On Borrowed Time (A Library Lover's Mystery) - Softcover

McKinlay, Jenn

Softcover

ISBN 10: 0425260739 ISBN 13: 9780425260739

Publisher: Berkley, 2014

Synopsis

The New York Times bestselling Library Lover's mysteries continue with a hot new case...

Loving a good cup of coffee runs in the family for Briar Creek library director Lindsey Norris. But when her brother, Jack, a consultant for a coffee company, goes missing, her favorite beverage becomes a key clue in a dangerous mystery.

Between preparing the library for the holidays and juggling the affections of ex-boyfriend, Captain Mike Sullivan, and her new crush, actor Robbie Vine, Lindsey has her hands full. But the mysterious disappearance of her world-traveling playboy brother takes precedence over all.

Afraid that involving the police could brew trouble for Jack, Lindsey takes matters into her own hands. But as her quest for her brother embroils her in a strange case involving South American business dealings and an enigmatic and exotic woman, it’ll take the help of both her library book club—the crafternooners—and her eager-to-please suitors to keep Jack from ending up in hot water...

INCLUDES READING GROUP RECOMMENDATIONS

About this title

About the Author:

The hardest decision New York Times bestselling author Jenn McKinlay ever had to make was what to major in during college. Then she discovered the sanctuary of the library and library science—a major that allowed her to study all the subjects. She loves working as a librarian. After all, what other occupation allows you to research the ethnobotanical properties of agave, perform a puppet show for twenty wiggly toddlers, and try to answer why the rabbit’s foot is considered lucky, all in the same day? Jenn is the author of the Cupcake Bakery Mysteries, including Sugar and Iced, Going, Going, Ganache, and Red Velvet Revenge, the Hat Shop Mysteries, including Death of a Mad Hatter and Cloche and Dagger, and the Library Lover's mysteries, including Read It and Weep, Book, Line, and Sinker, and Due or Die. She lives in Scottsdale, Arizona, in a house that is overrun with books, pets, kids, and her husband’s guitars.

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.:

Lindsey Norris, director of the Briar Creek Public Library, strode across the library with her keys in hand. It was lunch hour on Thursday, which meant book talk, crafts and snacks, as their weekly crafternoon book club gathered in a meeting room on the far side of the building.

Out of all the activities the library hosted, this was by far Lindsey’s favorite. She figured it was the book nerd in her that loved it so, but truthfully, these ladies had become her dearest friends since she’d moved to Briar Creek, Connecticut, a few years ago, and any afternoon she shared with them was time well spent.

“Lindsey, wait up!” a voice called to her from the children’s department. She spun around to see an old-fashioned aviator charging toward her.

Lindsey squinted. Beneath the leather cap and goggles, she couldn’t make out much, but she was pretty sure she recognized the upturned nose and stubborn chin as belonging to her children’s librarian, Beth Stanley. But it was hard to say, as the rest of her was dressed in a white scarf, leather bomber jacket, black pants and boots. Not the typical wardrobe for a woman who spent most of her time doing finger plays, felt boards and story times.

“What do you think?” the aviator asked. She planted her hands on her hips and stood as if she were posing for a photo.

“I’m not sure,” Lindsey said. “Who are you?”

“What? Oh!” The woman wrestled her goggles up onto her head. “It’s me—Beth. What do you think of my steampunk outfit?”

“It’s the bomb,” Lindsey said with a laugh. Beth looked positively delighted with herself and with good reason. “You look like you could have stepped right out of Scott Westerfeld’s Leviathan.”

“Yes!” Beth pumped a fist in the air. “That’s exactly what I was going for. My teen group worked on these at our meeting last night. You should see some of the stuff they made. We’re all getting together at the Blue Anchor tonight to have our holiday blowout and show off our outfits.”

“I love it,” Lindsey said. Not for the first time, she thought how lucky the community was to have Beth, who truly brought reading to life for kids and teens.

“I think you look ridiculous,” a voice said from the circulation desk. “Mr. Tupper never let his staff run around in costume, and certainly not out in public.”

“No one asked you—” Beth began, but Lindsey cut her off.

“That will do, Ms. Cole,” she said. “Beth has done amazing things to get our teens reading.”

Ms. Cole sniffed but didn’t argue, which Lindsey felt was a big improvement. Known as the lemon to the rest of the staff, Ms. Cole was an old-school librarian who longed for the days of shushing loud patrons and shunning late borrowers.

“Walk and talk,” Lindsey said to Beth. “Crafternoon is starting soon, and I need to set up the meeting room.”

“Who’s bringing the food this week?” Beth asked.

“Nancy.”

“Oh, I hope she baked cookies,” Beth said. Nancy Peyton, who was also Lindsey’s landlord, was known throughout Briar Creek for her exceptional cookie-baking skills. Since it was December and the holidays were just weeks away, Lindsey knew that Nancy had been giving her oven a workout.

“I think that’s a safe bet,” Lindsey said.

She glanced out the window as they turned down the short hallway that led to the crafternoon room. The town maintenance crew had been decorating the old-fashioned lampposts that lined Main Street with garlands of silver and gold tinsel, and hanging green wreaths with red ribbons just below the lamps.

