Lunch at the Library

By Charlotte Lewis

Many Seniors attend the lunch offered at the libraries for the socializing. A great proportion of them are in their eighties. Several may go to lunch at the library because their budgets are tight and the lunches are free. And then there are the few that go for what else they might gain.
Tony Josef, at 83, isn't looking for love or a little action. But he is definitely interested in socializing with friends during lunch at the local library. When he met Rachel Boswick, he was smitten. But as time passed, Tony questioned her actions. Something wasn't right. He decided to cool the situation. She had loaned him a book and asked for its return. He said he would. Tony found her door ajar and Rachel dead – murdered. The following weeks prove Rachel was interested in more than lunch at the library.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Apr 18, 2024
• ISBN: 9798369420058

Charlotte Lewis

Charlotte Lewis, a retired accountant, lives in Southeast Kansas. Charlotte graduated from University of Southern California with a major in elementary education and a minor in music. Since retirement, she has self-published several novels and has published in Reminisce Magazine, Chicken Soup for the Soul, Hackathon Short Stories, Readers Digest Online, and Mused – an online journal. There's more to learn at charlottelewisonline.com

Book preview

LUNCH at

the LIBRARY

CHARLOTTE LEWIS

Copyright © 2024 by Charlotte Lewis.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Rev. date: 04/17/2024

Xlibris

844-714-8691

www.Xlibris.com

859778

CONTENTS

Lunch At The Library

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-two

Chapter Twenty-three

Chapter Twenty-four

Chapter Twenty-five

Chapter Twenty-six

Chapter Twenty-seven

Chapter Twenty-eight

Chapter Twenty-nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-one

Author’s Note

Other Books By Charlotte Lewis

While this story is fiction,

the Three Squares Program

of Las Vegas, Clark County, Nevada is real.

It offers lunch on weekdays

to Seniors at the Library.

An older woman who hits on younger men is

called a cougar.

What do you call a younger woman who hits

on older men?

I guess it would depend on whose mother

you ask...

Gold digger, hussy, or something else"

This story won’t answer that question.

Thank you, Anthony Aguilar,

for telling me about the

lunch at the library.

LUNCH AT THE LIBRARY

The thin bearded man stood in the hallway as police and EMTs rushed past him into Rachel’s apartment. He was amazed they had arrived so quickly. One officer asked, Did you call this in? He nodded. Stay here. I’ll be back to talk to you in a moment. The scene he saw through the partially opened door was so gruesome, he had no intention to follow the officer. He leaned against the wall to wait.

In a very few minutes the officer, who told him to wait, returned to the hallway. What do you know about this?

The man took a handkerchief from his pocket and blew his nose. I don’t know anything about this. Rachel called me yesterday to see if I had finished reading a book she loaned me a couple of months ago. She said she was moving and it’s part of a series. She thought I could bring it by at Lunch but I said I hadn’t planned on Lunch today. I said I’d bring it by tonight if that was okay. It was. He handed the book to the officer. He didn’t know what else to do with it.

The officer tucked the book under his arm and took a small notebook out of his shirt pocket. Did you go inside, Mr..? What is your name, Sir?

I’m Anthony Josef. Tony. No. I didn’t go inside. The door was ajar and I nudged it a little and called out to her. As the door moved, I saw...(he choked up)...her. It was pretty obvious from my viewpoint that she was dead. I called 911 and sat down on the floor here while talking to the operator. She suggested I stay right where I was and you’d be here in a few minutes. Tony blew his nose again.

The officer nodded. Let me see your right shoe. Tony thought that was an odd request. But he was wearing loafers and just slipped off his shoe. He handed it to the officer who turned it over, studied the sole for a moment, and handed it back to him. Thank you. There is one shoe print a foot or so inside the door – headed out. Tony put on his shoe - surprised that the officer had clarified his request..

I didn’t go in. When I got here I nudged the door slightly as it was ajar only four or five inches.

Why did you nudge the door? And how?

It seemed like the logical sthing to do so that I could call to her. It wouldn’t be very polite to just walk in even though she knew I was coming. She might not be aware the door was open. I just used the book as a lever..

The officer made a few notes. Will you come down to the station and make a formal statement?

Am I under arrest? Tony was startled.

No, not at all. Not even a person of interest. But perhaps you can tell us more about this woman and restate what you’ve already told me. What is her name? Someone will talk to the super here but we would appreciate to learn what you know.

Her name is Rachel Boswick. You probably know more about this then I do right now. But if it’ll help, of course I’ll come to the station.

The officer reached into his pocket for a business card. I don’t know now who the investigator will be on this case. Just tell the desk officer that you were asked to come in for a statement on Boswick. Any time after eight tomorrow will be okay. Tony took the card and nodded.

CHAPTER ONE

Just after eight the next morning, Tony pulled open the door at the precinct He had things to do that day but promised the officer he’d show up. He paused just inside and half smiled. Other than computers on the visible desks, the room reminded him of the precinct where he grew up in Los Angeles County many years ago.

As a youngster he’d spent some time sitting on a wooden bench where the desk officer could see him. He was never charged with anything but was lectured often about the company he was keeping. Frankly, he’d rather be tossed in a holding cell than face his father when he came to redeem him. While fifth generation American, his Dad was very old school Hispanic. He would sign Tony out and lead him to the car. Once in the car the scolding would begin, I’ve never had to fetch your brother or sister from the police station. Tony was the youngest. And, evidently, the greatest disappointment.

