Death by Chocolate

By Elsa Pendleton

When Chief Librarian Leona Fordyce dies in the middle of the Friends of the Library Tea, all of the library staff may be suspected of her murder. Police officer Tony Battaglia and Children's Librarian Rachel Martin must follow the clues to unearth the killer. This cozy mystery will appeal to anyone who loves books and libraries.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Elsa Pendleton
• Release date: Mar 15, 2012
• ISBN: 9781476489308

Elsa Pendleton

Elsa Pendleton received her bachelor's degree from Oberlin College and her master's degree in library science from Louisiana State University. Her interest in the Owens Valley resulted from the many visits she and her husband made to the area while they lived in the Mojave Desert.

Book preview

Chapter One

Thursday, May 15

Miss Leona Fordyce pulled up to the staff parking lot at Victoria Public Library, noting with great satisfaction the newly-painted title on her reserved parking place: CHIEF LIBRARIAN had been stenciled onto the cement in large white letters. During the past six months, the city department heads had discussed the most appropriate titles for themselves as their City Charter was due for its ten -year review. Miss Fordyce had not participated in the debates; she believed it was her proper role to stay above such partisan squabbles. But she had always loved the way Chief Librarian rolled off the tongue. She was relieved there would be no change. Miss Fordyce did not embrace change.

Of course, she reminded herself, once she parked her car (actually, one of the City cars) the sign would be blocked and no one could see it. But on the weekends and in the evenings, when she was not at the library, passers-by could read it. Should she have had them add her name? After some thought, she decided not to raise the issue. A becoming modesty made a dignified statement, she told herself.

The car was due for an oil change. She would have Terry, the head page, take the car to the City garage for service. Elaine could call and make an appointment: it was not appropriate for a non-professional to make a phone call representing a city department.

She sighed gently. These decisions were always complicated. She must prepare a memo on the different responsibilities of professionals and non-professionals. Our City Manager, she told herself with great satisfaction, would appreciate that.

Miss Fordyce had recently returned from the semi-annual City Department Heads' retreat with the message that A Manager Communicates Best By The Written Word and was treating the staff to a veritable blizzard of information and instruction.

The past week's output had covered the entire field of library service, from Reference Techniques to Punctuality to Thrift (Rise and greet the patron...Never appear preoccupied by your desk work...Respond to non-verbal cues … You may read professional literature while on desk duty, but never books … never walk so quickly to the stacks that you lose your patron ... It has come to my attention that certain City Councilmen have observed Library employees arriving at work at 11:45. This presents an appearance of sloppy business practices. Henceforth those working at night will keep to a schedule of 8:30 till 12:30, then 5:00 till 9:00, rather than the former 12:00 till 9:00 schedule, thus ensuring that all Staff are in the building at a proper hour of the morning. You will discover, I am sure, that rising early in the morning is helpful to your own schedule, and that your free afternoon may be equally usefully employed.)

This morning she was reading, with great satisfaction, the memo she had just produced. The importance of accuracy and efficiency in library matters cannot be overstated. Please remember that only our professional staff may give information to the public over the telephone, the one exception being circulation, where any staff member may answer questions relating to overdue or lost books. Furthermore, no medical information, including material quoted directly from medical dictionaries or texts, may be read to a patron over the phone. Patrons will, instead, be invited to come to the library to consult our reference materials directly.

During the five years of her tenure, Miss Fordyce had transformed the Chief Librarian's office to reflect her own nature. In a blur of activity which had mesmerized the staff, she had first caused the heavy mahogany desk and its matching conference table and chairs – sole survivors from the Carnegie Library days – to be removed to the city warehouse, to be replaced by a light oak desk of nonetheless imposing proportions and a high-backed oak chair upholstered in a soft blue-and-green plaid. The area formerly occupied by the conference table now held two love seats and a half dozen armchairs similarly upholstered, a low coffee table on which sat an African violet plant in a gleaming copper cachepot and the latest issue of American Libraries. The bookshelves which had formerly contained the library budgets and reports of the past seventy-five years, now held a collection of Western Americana selected by Miss Fordyce from the Library's collection, with smaller African violets flourishing on shelf-ends.

