Stork Raving Mad: A Meg Langslow Mystery (A Meg Lanslow Mystery)

the French doors to the sunroom and yelling, ‘Jean! Jean! I need to talk to you!’ I stood there, because I figured if he woke her up, maybe I could do my measuring after all. But she didn’t move, and after he’d banged and shouted a couple of times, he said, ‘We need to talk. Call my cell phone.’ And then he went away. And I figured maybe I should too.”
    He paused. I waited. On the radio, the last few bars of a twangy, upbeat song gave way to the opening chords of Patsy Cline’s “Crazy,” and I realized he’d said all he was going to say.
    “You should tell the chief,” I said.
    “I wasn’t going to,” he said, “because I knew anyone who’d been near the library would look suspicious. But then I realized that if anyone did see me going to the library, it would look even more suspicious if I didn’t tell. And then I thought about that jerk Blanco.”
    “What about him?”
    “He was trying to get in to talk to her, but he went away without succeeding,” he said. “I can vouch for that. And a little while ago I overheard a couple of students talking. Sounded as if they were pretty relieved that the Wright woman was dead, and one of them said the only thing that would make it better would be if the chief arrested Blanco. They were joking about telling the chief they’d seen him sneaking into the library. At least I hope they were joking.”
    I winced. The chief was going to have a hard enough time sorting this one out without having to deal with a bunch of the students deliberately giving false evidence.
    “They’d better be joking,” I said. “Would you recognize them if you saw them?”
    “ ’Fraid not,” he said. “They were coming in from the barn, all muffled up in coats and such. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized I can’t let them frame the guy. Even if he’s a jerk, that doesn’t make him a murderer. Hell, even before I heard them, I was starting to feel bad about not telling the chief.”
    “Tell him what you saw, then,” I said. “And what you heard. He needs to know. And it’s safer for you, too. What if they find your fingerprints in the library?”
    “As much work as we’ve done for you over the past few years, I wouldn’t be surprised to find my fingerprints anywhere in the house,” he said.
    “What if you accidentally touched something that wasn’t here last time you were?” I said. “Tell the chief.”
    “Yeah, I guess I should,” he said. “Much as I’d like to see the jerk in trouble, I want it to be for something he deserves, like screwing up this whole heating plant thing for the past month. Not something he didn’t do.”
    He turned away and did something with his tools for a few moments, then strode to the door and opened it.
    “Thanks,” he said. “Going to see the chief now. Hobart!”
    In a second or two his cousin ambled back in holding a plate with a half-eaten slice of apple pie.
    “You keep on with that,” Randall said, pointing to the crib. “I’ll be back in a while.”
    Hobart nodded amiably, still chewing, and returned to the crib. Randall strode out.
    I followed him out into the hall. I peeled off at the bathroom, though, for another pit stop. As I was reaching for the doorknob, the door flew open and Kathy stepped out.
    “You’re out of toilet paper in the bathroom,” she said.
    “The students never replace the rolls,” I said. “There should be some under the sink.”
    She shook her head.
    “Then check the linen closet.” I led the way, and pulled open the door. “There should be plenty of—oh!”
    Our linen closet was larger than usual, but still a tight fitfor the body curled up on its floor. Batman and Robin began wriggling, apparently reacting to my shock. Then the body shook slightly, and I realized it—she—was sobbing.
    “Alice?” Kathy said. “Is that you?”
    The body made a strangled noise that I couldn’t decipher. Apparently Kathy could.
    “What are you doing in there, anyway?” Kathy said. “Come out this instant!”
    The body uncurled and crawled out of the closet, revealing the redheaded Alice.
    “I’m sorry,” Alice said. “It’s just that I need to be alone when I’m upset, and there’s just nowhere else to be alone in this house.”
    “You’re telling me,” I said. “Why are you so upset?”
    She sniffled slightly for a few moments, as if trying to decide whether to confide in us or not. Then she burst into tears again.
    “They’re going to arrest