Overdue for Murder (Pecan Bayou) (8 page)

"We're going to break a record, Betsy," my cousin said, a look of great importance on his sweet face.

"What record are you trying for tonight, Danny? Matching socks for the land-speed record?"

Zach came into the kitchen from the den. "No," he said, sarcasm in his voice as if any idiot knows that matching socks is actually a chore and no kid in his right mind would do that on purpose. "Mom, we are going to break the record for how many socks can be put on a single foot. According to the book, some woman in Ireland holds the record at 126. Piece of cake."

"That coming from the guy who dove head-first into cake at the mall."

"We told you that wasn't our fault," said Zach.

"Not our fault," echoed Danny.

"I know, I know," I said, thinking about whose fault it really was.

My home phone rang on the counter. Danny ran to it and answered, "Livingstons. How can I help you?"He listened for a minute and then said, "Okay, I'll get her for you, Mr. Fitzpatrick."He handed the phone to me. "It's Tyler's dad." "Thanks," I said, pressing my lips into a thin line and slowly taking the phone.

"Come on boys, let's go count those socks," Maggie said, rounding up the boys and heading toward the den. My dad didn't move until Maggie came back and yanked into the next room.

"I finally got you on the phone," Fitzpatrick said.

"Sorry I haven't gotten back to you," I said. "Crazy week. I'm about to head out the door now."

"Really? I was hoping we would have a chance to talk about you coming up for the weekend. Look, I sense you backing off in this and well, if you're not comfortable with it, I just want you to know that's okay."

That was so sweet and just like the Leo Fitzpatrick I got to know last fall. It was so hard for me to believe he had more than one relationship going at the same time, but there so many things about Barry I never would have believed when I was married to him.

"That's very nice of you to say. I want you to know I have been thinking about it, and I need to ask you a question."

"Go ahead. Ask me anything." That seemed honest enough.

"I just wanted to know if ... you might ... have a girlfriend in Dallas." There. It was out, even if it did sound like teen anxiety asking if he had a "girlfriend."

The other end of the line was quiet. Then Fitzpatrick spoke. "Fair enough question," he conceded. "At present, I don't have a girlfriend, although there is a really nice single mom I took a shine to a few months ago."

"There is?"

"It's you." He laughed, and finally, so did I."Listen, Betsy. I work a lot covering this crazy Texas weather. The other night I got called out at 7:30 to go cover a tornado sweeping through the area. I don't have time for too many women in my life."

"A tornado?"

"You know, a rotating column of air ranging in width from a few yards to more than a mile and whirling at destructively high speeds, usually accompanied by a funnel-shaped downward extension of a cumulonimbus cloud."

If I hadn't known, I did now. "What night was that?"

"Last Tuesday, I think. I had to call in Mrs. Alvarez to watch Tyler."

"Mrs. Alvarez?"

"Yes, she's a sweet lady in our neighborhood that all the kids call 'Grandma.' Taylor really felt comfortable with her, so I asked her if she would get him off the bus after school and cook dinner for us every day. She's a godsend."

"I'll say," I murmured, agreeing on more than one level.

"So what about our weekend?"

"I think ... it sounds like a wonderful idea. Plan on it."

CHAPTER NINE

This week as I entered the library, I had Aunt Maggie along with me. We walked past the accordion-fold door that closed off the children's section and into the library's meeting room. We had a smaller audience tonight but had gained Peter Markham. Pattie was already up front and was gesturing to an empty chair saved just for me.

Martha Hoffman was looking at her wristwatch and glancing around the room. There were still two empty seats waiting for Vanessa Markham and Edith Martin, the romance writer. Oscar Larry sat in his chair typing furiously into a laptop with an alien sticker glaring at us on the raised lid. Damien Perez sat quietly, examining his fingernails on one hand. With a wary glance from Martha Hoffman, I scurried to my seat next to Pattie.

