Murder on Opening Night: Myrtle Clover #9

Chapter Seven

"Where are we going now?" asked Miles, stifling a yawn.

"To the library, before it closes," said Myrtle, buckling her seatbelt with a decisive click.

"The library?" Miles frowned. "Can't your errands wait until tomorrow? I'm feeling pretty wiped out. I didn't get a nap today like you did."

"Josie works at the library. We'll seize the opportunity to interview her before she leaves for the day," said Myrtle as Miles started driving away from the theater.

"Won't she tell us to be quiet?" asked Miles uneasily. "I don't want to get into any trouble."

"Which only goes to show that you haven't visited our local library lately. A pity. I'm there nearly every day. If I'm not checking out more books, I'm reading magazines. The library is bustling these days and certainly not quiet. There are children's programs and classes on learning to use a computer. And study groups. It's a very popular place that isn't silent," said Myrtle.

Miles gave her a reproachful look. "You know I'm a huge reader. I usually purchase my books, though, because I like to underline passages and write in the margins. Libraries don't approve of marginalia."

But Myrtle had already tuned out and was thinking about the suspects again. "I wonder who wasn't involved with Nandina. So far we've heard about Blaine and Roscoe."

"Don't forget Skip," said Miles.

"Skip wasn't involved with Nandina. He only wanted to be, which is, in itself, a motive. An unrequited love sort of thing."

"I think Josie is behind Nandina's death," said Miles. There was a deep-seated conviction in his voice. "It makes the most sense. She was the one who was most upset at Nandina."

"I'm not sure that's true. Here, park right in front," said Myrtle, waving her hand at a spot at the very front of the library.

Miles seemed reluctant to get out of the car. "I'm assuming that we're not just going into the library and accusing the resident librarian of murder. Do we have a plan for getting information from Josie? Particularly since we don't have a casserole to soften her up?"

Myrtle frowned. "I was just going to tell her that we were investigating for the newspaper and wanted to talk with her about Nandina."

"Then it really won't be quiet in the library. I have a feeling that we need to ease into our conversation with Josie a little more. You're in super sleuth mode and she's unsuspecting. It might not go well. How about if I ask her for a book recommendation? Then maybe you can eventually ask about the murder," said Miles.

Myrtle was already opening the car door and stepping out. "Fine, fine. If that's how you want to handle it. But I can't beat around the bush too long because the library is closing soon."

They hurried up the concrete steps, through an atrium, and then through a set of glass doors to the library. Myrtle peered to the left at the circulation desk. "She's not manning the circulation desk. Pooh."

"Maybe she's not working tonight," suggested Miles.

Myrtle's narrowed eyes bode ill for Josie if she wasn't working.

"Maybe she's in the stacks, shelving books. That must be a huge part of her day, you know. Let's wander through the books," said Miles.

Wandering through the books would usually be music to Myrtle's ears, but she was very task-oriented today. They started in biographies, proceeded to young adult, and were in the Ms of general fiction when they saw her.