April Fool Dead by Carolyn Hart Page A

flyers weren’t intended to damage me.” Oh no, surely they weren’t! “But someone wants to cause trouble for the people on the list. Do you have an enemy? Why are you on that list?” It was just another way of asking Laurel’s pointed question: Who put you on that list? Who knows enough about you—and your lover’s Range Rover—to mark a big black X one-half mile east on Least Tern Lane?
    â€œAn enemy…” He slowly shook his head. “Why? It doesn’t make any sense. And those other people, I don’t even know most of them. I did some landscaping for the Littlefields. Yeah, their kid has a red Jeep. ButI didn’t know the Tower guy. Somebody hates all of us? It doesn’t figure. But if I find out…” He was turning, yanking open the front door.
    Annie took a step after him. “Will you call me if—”
    The door slammed, cutting off her words.
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    â€œIt was exciting while it lasted.” Edith flashed a gamine grin. “Ever since Monday night, the intern has refused to stay after dark. My take is she can think of more fun ways to spend an evening.” Edith’s sardonic gaze mimicked innocence. “‘Mrs. Cummings, I’d just love to be on the evening shift, but it gets so dark out here and I’m on my bike and what would I do if the ghost came back?’”
    â€œGhost? You mean the boy killed at Secessionville?” Henny knew the old and sad Civil War story about the dark-haired young daughter of the house who hurried late at night to the end of the avenue of live oaks, certain she’d heard hoofbeats and that her lover waited there.
    â€œNot that ghost. Our very own ghost here at the library on Monday night. Flashing lights. An open window on the second floor.” Edith snapped for air like a beached fish. “Damn, ever since I quit smoking…” She plunged her hand into the pocket of her denim skirt, fished out a handful of bubble gum. As she unwrapped two, popping them in her mouth, she offered a third to Henny.
    Henny smiled. “No, thanks. What happened Monday night?”
    Gesturing for Henny to follow, Edith sped toward the stairs. On the second floor, she pointed down thehall. “See those windows? They open onto the rear balcony. The second one was wide open Tuesday morning. Nobody admitted leaving it open. Cordelia Whipple…” Henny nodded. As a past president of the library board, she and the library’s director, Ned Fisher, had dealt several times with Cordelia, who lived in a cabin just past the parking area. Cordelia had strong views about parking, noise and after-hours activity at the library. “…called Ned Tuesday morning to say she’d seen lights in the library around eleven o’clock and she’d been promised there would be no night events except for those included in the annual calendar. And Cordelia said further—”
    Henny held up her hand. “I’ve heard it all before.”
    â€œAnyway, Ned soothed Cordelia and nobody thought anything about it until we found the window open. We started looking around. Now”—Edith threw open the third door from the stairs—“I can’t swear to it, but I thought I left the cover over my monitor. It was tossed on the worktable. Hey”—Edith fluffed her hair until she looked like an excited cockatoo—“wait a minute, wait a minute!”
    She dashed to the computer station, flung herself into her chair. Her fingers flew over the keyboard. “Oh, God, if we only had DSL. How long is it going to take this time?” The mutter rose, cut off abruptly. “Okay, okay, here we are. Let me check.” She clicked on a window, scrolled down. “Oh.” Her tone was awed.
    Henny peered over Edith’s shoulder at a listing of web sites.
    The cursor highlighted www.IslandGazette.com.“This is my computer. I haven’t called up the Gazette in a