Charmed to death: an Ophelia and Abby mystery (10 page)

"I don't know about best, but I've tried." She nodded once. "You're right. The solution will come when it's supposed to. There is a pattern. All we have to do is follow it."

Follow the pattern. And at the same time, protect Darci, protect Abby, and find a killer. Piece of cake, right?

Chapter Eleven

Late, late, I'm late
, I thought while I rushed up the steps to the library. I stopped on the seventh step.
Oh God, I'm beginning to sound like the White Rabbit in
Alice's Adventures in Wonderland.
I've got to get a handle on all the stress, or soon I'll be
seeing
white rabbits
. Shaking visions of rabbits from my mind, I proceeded up the steps.

When I shoved the door opened, and I hurried in and saw Darci hanging over the counter, talking to a man. It appeared she was having a great time flirting with him.

Something about him seemed familiar, although I couldn't see his face. Blond hair, slight build. Charles.

I stopped while I felt my face flush with pleasure. Charles's quick defense of Abby's cause at the meeting had impressed me. Even some of the neighbors Abby had known for thirty years hadn't had the courage to speak up. They'd sat back and let Abby do the talking. Charles, a stranger, had done more for her. His attitude was, well… endearing.

I did a mental shake.
Jeez, Jensen, get a grip. You do not know this guy. Get behind your wall and stay there until you learn more about him
.

While I stood there arguing with myself, Charles turned toward me and gave me a big smile. Darci gave me a wink. Lord, what had she been telling him?

"Ophelia, I'd hoped to catch you," he said as I walked over to him. "I stopped by the library last weekend, but the lady with the glasses told me you weren't in."

Returning his smile, I moved behind the counter and stowed my backpack. "That would've been Claire. I hope she didn't peer at you over the top of her glasses."

Charles laughed. "Well, yes, she did. A little. It was disconcerting."

I chuckled. I'd heard that statement before. Claire, president of the Library Board, had a habit of looking at people over the top of her glasses. Usually when she was annoyed. And I'd seen grown men shiver like schoolboys when she gave them
the look
. Charles must be made of strong stuff if he only found Claire's look disconcerting. My opinion of him went up another notch.

I gave Darci a sideways glance. Her mascara-rimmed eyes watched me with interest and I shuddered to think what might be going through her mind. The small nod she gave me confirmed my suspicions. Before the day was out, she'd have a hot romance between Charles and me manufactured in her mind. I shot Darci a warning look.

She answered the look with a slight shrug. Picking up a book, she flipped the cover open and checked the due date.

"Are you going to be in Summerset long?" I asked to try to cover the sudden lull in the conversation.

"I don't know." Charles traced his finger along the counter. "Darci said there's going to be a demonstration today."

"Umm—yes," I said, glancing at Darci again.

Darci gave me a quick smile.

"The demonstration will provide a good photo op. A small group fighting a large corporation. A David and Goliath kind of a thing. I also dabble with writing. It would make a good story." Charles frowned. "I've seen the effects firsthand of what careless stewardship of the land will do. Unfortunately, my family was careless. I've spent a lot of my time trying to correct the damage our factory caused."

"How admirable, Charles," I said.

"Not really," he said, his face turning a light pink. "I felt a responsibility. If everyone protected Mother Earth, we wouldn't have the pollution we do now." He blushed again. "I'm sorry. I tend to get carried away when I talk about the environment."

"Don't think a thing of it, Charles," Darci said. Turning to me, she said, "Has Abby met Charles yet?"

"No," Charles spoke up. "I haven't had the pleasure of meeting her, but I'd like to."

Darci shifted to face Charles. "You should. She's going to love you. You have a lot in common with Abby. Hey, I've got an idea." Her bright gaze settled on me. "Ophelia, why don't you introduce Abby to Charles?"

"I'd consider it an honor." Charles's blue eyes stared at me openly. "May I escort you and your grandmother to dinner? I'd enjoy talking to her about the situation she's facing. After the demonstration, of course. And if she isn't too tired."

"I don't know," I said, hesitating. "I suppose. I'll ask Abby after the demonstration."

"You're not comfortable with the idea?"

"Ahh, well…" I struggled to think of an explanation.

A quick glance at Darci didn't help. She didn't seem to be paying attention, but I knew her attitude was an act. She'd soaked in every word.

Biting my lip, I moved my attention back to Charles.

"It's okay, Ophelia," he said gently. "I won't be offended if you don't want to have dinner with me."

"It's not that," I said, flustered.

Why didn't I want to have dinner with him and introduce him to Abby? I admired the way he spoke at the meeting. He was attractive, polite, and it seemed we had a lot in common. But something was holding me back. What?

