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“Of course I’m sure! Odelia told me about the killer dressed in yellow who killed her lookalike. Then Tex saves poor Brutus from the same killer. And now the killer tried to kill me! It’s an outrage he’s still running around free! What the heck do I pay taxes for?”

“You don’t pay taxes, Ma,” said Alec, the wise-ass. “You’re retired.”

“I’m a working woman. Of course I pay taxes!”

“You’re a volunteer. I don’t pay you,” said Tex.

“What?! I work for free?! That’s an outrage! I’m going to the union, you cheapskate!”

“I pay you a little something under the table.” He made a weird move with his hand, as if scooping up a pancake. “Get it? Under the table? Besides, I give you room and board.”

“I get that you’re exploiting a poor old lady, you robber baron. Wait till the union is through with you. You’ll be happy if they leave you so much as a cardboard box to sleep in.”

“Tex thinks he was attacked, too,” said Alec, returning to the point.

“I don’tthink I was attacked. Iwas attacked. By the same killer who attacked Vesta.”

“See?” said Gran. “Even Tex was attacked, and he’s probably Odelia’s least favorite family member.”

Tex stared at her.“Come again?”

“Isn’t it obvious? This killer is targeting the people Odelia cares about the most. He attacked the girl, the actress, to make sure he got Odelia’s attention, then he attacked Brutus—probably because Max wasn’t available—and now he attacked me, the favorite. Next he’ll attack Marge, and he was going to keep you for last, Tex. My best guess is that he probably saw you passing by and figured why the hell not strike while the flowerpot is hot?”

Alec and Tex exchanged a glance.“Marge!” they both exclaimed simultaneously.

Alec searched around for his officers and cursed under his breath. They were all gone, of course, having followed his orders to track down Vesta’s roller skate killer.

“You should really discipline your people, Alec,” said Gran. “You can’t just let them wander off like that when you need them the most.”

But Alec was already running away, along with Tex, in the direction of the library, Marge’s place of employment.

“Nice,” Gran grumbled. “Talk about victim assistance. Leaving a poor old lady to deal with the trauma of her near-death experience all by herself.” But then the significance of her own words came home to her, and she muttered, “Marge. Oh, dammit.” And as fast as her sticks for legs could carry her, she was off in the direction of the library, too.

Chapter 31

Marge was stocking Danielle Steel books, enjoying these rare moments of quiet before the library opened. She loved her job, and had been a big library fan even as a child, finding herself here almost daily. Her folks used to drop her and Alec off at the library when they went into town to shop, and little Marge found plenty of books to keep her busy until their return. Alec had a tougher time finding something to occupy his time. He’d never been a big reader, and even now preferred watching ESPN to picking up something to read.

To work in the place that had offered Marge so many fun memories was a dream come true. And even though the library was small—basically a one-woman operation—she didn’t mind. She had plenty of opportunities to socialize as she knew pretty much every single person who came into the library. As a long-time resident of Hampton Cove she knew everyone in town, and never stinted for conversation with her steady set of regulars.

The first people through the door every morning were what she called her old-timers, who were already waiting before she opened the doors, and who headed straight for the reading room, where all the important national and local newspapers and magazines were stocked. The second most favorite station was the bank of internet computers, where those who didn’t have internet at home came to check their email or surf the web.

Marge had taken a crash course in computers and the Internet just to handle all the requests from people not habituated to working with these machines. She sometimes joked she was part IT person, part psychologist, and part literary critic, as people relied on her to advise them on what to take home as reading material.

And since she knew her customers, she unfailingly picked the right book for them.

She checked her watch. Ten to nine. Time to open her up.

She liked to open early, and didn’t mind if she closed late. It wasn’t as if she was running an army barracks. This was Hampton Cove, and she ran a pretty relaxed ship.

Speaking of ships, she decided to quickly check the pirate ship that was the hallmark of the kids’ section. The boat, which was a reading space made up to look like an actual pirate ship, was very popular with the younger readers. Marge had placed cushions on the seats, and there were plenty of nooks and crannies where kids could curl up with a book, just the way she herself had done when she was their age.