Murdermobile (Portland Bookmobile Mysteries) Read Free

to do if you hit the wrong key. Theother day
I was trying to access the overdue list and ended up with the Friends of the
Library budget. Tomorrow it’ll probably be the senior’s lunch menu for Loaves
and Fishes! If this thing eats the day’s run again, I'm using it as a
doorstop.”
    Hester had to smile. The
Instie-Circ had provoked Pim for years now. It regularly ate the day’s circulation
statistics when it was “dumped” into the main computer after each run. The
result: Overdue notices went out to every patron on the run.
    The regulars just shook their
heads and handed the notices to Hester. New patrons were always upset and had
to be reassured that their reputations were intact.
    “Pim,” Hester said as she pulled
at the back cupboard. “This door is really jammed.” The tall cabinet with a
small handle was always hard to open in winter when dampness swelled the wood.
    “Let me try prying the lousy thing,”
Pim said, pushing back from the Instie-Circ. “I’ll grab my tool kit.” But
before she could rise, the first of the morning’s patrons rapped on the door, and
then pulled it open to peek in. Pim and Hester quickly began helping patrons aboard
without the aid of the step stored in the jammed cupboard.
    The day was finally warming as
the last stop before lunch brought the bookmobile to Toshmore Court, a
retirement complex for the well-heeled. Toshmore’s fussy patrons expected a
little more in the way of conveniences than the usual bookmobile user, so
Hester went back to the cupboard to pull out the step.
    “Pim,” Hester called out. “Help
me with this will you?” The door was still jammed tight. Yanking did little but
threaten to pull the flimsy handle from its moorings. Pim peered closely at the
door and pointed to a bit of navy blue wool wedged in the crack.
    “My kit's up front. If I can get
that stuff out, the door should open,” she said, heading for the front of the
bus.
    Hester reached for a nail file
from the pocket of her greatcoat and began to saw at the material. “Got it,”
she called out. Putting her shoulder to the door and bracing her weight against
it, Hester wrenched open the tall cupboard.
    The shriek made Pim jump. She
whirled and caught sight of the intrepid librarian trying to say something. All
that came out was a squeak. Then Hester’s eyes rolled back in her head, she
teetered on her heels, and then dropped to the cold linoleum floor.
    Scrambling to help, Pim skidded
to a stop at the sight of bloody hand prints smearing the inside of the
cupboard door. And slumping from the step in the bottom of the cupboard was the
still figure of Portland's former head librarian, Sara Duffy.

Chapter Three
    An hour later, yellow “police
line” tape encircled the magenta bookmobile, giving it the incongruous
appearance of a gaily wrapped Christmas package.
    Inside, a Portland Police Bureau
detective conferred with an assistant medical examiner. Outside, a
now-conscious Hester leaned against a brick wall separating the two wings of
Toshmore Court. As curious neighbors milled among the usual bookmobile patrons,
Pim was telling a uniformed police officer what had happened.
    “Excuse me ,” a shrill
voice intruded. “My books are due today. Are you going to talk all day? I have books
to return!” Eldon Purdy, his badly dyed black hair falling in strings across
his face, tried to shove a handful of books at Hester. Pim blocked the move
like a skilled linebacker.
    “You'll have to take them to a
branch,” Pim told him firmly. “The bookmobile can't do any more business today.”
    “But my books are due today,” the
indignant reader whined. “And you're public servants,” he said, as if this was
the first time anyone had thought of it. “I pay your wages!” The little man
glared at Pim gloatingly.
    Hester turned to Mr. Purdy and
said, “You can take them to the box over by that tree.”
    “But I want them checked in now ;
I don't want to get any of those notices.” Mr.