they would do anything different than what we’ve been doing.”
Spending thousands of dollars on something she could do herself didn’t sit well with Ginger. “Okay, we’ll find out who this lawyer guy is and go back to his house. Then we’ll go to the last address on the list. If sparks aren’t flying by then, we’ll have to shop around for a cheap detective. Maybe there’s one who gives out coupons for his services.”
Kindra placed another newspaper in front of Ginger. “Start looking. Suzanne thought she saw it in the Features section.”
The women flipped silently through the newspapers for several minutes until Suzanne asked, “Wouldn’t a hairy eyeball hurt? I mean, when you closed it?”
“I think it would get stuck if you shut your eyes.” Ginger mimed trying to pry open a hairy eyeball.
Kindra stared at the ceiling and blew out a gust of air. “It’s just an expression my father used, okay? It meant someone was staring at you like they suspected you of something. Can we get back to work please?”
All three women giggled while they scanned the newspapers.
“Here it is.” Suzanne pointed. “I knew I had seen it.”
Ginger stepped toward Suzanne. The story had a picture of the lawyer, whose name was Keaton Lustrum, standing outside his house, arms crossed, mountains and lake in the background. An attractive woman leaned close to him, an arm wrapped possessively across his back. The photograph had been taken from a low angle, which made Mr. Lustrum look that much more domineering. The headline read “Lawyer Seeks Ban on Motorized Vehicles.”
Kindra leaned close. “Oh yeah, I remember. He’s the guy who represents those environmental groups. He did a guest lecture at the college.”
Ginger scanned the article. “Looks like he doesn’t want any motorcycles or four-wheelers on the National Forest land.” She tapped her finger on the woman in the picture. “That was the lady who had the garage sale, along with a lady who looked like her.”
Kindra cleared her throat. “Don’t look now, but the hairy eyeball is rounding the corner.”
The librarian was as tall as she was wide. She walked like she had Velcro on the bottom of her shoes, each step taking substantial effort. Ginger was only five foot five, and she had to look down on her.
“Please, I hope you don’t think I’m rude. But I’ve seen you in here before.” She directed her comment to Kindra. “You’re friends with Mary Margret, the lady who died?”
“Yes.”
“Such a nice lady.” The librarian used her stack of books to point at Kindra. “You helped Mary Margret at our used book fund-raiser. It took me a while to place you.”
Kindra let out a faint, “Oh.”
Ginger rested a hand on Kindra’s shoulder. Now that the mystery of the hairy eyeball was solved, Kindra seemed a little embarrassed.
The woman arched her back to counterbalance the weight of the books. “You know, she was in here the day she died.”
Ginger’s heart skipped a beat. “She was in the library the Saturday she died?”
The short woman nodded. “I remember it because she seemed upset. She was waiting at the door when I came to open the library at ten.”
“What was she upset about?”
The woman shrugged. “She never said. She just wanted to look at the newspapers from twenty years ago. They are downstairs on microfiche.”
“Did she say what she was looking for?”
“No, but at one point, she came upstairs and wanted to know if we had the minutes from old city commission meetings.” The woman adjusted the three books she had in her arms. “I told her that kind of thing was probably at the courthouse. They’re not open on Saturday. Terrible thing that happened to her, that accident.”
“It wasn’t an accident.” This news only confirmed her suspicions. Mary Margret had figured out something, and it had gotten her killed. Maybe she was Miss Marple. Better yet, Jessica Fletcher. Ginger thanked the librarian.
After the
Spending thousands of dollars on something she could do herself didn’t sit well with Ginger. “Okay, we’ll find out who this lawyer guy is and go back to his house. Then we’ll go to the last address on the list. If sparks aren’t flying by then, we’ll have to shop around for a cheap detective. Maybe there’s one who gives out coupons for his services.”
Kindra placed another newspaper in front of Ginger. “Start looking. Suzanne thought she saw it in the Features section.”
The women flipped silently through the newspapers for several minutes until Suzanne asked, “Wouldn’t a hairy eyeball hurt? I mean, when you closed it?”
“I think it would get stuck if you shut your eyes.” Ginger mimed trying to pry open a hairy eyeball.
Kindra stared at the ceiling and blew out a gust of air. “It’s just an expression my father used, okay? It meant someone was staring at you like they suspected you of something. Can we get back to work please?”
All three women giggled while they scanned the newspapers.
“Here it is.” Suzanne pointed. “I knew I had seen it.”
Ginger stepped toward Suzanne. The story had a picture of the lawyer, whose name was Keaton Lustrum, standing outside his house, arms crossed, mountains and lake in the background. An attractive woman leaned close to him, an arm wrapped possessively across his back. The photograph had been taken from a low angle, which made Mr. Lustrum look that much more domineering. The headline read “Lawyer Seeks Ban on Motorized Vehicles.”
Kindra leaned close. “Oh yeah, I remember. He’s the guy who represents those environmental groups. He did a guest lecture at the college.”
Ginger scanned the article. “Looks like he doesn’t want any motorcycles or four-wheelers on the National Forest land.” She tapped her finger on the woman in the picture. “That was the lady who had the garage sale, along with a lady who looked like her.”
Kindra cleared her throat. “Don’t look now, but the hairy eyeball is rounding the corner.”
The librarian was as tall as she was wide. She walked like she had Velcro on the bottom of her shoes, each step taking substantial effort. Ginger was only five foot five, and she had to look down on her.
“Please, I hope you don’t think I’m rude. But I’ve seen you in here before.” She directed her comment to Kindra. “You’re friends with Mary Margret, the lady who died?”
“Yes.”
“Such a nice lady.” The librarian used her stack of books to point at Kindra. “You helped Mary Margret at our used book fund-raiser. It took me a while to place you.”
Kindra let out a faint, “Oh.”
Ginger rested a hand on Kindra’s shoulder. Now that the mystery of the hairy eyeball was solved, Kindra seemed a little embarrassed.
The woman arched her back to counterbalance the weight of the books. “You know, she was in here the day she died.”
Ginger’s heart skipped a beat. “She was in the library the Saturday she died?”
The short woman nodded. “I remember it because she seemed upset. She was waiting at the door when I came to open the library at ten.”
“What was she upset about?”
The woman shrugged. “She never said. She just wanted to look at the newspapers from twenty years ago. They are downstairs on microfiche.”
“Did she say what she was looking for?”
“No, but at one point, she came upstairs and wanted to know if we had the minutes from old city commission meetings.” The woman adjusted the three books she had in her arms. “I told her that kind of thing was probably at the courthouse. They’re not open on Saturday. Terrible thing that happened to her, that accident.”
“It wasn’t an accident.” This news only confirmed her suspicions. Mary Margret had figured out something, and it had gotten her killed. Maybe she was Miss Marple. Better yet, Jessica Fletcher. Ginger thanked the librarian.
After the
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