Three can keep a secret, p.1
Three Can Keep a Secret, page 1
THREE CAN KEEP A SECRET
A Greer Hogan Mystery
M. E. HILLIARD
For library staff everywhere
Chapter One
Raven Hill Manor was silhouetted against a blazing scarlet sky. I stood in the shadow cast by the gothic pile of stone and wood, admiring the irregular outline and odd angles—the peaks and valleys of the slate roof; the false fronts and dormered windows; and the unexpected, octagonal tower jutting from one corner. Clouds moved across the setting sun, and red reflections flickered across the upper windows.
“‘Last night I dreamt I went to Manderley again.’” I quoted the opening line of Rebecca as I pocketed my car keys. I’d always been a sucker for a creepy old house, with or without a creepy old housekeeper. Raven Hill Manor fit the bill, though after a year of working at the library it housed, I found it more quirky than creepy. The manor was far from sharing all its secrets with me, but I had reached the point where its creaks and groans and sighs, its odd artifacts, and its overlooked nooks were a familiar part of my day. The Raven Hill Library was a busy, cheerful place in spite of its brooding exterior. If it kept itself to itself after business hours—well, that was fine with me.
I was reaching for the back door of the building when it opened.
“Oops, sorry, Greer!” It was Felicity James, president of the Friends of the Library. The annual book and bake sale, the group’s biggest fundraiser, was only five days away, and several of the volunteers had gathered to work out some final details. In spite of her recent widowhood, or perhaps because of it, Felicity had stepped up to finish out someone else’s term as president and had thrown herself into the book sale organization. A few other members of the group were right behind her. We stepped to one side.
“So, any last-minute issues?” I asked Felicity.
“A couple of minor things—some confusion about schedules and who’s doing what for the preview sale, but other than that, we’re in good shape. As long as the weather’s nice, I think it will be a success.” Felicity looked toward the parking lot. Even in the fading light, large puddles and fallen leaves and branches were visible. We’d had a heavy rain that afternoon, but the clouds had given way to a brisk autumn breeze. Random gusts still set the trees thrashing in the fading light, but the forecast was for crisp, sunny weather through the weekend. I told her as much.
“Well, let’s hope that holds,” she said. “What brings you back?”
“I forgot something,” I said. “I’m off tomorrow since I’m working this weekend, so I decided to come back and get it. I needed a couple things from the Market on Main anyway.”
We chatted for a few more minutes, and then Felicity went on her way and I headed for my office. I moved a few files on my desk and found what I was after—a portable battery I could use to power or charge my phone or tablet. The battery was a gift from Ian Cameron, my one-time love, current friend, and future who knew? Since he was currently in Kuala Lumpur on a work project of several months’ duration, I could think about that later. He’d sent a present to mark my one-year anniversary of working for the Raven Hill Library. The perfect gift considering how often we lost power. He’d included a headlamp as well. It was lightweight and on thick elastic. I had laughed, but I kept it in my desk drawer next to a flashlight. You never knew when you’d need to go hands-free. I had big flashlights at home and in my car, but the battery was something I’d never thought of, and now that winter was approaching, I liked to keep it handy. An icy November storm could knock out the electricity all over town. Besides, it made me smile. Ian was a techie, a gadget guy, and this was his idea of a perfect gift. Some men never thought past flowers.
I decided to see if we had a copy of Hitchcock’s Rebecca checked in. I had the DVD of Christie’s Hallowe’en Party at home but decided to save that until the following weekend. The sky over the manor as I arrived had put me in a gothic state of mind. As I walked down the hall toward the reading room, I noticed a light on in the director’s office. Helene Montague, our director, had been off today after working the weekend, so I decided to take a look. Very little in the manor was kept locked, and with a small staff in the evenings it was easy for people to end up in places they shouldn’t be. I was surprised it didn’t happen more often. I poked my head into the office and immediately regretted it.
Anita Hunzeker, who chaired the library board of trustees, was looking for something in a portable file box that she’d placed on a chair. Thankfully, she had her back to me. My relief was short-lived. As I began to ease back out the door, she spotted my reflection in the window and turned.
“Oh, Greer, it’s you. You’re not closing tonight, are you?” she asked, eyeing my jeans and sweater with disapproval. Anita was wearing her usual uniform of dressy slacks, blazer, silk blouse, and colorful scarf. If she owned anything denim, I had yet to see it.
“No, I was here earlier. I came back for something I forgot,” I said. “I saw the light and thought I’d check and see who was in here. I know Helene is off.”
“Yes,” she said. “I’ve been using her office. Board business, and then the Friends meeting. I wanted to make sure they had things in hand. Felicity had to step in rather late in the process. And now I’ve misplaced my new glasses. I’m supposed to use them for driving at night. Of course I can manage without them, but I’d rather not.”
“Would you like some help?” I asked. It was the last thing I wanted to do. Anita Hunzeker was regularly referred to as “Attila the Hunzeker” by the library staff, the volunteers, and most of the rest of the residents of Raven Hill. She was ruthlessly efficient, had boundless energy, and was completely lacking in sensitivity. Though she had been involved in hiring me, I had fallen out of favor while investigating a murder on the manor grounds the previous spring. My stock had gone up when I solved it, leaving the library with no legal liability, but Anita still felt I had a tendency to stick my nose into things. This was true, so in general I tried to avoid her.
