“Were you concerned that she hadn’t come home by then?”
“Of course not. What do I care what she got herself up to? I slept soundly and woke shortly before seven. I remembered my dream vividly and knew my sister was dead.”
Chapter Seven
“There’s a family Christmas dinner I don’t ever want to be invited to,” Watson said.
I drove us back to the police station. Watson wanted to check in with the forensic team and make a few phone calls. He also wanted to pick up a car so he wouldn’t need me to drive him around anymore.
Drat!
“What do you think, Sam?” I dared to ask. I used his first name, hoping he’d think we were friends or something and he could talk freely to me.
“I scarcely know what to think, Lucy. At least she didn’t try to pretend she and her sister got on well. I’ll call the mother’s lawyer and ask to see the will. Although I can’t imagine why she’d lie to me about that. I’ll find out if Helena had a will of her own. Tina Ledbetter might not be in line to inherit everything—not if Helena, who got her mother’s inheritance first, had other ideas.”
“Do you suppose there’s much of value to inherit?”
“I’ve no idea. Sometimes it doesn’t matter. People can kill over who gets Grandma’s favorite teapot. If one sibling was favored over the others, the principal of the thing can be all that matters. As for her knowing her twin had died because she dreamt it …” He shook his head. “She heard the news somewhere. It may be that someone at the hospital or in the coroner’s office has loose lips.”
“Tina wasn’t at the library last night,” I said. “She didn’t come inside anyway. That means she didn’t take the withdrawal slip or the letter opener.”
“We don’t know the letter opener was used in the killing, Lucy, so don’t speculate. We also don’t know if the withdrawal slip is of any importance. It might have fallen on the floor and someone tossed it in the trash.”
“No librarian,” I said firmly, “would ever throw away a piece of library property. No matter how old.” I pulled to a stop at the front of the police station and Watson got out.
He shut the car door and then hesitated. He turned back and tapped on the window. I lowered it.
“Do something for me, Lucy,” he said. “Ask Louise Jane what she knows about the sisters. Tina Ledbetter in particular. I want to know if Tina was messing with me because it amused her to do so, or if she genuinely believes she has some psychic abilities. If she moves in that sort of circles, Louise Jane is likely to know.”
“Happy to be of help,” I said.
Watson ran up the steps of the police station. Before driving away, I eyed the front of Town Hall, on the other side of the laneway. I thought of dropping in to see Connor. Maybe I could convince him to take a break and join me for a cup of coffee at Josie’s Cozy Bakery. I gave him a call, but it went to voicemail. Perhaps he was in a meeting.
I waved in the general direction of the mayor’s office and drove away. I might be helping the police solve a murder, but merely thinking of Connor McNeil took me to a happy place.
I hoped thoughts of me did the same for him.
By the time I arrived at the library, more police cars were in the parking lot, and more yellow tape cordoned off the path to the water’s edge. A police boat was anchored off the pier, and I could see signs of divers in the water.
A handful of people milled about at the top of the boardwalk, trying to get a look at what was going on, while Officer Rankin, the very picture of boredom, told them to keep back.
Inside the library, the police had removed the display of historical artifacts (as well as our trash) and allowed us to open.
Saturdays are normally the busiest day of the week, and today was no exception. Parents were arriving with their primary school children for today’s North Carolina history story time; locals were loading up on books to enjoy at the beach; and tourists were checking out the lighthouse as well as the library itself.
Unfortunately, we didn’t have a display of library artifacts to show them. The police had taken everything away, and the alcove was empty.
On the second floor, Ronald was getting ready to receive his little patrons, along with Charles, who loved nothing more than story time; above him, Charlene was in her office, surrounded by reference books; on the ground floor, my aunt Ellen, in the role of library volunteer, staffed the circulation desk while Bertie shelved books off the returns cart. Bertie didn’t normally work on Saturdays, but in light of what happened here last night, she’d come in in case of any new developments.
“Learn anything?” she asked me.
I glanced at the patrons, pretending not to be listening.
Bertie jerked her head and led the way down the hall to her office. I trotted along behind.
“Did you know Helena has a twin sister living in Nags Head?” I asked her when we were behind closed doors.
“No, I didn’t. I don’t know anything about her private life.”
I told her quickly what Tina Ledbetter had had to say.
“Quite the family situation,” Bertie said.
“Let’s hope Helena’s death was a family affair, Watson clears this up quickly, and you and your friends can get on with your reunion. Is the group expedition to the Wright Brothers still on?”
“It is. I’ll be
