Chapter Eighteen Harriet
Chapter Eighteen
Harriet
I’m late. Ten minutes, to be exact.
I was on the way out the door when my mother stopped me to talk about planning a memorial for George.
His funeral can’t happen until his body’s released by the authorities, so she’s decided we need to do something in the meantime to remember him by.
I agreed to help organize a gathering next week at the Yacht Club; she looked so sad standing there in the foyer, I didn’t have the heart to say no.
Nic’s standing by the front of the library with his arms folded, foot tapping against the sidewalk. As I watch, he checks the watch on his wrist. A perfect picture of impatience.
I’m out of breath as I jog up to him.
“Sorry, sorry,” I pant, doubling over to slow my breathing. “I’m here.”
“I see that,” he says.
I gulp another breath, then straighten.
“You okay?” he asks, eyes softening.
Something inside me stirs. Something warm and deep and extremely inconvenient.
I tell myself it’s nothing. It’s just because I haven’t had sex in…
Well. Let’s just call it a while. Nic is a very attractive human being.
He looks like Glen Powell, for fuck’s sake!
I mean, have you seen the wet T-shirt scene in Twisters?
C’mon. I’m a red-blooded woman. Of course I’m going to find him attractive.
It has nothing to do with remembering how sweet and gentle he was back in high school. Absolutely nothing at all.
“I’m fine. My mom,” I add, desperate to break the tension crackling between us.
“She caught me on my way out and harassed me until I offered to help organize a memorial for George. Then I almost drove through a stop sign and got pulled over and—anyway. I’m only ten minutes late.
The library can’t be crowded already, right? Have you seen Mindy? Is she here?”
Nic’s eyes have grown wide. “Did you have too much caffeine this morning, Harriet?”
“Um, yes?” I say, lying out my ass. If only it was caffeine that’s got me this twisted. “Also, I’m excited. We’re making progress and…”
I’m distracted as a woman appears behind him, framed in the library window.
A woman about our age. Silky blond, curly hair. Glowing, smooth skin. Bright-blue eyes.
She’s gorgeous. She could pass for Kate Hudson’s younger sister. There’s no way that’s…
Nic turns. “What are you—oh!” A warm smile spreads across his face—a smile, might I add, that did not appear when I showed up.
Not that I care.
He waves.
“Is that…?” I’m not sure I want the answer. When Nic first mentioned Mindy, did he say how well they know each other? Are they…together?
“Yeah. That’s Mindy.” He shrugs.
Did everyone turn into a supermodel since high school except for me?
I grab his sleeve, yanking his face down close to my own. He smells good. Better than I remember.
I blink the thought away. “That cannot be Mindy Washington. I don’t remember her being so…so…you know…”
“That’s Mindy,” he confirms, gently extracting my hand from his arm. “And I didn’t realize you remembered her at all.”
Before I can respond, she knocks on the window and motions for us to join her inside.
“She seems very excited. To see you.”
“You ready?” he asks and then walks away without waiting for a reply.
I trail after him.
Nic never said anything about being in a relationship, but we only reconnected a week ago, and most of that time has been filled with conversations about murder.
Again, it’s not that I care. But if he has a girlfriend, it feels like something I should know.
Because we’re going to be spending time together and all.
Mindy envelops him in a hug. “Nic!” she says breathlessly. “I talked to Martin, and he filled me in on everything. I’ve been so worried. How are you? How’s Angela? Your dad? Can I do anything to help? Maybe start a meal train?”
“Thanks,” Nic says. “I appreciate that, but we’re okay.”
“Well, just let me know. I’m here to support you, however I can.”
I’m watching the exchange like a tennis match. Her hand hasn’t left his bicep, and something’s bubbling up inside me. Something that feels a lot like…
“Do you two spend a lot of time together?” I blurt, stepping out from behind Nic.
Mindy’s hand finally falls away from his arm. “Oh my gosh! I’m so sorry, Harriet. I would have said hello sooner, but I’ve just been so worried about Nic and his family. It’s great to see you. I heard you were back in town! How long has it been? Years? Since graduation, I think?”
“Probably,” I say. “What have you been up to since? I guess you and Nic still hang out?”
And bam—there goes her hand, back to his arm. “Yeah. We hang out sometimes. Right, Nic?”
She smiles up at him, and my heart skips a beat.
Sometimes. What the hell does that mean?
Nic’s silent.
“Nic?” Mindy says, her smile faltering.
He blinks. “Yeah. Yes! We do.”
Another, even bigger smile breaks golden across her face. God, why is she so pretty? I look away.
