Chapter 3

 

 

It was unusually cold for Florida and New Smyrna Beach--mid-40s. Such temperatures were virtually unheard of in October, a once-in-a-decade occurrence. Guthrie, Penny Sue, and I arrived at the library simultaneously and parked our vehicles side by side waiting for Terry to show up. Guthrie was in his Lemon-Aid VW bus that was outfitted to fix old (lemon) computers, while Penny Sue and I were in my new VW Beetle. Both vehicles' heaters were running full blast since none of us had wardrobes for such chilly weather.

Guthrie opened his window and motioned at Penny Sue. She cracked her window enough to hear him.

"How long is this weather going to last?" Guthrie asked.

Penny Sue zipped her sweater to her throat and answered through the small space at the top of the glass. "Ruthie says it should pass in a day or two." Ruthie was our news junkie and Weather Channel expert who put her heartless cardiologist ex-husband through med school while working as a librarian. I suppose that's where she developed a passion for information. Given half a chance, Ruthie would watch cable news shows and read newspapers all day long. "One must be informed," was one of her favorite adages. Yet, deep down, I wondered if her obsession with staying on top of everything didn't come from being blindsided by her cheating husband.

"Bummer!" Guthrie rolled up his window.

Penny Sue hit the window's switch and shut hers, too. "Bummer is right. It never gets this cold in Florida. Our power went off last night. Did yours? I thought I'd freeze my butt off. I almost had a heart attack when I took a shower. The water was frigid!" She pulled down the visor and checked her lipstick. "I didn't bring clothes for this kind of weather. Did you?"

"I thought I was finished with winter, so I gave most of my warm clothes away when I moved down from Atlanta. I have two jackets--the one I have on and one I lent to Ruthie. Sorry."

"Never mind, I'll go shopping later. Your jackets wouldn't fit me, anyway." God's truth. If Penny Sue could get her arm in the sleeve, she surely couldn't button my jacket over her boobs. She'd always been buxom, but her perimenopausal weight gain added a few inches everywhere. Penny Sue flashed a smile at Guthrie, who was blowing on his hands. His old bus' heater was obviously not in tune with the times or temperature. "This being poor is awful!" Penny Sue groused. "I would normally call my housekeeper and have my cashmere coats shipped down. But I don't have a housekeeper anymore and, God willing, won't have a house either. I can't believe Daddy is putting me through this. He said I was muleheaded. Can you believe that? Muleheaded!"

I clamped my lips shut. Tar Baby was not going to say a word. I was not going to mention all of Penny Sue's husbands, messy divorces, excesses, and escapades that pushed Daddy to the brink. Penny Sue's investment and loss to Madoff was merely the icing on the cake. Judge Daddy told her not to do it, and she did it anyway. He was majorly annoyed. Fortunately, Terry pulled up beside us, giving me an excuse to ignore Penny Sue's question. I buttoned my jacket, hooked my pocketbook on my arm, and got out of the car. Penny Sue raced for the front door, beating Terry. Guthrie followed, hopping and flapping his arms like a spastic chicken. I arrived at the moment the doors slid apart and rushed into the foyer. Balancing a donut box in one hand, Terry was already keying in another alarm code and unlocking the glass doors to the library proper. Glorious heat bathed us as the doors opened.

Terry checked her watch. "We don't have much time," she said, putting the box on the counter and shrugging out of her coat. "Let's stage the auditorium for the needlepoint group. Then we'll make a pot of coffee and have a donut."

"Excellent plan," Guthrie replied, eyeing the box.

Whether spurred on by the donuts, a sense of duty, or need to warm up, we all rushed through the children's department to the auditorium. To say the room was a mess was an understatement. The initially neat rows of chairs were in complete disarray, with some overturned, attesting to the quick departure of patrons once the fights broke out and the law arrived. As if that wasn't enough, soda bottles, cans, crumpled programs and candy wrappers were strewn everywhere.

