By Book or by Crook Read Free Page B

glancing over her shoulder she shouted, “Charlene, don’t you dare touch that CD player!”
    The reference librarian leapt away from the machine, a look of total innocence on her face.
    Charles reminded us he was still trapped in the closet.

Chapter 2
    I ’d been worried about getting to know everyone who was someone at the Lighthouse Library.
    Now everyone knew me. Although they all pretended they hadn’t actually been listening to that ugly confrontation.
    The partygoers turned back to their drinks and conversation. There was a sudden rush on the bar and the dessert buffet. Mr. Uppiton looked quite pleased with himself, but I sensed the majority of the room was not on his side. Most of them were women of a certain age. The right age to be dumped by a longtime husband in favor of a pretty young girl.
    Not that that girl was me.
    Mr. Uppiton had been the first to arrive for the reception, and he’d come alone. He was the library chair, and had stalked into the lighthouse as if he owned the place, ordering the lighting in the alcove to be adjusted, demanding that more room for the bar be created, even though we had no place to put the printer. He’d disapproved of the collection of vocal jazz CDs Bertie had selected for tonight’sbackground music, and took a stack of Mozart and Beethoven out of his cavernous, ever-present briefcase. Bertie whispered to me that if she’d chosen Mozart, Mr. Uppiton would have produced Diana Krall.
    His love of the library, Bertie had warned me on my arrival, was sometimes a bit . . . excessive.
    You’d think he and I would get on well. I also loved libraries, and had loved this one in particular since I’d first seen it when vacationing on the Outer Banks. But no, Mr. Uppiton was also a stickler for numbers, and if the library budget didn’t allow for another staff member, no matter how desperately one might be needed, that was all there was to it. That Bertie had found the money to employ an extra staffer through our busiest time of year, the summer, by going directly to the town council, was of no consequence to Mr. Uppiton.
    The door opened, bringing in a gust of cold, wet fog, and all thoughts of seeking new employment come fall, of library budgets and board members, even of Jane Austen and that first edition of
Sense and Sensibility
so tantalizingly close, fled.
    “Your Honor!” Mr. Uppiton boomed. “So glad you could make it.” He pushed and shoved his way across the room to get to the new arrival. He pumped the man’s hand with an excess of enthusiasm, not giving him the chance to wipe sea spray and mist off his face and hands first. “Welcome, welcome to our little sobriety.”
    “Is that anything like a soiree?” Josie whispered to me. “Love, love, love that dress, by the way. It is absolutely perfect on you. Next time you wear it, I’ve got a brooch that’ll be a perfect match. You really doneed to wear bright colors more often, Lucy. You’re a winter, you know.”
    “Oh, good. The mayor’s here,” Bertie said. “I was hoping he’d come.”
    “What’d you do with Diane Uppiton?” Josie asked.
    “Left her reapplying her makeup. I suggested she go home, but she would have none of that. I could hardly tie her up and carry her out the door over my shoulder, now, could I? I’ll make sure she doesn’t try to drive home. Poor thing. Despite her rudeness, I do feel sorry for her.”
    I scarcely heard her. I stood, fixed to the spot, as Mr. Uppiton dragged the mayor around the room, introducing him to everyone of importance and ignoring those who were not. That the mayor of such a small town would probably know everyone quite well didn’t seem to matter to our library chair.
    “And now how about a look at our piece of resistance?” Mr. Uppiton boomed, once the mayor had a bottle of beer in his hand and had managed to dry off somewhat.
    “Your what?”
    “He means, of course, the Austen collection,” Bertie said. She held out her hand. “Welcome,