Free Reading Up a Storm by Eva Gates Page B

to add that Ralph was not belligerent,” Butch said. “If anything, he sounded calm and reasonable. As he always is.”
    â€œWe left immediately after them,” Connor said. “I didn’t see any sign of either Williamson’s car or Ralph’s on the road into Nags Head.”
    â€œWe?”
    â€œButch, Lucy, Stephanie, and I went out for a drink after.”
    â€œWho the heck is Stephanie?” Watson said.
    My heart dropped into my stomach. My stomach dropped even farther. Stephanie! With all the commotion,I’d forgotten all about Stephanie and the shocking news she’d learned only last night. Will Williamson was her father. And now he was dead.
    â€œLucy?” Watson said. “Who’s Stephanie?”
    â€œA friend of Lucy’s,” Butch put in. “From Raleigh, she said. I didn’t think much of her.”
    â€œShe . . . uh. . . . She’s, uh . . . She’s visiting her mom, who’s a friend of Bertie,” I said.
    â€œDoes this Stephanie have a last name?”
    â€œI didn’t get it,” Butch said.
    â€œStanton,” I said. “Same as her mom. She has her mom’s name and not her father’s because . . .” A gaping chasm opened in front of me. I managed to stop myself before I fell over the cliff and blurted everything out.
    â€œWhat relevance does that have?” Watson asked. I didn’t like the look in his eyes. He was too darn perceptive.
    â€œNone,” I said, trying to sound nonchalant. “None at all. Why until last night she didn’t even know . . .”
    I practically jumped out of my skin as the entire returns shelf fell over. Books flew everywhere. The shelf, just a cart on wheels, crashed into the circulation desk, and
The Joy of Cooking
, easily three inches thick, hit the back of the computer monitor. The monitor wobbled, and Connor, who was standing closest, leaped for it. He reached it in time, but his foot slipped on a magazine and his legs spilled out from under him. He fell to the floor in a heap, where he lay wide-eyed and startled, among scattered books and magazines.
    At the sound of the crashing cart, Watson and Butch had whirled around. Watson was reaching into his jacket, and Butch’s hand lunged for his hip.
    â€œDon’t shoot,” Connor said plaintively.
    Butch reached down, grabbed Connor’s hand, and pulled him to his feet.
    Only I saw Charles slip out from under the overturned cart, carrying a small blue-and-white ball in his mouth. He tossed the ball to one side, leaped up onto the arm of my chair, and gave me a self-satisfied smirk. I gave him a hearty pat.
Extra kibble for you tonight, b
uddy.
    â€œWhat on earth is going on in here?” Bertie surveyed the chaos from the doorway.
    â€œWe’re finishing up now, Ms. James,” Watson said. “You can have your library back. Mr. Mayor, do you have the address of the place the deceased was renting?”
    â€œI’ve been there,” Connor said. “If you’re going now, I’d like to go with you. It would be better if someone Marlene knows, even minimally, is there when you break the news.”
    Watson nodded. “You said they aren’t married. What’s the woman’s surname?”
    â€œI don’t think I got it,” Connor said.
    â€œI’m coming too,” I said, preparing for an argument.
    To my surprise, Watson said, “That’s probably a good idea.”
    â€œIf you can wait a minute,” Bertie said. “I want to talk to Lucy privately. We won’t be long.” She stood by the open door, and made a gesture as though she were ushering tardy dinner guests out.
    â€œOne minute,” Watson said sternly. “Or we’ll leave without her.”
    The men left. Bertie slammed the door behind them. “Quick,” she said. “I heard one of the police officers say the dead man is