“Sure,” I said to the child standing outside the door. Once my young patron was in line with an armload of books, I reminded the few stragglers that we were closing shortly. It was only drizzling outside, but the wind was picking up. I could hear the telltale rattling of a window not properly latched. I worked my way methodically around the room, ending at the back and peering out in the hope that Jennie had arrived early. No luck. There were a handful of cars in the lot, and a few kids in colorful anoraks—including the Barretts—zooming around on their bikes, but no Jennie. One hard core cyclist paused to adjust a strap. A blond woman, the one I thought was a cop. The only other activity came from the birds. They swirled and chattered, agitated by the gusts of wet wind. I hadn’t seen so many since the day of Joanna’s memorial.
I turned back to the reference desk, shutting down computers as I went. I wanted to be out of there as soon as Jennie showed up, so I decided to check in the books and movies I was done with, grab my stuff from the back and help Dory finish closing.
My hand closed on the Marple DVD and I stopped. The picture of a woman in a colorful shawl floating face down in the water swam up from my memory, a woman struck down from behind on a dark, rainy night. I went hot and then cold, as I had when I found Joanna’s body. I turned and looked out the back windows, where the various black birds were still swooping and cawing. I had watched them from the stone bench on the day of the memorial, and thought how they mimicked the anxious excitement of the crowd. I had shared that same bench with Anne Marie, this time talking of the weather rather than ravens and crows.
Unkindness and murder.
I put the DVD back on the desk. I made a fist of my trembling hand. I knew who had killed Joanna Goodhue, I knew how, and I knew why. It was too fantastic, but it was the only answer that fit.
How often have I said to you that when you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth?
Sherlock Holmes. I wished he’d shown up sooner.
“I’ll be right back,” I said to Dory, and raced for the office.
I got to the office and found no sign of Anne Marie. Damn! I grabbed my things and wheeled back around, colliding with her in the doorway.
“Sorry!” she said breathlessly, wiping her wet face with the sleeve of her oversize sweatshirt, “I was trying to get all my project stuff in the car before the rain got heavier.”
“No problem. Listen, you got your hoodie at the meeting last week, right? Everyone was wearing them because they had just come in?”
“Yes.” She looked confused. “Why?”
“I think they must have some smaller sizes. I’ll ask. You’ve been such a big help. You deserve one that fits. Now, if you could check downstairs and make sure everything is locked and shut off in the staff room, we can all get out of here.”
“Okay, but I have to put away the story hour books, and I told Dory I’d finish some holds.”
Interns were too conscientious.
“I’ll take care of it. You get your stuff and get moving.”
I snatched a stack of picture books out of her hands and began backing through the door. She stared at me.
“I’m absolutely starving,” I said, “and it’s been a long week. So, check the staff room, turn off the lights, and meet me by the back door. I need to wait for my ride. Don’t forget to turn off the coffee pot,” I yelled as the door swung shut.
I grabbed everything I’d stashed at reference on my way by and dumped the whole pile at Circ. Dory eyed it.
“I was just about to shut down,” she said, gesturing to the computer, “everything else is done. I need to get to the store. Grandkids tonight.”
“I’ll do it. I need to take care of something. I’m desperate to get out of here. Anne Marie is taking care of the staff room. I’ll only be a minute. Someone needs to wait with me for my ride. She should be here in a few minutes.”
I got to work while Dory gathered her belongings. I heard a tsk.
“I must have left my umbrella downstairs. Do you mind if I go look?”
“Nope, I’ll be right behind you,” I said.
A deafening rumble shook the building. There was a blinding flash and the lights flickered and went out. Two seconds later they were back. I stood blinking, and when my vision cleared saw the computer rebooting.
Damn, damn, damn.
I briefly considered leaving everything for the Saturday shift. I looked at the time. Only five after, so I had ten minutes. I’d see how long the reboot took. Keeping an eye on the screen in front of me, I changed my shoes and put on my jacket. As the system popped back to life, I heard the outside door clang. If Jennie was early, I was leaving everything for tomorrow.
I scooted to the back window. I stared in disbelief as Anne Marie got in her car and took off down the drive. Dory’s Cadillac was nowhere in sight. There was only one car left in the lot. I recognized it, and it wasn’t Jennie Webber’s.
It belonged to Felicity Prentiss.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
I stood rooted to the spot for a heartbeat. The beeping of the Circ computer startled me into movement. I pulled out my phone and dialed Jennie. Voicemail. I began to panic.
Think, think, think.
911. I’d call 911 from the library phone. I moved quickly to the reference desk. Every line was blinking, signaling it was in use. If the phones were out, the set would be dark. Someone had taken them off the hook elsewhere in the building. That someone was
