Worth The Wait (Small-Town Secrets-Fairview Series Book 1) Read online

  “It’ll cost a fortune to fix that place up,” Lori said. “He must be rich. What else do you know?”

  “Sorry, you know I never gossip,” Ashley said. “Duty calls.” She moved to the other end of the bar to refill some beers and chat up some local boys.

  “I will be damned,” Lori said. “A Conrad!” The town’s cemetery was full of Conrads, one of the big founding families of the town. More specifically, one section held the graves of the victims of the unsolved murder. Every resident of Fairview knew the story.

  On the night before Thanksgiving, 1952, someone had stabbed to death the entire Conrad family: the grandfather, the parents and their adult son. Nobody had ever been able to find out who it was. Their servant, Dessie, had been suspected at first, because she had discovered the bodies early Thanksgiving morning when she had come downstairs from her attic quarters to help prepare the holiday meal. But she was a slight young thing and most people doubted whether she could have had the physical strength to overcome the three males. Dessie swore she hadn’t heard a thing. She was never charged and had left town as soon as the authorities had cleared her, never to be heard from again. The most accepted theory was that a drifter had done it, probably after the family had taken pity on him for being out in the cold alone on Thanksgiving eve and had invited him in. That had been the end of the Conrads in Fairview. At least until now.

  The small motel, The Clipper, connected to the bar of the same name, had seen better days, but that was no doubt where David Conrad was staying, unless he was driving in from one of the nearby cities. His presence at The Clipper tonight was evidence that he was probably staying right here, Molly deduced. Lori had come to the same conclusion.

  “I just bet he’ll be sitting here every night,” she said. “Which of us gets him? You don’t seem very interested.”

  “He’s all yours,” Molly said. “Although I thought you were determined to marry a doctor. I have no interest in pirates. Or Conrads. And anyway, I should be getting back. I don’t like to leave the kids alone late.”

  “They’re 16 and 17, not 6 and 7. You can have one more,” Lori pleaded. She batted her eyes seductively, making Molly laugh.

  “Yeah, your eye trick doesn’t work on straight chicks, Lori. Better try it on the pirate.”

  “Maybe I will,” Lori said. “When I said I wanted to marry a doctor, it was before I knew I might meet a pirate. Have a good night.”

  “You’ve got a better chance of that than I do,” Molly said, gathering up her purse and leaving. She was almost sure she saw Pirate Man, or David, she corrected herself, watching her as she walked out.

  Chapter 3

  “And with that, the little girl and her dog walked home, another adventure done.” Molly closed the book. “Who liked that story?” All the little girls raised their hands. A few of the boys did, but some didn’t. “The Adventures of Sally and Sport” was all about a spunky little girl, so some of the little boys were afraid to admit they liked it — even if they had been hanging on every word.

  Story Time was one of her favorite parts of the job. That was her first job duty when she’d hired on at the library as a teenager. She read stories to toddlers and preschoolers several times per week. She had most of the classics memorized but was always on the lookout for a good new children’s story. She had learned through the years that there is an easy way to distinguish a good children’s book from a bad children’s book: Adults can enjoy a good children’s book just as much as the children do. If the adults think a story is dreadful, there is no point in reading it to children, she always said. Not if you wanted them to grow up to be good readers, anyway. As library director, she could and probably should pass this duty off to one of the teens she hired to fill out the library’s schedule, but she still chose to do it herself whenever she could. The children reacted much more positively to “Miss Molly” than they did to most of the bored teens who were just looking to make some spending money. Once in a while, she’d manage to hire a teen who was really into it; those teens usually went on to become English majors or librarians in larger cities. One of them, several years ago, had gone on to have the career as a book editor in New York that Molly had hoped for herself once. Molly kept up with her a bit. Her name was Colleen and Molly loved hearing about her success.