“Well, if you wouldn’t mind checking to see if they’re on the floor somewhere. Richard dropped off some files for me and knocked over my bag—men are so careless. I was sure he picked everything up, but he might have missed them. They’re not in here—let me check my handbag again.”
I heaved a mental sigh and knelt down. Helene had a little table and some chairs on one side of her office for smaller meetings. This was where Anita had been working. I looked around, feeling along the shadowed area by the baseboards. I heard Anita yawn. Odd, she was usually the Energizer bunny.
“Long day?” I said, as I backed up and then moved toward the radiator. It was too dark to see underneath it.
“An early appointment and several meetings. The historical society cannot wrap their minds around the need for a better facility. The proposed library would be ideal, but they’re very territorial. Combining our archives and their collection makes perfect sense. Why let everything molder away in the dark when you can house it all in a bright, new research center?”
“Better climate control would certainly help. Some of those documents are fragile,” I said, giving myself points for diplomacy. I liked working in the manor and would be happy to see the library stay there. Anita was determined that her legacy to the town she grew up in would be a new, state-of-the-art library and archive. She’d already picked out the location. She had a point about accessibility, air quality, and light—but she ignored tradition and history. The village was pretty evenly split on new versus old, and the preliminary discussions had been going on for nearly a year. I didn’t see it getting any better. Add to that the terms of the Ravenscroft Trust and the deeding of the manor to the village for use as a library, and the whole thing got even messier. But Anita was determined.
“Exactly, Greer,” Anita went on as I completed my search beneath the radiator. She was unusually chatty this evening, possibly happy to have an audience who seemed to agree with her. I moved to do one last check under the table as her phone rang.
“Richard!” she said. Her husband. She turned and walked to the office doorway, stepping into the small vestibule outside. I heard her ask about her glasses. I’d found nothing under the table but the portable file box Anita had placed there. I glanced up. She still had her back to me. I took a quick look at the files. Typical Anita—everything was neatly labeled except a couple of folders that had penciled names on the tabs. The labels were what I would expect—“New Building,” “Historical Society,” “Grants,” “Book Sale.” The penciled ones were harder to read—I’d need a closer look. Anita was still talking. I caught “wine—that new white I like” and “gift.” I pulled the box toward me. I could make out “Millicent/Ames Family,” “Margaret Emerson,” “JP Walters,” “Sean Harris,” “J Bean,” and something that looked like “Ravenscroft Deeds.” It sounded like Anita was winding up her call. I could clearly hear “in my car? I’ll look, I’m leaving shortly,” so I backed out from under the table. I was standing, dusting myself off, when she turned around.
“Sorry, Anita, I’ve come up empty,” I said.
“Well, thank you for helping,” she said. “I guess I’ll have to make do.”
“Could they be in your car? Maybe they fell between the seats or something?”
“I guess it’s possible, but I could swear I had them when I walked in. I picked up the new prescription this morning. Well, I’d better be going. It appears I still have things to do. Good night, Greer.”
“Good night,” I said.
I left Anita gathering he r bags and boxes and headed to the reading room for my DVD. I saw Millicent Ames, our archivist, going out the front door as I went into the hall. She often parked in the old lot near the front of the building. Staff usually only used it when we were expecting a big crowd for programs or meetings, but Millicent had been parking there for decades and said she often did it by habit. The reading room was quiet. There were a few patrons browsing, a page shelving in the new book section, and two other staff members. David, an older gentleman who had retired from his regular job, gotten bored, and come to work for the library part-time, was at the circulation desk. Jillian Bean, our Youth Services librarian, was at Reference, her attention on some papers in front of her. It was a peaceful scene.
“Hi, Jilly,” I said.
She jumped. “Oh, hi, Greer. What brings you back?”
“Forgot something and then decided to pick up a DVD as long as I was here. I ran into Anita. She was remarkably chatty.”
Jilly frowned. “I thought she’d left,” she said, her tone flat.
“Packing up. Couldn’t find her glasses. She should be gone by the time you close up.” I looked at the clock. “I’d better get moving.”
I waved to David and went to the videos. I was pretty sure Rebecca would be checked in—the book wasn’t usually assigned until later in the school year, so those who wanted to either skip it entirely or see how the film stacked up wouldn’t be asking for it yet. I hadn’t liked the novel when I’d read it in high school. The nameless heroine had been, in my opinion, also spineless and therefore irritating. It wasn’t until I was older and heard a lecture on Du Maurier that I started to come around. According to the speaker, the author had been disappointed when her critics and readers saw the book as a gothic romance rather than a story about a man who had power and a woman who had none, which is what she’d intended. That, and the fact that I was older and wiser, had made me revise my opinion. Revisiting many of the things I’d read and judged in my teens and early twenties would undoubtedly be edifying. The view from forty is different. There are some things that never change, though. Tonight, I wanted junk food and Hitchcock. I plucked the movie from the shelf, checked it out, and went home.
