A Novel Idea Read online

  A few minutes later, though, I breathed a sigh of relief when Sally finally entered the community room. She was wearing a plain black dress and black flats and had her blonde hair pulled back tightly in its customary braid. Sally looked nervous and also strangely sullen. Almost defiant. I hoped she would engage with the audience, but her gaze was darting around the room as more people came in.

  Wilson had already strolled over to speak with her and, hopefully, get Sally loosened up before the event started. Grayson winked at me from the back of the room, knowing I must be thankful Sally had finally arrived. He’d come early to help me set out chairs for everyone who’d registered to be there. Now he was settled in the back so he could take pictures of the event for the paper.

  Wilson led Sally my way, and I smiled at her. “Thanks again for being here. We’ve got a good-sized group attending today.”

  Sally’s gaze flitted around the room, seeming to rest on a couple of faces from time-to-time. She moistened her lips as if they were dry and said, “Sounds good.”

  “Did you bring books to sign?”

  Sally looked taken aback for a moment and then said, “I forgot.”

  “That’s fine. The signing was completely optional. From what I can see, though, a few people have brought their copies of the books with them, so maybe you can sign those after the event.”

  Sally shrugged. “I suppose so.”

  “Perfect,” I said, as if Sally had given a more enthusiastic reply. “So here’s the way it’s going to run Wilson will say a few words to introduce you, then we’ll give you the opportunity to speak for fifteen minutes or so. Then I’ll ask the questions about the book. You saw my email and got the questions in advance?”

  I had to ask because Sally didn’t respond to my email. I’d figured she was probably too busy to do so.

  She nodded and then thanked me reluctantly, as if the words had been pulled out of her.

  I smiled at her. “You must be thrilled your book is on the bestseller list. Did you know it was going to resonate so much with readers?”

  Sally shrugged, her gaze dancing around the room again. “I didn’t really think about it. I wrote what I wanted to write. I guess it’s the kind of story readers went for. I mean, I’m glad about that, of course.”

  “I’ve noticed you’ve still been coming to the library every day. Are you perhaps working on another book?”

  Sally turned her brooding eyes back toward me. “Yes. It’s actually going to be a sequel.”

  “That’s great! Maybe you can announce that here and that way readers will be on the lookout for it when the book releases.”

  “That’s not a bad idea,” said Sally. Then she turned and headed for the chair at the front of the room near the lectern I’d set up.

  I wasn’t sure Sally was too keen on being there, but the patrons seemed to be having a good time, at least. Many of them seemed to be acquainted with each other, which was often the case in Whitby. The room was full of laughter and people catching up with each other over food.

  A few minutes later, Wilson started the program and introduced Sally. He was always a skilled speaker, and his introduction was glowing. Sally looked down at her black dress and seemed to pull at a loose thread on the garment as he spoke. I wondered if it could be nerves that was making her act the way she was.

  I had a few nerves myself, hoping Sally would make a decent speaker and that the program wouldn’t be over in fifteen minutes. If she gave one-or two-word answers to my questions, things could run really short.

  But my fears were alleviated when she moved to the lectern to speak. Sally turned out to be a good speaker. She smoothly talked about how long she wanted to be a writer, the types of classes she’d taken in school, and the sorts of books she enjoyed reading. This was all good information for the library crowd, and they listened to her with interest.

  From my position at the front of the room, I noticed there seemed to be at least a couple of people in the audience in the back of the room who didn’t appear to be enjoying themselves as much as some of the others. They were riveted to what Sally was saying, but their eyes were narrowed, and they looked tense. I wondered if they could possibly be jealous of Sally’s success as a local-girl-made-good or if there was some other reason they were looking that way. Surely, they wouldn’t have attended the event if they weren’t interested or didn’t like Sally.

  I focused back in on Sally, who seemed to be hitting her stride.

  She smiled at the room and said in her clear, high voice, “One of the things I think readers responded to in my book was the study of guilt. You know, guilt really can rule our lives, can’t it?’

  The members of the audience looked interested but dubious, so Sally continued. “Think about it. We always talk about guilt trips, but have we really thought about how much it controls how we behave? It’s a powerful emotion. It can affect where we spend our holidays, for instance. Which side of the family are you getting the biggest guilt trips from? That’s probably going to influence who you’re spending Christmas with.”

  Now the audience members were nodding their heads ruefully.

  Sally said, “And, in the case of my novel, guilt can have even greater consequences. That’s why I named the novel Guilty.”

  I saw Grayson standing up at the back and taking a few pictures of Sally at the lectern, turning his camera back and forth.

  Sally went on to talk about her writing routine and pleased Wilson by dropping a mention of the library and the fact it was her primary place to work.

  After Sally wrapped up, I stood with my list of questions. After I quickly introduced myself, we jumped right into it.

  “Could you tell us a little about your inspiration for the novel?” I asked with a smile. “Were any elements inspired by actual current events or crime stories? Or were they all completely fictional?”

  Sally gave a small smile and said, “The seed of inspiration came from real events, yes. Although of course I fictionalized the book.”

