19. Nick
Chapter nineteen
Nick
Maddie did not volunteer to be the snorer. I chuckle and receive a glare from a library patron seated nearby.
We woke up early to drive back so we could be at the St. Agnes Library on the Upper West Side when it opened, after a stop at the apartment of Uncle Tony, Maddie’s friend’s uncle.
He works as a costume designer on Broadway.
Now we’re in disguise, sitting at two computers in the center of St. Agnes Library.
Bookcases are on either side of us. At the front by the big windows is the children’s section.
We’re dressed as two older adults who have seen better days.
But then, as Uncle Tony explained, there must be a reason why we’re spending the entire day in the library.
At first, he was excited that he could use his rag stash (from Les Misérables ), but then Maddie reminded him that it might scare the children.
The library is hosting a pre-Valentine’s Day crafting event for the community.
In the back, a planting station has been set up, run by Maddie’s friend Lily, where children are planting seeds in cups.
In the front is a crafting session, where they’re making Valentine’s Day cards with a lot of construction paper, glitter, and glue.
A little girl comes by with a large card filled with button flowers and glitter, and Maddie looks disappointed that she can’t participate.
“I’m sure they’ll let you make a card,” I say to her. We can’t see the crafting tables from where we’re sitting because our view is blocked by bookshelves, but a number of adults have walked by with handmade missives.
She glances at me and shakes her head. “I should stay in character.” Uncle Tony has given her a sort of Mrs. Haversham vibe, with flowing gray curly hair and this floaty white outfit, but she still looks adorable.
I’m wearing a worn blazer, wool pants that are a bit loose on me, and this peppered-gray wig, which doesn’t look half-bad on me.
“I can’t believe I’m finally going to get a break in this case,” Maddie whispers to me. “I can’t believe he signals to his accomplice via his Instagram posts.”
“I’m impressed you figured it out,” I whisper back.
Maddie nods and resumes typing.
Iris and Bella are on the lookout upstairs.
Maddie showed them photos of the three deputy commissioners and Beatrice so they know what the potential suspects look like.
Bella is working on her next novel on her laptop, and Iris also said she could easily work from here as well as from home.
Maddie said she didn’t believe that since Iris seems to have an elaborate home computer setup, but she appreciated the help.
Meanwhile, we sit here and wait. Maddie is working on an article, and I’m doing the books for January for our band and for the few businesses I freelance for.
I also text back and forth with Amira about the logistics for our concert next weekend.
I shift in my chair again. I’m not cut out for waiting.
What if Ward doesn’t show up? Those clues seemed solid. He’s going to show.
“Can I ask you a question?” I whisper to Maddie.
“Sure,” Maddie says.
“Why did you say yesterday that living in a cookie factory was every child’s dream ‘at first’?”
Maddie’s eyes look at me out of a face that seems aged with wisdom.
“Because my mom was obsessed with making her cookie business a success, and that was her priority, and because I was a bit chubby in middle school and the kids teased me that it must be because I was eating all my mom’s cookies.
It was hard, and I didn’t want to tell her that they teased me because she was working so hard.
I was also proud of her. It was impressive that she made it a success.
Especially as a single mom after my dad died.
And then she was upset when I didn’t want to work for the business.
I can understand your frustration with your mom’s pressure to have a different career.
I’m lucky that my sister is happy to work with my mom and will take over the family business.
But that also means that they’re super close, and sometimes I feel like I’m on the outside.
” She pauses. “That’s probably more than you wanted to know. ” She ducks her head.
I touch her arm. “I’m sorry.”
She shrugs. “I love being a reporter. Like that high yesterday when a piece of the puzzle finally clicks into place.” She faces me. “Your mom. I’m trying to picture her falling for a musician, and I actually can kind of see that.”
“You can?” I ask.
“She was dancing in the kitchen while making pancakes before you were awake and before she knew that I’d come down. That’s why I went back up and waited until I heard you.” Maddie’s eyes look at me with concern, and my chest warms with how much she cares. “What happened with your dad?”
“They met at a concert, and you know what happened next. She traveled around with him on tour until I arrived. He didn’t want to settle down.