  The children dispersed to their moms, dads or babysitters, Molly shelved the book and headed back to the local history section. Pirate Man hadn’t showed by 10, and she told herself she didn’t care. Still, she idly looked through the selections, wondering what he found so interesting in them. One of them, a thick tome she was fairly sure hadn’t been cracked open in at least a dozen years, seemed to be missing. She checked more carefully. Yes, all three of the books he had asked about were gone! That little sneak! Did he think she wouldn’t notice? Or was he counting on the mild-mannered small-town librarian not to make a fuss? She glanced at the ornate old clock situated over the fireplace mantel. She was down an employee right now, but her part-time helper, Lindsay, would be in at noon. Instead of having lunch, she’d drop in on the thieving pirate and make it clear her library’s collection was not to be pilfered. If necessary, she’d get the sheriff involved, but she would handle it herself if she could. The good mood she was usually in after story time darkened, and she practiced what she wanted to say to him.

  Lindsay was 10 minutes late — typical. She wasn’t one who would go on to do something with books or writing, if Molly got her guess. She did what she was told, not one iota more or less. This wasn’t a calling for her. Merely a job. Molly told Lindsay she was on her own for a while and headed out the door, propelled by a good head of steam she’d built up. She drove to The Clipper and paused in the parking lot to look in the mirror. She took down her hair, combed it smooth and twisted it back up in a few practiced motions. She refreshed her lipstick and powdered away some of the signs of the rage that was reddening her cheeks. Then she walked into the lobby and asked for David Conrad. The clerk wouldn’t give her a room number, but she called the room and told him he had someone here to see him. “Molly Miller,” the clerk said. “Yeah. That’s her. From the library …. Yeah, I’ll tell her.”

  “He said you can come in. Room 25. It’s on the end.” Molly knew that; like everybody else who had grown up in Fairview, she had probably partied in half the rooms in the motel when she was young. The only reason the clerk didn’t know that was that he was new. She thanked him and stormed off to the end of the row of doors. The Clipper was not a five-star or even a three-star kind of place. It still advertised free color TV as if people would find that impressive. The décor was underwhelming and the furnishings battered, but the place was clean. She held her cold fingers up to her burning cheeks for a moment and then knocked at the door. She was expecting him to answer at once; the man knew she was coming. But she had to cool her heels so long that she began considering her alternate plan of just letting the sheriff deal with it. Finally he answered, looking more rumpled than she would have expected. He wore a pair of jeans and a plain white T-shirt. His feet were bare.

  “Yes?”

  “Mr. Conrad, I believe you know exactly why I’m here.”

  “When you didn’t make your move last night at The Clipper’s lounge, I figured you’d turn up soon enough,” he said, leaning casually in the doorway. He took a step back and motioned to the room. “Come on in.”

  “I don’t need to come in. I would like those three books you pilfered, please.”

  “You think I … pirated them?” he asked, evidently amused. Molly felt her cheeks burn even hotter.

  “If you don’t want to handle it this way, I can always do it by the book, so to speak. Shall I call the sheriff then?”

  He didn’t look nearly as worried as Molly would if someone had just threatened to call the law on her.

  “Sheriff Watkins? Why not? He’s a good guy. But I believe he’s probably on duty at the moment, so I’m not sure he’s willing to come in and have a drink with us just now. How abou
t we keep it to just you and me?”

  “You insufferable pig! I know you took those books. Nobody has read them in forever, then you try to check them out and the next thing I know, they’re gone. Are you seriously going to claim you don’t have them?”

  “As a matter of fact, I do have them. And you’re not going to believe what’s in them. Have you ever read your own history books, Miss Molly?”

  “Part of the ‘History of Fairview,’ yes,” she said. “Not the city directory or the other books; they’re more for reference than for straight reading. But never mind that. I would like to take the books back to the library now, please.” As he walked back into the room, she followed him, more fearful that he’d close the door and not let her back in than by the possibility he’d attack her. He seemed rude but harmless, and the clerk knew she was in here. Pirate Man wasn’t likely to murder her anytime soon.