  I sensed movement coming from the back of the room but wasn’t sure what was making people restless. I quickly glanced at my watch to make sure we were on track with the time, but we were actually running ahead of schedule.

  “Are you working on anything new?” I asked, although I already knew the answer to that one.

  Sally nodded. “I’m working on a follow-up to book one. It’s tentatively titled Risk.”

  “Another novel?”

  Sally said, “I’m going to be working on nonfiction this time. Southern crime.”

  There was a murmur from the audience that sounded like excitement to me. I asked four or five more questions, and then the audience Q&A started. There were a few thoughtful questions from patrons who’d clearly already read the book, and then some more general questions. Sally handled it all gracefully, which made me very relieved.

  After the session wrapped up, I directed the guests who’d brought books over to the table for them to be signed. I put a couple of pens in front of Sally. Unfortunately, the sullenness seemed about to descend on her again, and she again seemed distracted. Her gaze was focused on the back of the room and not the people she was signing for.

  Wilson appeared to be pleased with the program, which was key to how I felt about it. He was smiling and looked upbeat. Grayson, after taking a few more pictures of Sally signing books, gave me a grin and a thumbs-up.

  After the event was over and the last patron had left the room, Sally slumped at the table.

  I said, “You did a great job up there. You seemed like a really natural speaker. Have you done much public speaking?”

  Sally shook her head. “No. I turn down most opportunities to give talks.”

  “Well, we’re glad you accepted this one,” I said with a smile.

  Sally said, “It’s my hometown. I figured maybe I should make the effort.” She stood up and gathered her few things. She pulled the homemade scarf from her bag and put it around her neck.

  “Pr
etty scarf,” I said.

  Sally finally gave me a faint smile. “I made it. It was my hobby before I took up writing.”

  “We were a little worried we kept the temperature in the library too cool for you.”

  Sally gave a dour smile. “You could set the temperature at 75 and I’d still be chilly. That’s the way I am. I never have been able to really warm up.” She picked up her bag, spoke with Wilson for a few minutes, and headed quickly away.

  Grayson stuck around to give me a hand putting the room back together. He folded up chairs while I took care of the trash and put away the lectern.

  “You had a nice crowd here,” he said. “I saw Wilson smiling.”

  “That’s the true sign of a successful program,” I said with a chuckle. “Wilson is definitely the gauge of that.”

  “It almost seemed like Sally was enjoying herself. Unless she’s an excellent actress.”

  I said, “Did you think so? It looked like she’s totally wiped out now, so I wondered if she was having to put on a public persona. I’d think it would be exhausting having to keep up a façade for that long.”

  “I’d wondered at first if she was going to be able to rise to the occasion. She seems like a real introvert. But then, I guess you are, too, aren’t you?”

  I grinned at him. “The kind of introvert who chose to work around books all day. But I work with people all day, too. The payoff is the fact that I enjoy helping patrons out.”

  Grayson finished with the chairs and then looked at the digital display on his camera. “I think I got some good shots of her.” He showed me the camera, and I nodded. He continued, “I’ll run a couple of these in the paper tomorrow with a write-up. Do you want me to mention a couple of future upcoming events here? Or just refer readers to the library calendar site?”

  I considered this for a moment. “Maybe to the site. Thanks, Grayson.”

  We chatted for a few more minutes before Grayson had to head back to the newspaper office.

  I was turning the lights off in the community room when Wilson walked up. “Great job, Ann,” he said, beaming. “The program went off without a hitch. And we had a great number of attendees. Your promo was obviously excellent, as usual.”

  I motioned over to Fitz, who I could see was on the reference desk, waiting for me. “Fitz was a very cooperative model. I ran a few different things on social media and the content got great engagement.”

  “Shares and likes, then?” Wilson was always a little bemused at the inner workings of social media since he wasn’t on it himself. But he knew the basics.

  “Exactly. I recognized some new faces in the audience, so maybe they’ll feel comfortable coming back and joining us again.”

  Wilson nodded. He said, “I saw Sally step outside the building for a few minutes, but then she came back and headed to the quiet area.”

  I said, “She’s one who likes to keep to a routine. She probably decided it would be better if she went ahead and stuck around and knocked her work out while she was here.”

  Wilson hurried off to his office at the sound of a ringing phone, and I settled back down at the reference desk with Fitz. He was in a particularly affectionate mood and settled himself in my lap as I worked on the computer.

  A couple of hours went quickly by. Patrons came up to ask questions, find materials, and hand me books to re-shelve.

  I saw someone hurrying up to me out of the corner of my eye and smiled at Linus Truman. He was one of my favorite patrons. An elderly man, he was wearing his suit minus the jacket, as usual. But then I frowned. Linus wasn’t looking particularly well. His face was a grayish-green color.

  “Is everything all right, Linus? Aren’t you feeling well?”

  He shook his head solemnly. “Ann, we need to call the police.”

  Now I was really alarmed. “The police? Why? What’s happened?”

  “Sally Simmons is dead.”

  Chapter Three

  I gaped at Linus, unwilling to believe the words he was saying. But at the same time, I believed every word. “Oh no. Are you sure?”

