Past Due for Murder Page 4

  I studied her while I brushed water droplets from my hair. She appeared almost manic, as if she was barely able to prevent herself from bouncing up and down like an overactive child. “Why would some old scandal matter, anyway? Assuming there was one.”

  “Perhaps it shouldn’t, so many years later. But it’s been my experience that families can be very protective of their history. I just thought that I might be able to use the information I found as leverage, you know?”

  I wiggled my toes inside my shoes to free them from the uncomfortable cling of my damp socks. “No, I don’t know. Leverage to do what?”

  “Get some of the more reticent folks to talk.” Mona twisted one of her tight curls around her finger. “I haven’t been having much luck with a few of them, even though I suspect they could provide information that would greatly benefit my research. That old man who lives up in the cabin in the mountains refuses to have anything to do with me, even though his family”—Mona lowered her head, staring at her hands—“has been around forever, so I’m sure he could share some great stories.”

  “If you mean Delbert Frye, I doubt you’ll have much success there. From what I hear, he doesn’t talk to many people, and certainly not strangers.”

  “Oh, I don’t know. He might be interested in talking to me. Once I share a bit of information with him, that is.” Mona slowly curled her fingers into fists.

  I narrowed my eyes. Mona was looking entirely too smug. It made me wonder what information she could possibly have dug up on old Delbert Frye or his family. Probably nothing pleasant. “It’s your funeral. Go ahead and try to talk to him without an introduction, but be prepared for him to chase you away with a shotgun.” I shrugged. “Anyway, that’s one thing and you said you had two questions for me. What’s the other one?”

  Mona lifted her chin and met my stare with a defiant little smile. “I want to know whether Charles Bartos ever confessed his crime to you.”

  “Crime?” I strolled over to face her across the table.

  “He stole my research and benefited from it without ever compensating me. Or even acknowledging my contribution to his composition. I’d call that a crime.”

  “If you’re talking about the Moon and Thistle Cycle, I don’t know anything about that aspect of the piece. He composed it before we started dating.”

  “But weren’t you involved with him when it won all those prizes, including that Grammy, and when he was awarded grants for future compositions?” Mona uncurled her fists and placed her hands on the table.

  “Yes,” I said, recalling that Charles had not invited me to be his guest at the Grammy Awards celebration. He’d claimed that he needed to take some musician who’d mentored him in the past.

  Yeah, and you thought that was just fine at the time. A noble gesture. But you might as well admit, at least to yourself, that he probably invited someone who’d cut a more glamorous figure on the red carpet. You were so blinded to the truth that you just smiled and said you understood.

  I rolled my shoulders, shaking off such useless regret. “Anyway, if you’re wondering if he ever confessed to plagiarizing your research, no he did not. At least not to me.”

  Mona sighed deeply and gazed down at the hands she had pressed against the tabletop. “I had hoped … Well, never mind, then.” When she looked up at me, I was shocked by the fury blazing in her eyes. “I hoped you’d be able to give me a confession, even if it was secondhand, so I wouldn’t have to go after him with the really dirty laundry. But now there’s nothing else I can do and, trust me—I’ll force him to admit his guilt, no matter what it takes.”

  I stared at her, confused by the vicious edge to her tone. There seemed to be something more than mere professional jealousy fueling her anger, but I couldn’t imagine what that might be. Since campus gossip had never even hinted at such a thing, I was certain she’d never had any romantic involvement with Charles.

  But face it, Amy, that might be true only because Charles would never date someone older. Maybe Mona made a few romantic overtures and he brushed her off with that offhand cruelty he so often displayed …

  “You can try, but to be honest, Mona, I doubt you’ll ever get him to confess to anything. He never likes to admit that he’s wrong.”

  Mona lifted her hands from the table and flexed her fingers. “Did he ever apologize to you? For cheating on you with that violinist?”

  “No. And now that Marlis is dead, I certainly wouldn’t demand it.” I studied her furious expression with concern. “Look, Mona, even if you despise him, I think you should cut Charles a little slack right now. The man has suffered a great loss.”

