was that I’ve heard people who worked at Benton’s say it wasn’t unusual for staff to be invited to the DeKeyser’s house for lunch or dinner.”
Outstanding. “So anyone who ever worked at Benton’s could have noticed that copy of Wildflowers.”
“Yup.” Ash glanced over. “Which means the people who might know about the book’s value could be anyone from all the DeKeysers to Shane Pratley to Rafe to the mayor.”
“Shane worked at Benton’s?”
“Well, sure.” Ash frowned. “I thought you knew. He was more or less in charge at Benton’s when Deke and Talia handed over the management to Rianne. Shane was fine with that until Rianne moved back to run the store hands-on. He quit cold and went to work at the grocery store.”
“No,” I said. “I didn’t know.” But suddenly Shane’s anger made . . . well, not sense, but at least now I knew there was a reason behind it. But was he angry enough to kill? I looked up at the big blue sky. Though it sent no answers, it was clear that Ash needed to know about Shane’s temper. I sighed. “There’s something I have to tell you.”
When I described the encounter I’d had with Shane at the grocery store, Ash went still. “And you didn’t mention this at the time because?”
I shrugged, because I wasn’t sure why. “He was just letting off steam.”
“You don’t know that.”
He was right. “Sorry,” I said. “I should have told you.”
“Okay.” Ash nodded. “I’ll tell Hal and see what he wants to do with it.” He twirled his paddle in his hands, started to dig the blades into the water, then stopped and looked at me. “Just so you know, we are looking at Steve Guilder.”
“Andrea’s high school boyfriend?”
“That’s the one.” Ash nodded. “We’re looking, so leave that alone, okay? He moved back to Michigan about a year ago. We’re trying to track him down.”
“Is he in Chilson?” For some reason I glanced around. “Do you know where he’s working?”
“We’re trying to track him down,” Ash repeated. “We’ll find him. Don’t worry.”
It was a beautiful summer day with hardly a cloud in the sky, and worrying had been the furthest thing from my mind.
Until then.
Chapter 13
The next morning, I woke to the sound of rain pattering on the houseboat’s roof. I lay quietly for a moment, trying to decide which was noisier, the rain or Eddie’s snores, then reached for my clock to check the time. “It’s not even eight,” I said, yawning. “What do you think, bud? Option one is get up, get going, and be productive in the four hours before I have to be at the library. Option two is roll over and see what happens.”
“Mrr,” Eddie said sleepily.
I murmured agreement, rolled over, and went back to sleep.
Two hours later, I blinked and found that I was wide-awake. Eddie tried to convince me to stay in bed, but it wasn’t any good. I was awake and going to stay that way.
“You, of course, get to remain in bed if you wish,” I told him as I towel-dried my hair, postshower. “That’s one of the benefits of being a cat.”
Eddie’s eyes opened slightly.
“You want me to name all of them?” I pulled on clothes suitable for an afternoon in the library; dress pants, a dressy T-shirt, and a light jacket. “There’s no time for the complete list, but I can hit the highlights. A cat’s sense of self-confidence, for one. The absolute nonnecessity of having to change your clothes. Plus there’s the ability you have to purr. What’s that all about, anyway? And then there’s—”
I stopped, because my audience of one had gone back to sleep. I could tell, because he was snoring again, this time most certainly louder than the rain.
“Have a good day,” I whispered. Then I kissed him and headed out to hunt down some food.
* * *
The folks at the Round Table were happy enough to stuff me full of cinnamon apple pancakes, link sausage, and some healthy wedges of watermelon. I put up my rain jacket’s hood and scooted from restaurant to car, telling myself that driving to the library when I normally walked on nonbookmobile days was okay on a day like this. Far better to use the gas to drive the mile than to walk and end up with wet shoes and socks and pants from which I might never get the mud spatters out.
I arrived at the library long before the noon opening and used the time to catch up on e-mails and to open the snail mail that had been accumulating on my desk. At straight-up twelve, I unlocked the doors and headed across the quiet lobby to the reference desk.
Donna, who was a deacon in her church, wouldn’t arrive until half past. She’d worried over me being the only staff member in the entire library, saying that maybe someone else should work on Sunday afternoon. I’d said if I couldn’t manage half an hour by myself, that my librarianship should be irrevocably revoked.
And, for the first fifteen minutes, absolutely nothing happened. Not a single soul walked in the door, and I was left free to research a new educational software program for the children’s computers. Then, just as I was thinking that I must not have unlocked the doors, I heard one swing open and a troop of children scampered in. A motherly type cast a worried glance in my direction and shushed her charges.
I got up, smiling, and walked toward them. “Hi, I’m Minnie. If you need anything, just let me know.”
The woman pushed back her rain-damp hair. “How about something for three siblings and four cousins to do for an hour or two? We’re staying with friends and we were all supposed to go out on the boat, but . . .” She sighed.
“I have just the thing,” I said with confidence. The brick-and-mortar library might not have a cat, but in addition to books, we had a puppet theater, a tree-shaped resin structure designed to be climbed upon, and jigsaw puzzles galore. I herded the entourage to the children’s section, and the kids instantly scattered to various parts of the room.
“Thank you,” the woman said. Deep feeling rang in every vowel and consonant. “I promise to remember you in my will.”
“No need,” I assured her. “All in a day’s work for a librarian.”
I left them to their devices and headed back to the reference desk, exquisitely satisfied with my profession, glad I hadn’t given in to a brief temptation in my sophomore year to switch majors. Though the archaeology class I’d taken had been fascinating, it wouldn’t have suited me nearly as much as being a librarian did.