  The bed was made and most of the room was orderly, but the hotel desk and a small portable table he must have brought in himself were both covered with notes. A laptop computer hummed away at the center of the desk and next to it were the three books. One of them lay open to a page not about the murders, but to the agricultural history of the region. That seemed odd, she thought. From force of habit, she began scanning the text before realizing what she was doing. Then she caught herself and moved to pick up the book.

  “I’m going to have to ask you not to take that, Miss Molly,” he said.

  “The name is Ms. Miller,” she said. “And it’s my duty to return these books to the library.

  “I prefer Miss Molly, if it’s all the same to you. Suits you better. How about you have a seat and I’ll tell you why I need these books more than you do?”

  She paused, curiosity battling with her sense of propriety. This was a small town. She didn’t want wagging tongues to be speculating what the librarian was doing in a motel room alone with an attractive man. On the other hand, she did want to know just what he was up to.

  “I have just a short time before I need to get back,” she said.

  “Heavens, yes, can’t leave the books unattended. Someone may make off with the last copy of ‘The Pirate’s Wench’ if you don’t watch out.” Before she could sputter out an indignant reply, he held out a hand to silence her. “All right, that was uncalled for, I know. Truce?”

  “Let’s hear your explanation,” she said. She knew she looked ridiculous standing there in the middle of the room, arms folded, so she sat in the chair he motioned to.

  “I believe the town gossips have already filled you in that my name is David Conrad, and that I’ve bought the Conrad house.”

  “I heard something like that,” she allowed.

  “Henry Conrad was my grandfather,” he said.

  “That’s not likely,” Molly said. “Wasn’t he only 18 or 19 when he died? And he was unmarried.”

  “Nineteen, yes. You may not realize this, Miss Molly, but young men have been known to father children outside the state of holy matrimony. Even in nice little towns like Fairview.”

  “Really. I had no idea,” she said sarcastically.

  “My grandmother was Desiree Harper.”

  “Dessie.”

  “Yes, people called her Dessie.” He took another drink from his glass.

  “So you are telling me Henry Conrad and Dessie had a child nobody knew about. And she was pregnant when he died?”

  “That’s right. When she was in early pregnancy with my father. Went back home to her people. Never married.”

  “Because she never got over her love for Henry, I suppose.”

  “I don’t know about that. I do know that in those less-enlightened times, she was damaged goods.”

  “So Henry got her pregnant, and for revenge she killed him, and for good measure finished off his parents and his grandfather, too. That’s your theory?”

  “Right. A brute, she was.” David took another sip of his drink, which she realized looked more like tap water than alcohol. “Don’t be ridiculous. She probably weighed all of 100 pounds at that point. She couldn’t have stabbed a cat.”

  Molly found herself interested in spite of herself and began to relax.

  “If not her, who?”

  “I have a working theory, but no proof.”

  “Yet you think you can prove who did it.”

  “I do think so, yes,” David said. “I could use some research help, however. Are you interested?”

  “I already have a full-time job, Mr. Conrad. And I do need to get back to it. I left a teenager in charge and I don’t really like to do that for long. So if you’ll return the books, I’ll be on my way.”

  “It’s David. Please. I’m sorry we seem to have gotten off on the wrong foot. I have another idea. Maybe you could hire me as one of your part-time library helpers. That way I could have access to the books and you might find I’m a useful guy to have around.”

  “I’m not really in the habit of offering employment at my library to book thieves. And the job only pays minimum wage. Not even enough to pay the bill for these … luxurious accommodations.”

  “I worked my way through college in the university library. I can produce sterling credentials, if you like. And I’ll work for free. Bet your board would appreciate that. I’m familiar with the skinflint tendencies of small-town politicians.” David flashed a disarming smile. For just a moment, she could really see him as a pirate. A very charming one, at that.