Charles watched me closely. "You don't know me well enough to introduce me to your grandmother."

It wasn't a question. It was a statement—and he'd described exactly what I was feeling.

My eyes flew wide in surprise. "That's astute, Charles. How did you know?"

"I noticed at the meeting how protective you are of her. Comes with my job, I guess. Noticing things," he said shyly. "A freelance photographer is trained to look for subtle nuances and sometimes it's hard for me to shut the radar off."

Boy, could I identify with his statement. I'd spent my life trying to shut my radar off, not allowing my sensitivity to others to intrude into my life. I had never considered others might have the same problem, but in a different way.

"It's not that I don't think you're a nice person—"

He held up his hand, stopping me. "I understand. But I would like to talk with you more. May I call you?"

"My number's not listed," I said abruptly.

"Oh," he said, his voice full of regret.

A sharp jab in my ribs from Darci showed how closely she had been paying attention.

It was my turn to blush. I felt the heat spread up my neck and into my cheeks. I slid my eyes over to Darci.

She lifted her eyebrows as if to say:
Give him your number, dummy. Thanks, Darci
, I thought and looked back at Charles.

"Ahh, well, ahh, I suppose I could give you the number," I stuttered. Slipping out a piece of paper from under the counter, I scribbled my cell phone number and handed the paper to him.

"Thank you, Ophelia," he said, taking my hand again. He looked over at Darci, but still held on to my hand. "It was nice meeting you again."

"You too, Charles."

"I'll look forward to talking to you soon," he said, his eyes meeting mine. He gave my hand another quick squeeze, pivoted on his heel, and left the library.

Darci was the first one to break the silence. "Boy, I thought for a minute there, he was going to kiss your hand."

"Darci did you—"

She held up her hand, stopping me. "Want to go out with him? Nope. He's not my type. He's cute, but too aesthetic for me. You, on the other hand—"

"Hold it. I'm only going to talk to him," I said, picking up the library cards to be filed. "That is—
if
he calls."

She chuckled. "Oh, he'll call. And I bet you wind up having dinner with him too."

"So," I answered with a shrug, "it would only be dinner."

"But who knows?" Darci tapped her chin. "Ned doesn't trip your trigger, but Charles might. That's why I told him about the demonstration and suggested you introduce him to Abby."

I dropped the cards. "The idea of introducing him to Abby wasn't spur of the moment? It was a setup?"

"Sure. I knew you wouldn't introduce a stranger to Abby without checking him out first. I'd hoped, after you said, 'No,' Charles would follow through and ask for your phone number." Darci fluffed her hair and gave me a satisfied look. "But you almost spoiled my plan when you didn't give it to him right away."

I rolled my eyes. "Honestly, you
are
the biggest manipulator."

"You bet I am. If you're not going to take care of your love life, somebody has to," she said with a smirk.

And to think, I once had typecast Darci as a dumb blonde. Boy, was I wrong.

Looking down at my watch, I said, "Dang, look at the time. I have to work on those files in my office. I told Claire I'd have them done before I left for the demonstration."

"She didn't care you're taking today off?"

"No," I said, sticking the books Darci had checked in under the counter. "I called her last night to ask if the Library Board would have a problem with my participation. She said since most of the board agrees with Abby, it shouldn't be an issue."

"Speaking of Abby, what did she say last night when you saw her? Did she say anything else about Brian's murder?"

"Not really. She's as frustrated as I am." I snorted. "Nevertheless, she is convinced I've met Brian's killer."

Darci arched an eyebrow. "Maybe you have?"

"I've been over this with Abby. The only dark man I met in Iowa City was Comacho and he's a cop."

"You said Perez was dark."

"Yeah, but he's a cop too."

"You know I've been reading about serial killers. A lot of them have a real fascination with authority and power. A cop has both power and authority. And what I read said the killers are like chameleons. They change their outward behavior to match the situation. Think about it—a serial killer using a cop's badge as cover. What a great way to hide. Be hard to catch him, wouldn't it?" she said thoughtfully.

I shook my head. "That's nuts. I think Comacho is a jerk and a sorry excuse for a human being, but it doesn't make him a killer. And Perez, from the pictures in his office, he has a wife and family."

"So do other serial killers," she insisted. "According to what I've read, organized killers, and I think this guy's organized, often do. People who know the killers are surprised that the person they knew had a secret, violent life."

"That may be, but I don't think the killer is either Comacho or Perez."

"Okay. What about the guy you saw at the bar?"

"You mean the one who looked like Harley Walters?"