In an effort to clear his mind of memories, he shook his head as he approached the desk officer. He had the business card he had been given the night before in his hand. He stopped a foot from the tall desk hoping the clerk would acknowledge him. He waited a moment and then said, I’m Anthony Josef. He looked at the card. Sgt. Pearson asked me to come in and talk to an investigator about Rachel Boswick. The officer looked up and slightly frowned. Tony handed him the card. The officer looked at it and handed it back.

Thanks for coming in, Mr. Josef. I’ll let Detective Hamilton know you’re here. He sort of gestured toward a group of plastic chairs. Tony nodded. He looked at his watch – 8:10. He chose a chair and sat; thinking it was more comfortable than that wooden bench of long ago.

In a very few minutes a tall, pleasant looking man in a suit came to the desk. He spoke to the officer there and then called Mr. Josef? Tony looked up. Please come with me.

Tony was surprised that the wait had been so short. He stood and approached the man who had came through the little gate next to the desk. He held our his hand, I’m Greg Hamilton. Thanks for coming in. I’ve just gone through the initial police report and am hoping you can add much to it.

Tony thought of responding but decided it didn’t matter at this point that he really couldn’t help at all. Detective Hamilton would realize that very soon. He shook the detective’s outstretched hand and followed him through a maze of offices and cubicles. They came to an enclosed room labeled Interview. Hamilton asked him to have a seat and then Would you like a cup of coffee? I haven’t had mine yet.

Without hesitation, Tony said, Thank you. I drink it black. He had skipped his morning coffee to get here by eight.

Hamilton nodded, So do I. Be a shame to ruin the flavor of good coffee with cream or sugar. And we actually have good coffee here. I’ll be right back.

Tony sat down in the chair furthest from the door. He looked around the room. With all of his childhood escapades he’d never made it to an interview room. But he watches television. Tony glanced up. Sure enough, just like TV, there was a camera mounted on the wall aimed at the chairs and table. The little light

above the lens was red and steady. Must not be recording. Detective Hamilton came into the room just then with two cups of steaming coffee. Real cups., not styrofoam Tony felt better already. He took a sip of the coffee. It really was very good.

CHAPTER TWO

Well, Mr. Josef, let’s get some details and then see what you can tell me about last night? Name and current address?

Tony took another sip of coffee. Anthony Josef; I live at the Warren House on Sierra Vista. There’s not a lot about last night that I know. Rachel had asked me to return a book and agreed last night would be a good time for me to drop it off. When I got to her apartment, the door was ajar. I nudged it slightly intending to call out to her. Then I saw her in a weird sitting position, on the floor, very bloody. At first I was going to play hero and rush in and help her but a second glance convinced me it was too late for heroics. Quite frankly, I felt like I was going to heave. I hadn’t stepped into the apartment and just turned around and kind of slid down the wall of the hallway. It took me a minute to get my phone out of my pocket to dial 911. I am not sure what I said to the operator. I was feeling pretty queasy. She told me to take a few deep breathes and tell her the address. She said stay where you are; a patrol car is on the way. She offered to stay on the line but I told her I was okay.

Detective Hamilton nodded and made a few notes. It’s not usual that so much is blurted out without prompting. He was surprised and hoped that indicated an easy interview. He’s found that any real trauma usually makes it difficult to get information. But then again, he had said details and then see what you can tell me. Older people are more literal and that may be a good thing now.

Mr. Josef, may I call you Tony? Tony nodded. So, Tony, you’re sitting in the hallway, leaning against the wall?’ Tony nodded again. How long was it before the police arrived?"

Tony shook his head. I’m not really sure. It didn’t seem like much time. I heard them coming down the hall and stood up. Sgt. Pearson asked if I was the one who called and I said yes. He told me to wait and he’d be right back. I had no intention of going anywhere; my knees still felt like water.

When Pearson returned, did he question you about why you were there?

Yeah, he did. And I told him I was returning a book as Rachel was moving and it was part of a series. I gave him the book. I didn’t know what else to do with it. He asked if I’d gone into the apartment. I told him I had just nudged the door open a bit more but I didn’t go in.

And, then?

Then he asked to see my right shoe. I thought that was weird but I wear loafers and just slipped it off and handed it to him. He turned it over, looked at it and handed it back. He said there was a footprint headed out of the apartment. I put my shoe on. He gave me a business card and asked me to come to the station to give a formal statement. So here I am.

Hamilton was reading a hand-written report of some sort. He looked up and said, Exactly what Pearson reported.

Tony looked puzzled. Why wouldn’t it be?

The detective laughed. You would be surprised how eye witness reporting changes overnight sometimes.

I wasn’t an eye witness to anything, Detective Hamilton. I don’t know how long after the fact I got there but there was no witnessing to be done. Tony felt a bit irritated. Is this what people mean when they say that the police distorted what they’ve said?

Poor choice of words, Tony. Didn’t mean to imply anything. Sorry.

Tony leaned back in the plastic chair. He didn’t know how to respond to this apology. Was it an apology?

Need a refill? Hamilton stood up and reached for Tony’s cup. There was very little left and Tony handed the cup to him.

The detective left the room and Tony leaned as far back as he could on the chair. It wasn’t very comfortable. Tony believes that is deliberate but that’s okay. He’s mentally gone over the incident of last night. What else could he possibly tell them of any import to Rachel’s death?

The detective reentered the room. Fresh pot. First cups out. Hamilton handed Tony his cup. It had some sort of eagle logo on it. Hamilton’s cup had a Nevada state flag image. Tony took a long sip. It was good coffee. Hamilton sat back in the chair across from him.

How long have you known Ms. Boswick, Tony?

Why did this line of questioning surprise Tony? He guessed it would be appropriate to fill in details. Maybe a year, a little more, maybe less. I’m not sure.

"How