“So, Nic—I know why you’re here,” she says.
“But, Harriet, what can I help you with—” Her mouth drops open.
“Wait. I’m such a jerk! George George was your stepdad!
It’s so terrible, what happened to him. Awful, awful stuff.
I cannot believe someone in our beautiful little town killed him.
I do hope you know it couldn’t have been Nic’s sister, Sara!
She’s a wonderful human being and absolutely not a murderer. ”
“Actually.” I leap at the chance to get us—me, really—back on track. This visit is about Patterson, not Mindy and Nic’s totally sweet and not at all jealousy-inducing romantic relationship. “That’s why we’re here.”
Her brow furrows. “We?” she repeats softly.
“We’re trying to help Sara,” Nic says, “and were wondering if we could ask you a couple questions. If possible, somewhere a little more private?”
Mindy hesitates. “I’m supposed to be manning the front desk, but hang on. Lemme see if Fred will cover for me.”
She walks over to an older gentleman who’s shelving books. They confer, and he nods.
When she gets back to us, Mindy says, “Okay, we’re good. I have ten minutes. Let’s head back to one of the study rooms.”
We wind through the stacks, through the children’s section where a couple toddlers are sprawled on the floor, past the chapter books, and finally into a small room with floor-to-ceiling windows.
“How can I help?” Mindy asks once the door is closed.
She leans against the table and folds her arms against her chest. “I don’t want to disappoint, but I didn’t really know Mr. George other than by reputation, and, well—he wasn’t exactly well-liked around these parts.
Particularly since he convinced the city council to gut the library’s budget. So sorry, Harriet.”
“It’s fine,” I say.
“When did that happen?” Nic asks.
“Earlier this year. Barbara had been speaking out against the island’s development, and Mr. George didn’t like it.
It was his way of retaliating. It was brutal.
If it weren’t for private donors supplementing what we lost, we wouldn’t have been able to buy new books this year.
It’s hurting the town, the people who live here—the children.
But I guess some people don’t give a quack who they hurt if money’s involved. ”
“That’s awful,” Nic says. He looks about thirty seconds away from wrapping his arms around her.
She gives him a sad smile. “Thanks. It’s been rough.”
I clear my throat. “Look, I should level with you here, Mindy. I’m a journalist.”
She manages to rip her eyes away from Nic. “Oh right! I’d heard that,” she says brightly.
“Oh.” She sounds like she means it, but I can’t help but wonder what else she’s heard.
That I was forced back home with my tail between my legs?
“Well. I’m currently doing some freelance work, and Humans hired me to write an article about what’s going on here.
George’s death, Sara’s arrest, all of it.
The LIPD is barreling forward to charge Sara, but why?
Did they do their due diligence before arresting her?
Did they properly investigate other suspects—any at all? ”
“And Nic is…helping?”
I glance at him. “He is. I mean, I’m writing the piece, but the investigation is a joint effort.”
“Oh,” she says, mouth tilting into a frown. “Okay. Unfortunately, I’m not sure I’ll be much help. Like I said, I didn’t really know Mr. George.”
“Of course,” Nic says, like he’s forgotten we’re not actually here to get Mindy’s opinion on my stepfather. They’re looking at each other like I’m not even here.
“But,” I say before they can start making out in front of me, “your boss did.”
Mindy raises her brows, barely taking her eyes off Nic. “Barbara? Sure. She did, but so what?”
Something tightens in my center. I will not let this…this Tinker Bell–looking supermodel blow me off so easily.
“So. So she hated George. Everyone knew it. And yet she came to my party. I wasn’t close with her, so it leads me to wonder—why? Why was she there? Was it because she had…plans?”
Nic’s mouth drops open. “Harriet!” he snaps. “Mindy, I’m so sorry—”
Mindy interrupts, glaring at me. “What exactly are you asking me, Harriet Baker? Because it sounds a lot like you’re accusing Barbara of murder, which is absolutely outrageous!
” She steps closer to me, waving her finger in the air between us.
“If you must know, Barbara went to your party because Mayor DiPetrio would be there. She wanted to catch her in a social setting. Talk about library funding. We’re desperate.
We can only afford a few new releases a month. Our patrons are suffering!”
“What makes you so sure Barbara couldn’t have done it?” I reply. “She hated George—you said so yourself! George wrecking your funding? That’s a little thing we call motive. Plus, I found a very incriminating letter she wrote to George in his desk drawer. She threatened him.”
Somewhere in the back of my brain, I recognize I’m being a total asshole. A woman who hates on other women. The worst kind.