Death Overdue (Librarian Mysteries) Read online

  Sally looked up with a slight smile playing on her lips. “Why, Caldwell, I’ve come back to claim all that was mine.”

  THREE

  What’s New?

  Caldwell didn’t have a chance to ask Sally what she meant because the doorbell rang again. He walked down the hallway to answer it and left me alone with his ex-girlfriend.

  “He hasn’t changed,” Sally said.

  “Did you expect him to?” I asked.

  “Well, it’s been a long time. I thought he’d look older, but he looks good. And he seems happy. Funny how time goes so fast. But I have missed this place. And, of course, Caldwell.”

  I hated hearing her say that, but didn’t know how to claim Caldwell as my own. “Who’s Alfredo?” I thought to ask her.

  She waved her hand as a tall, dark, younger man entered the room followed by Caldwell. “Here he is. Alfredo Remulado, who claims descendancy from the House of Savoy. This is Caldwell, of whom I have told you so much. And this is Katy, and I’m not sure what she’s doing here.”

  “Karen,” Caldwell spit out. “Her name is Karen, and she is my . . .”

  I waited to hear what he would call me.

  He continued, “. . . dear friend, who I’m hoping will also become my partner.”

  I couldn’t help but be a little disappointed that he hadn’t declared his love for me, but then he wasn’t like that, nor was I.

  “Partner in what?” Sally asked. “In crime?”

  “In books,” he said. “We’re going to sell the B and B and open a bookshop. We’ve got it all planned.”

  “Oh, I see. Her being a librarian and all, that makes good sense.”

  During all of this time Alfredo stood at attention, focused on Sally. When there was a pause, he turned to me and finally spoke. “Hello, charmed to meet you,” he said with a fairly heavy Italian accent.

  He did ooze charm—from his dark swath of hair that fell just so over his forehead, to his full lips, to his suitably wrinkled but excellently cut linen jacket. He too was wearing elegant shoes. It appeared to be true what they say about Italian shoes—that they are the best in the world.

  “Tea?” I offered.

  Caldwell plunked down in a chair and said, “Yes, please.” I could tell he was terribly thrown by Sally’s presence because, as I’ve said, normally he would insist on making it himself.

  Alfredo looked around the room. “I wouldn’t mind an aperitif. It is almost the hour.”

  I poured Caldwell a cup of tea with a splash of milk, which is how he likes it. Sally held out her empty cup. Reluctantly, I poured her a refill, while I thought of dumping the tea into her lap.

  Caldwell went to the cabinet in the corner and pulled out a bottle of vermouth. He poured a small glassful and handed it to Alfredo. Then he walked around the table and sat next to me.

  When we were all seated, Caldwell finally asked, “Sally, what in God’s name are you doing here?”

  “I told you, Caldwell darling. I’m here to claim what I left behind. You didn’t think I had gone away forever?”

  “I had only hoped,” he mumbled, then said more clearly, “And what exactly do you think you can claim? My recollection is, after you took the money, you left everything remaining to me, for better or worse.”

  “Oh, that was just temporary.”

  “Seven years is temporary?” he asked.

  “Yes, in the scheme of things it is.”

  He fell silent. I wanted to step in and fight for him but knew he had to do it on his own.

  Steps sounded coming down the stairs.

  Caldwell lifted his eyes up with a fighting gleam in them and said to Sally, “Well, I have a surprise for you too. Guess who’s here.”

  We had only two other guests—Bruce, the book collector, and Penelope Winters, who had arrived late last night, after I went to bed. All Caldwell had said about her was she was an old friend. I hadn’t thought to ask him any more.

  Now, as Penelope stood in the doorway, I saw the resemblance between the two women, although Penelope was a smaller, rounder version of Sally, not nearly as dramatic and with a warmer, more genuine smile. That smile dimmed, then vanished when she spotted Sally.

  Caldwell whispered to me that they were sisters, which I had already guessed. I assumed one of them had married, thus the different last names.