Within her sanctum, Miss Fordyce, today, looked as ornamental as any of her flowers. Dressed in a silk shirtwaist of mauve and gray, her back ramrod straight, she continued creating her list of future memos. She was attempting to choose between Animals in the Library (To remove an unwanted dog, approach him slowly...) and Proper Use of the Printer (The Library printer is to be used solely for Library-related printing. The Friends of the Library must be discouraged from frivolous or personal printing...) when she was interrupted by a soft tapping at her open door and looked up to find the Head of Adult Services, Elaine Cabot. Elaine's hair, always perfectly groomed, this morning was newly colored to a rich brunette and framed her smiling face. Her velvet blazer, worn over a flowered shift, repeated the russet highlights of her hair.

Someone made a terrific suggestion about your memos. Elaine had devoted long and serious thought to her campaign to scuttle the memo traffic. You've been telling us that you're planning to travel when you retire. Wouldn't it be nice to publish some book lists, or travel suggestions for our patrons? We'd love to share your thoughts with the public.

Book lists? Miss Fordyce gazed blankly at Elaine. That's not exactly the same as a memo.

But think of them – cunning little folded lists, maybe four or five terrific titles, along with some of those travel guides I've shared with you, and just a few words from you, maybe at the beginning, to capture the reader's interest.

Miss Fordyce began to catch on.

Like that illustrated book on castles? We could do a list about shopping in London. And dining out. And maybe classic English desserts.

With a different design for each topic. Elaine described a project which, with luck, would safely occupy her boss for several weeks.

But – I don't know – the selection is so difficult. She thought for a moment. Isn't Thelma a travel bug?

She was hoping to take a leave of absence and go to England, before her mother became ill. I think she's had to postpone it. It's kind of a sore subject.

Nonsense. Miss Fordyce reached for the telephone. Thelma, would you please come to my office for a moment. No, nothing is wrong. No, I would certainly tell you at once if there were a problem. I would like to ask your help with something.

Elaine moved restlessly, feeling her great idea twisting into something rather unpleasant, wanting to leave.

Elaine, you have had another splendid idea. I truly think you have the makings of a leader here. Miss Fordyce smiled radiantly. While we wait for Thelma, I'll tell you about my proposal for a major change here at the library. Oh, here is Thelma now.

Thelma Snodgrass, the head cataloger, slightly out of breath from rushing upstairs from her basement Technical Services department, found a chair next to Elaine's and sat down, dropping her pencil. Two additional pencils bloomed from her gray hair, where she had absentmindedly thrust them.

Actually, Thelma, Elaine hastened to interject before she could worry further, we were talking about all of the planning you had made for your trip to England. I understand you've decided to postpone it.

I hope it's just a postponement. My mother is getting worse. I don't know how long I'll have to take care of her. I have my passport, I was already to make definite plans, and then she had this stroke and I had to bring her into my home and I thought it would be just for a few weeks but...

Yes. Miss Fordyce had stopped listening and began tapping her finger on the desktop. Please give me a list of tourist sites in England.

Well, Thelma, stopped in midstream, opened her notebook. I've done a fair amount of reading and sometimes I can almost picture myself in a quaint English village. I want to see Cornwall, and there are a couple of castles in Wales, and then the train –

That's exactly what we had in mind. Miss Fordyce turned triumphantly to Elaine. Thelma can select a series of travel books for our little leaflets, and you can write up some introductory remarks, and I will review them. I will expect a draft for my approval on my desk by – oh, next Monday morning. But let me tell you both, since you both are here, about my newest proposal.

She leaned forward eagerly. By accident or by design, the visitor chairs were lower than the imposing chair she occupied. Elaine and Thelma were forced to look up at her.

While I was at the retreat, we had a special guest speaker. He was from a company called Kempten Library Services, Inc.

Elaine and Thelma sat up, alarmed.

This speaker was quite personable and articulate. He presented all of the advantages that can be gained by – this is a new word for me – outsourcing library services to his company.