  “He plays the grieving lover well, anyway.” Mona’s lips curved into a sardonic smile. “But I doubt he’ll be alone for long.”

  “It’s no concern of mine,” I interjected, not interested in hearing any more gossip about my former boyfriend. “Given that you intend to pursue this vendetta, exactly how do you propose to prove that Charles stole your research? I’m not saying he didn’t, but after all this time, I wonder how you plan to make your case.”

  Mona rubbed her hands together. “Oh, just like with old Mr. Frye, I have collected some information that I think may compel Charles to confess. If he knows what’s good for him, that is. I was hoping to have your corroboration on the theft of my work, but that’s not absolutely necessary.”

  I noticed the color that had risen in her cheeks. “Well, he did tell me that he’d be back at the mountain house tomorrow or Wednesday, but I don’t know if confronting him is the wisest choice. The man is in mourning. He’s likely to call the sheriff on you if you show up unannounced.” I lifted my hand to silence Mona’s retort. “Not that he’d harm you, but you might miss your chance to get him to talk if you attack him while he’s still so raw from Marlis’s death. Maybe it would be best if you arranged a meeting a few months from now at the university, with some other members of your department available for support.”

  “No, it’s now or never.” Mona walked around the table and headed for the door. Pausing with her hand on the doorknob, she gazed back at me. “I can read the disapproval in your face, Amy, but you wouldn’t think me so heartless if you knew the truth.”

  She was definitely alight with some secret passion. I walked over to her and laid a hand on her arm. “I just don’t want to see you stir up something that might backfire. Charles isn’t above bringing a defamation of character suit against you.”

  Mona threw back her head and laughed. “Character? Just wait until I can expose Charles Bartos’s true character to the world. He’ll have to slink away with his tail between his legs like the mangy cur he is.”

  I eyed her as I slipped on my rain slicker. “Here,” I said, holding out my umbrella. I can pull up my hood if you want to use this.”

  “No thanks.” Mona stepped outside. “I welcome the rain. It’s washing all my troubles away. Just like my talks with Delbert Frye and Charles will, soon enough.”

  She dashed across the parking lot, leaving me to follow her.

  Back inside the library, I headed straight for the workroom so that I could hang up my wet coat and pop open my umbrella to dry.

  “Sorry to bother you again,” Sunny said, poking her head around the workroom door as I slipped my feet out of my soaked loafers. “But you have another patron asking for you.”

  I muttered something not suitable for public consumption. “And here I am in my socks.”

  “But they’re such cute socks.”

  I lifted one foot and pointed my toes inside my socks. “They are, aren’t they?” I admired the tutu-clad pink elephants dancing across a field a navy blue.

  “Just to give you a heads-up, it’s Kurt Kendrick. Looking very dashing, I must say.” Sunny lifted one hand, pinky up. “Dressed like a proper gentleman in one of those British spy trench coats.”

  “Meanwhile, I look like a drowned rat.” I shoved my damp hair behind my ears. “All right, I suppose if I’ve dealt with Mona this morning,
I can handle Kurt too.”

  “That’s the spirit.” Sunny pushed her glasses up her nose and gave me a bright smile.

  Slipping around the circulation desk, I spied Kurt Kendrick standing in the middle of the reading room. Since he was as white-haired as my aunt, and well over six feet tall, he was hard to miss.

  As I drew closer, I saw that Kurt was engaged in a lively conversation with none other than Mona Raymond. “Hello, Kurt, I heard you were looking for me?”

  “Amy, so nice to see you. It’s been too long.” Kurt, whose childhood nickname had been “The Viking,” was over seventy but still exuded a virility that many younger men would have envied.

  “I’m sure we’ve both been tied up with work.” I gazed up at him, feeling, as always, dwarfed by both his size and his vitality.

  “Ah yes. Work. Just what I was discussing with Professor Raymond.” Kurt gestured toward Mona. “I hear she’s conducting research into the mountain lights, so I’ve invited her to meet someone who might be able to provide some deeper insights into local folklore.”

  My damp socks let out a squelch as I pressed my feet into the carpet. “Who’s that?”