  “So you did come back. I wasn’t sure you would,” Penelope said to Sally with a note of steel in her voice.

  “Well, dear sister, I’m glad to see you too. Why shouldn’t I come back? It’s a free world.”

  “What do you want this time?” Penelope asked.

  “Only what I am due. After all, it’s my fair share,” Sally said with a toss of her long blond hair.

  “What do you think you’re due?” Caldwell jumped into the conversation as Penelope came to stand by him and put a hand on his shoulder.

  “I want the B and B back. I’m so happy that you’ve kept it going. I must say, it looks remarkably good. As do you.”

  “Sally, you gave it to me. Remember when you took all our savings but left me this establishment to run?”

  “But the B and B is worth much more than what I took. If you’d like, you can buy me out—at current market value, of course.”

  “I’m having none of this,” Caldwell declared with more than a hint of anger. “You abandoned me, ran out with no explanation, left me to handle everything: all the bills, all the guests, all the particulars. Now you show up and think you own something? Well, I think not.”

  Sally leaned forward and said, “But, Caldwell, my name is still on the deed. I have checked with my lawyer, and everything is in order. How did you think you were going to sell it without me?”

  He folded his arms over his chest and said, “Don’t worry. I had a plan to take care of that.”

  Sally smiled. “I’m sure you did. But now it will be even easier with me here. You see, we can all work together. I need the money. And you need me. We can help each other.”

  Caldwell turned and looked at me. “No, that’s not the way it’s going to work. I have been planning on using the money from the sale to start our new business. You said when you left that the business was mine. A verbal agreement. Right, Karen?”

  I nodded, honestly not knowing what to think. Sally sounded awfully sure of herself. But I knew that Caldwell needed me to back him up at this moment. “Caldwell’s absolutely right,” I said.

  “Sally, your coming back trying to claim this place is horrible. After how you’ve treated Caldwell,” said Penelope.

  Alfredo lifted up his empty glass, seemingly oblivious to the tension in the air, and said, “I think it’s time for another drink.”

  FOUR

  Comfort Food

  After having another drink, Sally and Alfredo carried their bags into their room and then went out for dinner. Penelope sat with us for a while, but offered little comfort. Caldwell was very quiet.

  Finally he said, “Sally looks good.”

  I had nothing to say about her looks.

  “She always looks good, especially when she’s behaving badly,” Penelope said with her hands wrapped over her chest. “The worse she behaves, the better she looks. It’s like she sucks energy from the people she hurts.”

  “So you knew she might be coming?” Caldwell asked.

  “I got a note from her asking me to meet her in London for dinner. Who knows why? Some whim. A little family get-together. We only have each other now that Daddy is gone and Mum is slipping away. But Sally’s never been very chummy, as you know.”

  “Did you know she was going to stay here?” he asked.

  “I didn’t think she would. I still can’t believe she’d have the audacity to stay here after what she did to you, but then why do I keep letting her surprise me?”

  “I’m sure she wanted it to be a surprise—for all of us. That’s why she used her friend’s name to make the reservation. It’s been quite a shock.”

  “You mustn’t let
her have her way with you,” Penelope said.

  Some small noise came out of my throat, rather like a yelp, as I nodded my head in agreement.

  Caldwell shook his head. “Don’t worry. I’ll stand my ground. She’s not going to walk all over me this time.”

  “Well, I’m exhausted.” Penelope stood up. “Just breathing air in the same room as my darling sister makes me feel fatigued. And a little sick. I’m off to bed. See you in the morning.”

  I still wasn’t clear what Penelope was even doing here. She said she had come to see her sister, but she hadn’t known where Sally was staying. And they didn’t seem on good terms. It all seemed very odd to me, but families are like that. Penelope went back up to her room.

  Bruce the book collector came in looking very pleased with himself. He was a tall, awkward man, with thinning hair that he managed to pull back in a slight ponytail. He always wore some kind of suit coat and had pieces of paper sticking out of all the pockets. He carried a satchel that was bulging with books.

