Perfect Partners

Blackstone had balls. Gotta give him that.”

    Letty stopped in front of the small brick building she had passed earlier on her way to the café. The name Echo Cove Public Library was chiseled in stone over the entrance. She went up the steps and opened the door.
    Inside she instantly felt at home. There was something very civilized about a library, she thought, even a tiny small-town library such as this. Since the days of ancient Alexandria libraries had stood for all the best that mankind could achieve.
    The very existence of libraries held out hope for the future of the human race, as far as Letty was concerned. If people had enough sense to collect and store information and make it available to everyone, perhaps they would someday have enough sense to use that wisdom to stop wars and find a cure for cancer.
    Being a corporate president was interesting work, but Letty knew that a part of her would always be a librarian.
    “Can I help you?” The pleasant middle-aged woman behind the circulation desk asked when Letty approached.
    “Do you keep your local newspaper on file?”
    “Of course. We send the copies out to be microfilmed every six months. What dates do you want to see?”
    “I just want to browse,” Letty said, not wanting to give out too much information.
    “Certainly.” The woman came out from behind the desk and led the way toward a single microfilm reader machine housed in a corner. “The film is stored by year in those drawers. Help yourself.”
    “Thank you.” Letty opened one of the drawers.
    The librarian cleared her throat discreetly. “You’re Ms. Thornquist, aren’t you? You’re here in town with Joel Blackstone?”
    Letty arched her brows. “Word travels fast.”
    The librarian grinned ruefully. “You know small towns. I’m Angie Taylor. My husband and I were having dinner in the Sea Grill last night when you arrived. I have to say it was a rare sight to see someone walk out on Victor Copeland. He was not pleased, I can tell you.”
    “It was an awkward moment for all of us,” Letty murmured.
    “I don’t know about that. Joel Blackstone looked pleased with himself. But, then, it’s no secret he hates Copeland. Look, I know this isn’t any of my business, but my husband works down at the yard and we’ve lived in this town most of our lives. Is it true Copeland’s in trouble financially?”
    “I’m afraid I really can’t discuss it, Mrs. Taylor.”
    Angie sighed morosely. “I was afraid of that.” She shook her head. “All of us in that restaurant knew there was trouble brewing when we realized Joel Blackstone was in town. There’s only one reason he would come back to Echo Cove, and that’s to get revenge on Victor Copeland.”
    “Did you know Joel well?” Letty asked carefully.
    “No, I don’t think anyone ever knew Joel well. He was always a very private person, even when he was a teenager. I started working here in the library when he was in high school.”
    “Did he come in here often?” Letty asked.
    Angie nodded. “He spent a lot of time in here after his mother died. His father started drinking after her death. He couldn’t handle his sorrow. Her death was hard on Joel, too. He was left to cope with his grief on his own. He went to work in the Copeland yard that summer. Worked every hour he could and buried himself in books the rest of the time.”
    Letty pictured a lonely young man trying to lose his pain in books here in this room. She understood completely. Books had been her secret refuge all her life. “I imagine this library was very important to him.”
    “I think so. He certainly spent enough time here.” Angie smiled ruefully. “I don’t imagine the town will be able to keep this place open for long if Copeland Marine goes under. Be a real shame to close this library. Joel wasn’t the only kid who ever needed it.”
    Half an hour later Letty found what she was looking for on the microfilm. There was not much to the story. Just a few short paragraphs stating that one Harold Blackstone, known as Hank, had been killed the previous evening in a car accident outside of town. He was survived by his son, Joel.

8

    J oel paced the motel room, feeling like a caged lion. Make that a caged gerbil, he thought. Nobody except an idiot with the brains of a gerbil would have gotten himself into this mess.
    Firecrackers. He was losing control of all the damned firecrackers.
    Every time he turned at the window and started back toward the far side