"Man, these people were, like, old-time Woodstock slobs!"

Terry and I stared at Guthrie. Little did he know what we routinely discovered in the book return bin! A few cans and wrappers were nothing in comparison to the baby poop, upchuck, and dead animals that sometimes accompanied book returns, particularly the ones that were long overdue and subject to hefty fines. Guthrie didn't know about that mess, because assigning a volunteer to book return duty invariably meant one less volunteer. Only paid employees with health insurance and retirement benefits at stake would put up with that horror.

"A donut's calling my name," Penny Sue said. "Let's get to work."

The motivational power of donuts is amazing. In less than 30 minutes we'd clamped shut the partition between the two halves of the auditorium, rearranged the chairs, and disposed of the garbage. The peace loving needlepoint club would never know there'd been a brawl the night before, unless they'd been there.

Terry went ahead to start the coffee. We quickstepped to the donuts, congratulating ourselves on our amazing coordination and industriousness. Guthrie reached the box first and opened the lid. His eyes went wide and his lips formed, "wow."

"Well, what's in there?" Penny Sue said. "Any Boston cream puffs?"

Guthrie's eyes went wider still, and he pointed a shaky finger across the open box top.

"Don't point at me. That's rude," Penny Sue admonished and grabbed at the box. He didn't let go. "Quit being selfish," she snapped. "Let me see."

"Bo-bo-bod," Guthrie stammered.

"Look, if there's only one Boston cream, I have dibs on it. I asked first," Penny Sue said.

He shook his tousled hair, still pointing. "Bod-dy," he finally managed.

Penny Sue was the first to follow his finger. "Oh, shit!" she screamed and ran down an aisle toward a pile of books. Guthrie ditched the donuts on the counter, and we followed Penny Sue into the stacks. Penny Sue was tossing books off of a woman's body, a couple of hardbacks almost nailing Guthrie and me.

"Heavens, it's Abby!" Penny Sue screeched. "Call 9-1-1."

Guthrie froze in place and screamed like a girl. I dashed to the checkout counter and snatched the cell phone from my purse. As I called 9-1-1, Penny Sue cleared the books from Abby, stretched her out on the floor, and began administering CPR.

"What in the world?" Terry started, then quickly assessing the situation, hotfooted back to her office. She returned with paddles and a portable heart defibrillator. Terry nudged Penny Sue aside and flipped the switch to the machine. "Clear," she shouted, slapping the flat paddles on Abby's chest. Abby's body arched upward as the current surged. Guthrie swung around and threw up.

Great, another Ruthie, I thought, remembering she had the same reaction to all of the bodies we'd encountered in the past. It wasn't that many, only four or five, but Ruthie threw up almost every time.

"Clear," Terry screeched again, adjusting a dial. Abby's body jumped even higher this time, but she didn't start breathing and her fingertips were blue. "Mouth-to-mouth," Terry screamed, bending forward.

"My technique is better," Penny Sue hollered, shoving Terry aside. Penny Sue began pressing Abby's chest. "1-2-3," she counted. "... 20-21-22," she continued. As Penny Sue pumped furiously, I assured Terry that Penny Sue knew what she was doing. She'd taken terrorist avoidance classes on account of Judge Daddy's constant threats from all of the nefarious characters he'd locked up. Meanwhile, the regular staff arrived and formed a circle around us, careful to avoid the pool of Guthrie's breakfast.

I forced myself to inspect the body. I'd done a stint as a candy striper in high school, back when I wanted to be a doctor, and had picked up a few things in the process. The bluish hue of Abby's fingertips was a sure sign that she was beyond help. Her right hand was clenched tightly as if she'd been holding something. Weird. I thought rigor mortis progressed from the head down.

"Out of the way!" Guthrie shrieked like a demon when the EMT squad arrived. Pushing people aside, he cleared a path for the paramedics and gurney.