  “What ho,” he said.

  “Evening,” Caldwell answered.

  I felt like saying “Tallyho!” but resisted.

  “Have you had a good day?” Caldwell kindly asked, since it was so clear that Bruce was brimming over with glee.

  “Yes, indeed. I found a decent copy of The Velveteen Rabbit. I would say it’s in very good condition, maybe ever so slightly shelf-cocked. If I’m right it’s worth nearly five thousand pounds.”

  Shelf-cocked, I knew from Caldwell, was when a book was slightly askew from sitting crooked on a shelf. I quickly translated the pounds into dollars: close to eight thousand dollars. “What a score,” I said.

  Bruce looked at me blankly.

  Caldwell said, “Way to go, mate. May I ask what you paid?”

  Bruce was squirming to tell. “I got it for half that.”

  “Very good,” Caldwell said.

  “I’ll bid you two good night.” Bruce went up to his room, I assumed, to organize his finds, leaving Caldwell and me alone.

  “That’s a lot of money,” I murmured.

  “Yes, but only if it’s in ‘very good’ condition. If not, then the book is not worth much more than he paid.”

  “Who determines the condition?”

  “We all do, but there are strict standards.”

  “Yes,” I said. “And I suppose I’ll become more familiar with them as I help you collect.”

  Caldwell smiled. “I’m sure you’ll be excellent at categorizing a book.”

  “Thanks.”

  “I’m sorry about all this Sally stuff,” he said, waving his hand.

  “Now, don’t worry about it,” I jumped in.

  “I can’t help it. Sally almost always gets what she wants,” he said, his voice shaking with anger. “Well, this is one time she won’t.”

  “How will you stop her?” I asked.

  “We will stop her,” he said, reaching over to take my hand.

  “Her name is still on the deed?” I asked reluctantly.

  “Yes, I’m afraid so. But she took a substantial amount of cash when she left. She might think she’s owed more money, but we’ll figure out how much she owes me for running the place for almost seven years. That, along with the money she took, should be just about equal to the amount she’s claiming.”

  I was glad to see Caldwell taking charge. “Of course, that should work.”

  He hugged me, then said, “What would I do without you?”

  “I hate to think.”

  We kissed a light, conspiratorial kiss. When we pulled apart, I confessed, “I’m hungry.”

  “I’m not surprised. It’s way past your dinnertime. How does beans on toast sound?” he asked.

  We all have our own versions of comfort food. Mine is tuna casserole made exactly the way my mother had always made it: canned tuna, Campbell’s cream of mushroom soup, and thick egg noodles with Parmesan cheese on top. Unfortunately, Caldwell’s is a “tin” of baked beans on toasted white bread. I’m sure it offers a full complement of protein and carbohydrates, but to me it seems like starch on starch—a bit gloppy. But I knew it would make him feel better. Popeye had spinach; my darling grew strong on baked beans.

  “Just what I was hoping you’d say,” I answered.

  “I know you’re coddling me.”

  “Oh, I thought that was in the job description: coddle when needed.”

  “So you will take the job?” he asked.

  “Of coddler?” I asked.

  He threw the ball right back in my lap. “Karen, what would you like your job to be?”

  “At the moment, friend and partner,” I said, determined not to take the first step toward something more.

  “That will do for this moment.”

  We kissed again and moved into the kitchen to make our meal.

  “Let’s forget about Sally for right now,” I said.

  “Yes, tomorrow is time enough to think about that,” Caldwell agreed as he opened a can of baked beans.

  A voice came from the doorway. “Forget about who?”

  Brenda had some shopping in a mesh bag over her shoulder. She was in her late twenties, not a particularly attractive girl, but fresh and young. She wore her long brown hair pulled back tight into a ponytail and had on a small T-shirt that read QUEEN BEE.

  “Did I hear you mention Sally?” Brenda asked.

  “Yes, she’s come for a visit,” Caldwell said without any enthusiasm.

