The Murder Pit (7 page)

THIRTEEN

“How many books can we get, Momma?” Grace asked, unbuckling her seatbelt.

“Five,” I said. “Five each.”

It was the next morning and it was library day. Not some recognized national day, but our family’s library day. We tried to go at least once a week and every one of the kids looked forward to the trip. When Emily started school, it was one of the things she actually voiced that she missed about being homeschooled. I’d felt nothing but satisfaction at her admission. Reading was a source of pride with me, always had been. I’d forced books on my kids from the day they were born and, as it turned out, it had been completely unnecessary because all of them liked to read. Or maybe they liked to read because I’d read aloud nearly every children’s book in print. Sophie was a voracious reader, too, and she’d happily announced that being able to go to the library during the day was just about her most favorite thing ever about homeschooling.

We hustled into the single-story, brick building, our empty cloth bags billowing like kites, the cold air rushing into them and lifting them skyward. The heat enveloped us as soon as we stepped inside and the kids peeled off their jackets, hanging them on the hooks mounted in the makeshift coat closet. I carried the full bag of books to the return window and Sophie and Grace scampered off to the children’s section. Will rounded a different corner, headed toward the non-fiction titles and, after the books were safely on the return belt, I wandered over to the adult side of the library to find something for myself.

There were other patrons there that morning but most were sitting at the bank of desks, parked in front of computer monitors. I headed toward the display of new fiction titles and perused them, picking up one or two to scan the back covers and read the blurbs. A woman joined me, her back to me as she scanned the shelves nearby. I picked up another book and she turned to look at me, a quick glance before turning back around to face the shelves.

I pretended not to notice her, but I knew she kept looking at me every few seconds. The couple of times I tried to meet her gaze, she looked away, her gaze locking in on the books on the shelf. I walked around the new release display and down the next aisle. She followed. I stopped and pretended to be very interested in a water gardening book I found on the shelf. Right before I could ask her what she was doing, she came several steps closer to me, smiling.

“You’re Daisy, right?” she said, her bright red lips spreading to reveal even brighter white teeth. “Daisy Savage?”

“I am,” I said. “Who are you?”

“I thought so,” she said, the smile growing. “I didn’t mean to stalk you. I just wasn’t sure if it was you or not.”

“And you are?” I asked again.

She held out her hand. “Helen Stunderson.”

I hesitated, then shook her hand. “Olaf’s wife.”

“Ex-wife,” she corrected, still smiling. “Very much the ex-wife.”

“Right.”

The smile dissipated. “The police contacted me. About finding Olaf in your home.”

“Technically, he wasn’t in our home,” I said. “He was in the coal chute.”

“Yes, that’s what they told me,” she said, nodding. “That is just…bizarre. I was so sorry to hear about it.”

“I’m sure,” I said. And then, because I didn’t know what else to say, I added, “I’m sorry.”

“Oh, we weren’t still in love or anything,” she said, waving a hand in the air. “It was over a long time ago. I know Olaf didn’t want it to be, but it was. Sad, really. I tried to be gentle, but it’s difficult when one person wants out and the other doesn’t.” She touched my elbow. “I’m sure you understand.”

“Well, I—”

“I mean, it’s so hard,” she said, talking right over me and giving my elbow a gentle squeeze. “You don’t want to break someone’s heart. You don’t want to tell them no. But, my goodness. I deserve to have some happiness, too, and being with Olaf…well, that just wasn’t going to do it for me. And I was, of course, afraid I’d make him miserable.” She forced something resembling an empathetic smile onto her face. “I just tried to let him down easy. That was all I could do. But again. You’ve been there, right? You know what it’s like.”

“Well, it was a little different for me because—”

“I mean, what do you do?” she asked, squinting at me and again ignoring my attempt to answer her question. “It hurts to do that. You feel like the bad guy. And I’m certainly not the bad guy. But I didn’t want to stay in a relationship that wasn’t good for either of us. But it was so hard to have him keep coming back and coming back and asking if we could give it one more shot. My heart wanted to say yes just because I hated seeing him so sad, but my head told me it was just best to cut the cord.” She made a snipping gesture with her fingers. “Quick and neat.”

I paused, wondering if this was another attempt to get me to answer a question she didn’t really want answered. She seemed to be catching her breath and then something flashed through her expression.

“I’m sorry,” she said, releasing my elbow. “I didn’t mean to just spit all that out at you at once. And accost you here in the library. I apologize.”

“That’s okay,” I said. “Not a problem.” And it really wasn’t. Compared to the confrontation with Olaf’s sister the other day, this had been relatively easy. At least Helen wasn’t accusing me of murder.

“But I do have a question for you.”

“A question?” I wondered if she’d actually let me answer it.

She grimaced, as if finding the words was difficult. “When you and Olaf dated—”

“Let me stop you right there,” I said, deciding I’d be the interrupter this time. “We didn’t date. We went on one date. There’s a misconception out there for some reason that Olaf and I were actually together for some period of time. We went on one date and that was it.”