Chapter Two
I woke for the first time at four AM on Tuesday when my phone chirped. It was a text from Officer Jennie Webber, my friend and workout buddy.
Can’t make our run. Working accident scene all night. Call you later.
Calling it a run was kind of her. The part she did with me was more of a brisk walk/slow jog combo. I knew that after we were done, or sometimes before, she did a couple miles at a faster pace. She never missed a workout, whereas I would use any excuse. I squinted at the screen, turned off my alarm, rolled over, and went back to sleep.
I was awakened for the second time at a little after eight. It was Helene’s ringtone.
“Greer, I’m sorry to disturb you. I know it’s your day off. I’m afraid I have some bad news.”
I sat up. “No problem. What’s going on?”
“It’s Anita. She’s been in a car accident. She apparently died at the scene.”
“Last night,” I said, thinking of Jennie’s text.
“Yes, after she left here. She was on her way home. You know she lives down that winding road. I’m not sure exactly what happened, but it sounds like she skidded and went into the trees. I really don’t know much. Sam O’Donnell called me. He said they’d have some questions. Routine, according to Sam. I’ll have more information after I speak to him.”
We’d have more information, but only what Lieutenant Sam O’Donnell wanted us to have. He was a small-town cop, but he was a good one.
“Wow, that’s awful. Hard to believe, even. She always seemed indestructible,” I said.
“True,” Helene said. “Anyway, the library will be open as usual, and the book sale will go on. It’s what she would have wanted.”
That phrase so often sounded trite, or convenient, but in this case it was absolutely true. Anita would never have let the death of a board member, volunteer, or even employee get in the way of a fundraiser.
“Yes, it is,” I said. “Listen, it’s probably not important, but I did see Anita last night before she left the building.”
I explained about my late errand back to the manor and seeing the light in Helene’s office. She agreed that my conversation with Anita probably had no bearing on anything, but said she’d let Sam know, and then hesitated a moment before saying, “I hate to impose, but would you be able to take care of a couple things today? I’m not going to be able to leave the office. I was supposed to be picking up some brochures from the printer and dropping them off at a few places around the village. After the book sale, I’ll be able to give you a few hours of comp time.”
“Sure,” I said. “I’m out running errands today anyway.”
“Thank you,” said Helene. “That’s such a help. I’ll email you everything you need in a few minutes. It shouldn’t take too long. I really appreciate it.”
We hung up. I got out of bed and made coffee, mentally reviewing my conversation with Anita the night before. Maybe she had needed those glasses more than she let on. For someone nearing seventy, Anita had been in great shape and proud of it. Her entire family, she said, had always had “iron constitutions.” It was an old-fashioned phrase, but it suited. She had recently mentioned a little arthritis in her knees but stated that it would not keep her from skiing this coming winter. She’d wanted some information on different kinds of pain relievers, both prescription and homeopathic, and I’d helped her find good sources. She must have taken the issue with her vision as a personal insult. The only glasses I’d ever seen her in were sunglasses. Could she really have gone off the road in the dark?
I’d had a little more trouble seeing things at night lately. Or far away. Did I need glasses? I covered one eye, then another, trying to make out things across the room. Meh. Then I tried to read washing instructions on the little labels on my clothes as I got dressed. Hmph. I scribbled “make appt. eye doctor” at the bottom of my day’s to-do list. No harm in checking. Squinting created crow’s feet, after all.
I had a busy week ahead and a lengthy list of errands now that I was handling some things for Helene. Since I’d missed my workout that morning, I decided to group anything in the village into the afternoon and walk. I’d visit only my more far-flung locations—grocery store, printer, historical society—by car. I was adding them to my list when I got a text from Jennie.
Questions about Anita. Java Joint later?
It looked like Helene had mentioned my conversation with Anita to Lieutenant Sam O’Donnell, Jennie’s boss. I texted back, and we confirmed a time. After making a few calls and putting away my clean laundry, I set out. I stopped first at the printer, picking up a couple of boxes of brochures and handouts. Groceries next. I liked to use the Market on Main whenever possible, both because they were local and because they had a great selection of prepared foods. I wasn’t much of a cook, and Raven Hill’s takeout options were limited. For paper goods and pantry staples, I used the bigger chain supermarket in the next town. As I drove, I mentally reviewed all the stops I had to make that day, and wondered if there would be much talk of Anita’s accident. I didn’t have to wait long to find out. I was walking into the store when I ran into Dory Hutchinson on her way out. Dory was a circulation assistant at the library and a walking repository of village gossip. She was a lifelong resident of Raven Hill. That, and the fact that she had relatives scattered all over the Albany area, made her a great source of information as long as you took the time to sort out fact from salacious speculation.
“Greer! I’m so glad I ran into you. I suppose you’ve heard about Anita?” Dory steered her cart out of the lane to the door. She was ready to settle in for a gossip. I stepped over to her.
“Yes, Helene called me this morning,” I said.
“Well, did she tell you that Anita was run off the road? Deliberately!” Dory said, looking not at all distressed. Dory had never liked Anita.
“She did mention the police weren’t sure what happened, and they’d have some questions for us. Sam O’Donnell told her it was routine,” I said.
