Free Valentine Murder by Leslie Meier Page A

to do away with someone . . .”
    â€œBitsy asked for it,” said Miss Tilley, smoothing the afghan with gnarled fingers. “Right from day one.”
    â€œI’m really surprised to hear you say that,” said Lucy. “I always thought she did a great job.”
    Miss Tilley threw up her hands in disgust. “Hardly. She was so disorganized. It was a scandal. Things were always such a mess.”
    â€œHer style was different from yours, but you have to admit that she did some good things.” Lucy wanted to say that Bitsy was friendly and welcoming, but was afraid Miss Tilley would be insulted. “A lot of people liked the way she ran things—more people than ever were using the library.”
    â€œOh, she was Miss Nicey-nice to the patrons, I’ll give you that. Never bothered with overdue fines, never even made the children wash their hands before they handled the books.”
    Lucy couldn’t help smiling. She knew a lot of Tinker’s Cove natives remembered Miss Tilley’s insistence that they wash their “little finger bones” as soon as they entered the library.
    â€œI know people think it was silly, but the library has always had a limited budget,” continued Miss Tilley. “Making the children wash their hands saved quite a bit of wear and tear on expensive books. But that’s neither here nor there.” She waved her blue-veined hand back and forth. “The point I was trying to make is that she talked about people behind their backs.”
    â€œYou’re not the first person I’ve heard say that.”
    â€œOh, yes,” nodded Miss Tilley. “For instance, if you took out a book on, oh, say sexual dysfunction, Bitsy would notice. And she’d talk about it. She’d mention it to the next person who came along, and the next. And each time she’d embellish it. First it would be ‘Guess who took out a book on sexual dysfunction.’ Then it would be ‘I guess Lucy Stone is having some problems with Bill’. Before the day was out she’d have you considering divorce because you and Bill were sexually incompatible!”
    â€œDid she really say those things about me?” said Lucy, feeling rather sick.
    â€œOh, I don’t know. I was just using you as an example.” She took a sip of tea and looked at Lucy over her teacup. “But I don’t see why not you, too. She talked about everybody.”
    â€œAfter Zoe was born I took out a book on abnormal psychology and she asked me if I was suffering from post-partum depression,” recalled Lucy.
    â€œI heard about that,” volunteered Rachel, returning with the teapot.
    â€œI never had post-partum depression!” exclaimed Lucy.
    â€œEverybody thought you did,” said Rachel. “I was so relieved when I saw you’d gotten over it.”
    â€œI never had it,” insisted Lucy.
    â€œOkay. I believe you,” Rachel said diplomatically. “More tea?”
    â€œNo, thanks,” said Lucy, furrowing her brow thoughtfully. “I don’t know—this seems kind of a stretch. What kind of secret could she have found out that would be damaging enough that somebody would have to kill her? Besides, she’s done a lot of good. Just look at the new addition—that would never have happened without Bitsy.”
    â€œThat’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard, Lucy Stone!” Miss Tilley was quivering with rage. “That is absolutely untrue! I don’t know where you got an idea like that! The board decided to build the addition, and the board raised the money. Bitsy had nothing to do with it!”
    â€œI’m sorry,” said Lucy, hastening to make amends. “I must have misunderstood.”
    â€œYou certainly did. In fact, all Bitsy contributed to the fund-raising effort were some harebrained ideas. She proposed using the endowment fund, said it was too little money to bother