  “Mary Gardener. She’s ninety-two but still as sharp as a tack.” Kurt tapped his forehead with one finger. “She probably remembers more than I’ve forgotten, to tell you the truth.”

  “I’ve heard of her. An old lady who lives by herself up on the mountain. She’s an expert on local folklore and has researched the history of the town by talking to the older residents over the years, if what Zelda Shoemaker tells me is true.”

  “Yes. She once worked as a maid at a local orphanage”—Kurt shot me a significant look—“but fortunately she left about the time I did, before either one of us fell ill from that contaminated well water.”

  “You really believe this lady can give me deeper insights into the fairy lights, Mr. Kendrick?” Mona, her hair still shedding water like a fountain, tilted her head and looked up at Kurt. If I hadn’t known better, I’d have sworn she was flirting with the wealthy art dealer.

  Or maybe I don’t know anything. I narrowed my eyes as Mona stroked the side of her face with one damp hand. It was a gesture that could be interpreted as simply wiping away beads of rain, but it also drew attention to her admittedly sensual lips.

  I glanced at Kurt, wondering how he’d react. On a superficial level, I understood Mona’s interest. Regardless of his age, Kurt was a handsome devil and could be devastatingly charming when he wished.

  Mona fluttered her dark lashes. “I would love to meet your friend, Mr. Kendrick.”

  I opened my mouth and closed it again. It wasn’t any of my business, even if I suspected Mona was barking up the wrong tree.

  Kurt smiled, his craggy features and white teeth making him look like the storybook wolf I often imagined him to be. “Wonderful. I’ll take you to meet her tomorrow afternoon. I had a visit already planned, so I’ll simply have to let her know to expect two additional guests. That is, if you’d like to accompany us, Amy.” Kurt turned his bright blue gaze on me.

  “Sure thing. Honestly, I’d love to make a connection with Mrs. Gardener. She can probably share stories perfect for the archives. Stuff about the history of the town, I mean.”

  “It’s settled then. I’ll pick up both of you tomorrow afternoon. Can you get off a little early, Amy? I was thinking around three o’clock.”

  “No problem. I’m sure Sunny will cover for me, especially if it means we might be able to collect some good oral history recordings.”

  “Great. Just meet me in front of the library.” Kurt turned his attention back to Mona. “By the way, you might want to watch your terminology, Professor Raymond. Mary calls those glowing orbs that people claim to see the mountain lights, with no mention of fairies. She says it’s best not to name the ‘Folk’ so directly.”

  “Please call me Mona, and of course I’ll be careful.” Mona widened her dark eyes. “She’s a believer, then?”

  “Oh yes. Most definitely. She’s informed me on numerous occasions that she’s seen the lights and even heard some sort of unearthly music that’s pulled at her, luring her away. But she tells me”—Kurt flashed a toothy grin—“that she doesn’t enjoy dancing enough to do it for eternity.”

  Mona tossed her mass of dark hair behind her shoulders. “It’s very kind of you to arrange a visit, Mr. Kendrick. I’m looking forward to meeting her.”

  “It’s Kurt. And I must confess I’m mostly doing this for Mary’s sake. I think it would be nice for her to have your company. She needs to see something other than my weathered old face now and then.”

  “Now Kurt, I’m sure she loves your visits.” Mona pressed her fingers lightly against the arm of his elegantly tailored coat. “Besides, I don’t think you’re quite as ancient as all that.”

  Covering her hand with his, Kurt graced Mona with a dazzling smile. “Nice of you to say so, but I’m sure your lovely face will be much more welcome.”

  I eyed him with suspicion.

  Kurt, looking at me over Mona’s shoulder, winked.

  Chapter Five

  The late April weather was warm enough that I was forced to shed my sweater and tie it around my waist while I waited outside the library on Tuesday afternoon. Kurt was late, which was perhaps for the best, as Mona Raymond also hadn’t shown up yet.

  I’d found this odd enough to call her a few times, but all my attempts had only reached her recorded message. It was strange. The folklorist was such a punctual person that I’d expected to find her pacing the library lawn when I’d stepped out the front doors.