"I'll bet you're the one she wanted to be late," Pattie whispered into my ear.

"At least my presentation takes ten minutes and not three hours," I whispered.

"Thank God for that," Damien Perez whispered to both of us in his low voice. The three of us laughed, making Martha Hoffman turn around and give us the official librarian "shhhhh."

Edith Martin came scurrying into the room wearing a red woven scarf, a turquoise blouse and a full printed skirt over boots. She glanced out at the audience and then slid into her seat. She put her hand over her heart as she caught her breath. Martha Hoffman looked out into the main library one more time and then turned back to the crowd.

"Well, it seems Vanessa Scarlett must be running a little late, so we will go ahead and begin," the librarian said. "Last week we had a detailed discussion about UFOs from Mr. Oscar Larry." He stood up to comment, but Martha gestured for him to take his seat. "Tonight we will hear many more speakers, starting with Destiny Wood, known locally as Edith Martin. She will be discussing her steamy romance novels." Martha Hoffman's voice rose at the end to emphasize the guilty-pleasure aspect of Edith's writing. Miss Ruby and her crowd, who had come back for an encore performance, rustled around in the metal folding chairs. Edith stood and walked to the center of the room.

"I have written historical romance novels for the last ten years. You may have read some of my books,
Victory with the Viscount, Duke of Love
or
Mistress of the Manor
. Tonight, I wanted to read a scene from the novel I am writing presently,
London's Man of Trouble
."

She opened a file folder and began to read: "I ran into his strong arms, his muscles bulging as he brought his large hands over my body. I felt a warmth spread through me as I surrendered to his embrace ..."

Edith went on and on, describing the act of lovemaking in such detail that I noticed many of the members of the audience looking a little hot around the collar. One person I didn't expect a reaction from was Peter Markham. He seemed to be glued to her every word and bit his lip as she described the very throes of passion. Edith was now in full dramatic portrayal of the scene with the back of her hand placed upon her forehead: "Georgina said, yes, yes, yes!"

"Yes!" Martha Hoffman shouted. "I mean," in a softer voice, "yes, I think that gives us quite a taste of your ... sensual style of writing. Thank you so much. Why don't we all take ten minutes. Maybe some of us need a smoke break after all that ... uh, ten minutes, everyone."

Pattie stood up. "I brought some of my orange dream cupcakes and left them upstairs on the big study table for everybody." The crowd rose happily to go upstairs for cupcakes. I checked my phone to see that a picture had been texted over to me. Zach looked like he had elephantiasis trying to pull another sock on his foot. "That kid," I said. I walked over to Aunt Maggie and tilted the phone so that she could see the picture.

"Oh my. I don't think they thought about how stretched out a sock would have to be to go over twenty other socks."

"Aunt Maggie, they are driving me crazy with this stuff. I wish there was a record they could break without killing themselves."

"I know, me too."

"Maggie?" Ruby Green stuck her head in the door. "Come upstairs and get a cupcake before they're all gone. I want you to meet my new beau, Mr. Florence."

"Be right there." Maggie touched me on the arm. "Why don't you go over to the children's section and find one those record books. Maybe you can find something tame for them to do."

Not needing the cupcakes, I agreed. "Good idea."

As I started walking out of the meeting room, Martha Hoffman stopped me. "Are you the reason Vanessa didn't get here for my author's night?"

"Excuse me?" Why would I have anything to do with Vanessa Markham getting to a meeting?

"Well, I just asked her husband, Peter, and he said something about the two of you having a fight in the mall."

"Did he? Well that fight was weeks ago and really wasn't that much of a big deal. I'm surprised Vanessa didn't share that with you. Pattie's cupcake tower collapsed because your BFF Vanessa was the one who messed with the table leg and set her up so she could win with that sorry fish fountain of hers."

Martha gasped, and the remaining stragglers hurried to get out of the room and avoid getting caught in our argument.

"How dare you!"

