“We lived downstate when I was a kid,” he said, “and there was a bookmobile stop practically at my front door. I grew up thinking it stopped there just for me.” He grinned. “Funny the things you think when you’re a kid.”
“I’m not sure that ends when you grow up,” I said.
He laughed. “So, is driving the bookmobile as much fun as it looks like? Please don’t say it’s not. You’ll ruin my last illusion.”
“Not a chance,” I said firmly. “We even have a bookmobile cat.”
“Eddie.” He nodded. “I’ve heard of him.”
My cat, bookmobile ambassador to the world. I made a mental note not to tell him. Catlike, he already had an inflated view of his own importance.
“Which means you knew Henry Gill,” Gordon said.
As non sequiturs went, this was an excellent one. And a little creepy. “How do you know that?”
“Got a cousin Bob who does property management. Used to be in real estate. Well, I guess he still has his license, but he doesn’t use it much anymore.” Gordon shrugged. “Anyway, he takes care of some summer places over near Henry’s, and with Henry being the only year-round guy out there, they’d talk once in a while.”
My guess was that Bob had done most of the talking.
Gordon smiled. “Henry told Bob about the bookmobile and its cat and the nice ladies who helped him find books.”
Sudden tears pricked at my eyes. “So annoying,” I said, “him being nice behind our backs like that.”
“That was Henry all over,” Gordon said, nodding.
A small, but very bright, lightbulb belatedly clicked on in my head. “So, your cousin Bob,” I said. “Does he take care of Cole Duvall’s property? He’s on Rock Lake, practically right next to Henry.”
“Sounds right,” Gordon said. “Big guy, married into money?” He laughed. “Wish I’d done that. This working-for-a-living stuff is getting old. But if you’re looking for a property manager, give Bob a call. He’s okay, even if he is one of my blood relatives.” He said he’d get me his cousin’s phone number, and we moved on to locating the next tent.
On the outside, I was calm and professional and focused. On the inside, however, I was mentally high-fiving it with serendipity.
• • •
Inside the library’s break room, however, there was no high-fiving, no fist bumps, and it didn’t look as if serendipity had a chance of gaining a foothold any time soon.
I looked from Holly to Josh and back to Holly, then at the wall clock. There was only five minutes until our self-mandated mutual break time was over. If I was going to smooth over whatever was going on, I had to leap straight into the fray, no time even for a short bout of recaffeination.
After one longing glance at the coffeepot, I said, “What’s wrong? No, wait, let me guess. Stephen’s going to eliminate the library’s children’s section because the kids are too noisy.” As an opener, I’d had better, but it was better than nothing.
Holly sniffed. “He won’t tell me his new address.”
I glanced over at Josh and he shrugged and took another sip from the coffee mug he was clutching. He’d given me the address a couple of weeks ago and I’d driven past once, just to see. Though it was an older house, it had a reasonably new roof and the windows had been replaced. Not very big, but Josh was a single guy and it should do him just fine.
“I bet he’s told you,” Holly said, narrowing her eyes. “He has, hasn’t he?”
Josh glared at me. It was a clear warning to keep the location to myself.
Now what was I supposed to do? There was only one course of action that could take this little scene in a positive direction. Immediate diversion.
“Remember I told you that a car almost ran over Adam Deering?” They nodded. Reluctantly, but they nodded. “Well, his wife, Irene, says she thinks someone tried to kill him a second time.”
“What?” Holly looked shocked. “That’s horrible! Did she tell the police?”
“Hang on,” Josh said. “If she’s only thinking it, she must not be sure. What happened, exactly?”
I wasn’t sure, either, which was one of the reasons I wanted to talk this over. I passed on what Irene had said, telling them about the construction, the long walk, and about the bricks that had come so close to crashing down on his head, bricks that might have hurt him badly, or even killed him.
“What do you think?” I asked. “Accident or intentional?”
“Intentional,” Holly said.
“Accident,” Josh said at the same time.
Which was just what I’d figured they’d say. I glanced up at the clock. “One minute left. You each have thirty seconds to make your case. Holly, you first.”
“Had to be on purpose,” she said. “If there was no construction going on in that spot, no workers would have been up there. Bricks don’t fall down by themselves. Someone had to push them over.”
Josh made a beeping noise. “Time’s up. And you’re wrong. Bricks can fall over if a pallet isn’t balanced right. All it takes is a gust of wind in the right direction. And it was windy this morning. Plus, how would someone know Adam was going to be walking there? You think some guy is following him around, looking for a chance to make an accident happen?” He snorted. “You’ve been watching too much bad TV.”
Holly pointed at the clock. “And you’ve gone way over your time limit. That means I win and you lose.”
“Minnie makes the call.” Josh knocked back the last of his coffee, made a sour face, and looked at me. “Who’s right?”
But I didn’t know.
• • •
That night, Eddie and I were eating our dinners of cat food (Eddie) and take-out Chinese (me) when my cell phone rang.
“Could you get that?” I asked. “You’re closest.”
Since Eddie didn’t even look away from the bowl of cat food he was eating, I got up myself and got the phone out of my backpack. “Hello?”
“Minnie, it’s Gordon with the tents. Say, I have my cousin’s number if you want it.”
“Thanks,” I said, grabbing a pen and paper out of a kitchen drawer and writing down the numbers. Maybe Gordon didn’t have a last name. Like Sting. “Any potential tent problems?”
“Smooth sailing,” he said. “We’ll have them all set up by midafternoon tomorrow.”
I thanked him again and, as soon as I ended the call, punched in the phone number for his cousin. When he answered, I introduced myself, told him how I got the number, and asked if he took care of the Duvalls’ property.
I planned to start with the easy questions, then slide into the probing character questions. Not that I could ask outright if he thought Duvall could have committed murder, but I was sure I’d figure out something. Of course, it wasn’t as if I had any real reason to suspect Duvall, other than that one potential lie, but my initial reaction when I’d met him had been one of fear. And though maybe I shouldn’t let that single episode guide my current actions, I couldn’t ignore how I’d felt, either.
“Sure,” he said, sounding a lot like his cousin Gordon. Part of me wondered if Bob had a last name, but the rest of me was trying to focus on the topic at hand. “Nice lady, pays right away, usually gives me plenty of lead time for opening up the place.”
“Usually?” I asked.
“Well, not her so much as her husband. Cole, his name is. Nice enough, I guess, but asks a little too much, if you know what I mean. I can’t always jump on what he needs, depending on what else is going on. Sometimes it takes a day or two to get over there. If he calls when he’s on his way up, well, the place probably isn’t going to get to seventy-two degrees when he walks in the door.”
“Was this recently?”
“A week or two ago. Maybe three.”
Or four? “Is there any way you can pin it down?” I asked.
“Well, I guess. I’d have to look it up, at home.” There was a question in his voice, as in why on earth did I want to know?