Penny Sue was oblivious to it all. She kept pumping. "80-81-82."

"Penny Sue, it's time to stop. She's gone. Abby's hands are blue," I said

A medic knelt beside Penny Sue and tried to take command. She elbowed him in the stomach, tears coursing down her cheeks. "No! I'm not losing another one!"

Another one! Penny Sue was reliving her efforts to revive our neighbor during the 2004 hurricanes when Charlie, Frances, and Jeanne cut a path through Florida. All of her recent traumas had apparently fused into this one moment. The medic attempted to take over again, and Penny Sue belted him in the face. I grabbed her arm before she could deliver a karate chop. "Penny Sue, this is not your fault. This is not Clyde Holden."

She collapsed in my arms and bawled like a baby. "I tried," she wailed. "Tell Daddy I tried."

I inched her away so the medics could do their thing. Guthrie snuggled against us and cried, too. Geez, two of them! As the paramedics huddled around Abby, I kept moving backward, dragging Penny Sue and Guthrie into the haphazard mound of books. Finally, we were up against the stacks and could move no further, but it gave the EMTs enough room. It didn't take long. The first EMT on the scene stood and shook his head. "Call for a medical examiner," he instructed his partner, who manned the gurney.

As I clutched Penny Sue and Guthrie on each side, both sobbing at the mention of the medical examiner, Terry's face appeared within inches of mine.

"I thought Abby left with your group!"

I shook my head meekly. "No, we went before she came back from the bathroom. We debated checking on Abby, but we thought it might upset her even more if she was really having an anxiety attack. We felt sure she'd be out before you closed up. We left as soon as the crowd did."

Terry dropped to her knees. "It's my fault. I locked her in!"

"No, it's not your fault. Abby wasn't feeling well when you escorted her to the bathroom. You saw her rub her chest. She must have noticed when you turned off the lights and started to close up."

Terry rocked back on her heels. "The lights in the bathroom would have gone off. Only the night lights and exit signs would have been on."

"So, she had time to call out, right?"

Terry paused, thinking. "Yes, I would have heard her shout."

"And Abby wasn't incapacitated, because she made it from the bathroom to this place."

Terry perked up slightly. "That's right. It's a fair trek from the children's department to this stack. She couldn't have been deathly ill, at least not at that point."

Guthrie swiped at his eyes. "She had a cell phone, I saw her use it when she came in from the parking lot. Why didn't she call for help? There's not a scrambler in this building, is there?"

Terry shook her head. "No. Besides, she could have used the landline telephones. They were all working."

Penny Sue brushed tears from her cheeks. "Then why did she stay in the library and come here?"

 

Terry had just given Penny Sue, Guthrie, and me permission to take the rest of the day off when Robert "Woody" Woodhead, the local prosecutor, or persecutor as we called him, strode down the aisle flanked by a uniformed police officer and a suit--a New York detective transplant we'd encountered on an earlier visit. The paramedic shook his head at Woody, who turned to the crowd and announced loudly, "We need to clear the building. Please take your belongings and proceed to the front door." Woody signaled the uniformed officer, who stationed himself at the exit and inspected each person's belongings as they filed out. I assumed he was trying to ensure that no one made off with evidence. Meanwhile, Terry and the detective started a room-by-room search.

Guthrie, Penny Sue, and I struggled to our feet. I gave Woody a feeble smile. He just stared at us, shaking his head. It was hard to tell if his expression was one of disgust or disbelief. I hoped it was disbelief, because I thought we'd mended our fences and finally gotten Woody off our backs when we agreed not to press assault charges against his demented mother for pelting us with eggs. Woody the Worm had even brought us flowers as a peace offering. Yet the expression on his face told me the flowers had been an empty gesture.

