“My husband had a few things to say about the cost,” Sheila said. “He suggested I move to a budget motel, but I told him I’m sharing a room, so that mollified him a bit.”
“At least we didn’t have to move into Mary-Sue’s place,” Ruth said. “I bet Lucinda’s having a ball of laughs. Not.” She returned her attention to her book, and Sheila leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes.
“Sheila?” I said.
She opened her eyes, “Yes?”
“The sun can be strong at this time of day. You might want to be careful.”
She glanced down at herself.
When I was back in the cool of the hotel lobby, I took out my phone and checked 411.com. Only one family named Delamont lived in Nags Head and had a landline. I took a chance it was Mary-Sue, another chance she’d be home, and drove over there.
The house was small, with paint peeling off the window frames and the door, an unattended yard, and a weed-choked driveway. A recently washed beige SUV was parked outside.
I parked on the street and walked up the path. I glanced in the SUV as I passed and saw a stack of open house signs piled in the back. Mary-Sue, I remembered, was a realtor. This must be the place, and it must be her car. My luck was holding.
I rang the bell, and Mary-Sue opened the door. Her dark blue skirt suit, worn over a white blouse with a bow at the neck, and her stockings and pumps were too hot and formal for the day. Her gray hair was tied tightly back, and she blinked at me from under her thick glasses. Recognition crossed her face and she said, “Lucy? What can I do for you?”
“I’m hoping to take a few minutes of your time to talk to Lucinda and you about Helena Sanchez. Is that okay?”
“Not really.” She glanced at her watch. “I have an appointment.”
“Lighten up, Mary-Sue. Let the girl in.” Lucinda appeared behind Mary-Sue, looming over the shorter woman.
Mary-Sue ducked her head and stepped back.
“I hope you’re here to tell me I can go home,” Lucinda said.
“You won’t hear anything like that from me. Sorry.”
“You might as well come on in anyway. Coffee’s on, or we can get you something cold if you’d prefer.”
“I’m fine, thank you.” I glanced at Mary-Sue. It was her house and thus her place, not Lucinda’s, to invite me in and offer refreshments.
“Never mind her,” Lucinda said. “She doesn’t really have an appointment. She’s just wanting to get out of here and make me think she’s busy.”
“That’s not true!” Mary-Sue said. “It’s open house day for realtors. Some promising properties are coming onto the market.”
“If you say so.” Lucinda took my arm and gave me a broad wink. She didn’t try to be subtle about it either, and Mary-Sue noticed. She flushed.
Lucinda almost dragged me down the hallway to the kitchen. The kitchen was spotless but seriously in need of some updating. The floor was brick-patterned linoleum, the countertops brown laminate, the fridge and stove yellowing white, and the tiles on the backsplash behind the sink showed Dutch windmills and fields of tulips.
“Have a seat.” Lucinda gestured to the chipped and scarred pine table as she opened the fridge and stuck her head in. She pulled out a bottle. “There’s some wine left. How about that?”
“No, thank you.”
“You shouldn’t be drinking at this time of day.” Mary-Sue’s tone was highly disapproving.
“Maybe not, but as I don’t have to go anywhere today, I’ll suit myself if I want to.” Lucinda put the bottle back and took out a can of Diet Coke. “You sure I can’t get you one, Lucy?”
“No. Thank you.”
Lucinda sat down. Mary-Sue hesitated and then did the same. They looked at me.
“As I said, I’ve been thinking a lot about Helena and wanting to know more. You both worked with her, didn’t you?”
“We were never at the same library.” Lucinda popped the tab on the can. “But we met at conferences, regional librarian meetings, that sort of thing. I can’t tell you much about her, Lucy. I scarcely remember her.”
“She seems to have remembered you,” I said.
Lucinda peeked at me from under her false eyelashes in a gesture that was far too girly for a woman of her age. It was midday in a beach town in the summer, she was staying at the home of a friend who didn’t want her there, and Lucida was made up as though she was about to step in front of the cameras for her close-up. “I like to think I’m memorable. Even after all these years.”
Mary-Sue snorted.
“You knew her better,” I said to Mary-Sue.
“Yeah, I knew her. She worked in Manteo for a number of years.”
“When Ruth was there.”
“That’s right. She moved to the Lighthouse Library when she got the director position. I was working there, and she became my boss.”
“When was that?”
“January 1995. We didn’t work together for long. She fired me for absolutely no reason.”
“When?”
“May 1995. Okay, so I took some days off and lied about why, and I left early without asking a couple of times when’d she’d gone into town or something, thinking she wouldn’t be back. But what of it? Everyone does that sort of thing. Roger was sick and we were having money troubles, and I had a lot of things to worry about.”
I said nothing and tried to keep my face expressionless. The events of the spring of 1995, I was convinced, were key to this case. “It wasn’t my fault,” Mary-Sue said. “The work in her office was getting on Helena’s nerves, and she took it out on the person who happened to be a suitable target at the time. Me.”
“What do you mean work in her office? Was someone else using her office at the same time?”
“Not that kind of work. Some renovations were being done inside the library, and the director’s
