three donuts and, hunger satisfied, his interest in Lucy’s actions was suddenly aroused. “Whatchya talkin’ about to our prisoner?” he asked in a proprietary tone, picking his teeth with a decrepit toothpick.
“Just books,” James blurted quickly, smiling. The spark of curiosity in Glenn’s eyes died immediately.
“Good thinking,” Lucy said in approval as they walked back upstairs. On the landing, they both found themselves short of breath from having climbed the steep flight of stairs. “I’ve got to go back to work, but would you be willing to meet me afterwards to pay a visit to Whitney’s parents?” Lucy fanned herself, her face pink with exertion.
“Think they might know something?” James wondered, trying to contain the pleasure he felt in having been asked to accompany her again.
“Doesn’t hurt to talk to them. We’ve got to find out every detail,” she added with a serious expression. “That’s how all of the world’s great detectives work.”
Lucy offered to pick James up at the library after her shift was over. He waited in the lobby, hungry, excited, and doing his best to ignore the celestial glow of the snack machine. He had completely forgotten to pack the green apple and Tupperware of peanut butter meant for his afternoon snack. He could just visualize taking a dollar bill from his wallet and inserting it into the snack machine. Only the possibility of Lucy’s imminent arrival prevented him from indulging in another cheat. For the third time, he peeked out the front door for any sign of Lucy’s brown Jeep. Finally, running fifteen minutes late, she pulled erratically into the parking lot and honked the horn.
Slightly irritated, James opened the door to what appeared to be Lucy’s garbage can on wheels. Empty paper cups sprang from the doorjamb to the ground and a pile of papers, fast food bags, and receipts prevented him from even seeing the surface of the passenger seat.
“Sorry,” Lucy said, hastily scooping up the debris on the seat and hurling it into the back seat.
James climbed in reluctantly. He was a man who cherished neatness and order. He cast a sideways glance at Lucy. Her caramel hair was pulled back into an untidy ponytail and her turquoise blouse, which was so tight that James could see glimpses of skin in between the straining buttons, had several stains along the neckline. While her hands were neatly manicured with shapely, rounded nails, the polish was a garish red and was chipped around the ends. James began to wonder if he was really compatible with someone as sloppy as Lucy.
They pulled up in front of the Livingstones’ brick house a few minutes later. Lucy had thoughtfully brought some pumpkin muffin tops from the Sweet Tooth as a gift for Whitney’s troubled parents.
“They’re open again?” James pointed at the bakery box.
“The next business day. Megan’s a single mom, so she can’t afford to stay closed. They just mopped the floor Sunday night and opened up again first thing Tuesday morning.”
“And . . . the sheriff,” James was going to say Keith but thought better of it, “allowed that?”
Lucy shrugged, ringing the doorbell. “Guess he felt there was no more evidence there once they had removed the body.”
James was about to ask what had happened to Brinkley’s cell phone when a woman in her late forties with Whitney’s ash blonde hair and heart-shaped face opened the front door. Wringing her hands together anxiously, she took a step back. “Come on in. We sure appreciate you visitin’ our gal this mornin’, Miss Hanover.”
“Please, call me Lucy. And this is James Henry, our new librarian.” She handed Mrs. Livingstone the box of muffin tops.
“How nice. Thank you, kindly. I’m Caroline. Sorry not to have met you yet, Mr. Henry. I’m not much of a reader,” she added apologetically and led them to a living room in which all of the furniture looked like it had come from an earlier decade. The floral fabric on
“Just books,” James blurted quickly, smiling. The spark of curiosity in Glenn’s eyes died immediately.
“Good thinking,” Lucy said in approval as they walked back upstairs. On the landing, they both found themselves short of breath from having climbed the steep flight of stairs. “I’ve got to go back to work, but would you be willing to meet me afterwards to pay a visit to Whitney’s parents?” Lucy fanned herself, her face pink with exertion.
“Think they might know something?” James wondered, trying to contain the pleasure he felt in having been asked to accompany her again.
“Doesn’t hurt to talk to them. We’ve got to find out every detail,” she added with a serious expression. “That’s how all of the world’s great detectives work.”
Lucy offered to pick James up at the library after her shift was over. He waited in the lobby, hungry, excited, and doing his best to ignore the celestial glow of the snack machine. He had completely forgotten to pack the green apple and Tupperware of peanut butter meant for his afternoon snack. He could just visualize taking a dollar bill from his wallet and inserting it into the snack machine. Only the possibility of Lucy’s imminent arrival prevented him from indulging in another cheat. For the third time, he peeked out the front door for any sign of Lucy’s brown Jeep. Finally, running fifteen minutes late, she pulled erratically into the parking lot and honked the horn.
Slightly irritated, James opened the door to what appeared to be Lucy’s garbage can on wheels. Empty paper cups sprang from the doorjamb to the ground and a pile of papers, fast food bags, and receipts prevented him from even seeing the surface of the passenger seat.
“Sorry,” Lucy said, hastily scooping up the debris on the seat and hurling it into the back seat.
James climbed in reluctantly. He was a man who cherished neatness and order. He cast a sideways glance at Lucy. Her caramel hair was pulled back into an untidy ponytail and her turquoise blouse, which was so tight that James could see glimpses of skin in between the straining buttons, had several stains along the neckline. While her hands were neatly manicured with shapely, rounded nails, the polish was a garish red and was chipped around the ends. James began to wonder if he was really compatible with someone as sloppy as Lucy.
They pulled up in front of the Livingstones’ brick house a few minutes later. Lucy had thoughtfully brought some pumpkin muffin tops from the Sweet Tooth as a gift for Whitney’s troubled parents.
“They’re open again?” James pointed at the bakery box.
“The next business day. Megan’s a single mom, so she can’t afford to stay closed. They just mopped the floor Sunday night and opened up again first thing Tuesday morning.”
“And . . . the sheriff,” James was going to say Keith but thought better of it, “allowed that?”
Lucy shrugged, ringing the doorbell. “Guess he felt there was no more evidence there once they had removed the body.”
James was about to ask what had happened to Brinkley’s cell phone when a woman in her late forties with Whitney’s ash blonde hair and heart-shaped face opened the front door. Wringing her hands together anxiously, she took a step back. “Come on in. We sure appreciate you visitin’ our gal this mornin’, Miss Hanover.”
“Please, call me Lucy. And this is James Henry, our new librarian.” She handed Mrs. Livingstone the box of muffin tops.
“How nice. Thank you, kindly. I’m Caroline. Sorry not to have met you yet, Mr. Henry. I’m not much of a reader,” she added apologetically and led them to a living room in which all of the furniture looked like it had come from an earlier decade. The floral fabric on
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