Murdermobile (Portland Bookmobile Mysteries) Read Free Page A

Purdy was about to cite each and
every overdue notice he had ever received when the uniformed cop chimed in.
    “No! ” The police officer clearly
cowed the man, who walked over to the box, complaining as he went.
    Hester cast a thank-you glance at
the officer. She began to give her statement when the detective who had been in
the bookmobile squeezed open the door, ducked under the yellow tape and strode
across a patch of lawn to join them.
    “I’m Detective Darrow,” he said,
extending his hand to Hester.
    She found herself looking up.
Nate Darrow was several inches taller than Hester, who stood 5-feet-11 in her
Birkenstocked feet. His slim build accentuated broad shoulders and a thatch of
prematurely graying hair contrasted with luxuriant, chestnut-colored eyebrows.
A Donegal tweed sport coat, heather gray with flecks of yellow and blue, hung
unbuttoned over a white Oxford shirt, plum-colored knit tie and gray corduroy
trousers. About her own age, she guessed, though there was a boyishness about
his face.
    “Is she really dead?” Hester
asked, knowing it was a foolish hope to think otherwise.
    “I’m sorry,” Darrow replied with
a nod, holding her gaze for a moment before reaching for the uniformed
officer’s notes and quickly assessing the information.  Handing back the officer’s
notebook, he took out his own and continued the line of questioning with
Hester.
    “ ‘Hester Freelove McGarrigle.’
That’s quite a name,” Darrow said with a small smile.
    Hester found that his quiet
warmth helped her focus. “Freelove is a family name,” she volunteered. “It’s a
virtue name, you know, like Faith, Hope and Charity. I kept it a secret for
years,” she said with a chuckle, then stopped, embarrassed by her own chatter.
    Darrow paused. “And ‘Hester’?
That’s none too common.”
    “No, that’s an English-teacher
mother with an overdeveloped penchant for Hawthorne.”
    “Then we have something in
common,” Darrow said. “My first name is Nathaniel, also after the scribe of
Salem. My parents came from New England.”
    “Goodness! Maybe we should form a
club.”
    Glancing sideways into her eyes, Darrow
suppressed another smile, then returned to business. “This obviously is quite a
shock for you, Ms. McGarrigle, but it is important that we get as much
information as we can as soon as we can. I take it you knew the victim. Were
you close?”
    Hester closed her eyes to put her
thoughts in order. Turning to Darrow she said haltingly, “Yes, and no. Miss
Duffy was the former head librarian of the Portland City Library. She has, uh, had been a bookmobile patron from the day she retired three years ago.”
    Hester paused. “I knew Miss Duffy
for at least 10 years but I was never part of her circle. I did notice certain
things about her, though. Like, when she had a special errand to run or a
friend to meet she would wear that blue dress with the little frill at the
neckline.  When she had a doctor’s appointment, she would wear an identical one
in beige. The rest of the time she wore a plain wool skirt with a matching
twin-set.”
    “Twin-set?”
    “You know, a pullover sweater
with a matching cardigan, usually come in pinks or gray or white?” She caught
herself. “Sorry, I’m babbling. You don’t really look like you’re an expert in
over-50 ladies’ fashions.”
    Shaking his head vacantly, Darrow
made a note on his pad. It sounded like the sort of thing his grandmother had
worn, always smelling of liniment.
    “Now, can you think of anything
that was unusual about the bookmobile today?” he continued.
    Pim looked at him in disbelief. “There
was a body in the back cupboard,” she said with a deadpan gruffness.
    Annoyance played on the
detective’s face as Pim interrupted his rapport with Hester.
    Hester caught the look but her
mind had gone blank. She stammered that she really couldn't think of anything.
Darrow scribbled more in his notebook. 
    “We’ll have your statements
printed