Free A Novel Death by Judi Culbertson Page B

messages instead. The second was from my older daughter, Jane.
    "Hey, Mom. I'm calling because the cappuccino maker at our rental broke? And I know you have one you never use? Our ferry leaves from Sayville for Fire Island around five thirty and if you could meet us there with it, I'd appreciate it."
    It was not what I wanted to hear. How like Jane to expect me to drive an hour round trip to deliver a coffeemaker! I glanced up at the schoolhouse clock. Thankfully, it was after six. How did she know I never used it, anyway?
    But I had been a mother too long not to hear the marching band of guilt, its drumbeats in the distance. Jane never begs you for money the way Jason and Hannah do. She's entitled to a favor once in a while. And shouldn't you be happy to see your own child, even if it's only to hand off an appliance? Think of all those young professionals who will be caffeine-deprived in the morning.
    The voice was relentless, even as I yanked out the bottle of Chardonnay. You can spend a whole day doing a favor for a friend and not even spare an hour for your child? Even if her sense of entitlement does remind you of your sister Patsy?

    Would Jane still be waiting on the pier, looking the way she used to when I was late to pick her up from Brownies?
    The final message told me. "Hey, Mom, I guess you're not home. So don't come! We won't be here. We have Lance's car, and we'll come over sometime to pick it up."
    Her cheerful acceptance intensified my guilt, but I managed to pour a glass of wine and carry it out to the backyard chaise. I lay there drinking in the mellow summer night. Stella d'Oro lilies bloomed all around me and the hostas were sprouting antennae. As I watched the goldfish in the small pond to my left, I caught sight of a delicate creature, a tadpole, pressing up through the tiny green circles of duckweed. His brave new legs were stretched out behind him. The enchantment of the start of new life gave me the energy to make dinner.
    When I finished eating, I called University Hospital again and insisted on being connected with the Intensive Care Unit. The floor nurse told me that Margaret was still unresponsive, but her condition had been downgraded to "Serious."
    I supposed that was something to be thankful for.
    I went out to the barn to catalog books, but couldn't concentrate. An annoying tape starring Howard Riggs began an endless loop. Why had I let him order me out of The Old Frigate? Margaret trusted me to work in the shop when she wasn't there; why hadn't I stood up to him? Marty would have backed me up. But instead we'd slunk off like two cats who had peed on the rug-leaving Howard to search the shop.
    I jerked awake. It wasn't just Howard who could search the shop. All anyone needed to do was reach through the broken back door window and turn the lock. The outside passageway was so narrow that no sane person would use it. But sane people did not include book dealers. I had thought about getting the glass replaced, had even located the Yellow Pages in the office, but as the day got busier, I had forgotten it. But I could at least cover the window with cardboard temporarily and call the glass company in the morning. Maybe I would have to check what was in the climate-controlled book closet too, to make sure no one had gotten in.

    In my line of work, cardboard and masking tape are easy to come by. I dropped a utility knife into my woven bag as well, and minutes later was behind the wheel of the van, fueled by my fury at Howard Riggs. Not only had he made off with Margaret's find, he had probably helped himself to the money in the till as well.
    At the top of the hill, the sight of Port Lewis calmed me momentarily. It was a fairyland. Paper lanterns had been hung around the harbor and reflected soft colors in the water. Music floated into the street. Even the teenagers that were crouched at the base of the Unknown Lobsterman looked more wholesome than usual. Rolling down my window, I breathed in the