Penny Sue, Woody, and I went back to college days, when Penny Sue dated him a few times during a visit some of our sorority sisters made to her father's beach condo. Everything was fine until my ex-husband Zack, then Penny Sue's boyfriend, showed up unexpectedly. Woody and Zack had words that escalated into a fistfight. Because of the unpleasant situation, Penny Sue dumped them both and eventually took up with her first husband, Andy Walters, who was the amiable, if dumb, captain of the football team. Because of a grudge over the unpleasantness and some other stuff, Woody had made our lives a living hell on two of our last three visits. The third visit, during the 2004 hurricanes, wasn't much better initially, but ended on a positive note. Heck, I hadn't seen Woody since then, and judging from the look on his face, I wasn't thrilled to see him now.

"I can't believe it," Woody led off. "A death, and you're involved."

Penny Sue's eyes shot darts. "We are not involved! We merely found Abby and tried to revive her."

"Abby? So you know the lady?"

"She was an acquaintance, a scholar from last night's debate here at the library. Dr. Abigail Johnston. We found her buried in these books when we arrived this morning." I swept my arm in a wide arc at the scattered volumes. "That's the extent of our knowledge and involvement."

"I'll need statements."

"No problem," I said, edging toward the door with Penny Sue and Guthrie in tow. "You know where we live."

No sooner had the words left my mouth than a scream came from the back workroom. We raced toward the shriek and found Terry standing on a chair next to the open door of the book return room. She was stuttering and blubbering and pointing at a trashcan. "Snake! A snake came out of the books. I think it's a rattler!"

We stopped dead in our tracks. Woody pulled a small pistol from his ankle holster and aimed at the wastebasket. A moment later, the detective arrived. Woody quickly explained the problem. The detective snatched a larger garbage can from a corner of the room, dumped its contents and held it upside down. "Cover me," he instructed Woody.

From the sweat beading on Woody's forehead, I thought Penny Sue probably would do a better job, but I wasn't getting involved. I held my breath as the detective tiptoed over to the wastebasket, gave it a swift kick, and slammed the other can over the snake. I give the guy credit--he had terrific reflexes. From what I could tell from my brief glimpse, the snake was about two feet long and did indeed have the color and markings of a rattler. We could hear the snake thrashing around inside the can. Woody was not going to give the vicious viper a chance to escape. He quickly yanked the plug of an industrial quality paper shredder from the wall and plunked it down on top of the can. "That should hold him," Woody said with a satisfied grin, as if he alone had saved the day. No one smiled back. Even the detective gave Woody a disgusted glance as he strode to the return room.

"Do you suppose the snake bit Abby?" Penny Sue ventured.

Terry hopped down from the chair. "No, the book room door was closed. The snake came out when I peeked inside. A dumb kid probably put it down the return chute as a prank. Well, this prank isn't funny. Someone could have been killed!"

"Looks like someone was," the detective said, pointing at an arm protruding from a mound of books that had spilled from the two overturned book bins under the slots. The only thing visible was a hand and navy striped shirt cuff.

"Get a medic over here," Woody called.

The detective knelt and felt for a pulse. He shook his head and began clearing books from the body. Within minutes, the person's head was exposed. It was a man with curly brown hair. The officer felt his neck for a pulse and shook his head again.

Standing on tiptoes, Penny Sue gazed across Woody's shoulder. "Oh my gawd, it's the weird man who hangs out in the magazine section, and I think he's dead!"

Terry turned white as if she might faint. "Two?! Not two! How could this happen?"

 

Penny Sue and I were in a daze when we arrived at the condos. The sky was crystal clear and the sun had just peeked above the roof of our duplex. Normally, it promised to be an idyllic day. But things were hardly normal. The shock of finding two bodies had overloaded our circuits. We didn't speak the whole way home. I suppose we were both trying to make sense of the tragedy. Guthrie's VW Bus was already there when we arrived, and the door to my condo was ajar, which told me he was already filling Ruthie in on the details of the morning.