  Molly was annoyed to realize she was smiling back. She felt like telling him to go to hell, but she instead heard herself say he was welcome to fill out an application if he were interested in the job. Without asking him, she scooped up the library books and held them against her chest. “I’m sure you agree I can’t consider employing anyone in the habit of pilfering the collection,” she said. “I’ll take these back and you can read them during your free time. If you get the job. Good day, Mr. Conrad.” She turned around to walk out, not looking back. But she was sure, once again, that his eyes were on her backside, using his X-ray vision — or at least his imagination — to view the lace thong she wore under her plain gray dress.

  Chapter 4

  Molly was shelving books, something Lindsay certainly ought to have been able to complete in the time Molly was “at lunch,” but hadn’t. Likely, she’d spent the entire time plopped at a desk, texting her boyfriend. Molly hadn’t been able to put David out of her mind. Could he really solve the old murder? Was he planning to live in the Conrad house? Or did he want it for some other reason? How could he have enough money to not work at all? If his grandmother had been a disgraced single mother and former maid, it probably wasn’t family money. Oh, why did she care anyway?

  Just then, she heard a discreet cough at the main desk. There he was, a sheet of paper in hand. She walked up and took it from him. A resume, as promised. She scanned over it, noting his age — a year closer to 40 than she was — and education. An English major, really? He must have robbed a bank, or perhaps done a stint as a pirate, if he could live with no obvious means of support as he was. English majors typically made about as good a living as librarians did, with a few exceptions. He listed three years of working at the college library, and had listed two references. She intended to check them, too.

  “As promised,” he said. “I think you’ll see I’m qualified for just about anything you need.”

  She couldn’t help but think he was hinting at something besides library work, but he was holding a very straight face, so she gave him the benefit of the doubt.

  “So, can I start now?”

  “Oh, I suppose so.” She would check his references, but she wasn’t going to do it right in front of him. She pulled out a new hire packet from her desk.

  “Fill everything out. I’m sure you know the drill.” He began filling out the forms, the same ones the local teenagers she typically hired always filled out. It didn’t take long. She noticed the address he listed was that of the old Conrad house, even though he clearly wasn’t actually
living there.

  “Your legal address is the Conrad house?”

  “Yes, legally. That’s where my mail is going, starting yesterday.”

  “So you intend to stay in town.”

  “That’s the plan.”

  Molly had many more questions but she didn’t want to look nosy, so she collected the paperwork into a manila folder and tucked it away to peruse at her leisure later. The Pirate Man was now her employee, so she needed to put him to work. And she wasn’t going to cut him any slack, no matter how disarming his smiles. “OK, so we will start with re-shelving books. I assume you’re up on your Dewey Decimal System?”

  “I think you can trust me to do an admirable job of shelving books.”

  She pointed to the library cart. “OK, then. Have at them.”

  He didn’t argue, just picked up the first book and went off to shelve it.

  “You might find it faster to take the whole cart with you,” she said.

  “I thought it might be faster if I first took note of the organization of the library,” he said. Which, to be fair, he was right about, she thought.

  She worked at the computer, occasionally checking out books to patrons but at other times just taking care of routine administration. She sneaked the occasional glimpses of him. At first he seemed to be just walking around, but he’d apparently fixed the locations of everything in his mind pretty quickly, because he was now wheeling the cart and making fast progress. He was either randomly shelving things any old way, or was about 10 times faster than Lindsay. If it turned out he didn’t know what he was doing, she promised herself, she’d fire him. And wring his neck.

  It wasn’t long before he was back in front of her.

  “All done,” he said. “What’s my next task?” He looked just a little too pleased with himself.

  “You’re telling me you’ve done that whole cart already?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Well, at the moment, I guess, that’s about it. I can show you how the computer works so you can check books in and out. Come around.” He stepped behind the desk and pulled up a chair. He was very close to her, so close she could catch faint whiffs of his cologne. Could he smell hers? She told herself to stop it. This was no different from teaching Lindsay or any other employee she’d hired. She gave him a short tutorial and asked him to give it a try. A mother and her two young children approached the desk, each child clutching several books and loathe to give them up even for a moment.