After a quick stop at my desk, I headed for the reading room, passing Millicent in the hall. She told me she was off to the doctor, the archives were locked, and that she would be gone the rest of the day. I’d have to tell the page to keep an eye on the second floor.
I checked in with Jilly and made a circuit of the reading room. Fantasy sports guy was in his usual spot with his laptop. A few other people were drifting around, but the place was quiet.
I was glad to see Dory at the Circulation desk. She had taken over from Mary Alice mid-day, and since Millicent was both off limits and unavailable, Dory was my best source of quick information.
“So how goes the snooping?” she asked.
“Not too well, I’m afraid, but I’m hoping you can help.”
Dory leaned forward, her eyes bright.
“I’m not sure it has anything to do with the murder,” I said, “but I’m curious. I know Marjorie Douglas left some land to the library, and I know she was Matthew Prentiss’s mother, but I can’t figure out exactly where that parcel is. I know Matthew and Felicity moved in with her a while before she died, but their address is nowhere near the manor grounds. Do you know anything about it?”
“I’d forgotten about that,” Dory said, “but I can tell you where the land is. It runs between the Ravens Kill and Agnes Jenner’s place. It’s where Barn Hill Road used to be.”
“Barn Hill Road?”
“Yes. The road that led to the old Prentiss place on the hill.”
“But I thought that’s where Matthew and Felicity lived. I thought they had renovated it.”
“Well, I think that was the idea,” Dory said, “but the house was old, and it held a lot of sad memories. Once Marjorie passed, they decided to just knock it down. It needed an awful lot of work. They took it down that spring, as I recall. They moved into the big old Victorian where Matthew’s office is, and started building the new place right away.”
A vague idea was forming in my mind as I listened to Dory. It didn’t make sense, but I went with it.
“Were you ever inside? In the old house, I mean.”
“A couple of times,” she said, “Marjorie was in the garden club until she started to fail. Why?”
“I was wondering about the kitchen. Which way did it face?”
“Toward the back. It was the typical big farmhouse kitchen. It opened to the garden.”
“So, you could see the manor from the windows?”
“Well, from some of them maybe. Why do you ask?”
“It’s something Mary Alice said. Marjorie Douglas would look out the kitchen window and start thinking about her daughter that drowned.”
Dory nodded.
“I’d heard that. It was why she kept trying to get out. You could see the Ravens Kill and the manor from the kitchen, but only when the leaves fell. You could ask Felicity.”
“She might find it too painful. Besides, she’s out of town.”
Dory frowned.
“Really? I could have sworn I saw her car when I was on my way here. Of course, whoever it was, was going awfully fast, so maybe I’m wrong.”
Dory’s lead foot was legendary. If she thought someone was going too fast, that someone had to be breaking the sound barrier. That didn’t sound like Felicity.
We were interrupted by a patron wanting to check out, so I made my escape before Dory could ask any more questions.
For the next hour and a half, I employed my little gray cells. I took the occasional book request, answered a few simple questions, and tried to channel every single one of my favorite detectives. After skimming through all the articles one more time, I discreetly studied my suspect chart, and once again pulled up the aerial view of the old Prentiss place. I printed a few screen shots. I had all of the pieces, but I couldn’t make them fit together. What was I missing?
I tucked everything away and got up. Prowling around the library, I paused in the children’s area and stared out at the main staircase. I did a little straightening, plucked out a Scouting handbook, and went back to my desk. I skimmed the section on outdoor adventure, snapped it shut and turned to my computer. I looked up dementia, finally finding some reliable information on how it intersected with paranoia, suggestion, and hallucination. A phrase from Joanna’s notes leaped out at me. Gaslighting, reno, locks. Not what I’d originally thought. A few quick checks on real estate values and state inheritance laws, and I was done. I now knew three things for sure.
Vince had lied to me.
Felicity knew more about her mother-in-law’s death than she was telling.
Either Joanna knew more than I thought, or someone believed she did.
The picture forming in my mind all day became clearer. I was horrified and angry. Greed, pride, lust, or even envy—one of these had led to murder more than once. My wrath grew. I drummed my fingers against the desk. I still needed a couple of answers.
Jennie Webber’s admonition flashed through my mind. Leave it to the professionals. Well, the police had protocols and procedures that had to be followed. Greer Hogan, Girl Detective, could lie and threaten with impunity, and if it got the desired result it was all to the good.
I made my plan and phoned Anne Marie, asking her to cover the desk. All my evidence, new and old, went into the big envelope. Making sure I had my phone, I went in search of somewhere I wouldn’t be overheard. Jilly was in the librarian’s office, on the phone, so I tried Helene’s office. Finding it unlocked and unoccupied, I slipped in.
My first call was to Felicity. I didn’t expect an answer but it was worth a try. She was already so tightly wound that one or two pointed questions might rattle her enough
