Deadly Ever After by Eva Gates (smart books to read TXT) 📕

“My daughter,” Mom said, with what to my considerable surprise sounded like a note of pride, “has helped the police solve cases before. She’s full of interesting talents, as I’m finding out on this visit.”

“Excellent.” Evangeline clapped her hands together. “We’re all set. Leon, you can recommend a nice place where we can meet for lunch. Oh, Lucy darling, is Fluffy managing all right? She has such a delicate stomach, you know, and I’m worried it will get worse with all this stress. She must be missing me so very dreadfully.”

“She’s okay,” I said. “She and my cat are making friends.”

“Your cat? Do you mean that horrid library creature? Most unfortunate. Fluffy doesn’t care for cats. Neither do I. Nasty animals. Try and keep them apart, will you. Oh, one other thing before you go. She has an exceptionally weak bladder.”

“She has what?”

“She needs to be taken out regularly.” Evangeline smiled at me. “I hope that’s not too much of a problem, Lucy dear.”

“Not at all.” I gritted my teeth.

Ricky disguised his laugh by stuffing an abandoned slice of toast into his mouth.

Chapter Fourteen

I drove back to the lighthouse to take Fluffy for the promised walk. I’d seen no signs of a weak bladder last night. I didn’t know if that was true or if Evangeline was trying to mess with my head. Which would be exactly like her.

Traffic was heavy going out of town as people headed for the beaches of the National Seashore or the towns of Rodanthe and Buxton. I tapped the steering wheel impatiently and thought about all the people swirling around this case. Leon Lions was a strange one. Around Evangeline he acted like the school nerd in the presence of the head cheerleader. He basked in her presence as if he were a sun worshiper at the beach.

Had they once had a relationship? If not, it wasn’t because he didn’t want to.

Was it possible Evangeline’s visit to Nags Head had not been entirely to stop my engagement to Connor? Had she had another reason for coming? Such as to see an old lover?

Maybe even a current lover?

Probably not. If Leon was her lover, past or present, she had more common sense than to bring him out in public in the days immediately following the mysterious death of her husband.

I came to an impatient halt, watching a long line of rear lights glowing red ahead of me. I briefly considered telling Sam Watson about Leon but decided not to. What could I say—that Evangeline had run into an old friend and they’d had lunch together?

Which brought me to thinking about her and James Dalrymple. Again, what on earth could I say to Watson? That Evangeline had appeared to recognize a man, but he didn’t react to her, and then she denied knowing him?

Hardly grounds for an arrest. If my report did lead to an arrest, it would be of me for wasting police time.

At last the traffic broke through whatever the holdup was, and I sped out of town on Highway 12.

A substantial number of cars were parked outside the library when I arrived, and more followed me down the long driveway between the tall red pines. Schools were on break, and Ronald had a full schedule of children’s activities planned. I noticed that many of the kids, as well as their parents, were wearing high boots.

“What’s on the program for today?” I asked Janelle Washington as we walked up the path to the library together. Her twins, Charlotte and Emily, had run on ahead, hair ribbons flying, rubber boots slapping the ground, squealing with excitement.

“Ronald’s invited an expert in marsh wildlife to lead an expedition. The girls are so excited; they’ve been looking forward to it all week.”

I eyed her long-sleeved shirt, the heavy khaki pants tucked into pink-and-purple rubber boots. “You’re going too?”

“Oh yes. The marsh isn’t usually a place you’d find a girl from Manhattan wandering around in, but Ronald needs parent volunteers to keep an eye on the kids. I can only hope we don’t come across anything that doesn’t have legs.” She shuddered. “Or Ronald will have more to worry about than the kids.”

Inside the library, we were greeted by a cacophony of voices of excited children and equally excited parents. I waved to my aunt Ellen, who as a member of the Friends of the Library was staffing the circulation desk, and headed for the stairs before anyone could stop me.

“Lucy! Lucy!”

I stopped. I swore only to myself, plastered on a smile, and turned. “Mrs. Peterson, good morning. What can I do for you?”

Mrs. Peterson, library supporter, literacy advocate, mother of five daughters, and all-around nuisance, was also helping with today’s expedition. Although she might have mistaken the Bodie Island marsh for some unexplored jungle, dressed as she was in a multipocketed jacket, pith helmet, khaki pants, and hiking boots that showed no sign of ever having been worn. An orange whistle hung from a thick rope around her neck. “I’m so glad I caught you. Ellen said it’s your day off.” She dismissed that trifle with a wave of her hand. “But I know you never mind chatting to me.”

I continued to smile. I minded very much. When I moved, I would not miss being waylaid by eager patrons as I was attempting to enjoy my personal time.

“About book club. Charity’s enrolled in several summer sports camps, and she insists she hasn’t had time to read The Hound of the Baskervilles. Although, I have to point out, in the interest of honestly, she did get through that massive science fiction thing she took out last week. She says she’s seen the episode of the Sherlock series called ‘The Hounds of Baskerville.’ Is that sufficient preparation for the meeting, do you think?”

I stifled a sigh. Mrs. Peterson meant well, and she only wanted the best for her daughters, but she was convinced that the best meant what she wanted the girls to be