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

toward the door. I watched him for a minute, until I was sure he was the man I’d seen. I turned back to my patron, and found her studying the reading room with the same detached professionalism I’d seen from Officer Webber. I glanced at the retreating cop and back to the woman next to me. Shift change? Protecting us, keeping an eye on us, or both?

I asked her a few questions and recommended some books, giving her an armful topped off with some Jayne Ann Krentz. White Lies and Smoke in Mirrors were two of my favorites, and seemed particularly appropriate in the circumstances. She settled into a chair in the periodicals section, one that gave her a good view of the room. I was impressed that O’Donnell had managed to find a plant who had a library card.

I’d gone back to straightening when a rumble of thunder sounded and a strong breeze set things fluttering and tumbling all over the room. All the windows were open to take advantage of the rare sunny day, but the air blowing in now was warm and humid, and dark clouds were rolling in. Jilly was at reference. We decided to shut the place up. She was still helping patrons, so I corralled the page and we got to work.

I cranked windows, wondering why I ever thought librarianship was a desk job. I’d built more upper body strength working at the manor than I ever had working out at a gym. An ominous grumble sounded in the near distance, catching the attention of the crowd. The tension ratcheted up as people gathered themselves and moved toward Circulation, all the while keeping one eye on the approaching storm. I finished my half of the room and made for the hall, knowing Millicent was on her own upstairs. This would be my best chance to catch her alone without being obvious. A crash of thunder sent me sprinting up the stairs with a newfound appreciation for Anita’s insistence on a library with up to date HVAC.

I was still going full tilt when I reached the top and swung around the corner. Only a quick grab at the newel post kept me from careening into Millicent.

“Whoops!” I skidded to a halt.

Millicent gave me a discreet once over, and I was conscious of a stray lock of hair sticking to my sweaty face, and the fact that my tailored skirt had twisted and hiked as I ran up the stairs. The woman never had so much as an eyelash out of place. She always managed to make me feel as though my slip was showing, even when I wasn’t wearing one.

“I came to help with the windows before the rain starts,” I said.

Millicent glanced toward the front of the building, where the sky was considerably darker. I quickly tugged at my hem and tucked the errant strand of hair behind my ear. Millicent returned her attention to me.

“Thank you, Greer. I was going to see if someone was available. My shoulder has been acting up lately.”

“Perhaps it’s the weather. It’s been so damp. Has it been bothering you for long? Of course, all the recent events—it’s been tense, hasn’t it?”

I trailed off. I didn’t want to imply she’d hurt her shoulder while wielding a blunt instrument, but she might have. I was sure she was right-handed, and I was curious about which shoulder pained her.

“It’s been bothering me off and on all spring. Age and damp, my dear. But the recent tension hasn’t helped. It’s the uncertainty that’s the worst.”

“I agree. So much suspicion. I’ve heard more wild rumors than I can count—love affairs, family scandals, missing documents, professional rivalries, life insurance policies—like a soap opera crossed with an episode of Mystery!”

“Really?” Millicent looked shocked. I wondered which of my little gambits she’d follow up.

“How odd,” she said, a frown creasing her brow. “Was Joanna perhaps working on something, shall we say—questionable—before she died? Some stones are better left unturned, after all.”

Millicent was looking at me with a peculiar intensity. What unturned stones concerned her?

“I really couldn’t say.” I opted for vague in the hope of eliciting a more specific question.

Millicent narrowed her eyes but said nothing. Thunder rolled, and I caught a flash of lightning out of the corner of my eye. Stray wisps of my hair moved of their own volition; their action mirrored by the questing ends of Millicent’s perfect silver bob. My damp skin tingled and crawled. The air was becoming electric.

“Do you know of something—questionable?” I asked.

Her mouth thinned. A damp wind sighed through the hall.

“I thought she might have asked you for help with some research. She asked me, but never got too specific. Did she come to you?”

Nothing ventured, nothing gained.

“I’m afraid not, Greer. How unfortunate. We might have been able to shed some light on this. You really have no idea?”

I paused, as though deciding what to say. She watched me closely. After a moment I shook my head.

“Nothing that makes any sense. Some vague references to things I should find here in the manor, an old newspaper article, but nothing hangs together. I suppose I should hand it all over to the police.”

“And they have no theory? I saw you talking to the Webber girl, the police officer. I though perhaps she might have mentioned something.”

“She’s tight-lipped, and I don’t think she has a very high opinion of the investigative skills of librarians.”

“It’s dangerous to underestimate people. One never knows what they’re truly capable of.”

The wind swept through the hall again, colder this time. Outside the trees began to toss. Goosebumps rose on my arms.

“Well, truthfully, this is not the kind of research I ever thought I’d be doing. Motives for murder isn’t covered in library school.”

Millicent gave a dry chuckle. “I’m sure it isn’t, dear. I’ve worked at the manor my whole life and never expected to be involved in anything so sordid. I would have been happy to continue my father’s work.”

She sounded wistful. I