The decorations added just the right amount of festive energy to the air and helped ward off the gloom that seemed to be descending upon them in the form of menacing, steel gray clouds, which were reflected by the water in the bay, giving everything a cold, hard and unforgiving appearance.

The crafternoon room had a small gas fireplace, and Lindsey had a feeling that they were going to need it today to fight off the wintery chill in the air.

“So I was thinking you should come and meet up with me and the teens at the Blue Anchor tonight,” Beth said. “It’ll be fun. I even have enough steampunk gear for you to wear.”

Lindsey glanced at her friend. She could not picture herself looking like a souped-up Amelia Earhart; still Beth had spray-painted the goggles copper and stuck all sorts of knobs and gear and even a dragonfly on them. They were pretty cool.

“I don’t like to leave Heathcliff alone for that long,” she said.

“What alone?” Beth asked. “He’s been mooching cookies off of Nancy all day.”

“No doubt,” Lindsey said. Nancy liked to have Lindsey’s dog, Heathcliff, with her during the day. “Which is why he’s going to need an even longer walk than usual tonight.”

“Aw, come on,” Beth said. “It’ll be fun. Charlie’s band is playing, and who knows? You might run into one of your admirers.”

Lindsey gave her a bland look. “I have no idea to whom you could be referring.”

“Sully or Robbie,” Beth said. “You know they’re both hovering around waiting for you to give any hint of encouragement.”

“Did you finish the book for this week?” Lindsey asked.

“Nice conversational segue—not,” Beth said. “Yes, I finished The Woman in White, but you didn’t answer—”

“Did you know that the novel was so popular that Wilkie Collins had ‘AUTHOR OF “THE WOMAN IN WHITE”’ inscribed on his tombstone?”

“Fascinating, but you might want to save that tidbit for when the other crafternooners start to grill you about your love life,” Beth said.

Lindsey turned the key in the lock and pushed it open.

The room was dark, and she flipped the switch to the left of the door before stepping into the room.

Her gaze moved past the door to where she saw a man standing perfectly still. She felt a thrill of recognition surge through her, but the man shook his head from side to side and then put his finger to his lips. Lindsey knew immediately that he didn’t want anyone to know he was there.

She quickly stepped back out of the room, bumping into Beth as she went.

“What’s the matter?” Beth asked.

“It’s freezing in there,” Lindsey said. She shivered as if to prove it. “Even with the fireplace, there’s no way this room will be warm enough to meet in. The heat must have been turned off, or maybe a window was left open. I’ll check it out. In the meantime, could you set up one of the other meeting rooms for us?”

“On it,” Beth said, and she hustled back down the hallway in the direction of the main library.

As soon as she was gone, Lindsey opened the door and hurried inside. She quickly shut and locked it behind her.

“Jack!” she cried.

“Linds!” he said in return.

The ruggedly handsome man met her halfway across the room with his arms open wide. Lindsey leapt at him, and he caught her in a hug that almost, but not quite, crushed her.

When he released her, Lindsey stepped back and stared at the face so similar to her own. She had many people in her life whom she considered close friends, but the bond between siblings was one that could not be surpassed.

“Okay, brother of mine,” she said as she crossed her arms over her chest in a fair imitation of their mother when she was irritated. “Start explaining.”

Where Lindsey was all long blond curls and a face that was handsome more than pretty, Jack was short-cropped honey-colored curls with a face that was almost too pretty for a man. He had hit the genetic lottery with full lips and rich caramel-colored eyes, and Lindsey thought, not for the first time, how unfair it was. Paired with his muscular shoulders, lean hips and formidable height, Jack could have been a male model as easily as an economist, but where Lindsey’s world revolved around words, Jack’s passion had always been for numbers.

“What?” he asked, raising his hands in the air in a questioning gesture. “A brother can’t surprise his favorite sister for the holidays?”

“I’m your only sister, but nice try,” she said. “Of course, you can surprise me but why are you hiding in here?”

“Hiding? What hiding?” he asked. He turned away from her and surveyed the room. “I’m just trying to keep my arrival on the down low for a while.”

“What aren’t you telling me, Jack?” she asked. He could try and fool her all he wanted, but she knew that whenever he was hiding something, he started to pace just like he was doing now.

“Nothing,” he said. He crossed over to the bookshelves and then the fireplace. “I’ve just been doing the usual, you know, solving the business troubles of companies around the world.”

“Then how come I haven’t heard from you in a month, and why didn’t you tell me you were coming? Do Mom and Dad know you’re here? Where have you been anyway? Last I heard, you were in the Fiji Islands,” she said.

“Ugh, so many questions.” Jack groaned. “Can we do the catch-up thing later? Hey, is this a gas fireplace? Can I fire it up? It’s chilly in here. I thought maybe I could catch a nap since I had almost no sleep last night.” As if to prove his statement, he let out a jaw-popping yawn.

Lindsey fretted her lower lip between her teeth. There was only one person on the entire earth that she could never say no to, and that was Jack.