"Woody is a jerk," Penny Sue said. "Did you notice the way he looked at us? He assumed we were responsible or somehow mixed up in Abby's death. That whole forgiveness thing over his mother was a big crock. We should have pressed charges against the old biddy. Now it's too late."

I took the key from the ignition and opened my car door. "I'm afraid you're right. It doesn't seem like anything has changed with Woody. But the second body clearly didn't have anything to do with us. He can't possibly think we were mixed up in that death."

Penny Sue stared pensively. "Or the snake! I hate to be crass, but the other body probably saved us a lot of hassle."

"This is really bizarre," I said. "Under ordinary circumstances, I'd think the weird man killed Abby, but he was buried in books, too. What was he doing in the library after hours?"

"It was cold last night. He's probably homeless and hid in the book return room to stay warm. Then a snot-nosed kid pulled a prank with the snake, and the snake bit him. He tipped over the book bins when he struggled to avoid the snake and buried himself alive."

"That makes sense." I cringed. "A horrible way to go. Snakes give me the creeps."

"Me, too, but right now I'm worried about breaking the news about Abby to Kevin," Penny Sue said.

"Yeah," I mumbled, staring absently at her car and wishing I could forget the events of the morning. I canted my head at her big yellow Mercedes parked on the side of the driveway. "What's wrong with the Benz? You usually insist on driving since you hate my little VW."

"Something's wrong with the damned transmission, so I'm driving it as little as possible. It will cost a couple thousand to fix." Her jaw flexed. "Daddy has me on such a tight allowance until I sell my house, I'm really pinching pennies. I can't afford to get it fixed right now."

Tears welled up in her eyes. For a person who typically didn't give money a second thought and was used to buying designer clothes and spending like there was no tomorrow, being strapped for cash was traumatic. Throw in a couple of dead bodies, plus Woody's hassle, and you had the ingredients for a nervous breakdown. As wacky and outrageous as she could be, Penny Sue was a kind, generous person. I hated to see her go through so much embarrassment and pain over her investment loss.

"I'm sure Ruthie would lend you the money. After all, you'll get a lot from the sale of your house, it's being on a lake and everything."

"Not as much as you'd think. The real estate market is in the tank." Penny Sue sucked in air through her nose and let it out through her mouth. A yoga thing, I supposed. "I know Ruthie would lend me money, but I'm not going to ask. I'm bound and determined to prove to Daddy that I can stand on my own two feet. He thinks I'm a dizzy blonde, even if I'm not a real blonde. I'm going to prove him wrong." She squared her shoulders. "I'm going to show Daddy that I can make it on my own. I realize I haven't always behaved responsibly, but those days are over."

I had a hard time believing that, but decided to give her the benefit of the doubt. "You helped me after my divorce when I was down; I'm here for you. I'm sure Ruthie is, too."

Penny Sue nodded slightly. "I know you are, Leigh, and I really appreciate it. Right now I need your help to break the news to Kevin. Even though he and Abby split up ages ago, I sense he still has feelings for her."

I agreed. "First, let's consult Ruthie and Guthrie; then we'll all tell Kevin together."

 

Well, things didn't go exactly as planned. We headed inside my condo to formulate a strategy, only to find all three of them sitting on my sofa. It seems big mouth Guthrie had already spilled the beans. Ruthie got involved trying to calm both of them down. By the time we arrived, they were about cried out and fairly calm or exhausted.

Penny Sue knelt before Kevin and took his hands. "I tried to save her, Kevin. She was already gone."

A tear streaked down Kevin's face. "I know. Guthrie told me what you did."

Penny Sue squeezed his hands. "Can I do anything for you?"

Kevin swallowed hard. "Yes, call Mom. She and Abby's mother were friends. Mom will know how to get in touch with her. I think it's best that Mrs. Johnston hears the news from Mom rather than a strange policeman knocking on her door."

