The Unkindness of Ravens M. Hilliard (popular novels txt) 📖

the main floor. Other than the staff and a few people in the reading room, I was the only one around. I tried the door of the FOL office—locked. In most places, this would be a real impediment, but this was Raven Hill. I hunted around the area outside the office. Underneath a calendar, thumb-tacked to a bulletin board, I found a key.

Bingo. I returned the key to its hiding place and slipped into the Friends’ office. Starting with the file cabinet Felicity had been rummaging in, I made a thorough search of the place. I hunted for stray flash drives, anything related to the article I found, or anything that looked out of place, period. I gave careful scrutiny to any notes with Joanna’s handwriting on them, but when I was done, I had found nothing more interesting than a plastic case labeled “In Case of Emergency” stuffed with an assortment of fun size candy bars. I started to close it, but recalled that the last time I stayed past five I’d ended up here half the night. I pocketed a couple of Snickers.

You never know.

I locked the office and checked the clock. I had an hour to go before the library closed and I couldn’t face going back to the memorial page. There was nothing in my e-mail from my friend at the state library. I’d seen Millicent leave earlier, so now was the time to go through the bound volumes of the village paper and check all the dates Joanna had noted. I retrieved the spare archive key from the reference desk and slipped up the back stairs.

I stopped at the top of the landing and eased around the corner. There were voices coming from the community room.

“Damn coyote will be the death of me!”

Matthew Prentiss, using his best gruff and hearty “Hale-fellow-well-met” voice. It certainly carried. I heard the phrase “nearly into the Ravens Kill” and other voices chimed in. “Bears are awake” and “have to be so careful.” This was followed by a more strident, “you’ll all agree we need more signs and better lights.”

Anita. No doubt this was one of her numerous committee meetings. She was adopting a “Keep Calm and Carry On” philosophy. The last thing I wanted to do was explain myself to Anita, and I had no legitimate reason to be snooping around in the archives. I would have to postpone my search.

Dory was still busy at Circ when I returned the key, but she wiggled her eyebrows and looked pointedly at the clock. I’d have to wait until she was done. Back at my desk I found an e-mail from my friend. She couldn’t scan the articles, but had managed hard copies of most. She could get the rest of them done and into the intersystem mail tomorrow.

That meant I wouldn’t get them until Wednesday at the earliest. I had no reference shift tomorrow but no car either, unless the Darryls worked a minor miracle. Even if I could finagle a few hours off at the last minute, I didn’t have anyone to drive me. The memorial for Joanna was planned for Wednesday, though no one knew yet when her actual funeral would be. By Thursday, the articles should have arrived.

Dory stuck her head in the office.

“Oh, good, you’re still here. I was just going to turn off the lights.”

“I’m almost done. I’ll get the lights.”

“I saw your car at Darryl Brothers when I went to the post office. I’ll give you a lift to the end of your street and we can fill each other in. The reading room is empty. I’ll be done in jiff.”

She was true to her word. I settled into the cushy passenger seat of Dory’s enormous Cadillac, marveling that she could see over the steering wheel, and she was off and running.

“Anita said she’d close the building after her meeting. If you ask me, she wants to hide the evidence if another body turns up!”

Dory cackled at her own wit. I had to smile—her theory was not farfetched. She went on.

“Well, I guess you know Joanna’s body was released early today. Pagliaro’s Funeral Home is handling everything. They always do such a nice job. Dignified. And they made my cousin Gladys look ten years younger than the day she died. I think it’s the way they do the hair.”

Dory paused and gave her own springy perm a pat. She went on, “I understand Joanna’s service is private. Graveside, and just the family. I’m sure the police will be around. Sam O’Donnell will be discreet though. Everyone else is being encouraged to attend the memorial at the manor. I wasn’t too sure about that at first. Thought Anita was up to something. But still, I think it’ll be nice, and easier on Vince and the girls. Refreshments afterward. I’m sure there will be a real nice turnout.”

Dory paused for breath.

“I was surprised by the memorial idea, too,” I said, “but I think it will be all right. Joanna devoted so much time to the library.”

“That she did,” Dory said. She gave me a sympathetic look. “You’ll miss her, I’m sure. Do you have any better idea who killed her? Any new clues?”

I filled her in on the gossip I’d gotten from the Java Joint. I didn’t mention anything about Ed Dexter or the notes I’d found. Dory was a talker and I was afraid she’d give the wrong person the idea she knew more than she did. She was interested in all the various theories, though she’d heard most of them already. I told her the people Joanna worked with couldn’t see Vince killing her, because they didn’t think he could manage without her.

“Well, normally I’d agree with them, but there’s the insurance. And didn’t I tell you David saw Vince coming back to his house Tuesday night and then leaving again? I thought Vince said he was out all night working, but I remembered David said he was always coming and going, so I