  “Oh, how lovely. It’s been so long. I wonder if she’ll even remember me. I was just out of school when she left.” Brenda patted her ponytail. “I had short hair then. She persuaded me to grow it long. And she taught me how to put on nail polish and eye makeup.”

  “Yes, I remember. I don’t think she’ll be staying with us for long, I’m afraid,” Caldwell stated.

  I was hopeful.

  “I’ll just pop up and say hi,” Brenda said.

  “She and her boyfriend have gone to dinner,” Caldwell told her.

  “Maybe later. This is great.” Brenda deposited the breakfast supplies on the counter and ran off to her room.

  “Someone’s glad to see her,” I said.

  “Sally was good with Brenda. She took her under her wing. But then she left her without a word too. I think Brenda suffered almost as much as I did.”

  FIVE

  Bedmates

  Later, climbing into bed, I could tell Caldwell hadn’t let go of the Sally problem. I somewhat reluctantly slipped off the new white satin robe he had given me as a welcome gift and hung it on the bedpost. I felt beautiful when I wore it.

  Some of our sweetest moments together were tucked under the comfort of our large duvet, books in front of our faces, arms touching, pages turning, a lovely sort of harmony between us.

  But tonight, the pages weren’t turning very fast next to me and, when I looked at Caldwell, his face was contorted into a deep-thinking frown. He was obviously not even reading his book.

  I reached over and smoothed out his forehead. “Calm yourself.”

  He let his book fall onto his chest and spit out, “Blast it, Karen, I can’t. Just when everything was going so well, Sally has to come along and ruin it all. I had so hoped you would never have the pleasure of meeting her, and now here she is staying with us.”

  “You could turn her out on the street,” I suggested sweetly.

  “Don’t think I haven’t thought of that. Would they take the hint if their bags were left on the front steps and the door was locked?”

  “They might, but I wouldn’t put it past that woman to be able to jimmy the lock.” We lay quietly for a moment, then I asked, “What had you been planning to do about her name being on the deed?”

  “I guess I was trying not to think about it. But it’s close to seven years now since she left. I had thought of declaring her dead.”

  *

  I woke up twice that night. The first time when Sally and Alfredo stumbled up the stairs on the way to their ro
om. They were loud and sounded drunk. Alfredo was murmuring in Italian to her, and his words sounded amorous. I was rather glad I didn’t know Italian. Caldwell didn’t wake, and I was glad of that too.

  The second time was when a loud crash happened in the house, like the sound of huge hailstones pelting the roof, but closer. I sat up in bed and saw with concern that Caldwell was not next to me.

  Fearing something awful had happened to him, I sprang up and ran out of our bedroom. Caldwell was standing down the hallway, staring into the book room, with the most horrible and disbelieving look on his face.

  I wasn’t sure I wanted to see what he was looking at. I walked slowly toward him as Penelope’s door banged open.

  “What was that noise?” she asked.

  Caldwell didn’t answer, but kept staring.

  I came up next to Caldwell and looked in the room. I felt some relief as I saw that all that had happened was one of the bookcases had toppled over. He must have been feeling terribly worried about the condition of the books that had fallen and were tossed all over the floor.

  But then I noticed he was staring at something else, and my eyes followed his down to the edge of the tidal wave of books.

  What I saw was a hand, a hand reaching out from under the sea of books.

  A woman’s hand, red nail polish on the long, slender fingers, still as stone.

  SIX

  Buried by Books

  The three of us scrambled to dig Sally out, even though I had a deep sense that she was not with us any longer. I feared that the fall and tsunami of books had done her in.

  After we pulled up the bookcase, we carefully lifted the many heavy volumes off Sally. When we had freed the top half of her body, Caldwell had the presence of mind to send Penelope to call for help.

  I knelt down next to Sally to see if I could detect any signs of life. Her head was turned to the side, and her eyes were closed. When I reached out and touched her face, it felt unresponsive.