Penny Sue dropped his hands and backed away. "Sure, I'll do it right now." She all but ran out of the condo. I followed, sensing something was wrong. I caught Penny Sue as she angrily jerked open the screen door to her unit.

"What's wrong?"

"He wants me to call his mother!" she said through tight lips.

My hands went up in a big deal motion. "So?"

"So?!" Penny Sue screeched. "His mother is the Queen of Shit!"

"Penny Sue! How can you talk that way about Kevin's mother?"

"I didn't give her the name Queen of Shit, she gave it to herself! Aunt Alice was the Director of a Sewer Department in New Jersey. She was the Queen of New Jersey shit."

"Hold on," I said, grabbing her arm. "What's the big deal?"

Penny Sue stared at me as if I were an idiot. "Aunt Alice is the black sheep of the family, Momma's older sister. She ran away after high school and married a Yankee from New Jersey, no less. No one spoke to her for years until she had Kevin; then a truce was called."

"What's so bad about New Jersey?" I asked.

"New Jersey--gangs, Italian mafia, Russian mob! To succeed in that environment a person has to be tough. For a woman to succeed, they have to be doubly tough. Let's just say that Aunt Alice, in spite of her upbringing, doesn't cotton to Southern ways. She's going to yell at me no matter what I say."

"You don't know that."

"Yes, I do." Penny Sue opened the screen door that emitted its telltale rusty twang.

I tagged along and waited on the couch while she found her aunt's phone number and dialed. The conversation was stilted, Penny Sue giving Alice minimal details. Just when I thought Penny Sue had pulled it off, the doorbell rang and a voice sounded from the doorway. "Penny Sue? Is Kevin Harrington here? I need to speak with him." It was Woody's voice.

Penny Sue cupped her hand around the phone and motioned for me to deal with Woody. "No, Alice. Everything is okay."

Woody had started down the hall by the time I reached him. "Penny Sue's on the phone," I whispered, hoping he'd take the hint. The dumbbell didn't get it.

"I just need to speak with Dr. Kevin Harrington. I was told he's Penny Sue's cousin and is staying here," Woody said loudly.

No amount of hand cupping could block Woody's statement, and Aunt Alice apparently had ears like a cat. "Who's that in the background?" Alice demanded so loudly I could hear her in the hall.

Penny Sue held the phone away from her ear and grimaced. "It's nothing important. The police are just going through the usual hoops for an unexplained death. You know, they're tracing Abby's activities for the last day or so."

"What do they want with Kevin? For that matter, what the hell was Abby doing down there?"

Penny Sue giggled nervously. "Abby and Kevin had a debate at the library last night."

"What?" Alice thundered. Woody and I both heard that word. "Why was that worthless bitch involved? I thought Kevin was debating his swishy old schoolmate, Wallow, or something."

"There was a last minute change. Abby took Willows' place."

"Hmph," then a long pause as Aunt Alice digested the last piece of information. "I'll go over to see Abby's mother right away. I have nothing against her. Then I'm packing the Caddy and coming down. Expect me tomorrow evening," Alice said in a steely voice. "I assume you can put me up."

"Yes ma'am, no problem." Penny Sue was ashen.

Alice continued. "You tell whoever was yelling in the background that I'm coming and I have connections. You know what I mean? You tell that guy to lighten up on Kevin, or he'll be sorry."

Penny Sue hung up the phone, visibly shaken. "Crap! Alice is coming."

Ignoring Penny Sue's obvious distress, Woody rattled on like the insensitive jerk that he was. "Where is Dr. Harrington?" he demanded again.

Penny Sue swung around and wagged her finger in Woody's face. "You have no idea what you just did. Unless you have a search warrant, you are trespassing, and the person on the phone was my Aunt Alice, Kevin's mother, who's from New Jersey. Got that? New Jersey!"

Woody shuffled uncomfortably but finally managed, "New Jersey. Is that supposed to be a threat of some kind?"

Penny Sue clenched her jaw. "No, that's a fact."