"Listen, Martha, I don't know why Vanessa isn't here. Why don't you try calling her? I'm sure she must be on your speed dial." I pushed past her, taking a deep breath. I knew this lady didn't like me, but blaming me for Vanessa's no-show seemed a little out there. Why would Peter point to me as the reason his wife was tardy? Didn't he know where she was? That was a truly strange marriage, especially with him visiting hotels in San Marcos and her hanging out with the vampire hunter. I thought I had had a bad marriage. They were both such physically attractive people, but inside all that beauty was another matter.

Trying to put Martha's accusations behind me, I headed to the accordion doors of the children's section. I could smell fresh paint as I came to the closed-off area. There was a sign out front on a wooden easel announcing wet paint. I slid open the door and flipped on the light. The walls glistened with a fresh white coat. I jumped for a second when I saw a humongous monster that I recognized from the pages of
Where the Wild Things Are
perched in the corner of the room. That thing was so big it had to frighten small children.

The nonfiction section was near the back. I walked through the brightly colored beanbag chairs in orange, blue and green and searched for the nonfiction sign hung high on the wall. On one of the waist-high shelves was a large stuffed mouse perched on a piano bench sitting in front of a toy-sized grand piano. In front of this display was the book
The Mouse Who Played Piano
. The mouse and the piano were set up to look just like the cover of the book with everything but the lit candelabra. The children's librarian had probably decided it was too dangerous to light candles around the kids.

I took a step forward, still looking at the display, and then tripped over something on the floor. I scrambled off the object, and it took a second before I realized I had tripped over a
someone
lying on the floor. The candelabra missing from the mouse book display was placed on the back of a head of blonde hair. The person, a woman, was rolled over, face down on the carpet. I picked up the candelabra, checking to see if the person was conscious. I barely recognized Vanessa Markham from the streams of blood running down the front of her carefully made-up face.

"Vanessa." I shook her gently. "Vanessa, can you hear me? It's Betsy Livingston." Her eyes were open, but they didn't move toward me. In fact, they didn't move at all.

A scream shattered the quiet from behind me. Martha Hoffman stood with her trembling hands up to her mouth.

"You killed her! You killed Vanessa Scarlett!"

CHAPTER TEN

In only twenty minutes, our author night at the library had changed from an evening filled with literary endeavors to an evening filled with criminal activity. Once Martha Hoffman screamed at me, most of the upstairs came rushing down to see what had happened. Being a policeman's daughter, I started dialing 911 and then tried to keep everyone back. Peter Markham came running in and grabbed Vanessa and held her in his arms. I noticed that Edith Martin, Damien Perez and Pattie had broken through to the front of the crowd and were now standing near the edge of the plastic curtain. Damien placed his hand over his mouth, and I heard him utter something under his breath. Edith, too, seemed stunned as she pulled her red shawl around her and shot a glance toward Vanessa's husband, Peter.

George Beckman was the first officer to show up on the scene. "Don't you worry, Betsy. I called Judd, and he's on his way," he said, putting his arm around my trembling shoulders. The crowd attending the lecture had been relegated back to the meeting room, except for me, Martha Hoffman and Peter Markham. After peeking over at the body, George began to tape off the scene from the folding door to the wall.

My father came in and ducked under the crime scene tape. Not wanting Danny and Zach to be around a homicide, he sent my Aunt Maggie to the parking lot, where the boys waited. She would drive them back to my house to wait for me. My dad surveyed the scene briefly and then came to me and took my hand. "Are you okay, Betsy?"

"I'm fine, Dad. I'm the one who discovered the body."

"What were you doin' in here?"

Martha Hoffman stood up. "That's what I'd like to know. This part of the library was off-limits to our visitors. When I noticed the sliding door was open and was attempting to close it, I saw Becky here leaning over Vanessa with the candelabra in her hands. She must have just finished pounding her in the head just before I arrived. We all know she had it out for our dear Vanessa."