“Right, right,” she said, nodding. Her hair fell forward and she pushed it off her forehead. “Sorry. Poor choice of words. So…when you and Olaf went on your one date…did he mention me?”

I frowned. It was an odd thing to ask me, especially since she’d just spent the last few minutes trying to convince me that the last thing in the world she wanted was for Olaf to focus on her or mention her. And since she seemed to understand that we’d only gone out once, I didn’t know what she thought he might’ve said to me about her in the couple of hours we were together.

“No.” I shook my head. “We didn’t really talk about his divorce. Or mine.”

She raised her eyebrows. “So not a word?” she asked. She chuckled. “Well, that would’ve been a first. Maybe you don’t remember.”

I straightened a little. “No, I’m pretty sure I remember. We specifically didn’t talk about our divorces. It didn’t seem appropriate. For either of us.”

She clicked her tongue. “That’s so very strange I mean, he never went anywhere without talking about me. I mean, us.”

I stared at her. I could think of a number of things that were even stranger than her ex-husband not discussing her during a date. Stalking me at the library ranked right up there.

“It seems coincidental running into you here,” I said slowly. “Considering we’ve never run into each other anywhere else in town before.”

She blinked rapidly. “What’s that?”

“I said it’s coincidental running into you here,” I repeated. “Since we’ve never met before. Just seems…very coincidental.”

“Oh, right,” she said, nodding. “Yes. It is. But I…I work here.”

Guilt and embarrassment flooded me. “You do?”

She nodded. “Part time. I help shelve the books.” She smiled. “And I should probably get back to that. It was a pleasure meeting you. We’ll have to talk again sometime.”

She hustled off and disappeared into the maze of aisles.

I stood there for a moment, replaying the entire conversation in my head. Helen was…odd. But maybe she was just out of sorts because her ex-husband was dead. I had no emotional connection to Thornton anymore, but it would still be strange to hear about his death. I wished I’d thought to ask her about Olaf’s sister and see if she thought there was anything strange going on there. Of course, she hadn’t really given me the opportunity to say very much.

I returned to the new release section and picked up a book, trying to clear my head. I flipped to the the first page and, satisfied that it had the potential to hold my interest, tucked it under my arm and headed back to the children’s section.

Grace and Sophie were stationed at a low round table, stacks of books piled haphazardly around them.

“I thought we said five books each,” I said.

They looked up from their books and exchanged guilty looks.

“We forgot,” Grace said.

“You’re going to read all of these?”

They nodded their heads vigorously and I just shook my head and smiled. There were going to be bigger battles on the parenting road than limiting the number of books they checked out.

Will joined us a few minutes later, a sports almanac in one hand and a book about weather phenomena in the other. We went to the checkout station and each of them took their turn, first scanning their cards and then lining the books’ barcodes under the red laser.

They gathered up their hauls and I told them to head to the car. Will opened his mouth to ask why but I shoved the car keys in his hand and  him permission to start it. His eyes widened with excitement and he marched to the door, the girls trailing behind him, both clamoring for a turn to hit the clicker and unlock the doors. I figured it would be a miracle if the car was still there when I walked out.

I went to the front desk and waited for the white-haired woman seated behind it to look up from her computer screen.

She peered at me from behind reading glasses perched on the tip of her nose. “Are the machines not working?”

“What?”

She pointed with a pencil. “The self-checkout machines. I know how much your kids love them.”

Excellent. We had a reputation.

“No, no,” I said. “They were fine. We got everything we needed.”

“Oh, good,” she said, nodding. “It’s a pleasure to see those kids leave with so many books.”

“Are you sure you don’t mean just leave?”

She chuckled and shook her head. “Absolutely not. Warms my heart to see children excited over books.”

Okay, so maybe I wasn’t completely failing as a mom.

“Well, they do and they love this place,” I said. “So thank you.”

She nodded and waited expectantly.

“I just had one question,” I said. “And, actually, it’s for Helen.”

The woman adjusted the readers on her nose. “Helen?”

“I was just speaking to her a bit ago,” I said. “She’s a shelver. And I just had something I wanted to ask her before we left, if she has a second.”

I decided since she was there that I’d take the opportunity to ask her about Olga. There was no harm in asking and I was sure she’d know plenty about her former sister-in-law.

The woman frowned for a moment, then shook her head. “I don’t think we have a Helen working here.”

“I was just talking to her ten minutes ago,” I said and gave her a quick description.

The woman stared at me, then shook her head. “Ma’am, there’s no one working here who fits that description. And our only shelver working today is Andy.” She pointed past me.

I turned and saw a man who couldn’t have been younger than seventy, bent over a rolling cart of books.

“And our other shelvers are high school students,” the woman said. “Perhaps you misunderstood?”

I knew it was too much of a coincidence.

