Death Overdue (Librarian Mysteries) (3 page)

Now, as Penelope stood in the doorway, I saw the resemblance between the two women, although Penelope was a smaller, rounder version of Sally, not nearly as dramatic and with a warmer, more genuine smile. That smile dimmed, then vanished when she spotted Sally.

Caldwell whispered to me that they were sisters, which I had already guessed. I assumed one of them had married, thus the different last names.

“So you did come back. I wasn’t sure you would,” Penelope said to Sally with a note of steel in her voice.

“Well, dear sister, I’m glad to see you too. Why shouldn’t I come back? It’s a free world.”

“What do you want this time?” Penelope asked.

“Only what I am due. After all, it’s my fair share,” Sally said with a toss of her long blond hair.

“What do you think you’re due?” Caldwell jumped into the conversation as Penelope came to stand by him and put a hand on his shoulder.

“I want the B and B back. I’m so happy that you’ve kept it going. I must say, it looks remarkably good. As do you.”

“Sally, you gave it to me. Remember when you took all our savings but left me this establishment to run?”

“But the B and B is worth much more than what I took. If you’d like, you can buy me out—at current market value, of course.”

“I’m having none of this,” Caldwell declared with more than a hint of anger. “You abandoned me, ran out with no explanation, left me to handle everything: all the bills, all the guests, all the particulars. Now you show up and think you own something? Well, I think not.”

Sally leaned forward and said, “But, Caldwell, my name is still on the deed. I have checked with my lawyer, and everything is in order. How did you think you were going to sell it without me?”

He folded his arms over his chest and said, “Don’t worry. I had a plan to take care of that.”

Sally smiled. “I’m sure you did. But now it will be even easier with me here. You see, we can all work together. I need the money. And you need me. We can help each other.”

Caldwell turned and looked at me. “No, that’s not the way it’s going to work. I have been planning on using the
money from the sale to start our new business. You said when you left that the business was mine. A verbal agreement. Right, Karen?”

I nodded, honestly not knowing what to think. Sally sounded awfully sure of herself. But I knew that Caldwell needed me to back him up at this moment. “Caldwell’s absolutely right,” I said.

“Sally, your coming back trying to claim this place is horrible. After how you’ve treated Caldwell,” said Penelope.

Alfredo lifted up his empty glass, seemingly oblivious to the tension in the air, and said, “I think it’s time for another drink.”

A
fter having another drink, Sally and Alfredo carried their bags into their room and then went out for dinner. Penelope sat with us for a while, but offered little comfort. Caldwell was very quiet.

Finally he said, “Sally looks good.”

I had nothing to say about her looks.

“She always looks good, especially when she’s behaving badly,” Penelope said with her hands wrapped over her chest. “The worse she behaves, the better she looks. It’s like she sucks energy from the people she hurts.”

“So you knew she might be coming?” Caldwell asked.

“I got a note from her asking me to meet her in London for dinner. Who knows why? Some whim. A little family get-together. We only have each other now that Daddy is gone and Mum is slipping away. But Sally’s never been very chummy, as you know.”

“Did you know she was going to stay here?” he asked.

“I didn’t think she would. I still can’t believe she’d have the audacity to stay here after what she did to you, but then why do I keep letting her surprise me?”

“I’m sure she wanted it to be a surprise—for all of us. That’s why she used her friend’s name to make the reservation. It’s been quite a shock.”

“You mustn’t let her have her way with you,” Penelope said.

Some small noise came out of my throat, rather like a yelp, as I nodded my head in agreement.

Caldwell shook his head. “Don’t worry. I’ll stand my ground. She’s not going to walk all over me this time.”

“Well, I’m exhausted.” Penelope stood up. “Just breathing air in the same room as my darling sister makes me feel fatigued. And a little sick. I’m off to bed. See you in the morning.”

I still wasn’t clear what Penelope was even doing here. She said she had come to see her sister, but she hadn’t known where Sally was staying. And they didn’t seem on good terms. It all seemed very odd to me, but families are like that. Penelope went back up to her room.

Bruce the book collector came in looking very pleased with himself. He was a tall, awkward man, with thinning hair that he managed to pull back in a slight ponytail. He always wore some kind of suit coat and had pieces of paper sticking out of all the pockets. He carried a satchel that was bulging with books.

“What ho,” he said.

“Evening,” Caldwell answered.

I felt like saying “Tallyho!” but resisted.

“Have you had a good day?” Caldwell kindly asked, since it was so clear that Bruce was brimming over with glee.

“Yes, indeed. I found a decent copy of
The Velveteen Rabbit.
I would say it’s in very good condition, maybe ever so slightly shelf-cocked. If I’m right it’s worth nearly five thousand pounds.”

Shelf-cocked, I knew from Caldwell, was when a book was slightly askew from sitting crooked on a shelf. I quickly translated the pounds into dollars: close to eight thousand dollars. “What a score,” I said.

Bruce looked at me blankly.

Caldwell said, “Way to go, mate. May I ask what you paid?”

Bruce was squirming to tell. “I got it for half that.”

“Very good,” Caldwell said.

“I’ll bid you two good night.” Bruce went up to his room, I assumed, to organize his finds, leaving Caldwell and me alone.

“That’s a lot of money,” I murmured.

“Yes, but only if it’s in ‘very good’ condition. If not, then the book is not worth much more than he paid.”

