Buried in the Stacks: A Haunted Library Mystery by Allison Brook

Author:Allison Brook [Brook, Allison]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Mystery & Detective, Cozy, General, Women Sleuths, Amateur Sleuth
ISBN: 9781643851396
Google: g3e5DwAAQBAJ
Amazon: 1643851381
Publisher: Crooked Lane Books
Published: 2019-09-10T08:42:55.875057+00:00

Chapter Twenty

Thursday morning I asked Sally if our Haven House activities planning group could meet in the conference room that evening since it was free. She agreed. I thanked her and left word at the hospitality desk for whoever was attending the meeting. Later on, I’d ask Susan to set up coffee and hot water for tea shortly before our meeting time of eight o’clock. That taken care of, I went to my office to start my day’s work.

I spent twenty minutes chatting with a chef about the program he’d be presenting at our library. Though he wouldn’t be coming until May, I felt a surge of excitement. Charles worked in one of the most famous restaurants in the area and was a frequent guest on TV cooking shows. Our first food program was scheduled to take place the first week in February. Patrons had rushed to sign up for it as soon as registration opened. Fifteen minutes later every slot had filled, with twelve standbys in case of dropouts.

Evelyn appeared shortly before Trish was scheduled to show up for work. I told her I’d run into Fred and his lady friend in the restaurant the previous evening.

“I still don’t think Fred has it in him to kill Dorothy,” she said when I finished.

“Any thoughts about Leila Bevins?” I asked.

Evelyn’s mouth fell open. “That’s who he’s seeing—Leila Bevins?”

“Yes. Why? Do you know her?”

She snorted. “I’ve known Leila for years. She sold me some of my favorite outfits. Fred and Leila Bevins! I wouldn’t think she’d give Fred a tumble, let alone kill someone for him.”

“We’re back to square one,” I said, “but I’m not giving up. I’ll be meeting with a few Haven House people in the conference room tonight. I hope you’ll be there. There will only be five or six of us, but you might pick up a comment or bit of information that I miss.”

“I’ll be there, though I hate to think that any relative of Dorothy’s—and mine, for that matter—might have murdered her.”

“I can imagine how awful that must be for you.” I gave her a searching look. “But we have to consider that Dorothy was on to something when she said that the person who killed you also was trying to kill her.”

“I thought you’d discarded that idea,” Evelyn said.

“Perhaps I shouldn’t have. Just think—who might have had it in for Dorothy? A relative, a colleague from the library, and Ernie Pfeiffer. Except for a few of her blackmail victims, you had relationships with the very same people.”

I gave her a minute to think this over. “That’s true,” she conceded.

“Your niece or nephew might have been angry that you left all your money to Dorothy. You and Dorothy both had run-ins with Ernie Pfeiffer.” I cocked my head, trying to be tactful about what I was going to say next.

“Then there’s Sally and Harvey Kirk.”

‘Yes? What about them?” Evelyn asked.

“Were you on good terms with them both?”

Evelyn shrugged. “Good enough, I suppose.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked.

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