“Yes,” I said. “Perhaps I misunderstood.”

FOURTEEN

“I asked Rex to stop by tomorrow,” Jake said as he slid into bed.

We’d gotten home from the library and, while the meeting with Helen bothered me, I was determined to not let it ruin my day. So we read books and I made dinner and I helped Emily with her English homework and we played games until everyone was ready for bed. A weird day had turned into a pretty good day.

I climbed over him and got under the blankets. “Who’s Rex?”

“The inspector dude,” he said. “The guy who did the original inspection for the house when we bought it. I want him to come look at the pipes again and explain some of the things in the inspection report to me so I can get a better handle on exactly what we need to have done right now and what can wait. I don’t want to dump a bunch of money into something that can wait six months if it can wait six months.”

I snuggled in next to him, forcing my way into his arm. “So why not just call a plumber?”

“Because I have no idea what some of this stuff in the report means,” he said. “And I want to know before I start dealing with a plumber. And he offered to help out because the inspection was so…involved.”

I bit back a giggle. “The murder pit
is
involved.”

He frowned. “I’d prefer it if we not call it that. Sounds like some sort of horror movie.”

“Well, I feel like I’m in the middle of a horror movie right about now.”

“Just because of the body?”

“That and a little more,” I said and told him about my run-in with Helen at the library.

When I was finished, he just shook his head. “A whole lot of crazy going around right now, I guess.”

“But don’t you think that’s weird?” I asked, propping myself up. “That she found me in the library and then lied to me about working there?”

“No weirder than the dude’s sister showing up across the street and you wrestling her into the snow,” he said.

I swatted at his chest. “Be serious.”

“I am, sorta,” he said, laughing. “It’s all just bizarre. But here’s the one thing that keeps rattling around in my head.” He paused. “Why did it get dumped here?”

“What do you mean?”

“When you went out with the guy, you weren’t living here,” he explained. “You were in your old house. That was months ago. And you hadn’t spoken to him or had any contact with him. So while it’s weird that there was a dead body in our basement, it’s
really
weird that it was his.” He paused. “I find it really hard to believe it was some sort of coincidence.”

I rolled away from him and stared up at the ceiling. “So, what? What exactly are you getting at?”

He shifted in the bed. “I’m not sure what I’m getting at. But real coincidences are few and far between. Hard for me to not think he was put here for a reason.”

“Like, someone trying to set me up?” I asked. “Who? Why?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know the reason and I’m not going to play amateur detective without more facts. But I’d say it’s likely that there’s some sort of concrete reason he was in our basement.”

“Coal chute.”

“Right.”

An uncomfortable cloud settled over me. Why would anyone have chosen my house as the place to leave the body? If it had been done on purpose, that meant someone had it in for me. But who? I didn’t think I had any real enemies in the world, certainly not one who was angry enough to make me look like a murderer. I knew I didn’t fit the mold with other homeschoolers or even with other women. I wasn’t the kind of person who gossiped, who went for manicures or fancy brunches, who got together with friends for Friday night Bunco. And, sure, my friendships had sort of been limited by that, but I didn’t think my anti-Bunco stance was a motive for murder…or framing me for one. But if it was—if someone had decided they had it in for me—why had they chosen Olaf, someone I barely knew? If they wanted to hurt me, why not choose someone I had a stronger connection with?

“You’re going to be up all night thinking about this, aren’t you?” Jake said, rolling closer to me.

“Most likely.”

He got one arm under me and threw the other over me. “Don’t.”

“Easier said than done.”

“Just close your eyes,” he murmured, his lips on my cheek.

I ignored him, still staring at the ceiling. “I mean, was she stalking me? How else would she have known I was in the library?”

“I don’t know.”

“Because that’s an awesome thought, that not only do I have someone plotting my demise, but I also have a semi-crazed stalker following me around.”

“Demise?”

“You know what I mean.”

“Daisy.”

“I don’t go to the library every day,” I reminded him. “She couldn’t have known I’d be there. So she had to have followed me there.”

“Daisy,” he repeated, firmer this time.

“Which means she was probably watching me for, I don’t know, a week,” I said. “Maybe a month. Who knows how long?”

Jake clamped a hand over my mouth. I shifted my eyes so I could see him.

“Stop,” he said, his eyes widening. “I know that getting carried away is your thing, but don’t do it. We don’t know anything and before you let this thing snowball, think about how the kids will react if they start hearing talk like that. They’ll freak.” He gave me a stern look. “So stop.”

I lifted his hand off my mouth. “I almost bit you.”

He snuggled up next to me and nuzzled my ear. “Keep talking dirty to me.”

I made a face and tried to be mad at him, but failed. “You are very lucky.”

“Why’s that?” he asked, his hand trailing lightly across my stomach.

I sucked in my breath and pressed into his touch. “Because even when I’m sure I’m being stalked by a psychopath, I will still have sex with you.”