Yes. I have read about them. Elaine knew her face was red and she was short of breath from distress. Thelma held her pencil so tightly that it broke, skittering across the floor.

Our City Manager is struggling with budget problems. Our library has been well treated up till now, but it can't last forever. We need to consider what proposals we can make to him when the time comes.

When they come in, they replace the existing staff with their own people. And they don't require the Master's Degree like we do. But you haven't actually done anything yet? Elaine asked. She was furious at herself, hearing the trembling in her voice.

"Of course not. This would be a major change for all of us and we must consider thoroughly all of the aspects. I don't expect that we will do anything for months yet. But the speaker did say that his company is increasing its presence and would be interested in negotiating favorable deals in the near future, while there is still room in his client list.

Anyway. She stood up, smiling at the two women. Don't mention this to the others. Only the two of you will know for now. Now I must run – I have a Department Heads meeting.

She picked up her purse and the leather portfolio containing her calendar and notepad and swept out of the office.

That woman is a fool and a scoundrel. She will do terrible damage to this library if she's not stopped. Thelma took a pencil from her hair and left.

Elaine, alone in the librarian's office, strolled around the room, imagining herself sitting at the desk. I'd replace this display with some real books, she thought. Files of library periodicals and business references. I'd prepare my own book lists. I'd promote literacy. We don't have to go on like this forever. This is where I should be, and where I will be somehow.

Patron is looking for book about satanic nurses.

Unanswered reference questions file

Chapter Two

Thursday, May 15

While Miss Fordyce was meeting with Thelma and Elaine, Rachel Martin was treating herself to a second cup of coffee on her patio. After almost a year as the junior Children's Librarian at Victoria Public Library, Rachel was beginning to feel at home. This was pretty close to a perfect life, she decided. The mimosa trees were just beginning to flower, their feathery leaves attracting hummingbirds bravely defying the mockingbirds at the feeder. Rachel was moderately convinced that the big tree in the back of her rented yard was an avocado, and she thought she could see the beginning of blooms or fruit. The wheeze of her neighbor's Pool-Sweep was the loudest sound in the morning.

Hilary Rogers, Head of Reference Services and Rachel's newest friend, had introduced her to one of the great benefits of library employment: the stacks of new books you could borrow while they awaited their final processing. Now, deep in a new thriller, she reached to turn the page and found her hand batted away by Henry Huggins, her personal Siamese alarm clock, ready for a second breakfast. Sighing, she shoved him aside and glanced at the clock.

Oh Lordy, Lordy, late again! Eight-thirty certainly came fast! She stuffed the mystery novel into her tote bag for her usual frantic rush to the door.

Her elderly Beetle hurtled off in its accustomed jerky fashion. With great good luck and all the traffic lights with her, she'd get there on time.

But turning the corner at the Rushwood School, she was stopped by a straggly double line of second graders, headed by an unfamiliar woman. Many of them recognized her.

Hi, Library lady!

We're coming to see you!

Hey, there's that lady!

Rachel waved and smiled. And fretted. Finally the children were safely installed on the far curb, and she was free.

Zipping into the staff parking lot, she was relieved to find one last parking space. She slid out of the car and trotted through the garden, hoping her luck would hold and the Children's Department door would be unlocked.

It was. Tardy Rachel transformed herself into the Junior Children's Librarian by stashing purse and tote bag in the closet and gathering up a random handful of returned books.

Just in time.

Good morning, staff! Miss Leona Fordyce was making her morning rounds.

Good morning, Miss Fordyce, came a chorus of voices from odd corners of the Children's Department. Satisfied by the number of responses, Miss Fordyce moved to her next station.

Rachel lost no time in finding Roberta Tull, the Head of Children's Services.

Have we, she asked cautiously, scheduled a class visit this morning?

No, why?

Because I just passed Miss Forrester's second grade class, with a different teacher, and they seem to be on their way here.

Oh, no!

Oh, yes! In fact, I think you can hear them from here.

Roberta, from the depths of her thirty-five years of children's work, drew the only natural conclusion.

It's a substitute teacher, desperate for something to do. She's probably read one of those dreadful books on how to enrich the children's education with meaningful experiences.