  He nodded, lips pressed together. “I checked.”

  Linus definitely wasn’t looking well. I said, “Here, have a seat.” I motioned him around the desk to my chair. I stood and hurried over to Wilson’s office to let him know while calling Burton Edison, the police chief. He picked the phone up right away.

  “Ann?” asked Burton. “Everything okay?”

  “Sally Simmons is dead here in the library,” I said, my mouth dry. “One of our patrons, Linus, found her.”

  “I’ll be right there,” said Burton grimly.

  Wilson heard me as I stood in his office doorway. He was grimly shaking his head, clearly not wanting to believe what I was saying. I understood how he felt. Since she’d written her book here at the library, Sally felt like one of our own. We’d just had a successful event. Now our speaker was dead? What’s more, she was a well-known figure. And it happened here.

  I quickly filled in Wilson. He made an announcement on the intercom saying there’d been an incident and he needed everyone to exit the library calmly, but to remain on the property for the time being.

  Fortunately, we had plenty of extra staff on hand because of the program. They were directing patrons out the door, and I spotted Linus following them. I headed over to the quiet area to see Sally for myself.

  Careful not to touch anything, I got within a couple of yards and realized Linus was indeed correct—Sally was decidedly dead. She’d been strangled with her cheerful homemade scarf, and her body was distorted at the small desk where she was working. I felt genuine sadness as I stepped away and headed outside with everyone else. Again I filled Wilson in. He listened with a horrified expression on his face.

  Burton was there quickly and asked Wilson and me to ensure no one left the premises. We told him where to go to find Sally.

  Wilson’s face was pale. “How could this have happened?”

  It seemed like a rhetorical question, so I just nodded to show I understood.

  “Was anyone else working back there? In the quiet area, I mean?” asked Wilson.

  I said, “I was wondering the same thing. Unfortunately, that area is completely out of eyesight, as you know. We have that mirror back there, but I didn’t check it. I don’t know who was back there with Sally.”

  “Were you the one who found her?” asked Wilson. He was clearly hoping none of the patrons had stumbled across Sally.

  I shook my head. “I’m afraid it was Linus Truman.” Then I frowned, glancing around the group of people assembled in the parking lot. “Where is Linus?”

  Now Wilson looked even more anxious. “Don’t tell me something happened to him.”

  I turned and looked behind us. Sure enough, Linus was sitting apart from the crowd on the curb. He carefully brushed himself off and came over, looking pale.

  Wilson said, “We’re so sorry you had to go through this. What a terrible thing to happen.”

  Linus gave him a solemn nod. “Awful.”

  Wilson looked as if he were going to ask him something, but then he stopped as the library doors opened, and a solemn Burton came out.

  While Burton was on the steps of the library, he asked for everyone’s attention. In a clear voice, he asked that everyone stay put to give statements and apologized in advance for the time it would take. He said that the state police were on the way and would assist him. Then he headed over to us.

  He said to Linus, “I believe you might have discovered the victim, sir, is that correct?” Burton had been introduced to Linus during the days he’d been dating Luna.

  Linus pushed his glasses up his nose and nodded. “I’m afraid so.”

  Linus gave Burton his full name and address. Then Burton asked, “I believe that section of the library is the quiet area, isn’t it?”

  We all nodded. Burton said, “I remember that you’re a regular at the library. Is that ordinarily the section you’re sitting in?”

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; Linus shook his head, taking a deep breath. “I usually spend much of my day in the periodicals section. That way I can catch up on the newspapers, read magazines, and then spend the rest of the time reading my book in a more-comfortable armchair. The chairs in the quiet area are more functional than comfortable.”

  I could tell Linus was nervous from his lengthy response. He was not usually much of a talker. I gave him a reassuring smile.

  Burton nodded. “Do you have a view from the periodicals section of the quiet area?” When he saw Linus hesitate, Burton elaborated, “Were you able to see anyone approach the area? Or the victim?”

  Linus slowly said, “I’m afraid not. The only reason I noticed what had happened is because I was looking for a particular book. The quiet area was in view of those shelves. I glanced over and saw Sally Simmons there, slumped over. I didn’t touch her, but I could tell she was . . . no longer living.”

  “And you knew Ms. Simmons?” asked Burton.

  Linus looked confused and Burton said, “You knew who she was, so I just assumed the two of you knew each other.”

  Linus cleared his throat. “I’m afraid not. The only reason I knew who she was is because I’ve read her book, Guilty. And, of course, I’ve seen her around the library for quite a few months. She and I had a similar daily routine here. We arrive at about the same time, leave for lunch around the same time . . . that sort of thing.”

  “But you’d never spoken to her?”

  “I’m afraid not,” Linus answered once again.

  Burton gave him a smile. “Well, I’m sorry you had to find her. That must be very upsetting. You’re free to leave the library now; if I have more questions, I’ll give you a call.”

  Linus headed away, looking relieved.

  “I don’t suppose Linus had anything to do with this?” Burton asked Wilson and me in a low voice. “You’re not aware of any connections between the two of them?”