The building policy strictly stated that no one was to be in here without a staff member present, but he did look awfully tired and he was a responsible adult. Surely, Jack, a Cornell-educated economist, would be fine left to his own devices in the meeting room. Besides, she could keep checking on him as needed so she would sort of be in here with him.

“All right,” she said. “But I still want an explanation. How did you get in here anyway? Because I know the door was locked.”

“I am a man of many talents,” he said in a bogus Houdini voice while waving his hands in the air like a magician.

“You found an unlocked window, didn’t you?”

“Yeah.” He dropped his arms, looking deflated. “You should really be more careful, Linds. You never know what kind of bad guy might come in and steal all of your precious books.”

“Uh-huh.” Lindsey switched on the gas fireplace, which clicked three times before it ignited.

Jack launched himself onto the squashy leather couch that faced the fireplace. As he settled in, he looked like a very big cat, finding just the right spot for his nap.

“You know my crafternoon group is supposed to be meeting in here,” Lindsey said. “You owe me one for disrupting our meeting so you can have a nap.”

Jack grabbed her hand as she passed by the couch, stopping her from leaving.

“I do owe you one, Linds, more than you know,” he said. “It’s really good to see you. I’ve missed you.”

She could see the sincerity in his eyes, and she knew he felt the same way she did. The bond they shared, like an invisible cord, stretched as far as the globe could take them away from each other, but it never broke. They were always connected.

Lindsey bent down and kissed his head. “I’ve missed you, too, you big dope. We’ll talk, and I mean that, when you wake up.”

She checked her watch. She was going to be late for crafternoon, but that was okay. Her brother Jack was here, and suddenly the steely gray day outside seemed brimming with holiday cheer.

She couldn’t wait to spend some time with him and hear his latest adventures. Jack was like a crusty old penny with a heavy patina; he had lots of miles and lots of stories on him, and he always turned up when she least expected it.

*   *   *

“The Woman in White was not what I expected,” Nancy Peyton said while she arranged a tray of cookies on the end of the table. “Why do novels written in the eighteen hundreds always break up the happy couple? It’s annoying.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Violet La Rue said. “It seems to me many novels separate the couple, especially if it’s a series. I suppose we readers just have to read on, trusting the author and being committed to seeing it through.”

“Not unlike most relationships,” Lindsey said. “I suppose you have to decide if you’re the committing type before you start a book, which if you think about it, is a relationship of sorts.”

To Lindsey’s relief, today’s crafternoon actually worked out better in the smaller glassed-in conference room. Since they were recycling candles and were using little electric hot plates to do it, they had more access to outlets in the refurbished conference room than they would have had in the room she’d left to Jack.

“But that doesn’t answer the question,” Mary Murphy agreed. She added a bunch of half-spent candles to the pile in the center of the table. Then she looked pointedly at Lindsey and asked, “Why does the happy couple always break up?”

Lindsey shook her head. Captain Mike Sullivan, known to everyone one as Sully, was Mary Murphy’s older brother, and Lindsey knew Mary well enough to know that she was asking why she and Sully were still broken up. Mary never missed an opportunity to fish for information, and since they both belonged to the library’s crafternoon group, Mary always used it to work in an informal questioning, which felt like an inquisition, into the status of Lindsey’s relationship with Sully.

“Because it’s more dramatic that way,” Charlene La Rue answered for Lindsey. “Right, Mom?”

Charlene La Rue turned to her mother, Violet, a former Broadway actress and the reigning queen of the local community theater.

“Exactly,” Violet agreed. “The story would be over in twenty pages if Walter Hartwright won Laura Fairlie when they first met.”

“And the fact that he’s her poor drawing instructor makes it so much more romantic,” Beth cried.

Nancy snorted. “My grandmother always said, ‘It’s just as easy to love a rich man as a poor one.’”

“True,” Beth agreed. She was still wearing her steampunk cap and goggles, but had taken off the jacket and scarf. “But it just seems like there are so many more poor ones to choose from. You know, the unemployed, underachieving, living in his parents’ basement population has really exploded.”

“And thus, we remain single,” Lindsey said.

“An actor is not unemployed,” Violet said. “Their job prospects are just more eclectic than most.”

Both Violet and Charlene hit Lindsey with their matching mother and daughter dazzling smiles. While Violet was retired from the stage and lived in Briar Creek, Charlene was a newscaster on the local station in New Haven. Both women were tall and thin with rich cocoa skin and warm brown eyes. Together they were a force to be reckoned with, but Lindsey was wise to their game.

The La Rue women were close friends with Robbie Vine, a famous British actor who had recently come to Briar Creek to star in a production of Violet’s while getting reacquainted with his son. He had made no secret of his interest in Lindsey, but even though Robbie charmed her senseless, her heart was still knotted up over Sully, who had dumped her to give her space she had not requested. In a word, it was complicated.

“Pffthbt.” Beth made a scoffing noise. “You know, instead of pushing the head librarian with two beaus to make her choice—yes, I’m sure it’s brutal, Lindsey, really—you all might consider canvassing the area for an availab...

About this edition

• Publisher: Berkley
• Publication date: 2014
• ISBN 10: 0425260739
• ISBN 13: 9780425260739
• Binding: Mass Market Paperback
• Number of pages: 304