She clapped her hands twice. Her staff, alerted for this signal of crisis, quickly assembled. Roberta gave them the battle plan.

Second-graders coming. We didn't expect them, but they're here. Now. We need the folding chairs set up in the primary room, the flannel board, the phonograph, library card applications, one person to help circulation. Rachel, you tell them as many stories as they'll take, and for heaven's sake give them Care of Books, and Josie, you do your best to keep Miss Fordyce out of here.

They scattered. None too soon, because almost immediately twenty-six second grade noses were pressed up against the glass doors, and twenty-six second grade voices were demanding a drink from the water fountain.

Another day at Victoria Public Library had begun.

Rachel and Roberta had seated the second-graders more or less successfully with the flurried help of the substitute teacher, an anxious young lady who had already confided to them her regret that she had chosen this career.

And I've got this class for the next two weeks, she moaned. What'll I ever do?

Read to them, was Roberta's scowling advice. A lot.

l'll get you a supply of books, Rachel promised, smiling sympathetically. She, too, had done her stint of substitute teaching in the dry days after library school, waiting for a job to open up.

At least I have good help from the mothers, the teacher responded, motioning to a tall brunette who was busily wiping noses and refusing demands for drinks-of-water (a hard and fast rule, since twenty-six additional drinks of water are inevitably followed by twenty-six trips to the bathroom). Oh I see one of my favorites now, she said, looking as if she'd glimpsed a water fountain in the desert. I'd like you to meet Carolyn Veith – she's new to Victoria, but such a help already.

The woman, hearing her name, turned and came over. Rachel was struck by her beauty and her poise. She had softly waving brown hair, just slightly gray here and there, and large violet eyes. Her suit, Rachel noticed immediately, was one she had seen and touched at Nordstrom but not bothered to try – a lightweight woolen ensemble which, on Carolyn, looked as though it had been especially woven and created to her desires. Hilary should see this, she thought.

So happy to meet you, Roberta said, shaking hands. We'll have to enlist you to help us, too.

I'd love to, her voice was surprisingly deep and warm. I just about grew up in libraries. I love them.

Which one is your child? Rachel asked. She would ask him/her to help her with Care of Books.

That's Andrew over there. Carolyn Veith smiled and waved at him quickly, not enough to embarrass him.

Rachel slipped Lyle Crocodile over her hand. Good morning, children, she croaked in her best crocodile voice. How are you? Their giggles reassured her that this would, after all, be fun.

The story hour over, the children wandered through the stacks, each selecting one book to borrow. Rachel and Roberta, watching, were just beginning to believe that they could relax when Miss Fordyce appeared, clutching a small boy by the arm.

The Chief Librarian's mouth was smiling but the children, alert to storm signals, disappeared from the immediate area. Miss Fordyce delivered her captive to Roberta. The boy made a silent but dramatic process of rubbing his arm, on which five red finger marks were clearly visible.

Mrs. Tull, Miss Fordyce said frostily, I believe that one of your guests has strayed.

Where did you find him?

He decided to pay me a visit in my office. Imagine my surprise when I looked up from my work to find him staring at me from across the desk.

Oh, Rodney, mourned the substitute teacher.

She was eating, said Rodney, a donut. And reading a magazine.

Rodney, go sit down. Right now. Turning to Miss Fordyce, the substitute attempted an apology. I want you to know how much we appreciate this opportunity to visit the library. The children get so much out of it. I'm terribly sorry Rodney disturbed you.

That's quite all right, Miss Fordyce responded graciously. Young children are so inquisitive, aren't they? I'm sure he meant no disrespect. Now, if you'll excuse me...

She strode back to her office.

At coffee break, Rodney was the chief topic of conversation.

She really hates children, doesn't she? Terry, the page, said.

Well, wouldn't you be mad if a little kid suddenly appeared right at your feet? Hilary giggled. "There she was, doing her important work, like probably reading the morning paper, and all at once there's some kid staring at her!"

The kid's right, Terry added. "She goes first thing every morning and gets the paper and takes it in and reads it.