He had said he’d take care of everything, but as she explained it, she soon realized he was too addicted to the rush of a performance and to alcohol, later drugs, and he would get antsy staying at home.
He couldn’t do it, and he began to resent both of us, blaming her for tying him down when he was on the cusp of success. Not that I think he was.”
“But she must see that you’re different?”
“Maybe that experience happened when she was too young and it was so overwhelming—suddenly being a single mom and trying to create a career in her twenties but also take care of me. But I think your visit helped. You helped verbalize what I’ve been trying to show her.
” I shrug. I don’t want to dwell on my relationship with my mom. It’s complicated.
Maddie nods and thankfully turns back to her writing.
“That Instagram post didn’t have a time, did it?” I ask.
“Not that I saw,” Maddie says, and she studies it again. I peek over her shoulder, but I also can’t see anything indicating a time. The miniature library doesn’t have a clock.
We also checked for Caper Crush when we first arrived, and it was not on the shelves. That’s not a good sign.
At least waiting around gives me time to think about my mom’s parting remark: She’s a good one. At least she has a plan. Don’t mess it up. Much better than that Christina, who was only using you. I’m still not sure I believe it’s for real, given that you slept on the couch, but I hope it is.
My mom approves? Is living in the Catskills mellowing her?
Or maybe it’s the frequent visits from Christy’s grandchildren.
Or maybe it’s finally clear that I’m not my dad…
I didn’t drop out of high school. I majored in music and accounting.
I don’t do drugs. I’ve managed to support myself with my side jobs and my music.
Maddie gets up to go to the bathroom, and I pay even closer attention to the entrance. But still, nobody who enters looks like any of our suspects enters the building.
Maddie shuffles back into view but sits on one of the couches that allows her to see both the entrance and the crafting area.
I walk over to the crafting area and hover by one of the bookshelves.
The problem is that these are all children’s books.
I look for the books that Dylan likes and pull one out, pretending to read it as I study the room.
The children’s section has a carpet with the alphabet on it and birch round tables with matching chairs.
Currently, every table is occupied with children and adults making Valentine’s Day cards.
A man with sunglasses and an enormously large overcoat enters. He walks into the stack one over from mine and talks to a librarian.
Maddie: That’s Galliano! Terrible disguise.
Maddie: Is he an accomplice picking up the money for Ward? Or has he also figured out Ward’s Instagram posts and is here to catch him in the act?
Are we actually going to catch someone picking up the money today? I can see why Maddie loves being a reporter.
Galliano is wandering around the stacks, but he doesn’t seem to have a plan.
Maddie hobbles into the stack where Galliano is studying the shelves. Only then Galliano passes her and heads to the back section near the potting stations, Maddie discreetly following.
A man dressed in rags, with a bowler hat hiding his face, enters. He has the same build as Ward, though.
Me: Ward!!
I follow him as he walks towards the back. But then he quickly turns around and leaves.
Me: Leaving.
I stride out the door to follow him but let a woman with a walker exit first. I survey the street. No Ward. And I’m not sure it was him. He had Ward’s build and seemed to walk like him, but it was so quick, and I didn’t see his face.
Maddie: Are you sure?
Me: Not positive. Don’t see him now.
Maddie: I’ll stay here. Iris and Bella can look along with you.
Iris and Bella join me outside, below the arched windows of the library, and we fan out to search this block. There are probably ten shops across the street and five or six on either side of the library.
He’s nowhere to be found. And it’s freezing. I wish I’d grabbed my coat when I ran out after him. We stored our coats in the library staff room, courtesy of Lily.
Galliano walks down the steps of St. Agnes, empty-handed.
Maddie: Galliano just left.
Me: No trace of Ward.
The four of us reconvene in one of the nooks by the crafting area inside the library.
Iris says, “Do we think that was Ward?”
“I think so, and maybe he recognized Galliano and got spooked,” I say. “Otherwise, why would he leave so soon?”
“And Galliano did not seem to know what to look for. He didn’t pick up anything,” Maddie says. “I watched the whole time.”