“Who determines the condition?”

“We all do, but there are strict standards.”

“Yes,” I said. “And I suppose I’ll become more familiar with them as I help you collect.”

Caldwell smiled. “I’m sure you’ll be excellent at categorizing a book.”

“Thanks.”

“I’m sorry about all this Sally stuff,” he said, waving his hand.

“Now, don’t worry about it,” I jumped in.

“I can’t help it. Sally almost always gets what she wants,” he said, his voice shaking with anger. “Well, this is one time she won’t.”

“How will you stop her?” I asked.

“We will stop her,” he said, reaching over to take my hand.

“Her name is still on the deed?” I asked reluctantly.

“Yes, I’m afraid so. But she took a substantial amount of cash when she left. She might think she’s owed more money, but we’ll figure out how much she owes me for running the place for almost seven years. That, along with the money she took, should be just about equal to the amount she’s claiming.”

I was glad to see Caldwell taking charge. “Of course, that should work.”

He hugged me, then said, “What would I do without you?”

“I hate to think.”

We kissed a light, conspiratorial kiss. When we pulled apart, I confessed, “I’m hungry.”

“I’m not surprised. It’s way past your dinnertime. How does beans on toast sound?” he asked.

We all have our own versions of comfort food. Mine is tuna casserole made exactly the way my mother had always made it: canned tuna, Campbell’s cream of mushroom soup, and thick egg noodles with Parmesan cheese on top. Unfortunately, Caldwell’s is a “tin” of baked beans on toasted white bread. I’m sure it offers a full complement of protein and carbohydrates, but to me it seems like starch on starch—a bit gloppy. But I knew it would make him feel better. Popeye had spinach; my darling grew strong on baked beans.

“Just what I was hoping you’d say,” I answered.

“I know you’re coddling me.”

“Oh, I thought that was in the job description: coddle when needed.”

“So you will take the job?” he asked.

“Of coddler?” I asked.

He threw the ball right back in my lap. “Karen, what would you like your job to be?”

“At the moment, friend and partner,” I said, determined not to take the first step toward something more.

“That will do for this moment.”

We kissed again and moved into the kitchen to make our meal.

“Let’s forget about Sally for right now,” I said.

“Yes, tomorrow is time enough to think about that,” Caldwell agreed as he opened a can of baked beans.

A voice came from the doorway. “Forget about who?”

Brenda had some shopping in a mesh bag over her shoulder. She was in her late twenties, not a particularly attractive girl, but fresh and young. She wore her long brown hair pulled back tight into a ponytail and had on a small T-shirt that read
QUEEN BEE
.

“Did I hear you mention Sally?” Brenda asked.

“Yes, she’s come for a visit,” Caldwell said without any enthusiasm.

“Oh, how lovely. It’s been so long. I wonder if she’ll even remember me. I was just out of school when she left.” Brenda patted her ponytail. “I had short hair then. She persuaded me to grow it long. And she taught me how to put on nail polish and eye makeup.”

“Yes, I remember. I don’t think she’ll be staying with us for long, I’m afraid,” Caldwell stated.

I was hopeful.

“I’ll just pop up and say hi,” Brenda said.

“She and her boyfriend have gone to dinner,” Caldwell told her.

“Maybe later. This is great.” Brenda deposited the breakfast supplies on the counter and ran off to her room.

“Someone’s glad to see her,” I said.

“Sally was good with Brenda. She took her under her wing. But then she left her without a word too. I think Brenda suffered almost as much as I did.”

L
ater, climbing into bed, I could tell Caldwell hadn’t let go of the Sally problem. I somewhat reluctantly slipped off the new white satin robe he had given me as a welcome gift and hung it on the bedpost. I felt beautiful when I wore it.

Some of our sweetest moments together were tucked under the comfort of our large duvet, books in front of our faces, arms touching, pages turning, a lovely sort of harmony between us.

But tonight, the pages weren’t turning very fast next to me and, when I looked at Caldwell, his face was contorted
into a deep-thinking frown. He was obviously not even reading his book.

I reached over and smoothed out his forehead. “Calm yourself.”

He let his book fall onto his chest and spit out, “Blast it, Karen, I can’t. Just when everything was going so well, Sally has to come along and ruin it all. I had so hoped you would never have the pleasure of meeting her, and now here she is staying with us.”

“You could turn her out on the street,” I suggested sweetly.

“Don’t think I haven’t thought of that. Would they take the hint if their bags were left on the front steps and the door was locked?”

“They might, but I wouldn’t put it past that woman to be able to jimmy the lock.” We lay quietly for a moment, then I asked, “What had you been planning to do about her name being on the deed?”

“I guess I was trying not to think about it. But it’s close to seven years now since she left. I had thought of declaring her dead.”

*

I woke up twice that night. The first time when Sally and Alfredo stumbled up the stairs on the way to their room. They were loud and sounded drunk. Alfredo was murmuring in Italian to her, and his words sounded amorous. I was rather
glad I didn’t know Italian. Caldwell didn’t wake, and I was glad of that too.

The second time was when a loud crash happened in the house, like the sound of huge hailstones pelting the roof, but closer. I sat up in bed and saw with concern that Caldwell was not next to me.

Fearing something awful had happened to him, I sprang up and ran out of our bedroom. Caldwell was standing down the hallway, staring into the book room, with the most horrible and disbelieving look on his face.