The Unkindness of Ravens, M. Hilliard [romantic books to read txt] 📗

knew, then. I stayed still. Pierre’s barking became intermittent. I heard the sound of someone jogging again, and then that faded as whoever it was rounded the corner toward Main Street. I let out a long breath. The night noises started again. Maybe I was paranoid. But I remained in the shadows.

Three years, I thought again. Three years I’d played the part. No one knew about me and Ian but me and Ian, and he wasn’t talking. But now a new set of cops would be looking into Danny’s murder. A woman I’d known and liked was dead. The job I enjoyed and the paycheck I needed were threatened. My nightmares were getting worse. I couldn’t even have a quiet drink on my own porch without feeling hunted. The new life I’d created and liked was being upended, and I was being forced to take a good, hard look at the old one.

For all of that, someone would have to pay.

Chapter Four

Noon the next day found me back at the library. An early morning phone call from Helene informed me there would be a midday staff meeting, and I should plan to stick around in case the police had additional questions. We would reopen the following day on our usual schedule.

I sat with the rest of the staff in what we called the community meeting room. This was on the second floor at the back of the building, directly over the offices. At the moment we were all seated around some folding tables that had been pushed together to form a large circle. Anita was there, flanked by Helene and Sam O’Donnell. I spotted Officer Webber by the door, half hidden by a coatrack. She leaned against the wall, scanning the crowd. I turned my attention to Anita.

“I’m sure many of you are wondering why I’ve asked you here today,” she began. If the woman had any sense of irony, I’d swear she used that line on purpose. I stole a glance at Mary Alice. She rolled her eyes.

“Unfortunately,” Anita continued, “yesterday afternoon an employee discovered the body of Joanna Goodhue on one of the upstairs landings.” Anita’s phrasing and delivery made it unclear what she found most unfortunate—the fact that Joanna was dead or that I’d had the temerity to discover her body on library premises.

“Most of you know Joanna through her work with the Friends. She was also active on the new building exploratory committee, and in various other village organizations. She was a great supporter of the library,” here Anita’s voice softened, “and she will be greatly missed.”

But not by everyone, I thought, discreetly evaluating the expressions of the staff. They all looked appropriately distressed. Webber was looking at me.

“I heard she tripped and fell down those stairs and broke her neck.” Dory Hutchinson piped up. She fixed Anita with a bright-eyed stare over her omnipresent knitting. “I’ve always said those stairways are dangerous—too dark, and most without railings.” Her needles clicked as she spoke. “I also heard that maybe somebody pushed her.”

That was Dory, never hesitating to lob a conversational hand grenade into the middle of any gathering.

“Dory,” Helene began but Anita beat her to it.

“This building conforms to all county codes,” she snapped, nostrils flaring. “I would be happy to speak with you privately about any safety concerns you may have. In the interim, I would like us all to refrain from gossiping about Joanna’s unfortunate accident. Now,” she went on, “Lieutenant O’Donnell will bring you up-to-date on the police investigation, which will conclude shortly.”

O’Donnell’s eyebrows went up. Apparently, this time frame was news to him. Anita sailed on. “The board appreciates the cooperation you have shown the sheriff’s department thus far. With few exceptions,” she eyed me with disapproval, “I don’t think they will need to bother you further. Lieutenant?”

O’Donnell stood and launched into standard police-speak about the deceased, the incident, the premises, and so on. He was informal about it, not surprising given that he was on a first name basis with half the people in the room. He wound up by stating that since autopsy results were pending, the cause of death was still undetermined. While it was possible Joanna had died of injuries sustained in a fall, he stated the police would continue to investigate as they would with any unattended death. He then requested that all employees who were in the building between one o’clock on Tuesday and one o’clock on Wednesday make themselves available after the meeting. He thanked us all and left. Officer Webber detached herself from the coatrack and followed.

“Well,” Anita said, “I’m sure we would all like to put this tragic accident behind us, so as long as I’m here I might as well update you on what was discussed at the last board meeting.” And off she went, as though nothing untoward had happened. The woman was a force of nature. No wonder she ran every committee in town. The mind boggled at what she might accomplish if anyone actually liked her.

When Anita finished, Helene went over the logistics of the library reopening, and we dispersed. I headed to the kitchen, as did most staff members who would be staying. It was nearly lunchtime, and I had learned during my short tenure that the staff of the Raven Hill Library put almost as much emphasis on food as they did on books. There was no program not accompanied by refreshments and no book sale without a bake sale. It was my best opportunity to find out who knew what. I’d toss out a little bait and do some fishing.

Dory was already holding court at the coffee machine.

“Did you notice Sam never said Joanna died because of an accident,” she said. “He never said accident, he only said injuries sustained in a fall. I think he knows something.”

“Oh, for Heaven’s sake, Dory!” Mary Alice said. “I should certainly hope he knows something. He’s the investigating officer. If he doesn’t know quite a bit by now,