“I believe that Felicity’s father and the Douglas woman were related. Cousins, perhaps. Most of these old families around here are. Big farms, lots of kids, everyone intermarried. But all that changed with the wars. When we first came here there were still some working farms, but eventually the land was divided and sold off to developers. It was worth more that way, and people died or moved or simply needed the money.”
“Are we talking about a lot of money? A large trust?”
“I cannot say for sure, though both families always seemed very comfortable. I am sorry to say my memory is not what it was, Greer. I would guess a considerable sum, but if I knew, I have forgotten.”
It wasn’t much, but it was food for thought. Henri walked me to my apartment, leaving me with extra dessert and Pierre to serve as my alarm system. I settled on the couch with the dog, giving half my attention to “A Caribbean Mystery” while my mind spun through the evidence. I sent Jennie a text but got no response. Jane Marple solved her mystery in ninety minutes, complete with appropriate biblical quotation. But she did have an unnecessary death toward the end. There’d be no more of that on my watch.
Nevermore.
Chapter Twenty-Three
I woke with the sense that I’d made some brilliant deductions overnight, if only I could remember what they were. Adding to my frustration was a cryptic text from Jennie, saying “new developments, talk later.” I sent back, “James Family Trust. Checked?” While I was loathe to admit the police could accomplish anything I couldn’t, there was no way a lawyer was going to talk to me and finding the original documents at the county clerk’s office would be time-consuming even if I could get there.
When I was deposited at the library by my police escort of the day, the manor lot held more than the usual assortment of cars for a Friday morning. I recognized Anita’s and groaned. Whatever was going on, I was keeping a low profile. With any luck they would all be gone by lunchtime. I ducked into my office and made sure the box of books was still where I’d left it. With some time to spare before Vince was due to arrive, I decided to do a little discreet information gathering.
Jilly was at the reference desk, getting herself organized before the library opened. Mary Alice was emptying the book drop. The main floor was otherwise quiet.
“So, what’s going on?” I asked Jilly.
“Emergency board meeting. I’m taking Helene’s reference shift and Anne Marie will do story hour. Hopefully not a big crowd because she’s only done it once on her own, and as soon as she’s through we’ve got to put the room to rights because the Friends’ jumble sale committee needs to huddle and figure out how to get things back on track without Joanna. What a mess! None of this was on the calendar and we’re all scrambling.”
“I can help Anne Marie clean up.”
“Thank you, Greer, that would be great. There’s no telling what kind of crowd we’ll get here in the reading room. Everything is topsy-turvy between the weather and the murder, but there are always a few parents who want help with book selection after story hour.”
I moved on to Mary Alice.
“Any news?” I asked.
“Not really,” she said, “though Dave does remember prescribing a sedative for Marjorie. He recommended Felicity take something but she wouldn’t. Said even an extra-strength Tylenol would knock her out and she needed to be alert. He tried to talk them into a home health aide for Marjorie, but Matthew felt his mother would be too upset by a stranger in the house. He was adamant that they would care for her as long as she recognized them and was in any way coherent.”
“Hard on Felicity.”
“Yes, it was. Dave felt Felicity would have liked the help, but agreed that Marjorie would be frightened. It worked against them in the end, I guess.”
I asked Mary Alice about the James Family Trust and Marjorie’s bequest, but she didn’t know anything more than Henri. My frustration mounting, I got myself some fresh coffee and returned to my cubicle.
Vince Goodhue was sitting in my chair, idly scanning the surface of my desk. He looked awful. Even better, he looked like a man who needed someone to talk to.
“Hi,” I said, leaning against the wall and blocking his exit, “thanks for meeting me here. My car’s in the shop, and I didn’t want to leave the books sitting around. How are you and the girls doing?”
“The girls are with their grandparents and I’m trying to figure things out. Work, the kids, Joanna.”
“Anything new about Joanna?” I asked.
He shook his head. “They keep coming back to me with questions. About me, about Ed Dexter, her job, any stories she might have been working on, stuff here at the manor. I’m still a prime suspect, but I guess I’m not the only one. I just want to get on with my life, figure out how to manage. But I can’t.”
“I’m sorry, Vince. I liked her, and I’ll miss her.”
“Thank you, she liked you, too. Not everyone really got her, you know?”
“I know, and I know she rubbed some people the wrong way. I feel like I let her down. She left me a note, asking for my help researching something, but I didn’t find it right away.”
“What was it?”
“There was something about a bequest to the library, some land for an expansion, from a woman named Marjorie Douglas—” I began.
“Millicent!” Vince banged his fist on the desk.
“How do you figure that?”
“Anything that goes on in or around this building, she’s involved in. Or at the bottom of,” he said through clenched teeth. “I swear, you’d think she owned the place. Some of the things she’s pulled—”
He