  Kurt pulled up in front of the library in his glamorous black Jaguar. Always the gentleman, he climbed out and waited for me to reach the car before opening the passenger side door. “Mona isn’t coming?”

  “I guess not. We could wait a little while longer, but she’s one of those people who’s always on time, so this probably means she had to bail,” I said, climbing into the car. “She isn’t answering her phone either, which makes me think something important has come up. Maybe she’s dealing with a sensitive situation, something where she can’t take time to contact us. You know—like a critical meeting with a student or something. I know how emergencies like that can pop up without warning.”

  “Then I’m afraid we must go without her. I’m already twenty minutes late, and I don’t like to keep Mary waiting. She frets over such things.” Kurt closed my door and circled around to slide into the driver’s seat. “I’ll arrange a visit for Mona another time.”

  “Okay. I’ll just send her a text so she knows not to bother showing up.”

  Kurt drove out of town, turning on a narrow side road that led up into the mountains. “From delving into local history, I understand that this was an old logging route,” he said, expertly navigating the road’s twists and turns. “Makes me wonder how they maneuvered those big trucks around these corners.”

  His comment reminded me of some research I’d done on the history of the lumber industry for one of our patrons. “It was probably wagons, not trucks. Major logging operations had pretty much shut down by the twenties, at least in this immediate area. My family’s wood lots were farther south.”

  “Ah yes, the Baker fortune was built on lumber, wasn’t it?”

  “Not that there’s any of it left, but yes.” I stared out my window, admiring the bright splashes of color provided by the blooming rhododendrons nestled in the hollows. Shadowed by pines and hardwoods, their magenta and pink blossoms gleamed brightly against the dark green undergrowth. “You knew Mary Gardener at the orphanage?”

  “I did. The truth is, she was the only person on staff who treated me with any sort of kindness. I suppose you could say we bonded over our mutual sense of being outcasts.” Kurt cast me a sidelong glance from under his bushy white eyebrows. “Like me, she wasn’t born in Taylorsford. She moved here with her husband after World War Two. He was a native of the area, but she was born and raised in North Carolina. Still a m
ountain girl, but that didn’t count. She was an outsider, just like me.”

  “I didn’t know she’d been married. I’ve always heard she lived alone.”

  “Sadly, her husband died young. He was only in his late thirties. That would’ve been back in the early sixties, when Lydia was still young and long before you were born. I’m not surprised you’ve heard nothing about him.” Kurt turned the car onto a gravel road. “They never had children and Mary had no interest in remarrying, so she was left alone.”

  “Except for you?”

  Kurt flashed me a grin. “I stayed in touch, even after I left Taylorsford. I like to honor my friendships, rare as they are.”

  I studied his rugged profile. “You never married? I mean, I know you might not have been so inclined …”

  “No, I never found anyone I wanted to impose myself on quite so thoroughly.” He cast me another amused glance. “In case you’re trying to put two and two together in that inquisitive brain of yours—yes, I enjoy the company of women as well as men. Romantically, I mean. I hope that doesn’t give you pause.”

  “Not at all.” I sank back in my seat, realizing I needed to rearrange a few of my conclusions about him—something it seemed I had to do on a regular basis. “By the way, that road we were on, right before the last turn, does that lead to Delbert Frye’s property?”

  “And the old Patterson place, now owned by your former boyfriend.”

  I shot him a sharp look. “More of your little birds keeping tabs on me?”

  “Could be. But don’t take it personally, I keep tabs on everyone in my life.”

  “I didn’t know I was in your life,” I said, before staring back out the side window.

  “Of course you are. I’m quite fond of you, as well as Richard.” Kurt casually dropped one hand off the steering wheel and tapped my knee. “You should be flattered. I don’t say that about many people.”

  I turned my head and examined him with a critical eye. “I can imagine.”

  He grinned. “Ah, here we are.”

  We pulled up in front of a small box of a house. One story, with white siding and a low concrete porch covered with a simple roof, it looked nothing like what I’d imagined.