Page 11 of Little Empty Promises

Whitlock went quiet for a time, running a hand along his chin, thinking.“What I am about to say won’t be easy for you to hear, I imagine.Since you’re the one who runs things at the library, I feel it best you know the truth.She sustained a gunshot wound.”

Whitlock’s comment gave Samantha such a shock, the sundae she was holding slipped from her hands, peppering the back seat in a sticky coat of melted vanilla and hot fudge—now, cold fudge.

She reached for the door handle, saying, “I … I have to go.I can’t … I don’t … I don’t want to be here.”

I placed a hand on her arm.“Please, wait just a minute.It’s a lot to process.I know.We’re going to figure out what happened tonight and why.Rest assured.”

Through tear-filled eyes, Samantha said, “Cordelia was one of the nicest people I’ve ever met.I can’t believe it.I can’t believe she’s dead.What if I’d stayed tonight, and if Cordelia had gone home?Would it have been me instead of her?”

Given the note Whitlock had found, and the fact we believed Cordelia had been murdered, the attack seemed to have been a targeted one.The description on the paper seemed too perfect of a match to Cordelia to suggest otherwise.One thought led to another, and I wondered … Were we looking at a murder for hire?

“I know this news is difficult to take in,” Whitlock said, “but it would be a big help to us if you’d stay a few minutes longer so we can ask you a few questions.”

Samantha nodded, reaching into her handbag and pulling out a tissue.She blotted her eyes and sniffled, seeming to regain her composure.“Sure, of course I can stay.Anything I can do to help.”

Whitlock grinned, pleased with her answer.“What time did you speak with Mrs.Bennett today?”

“Oh, it was right before I left, so I’d say a little after four this afternoon.”

“How did she seem when you talked to her?”

“She was in the best of spirits, much happier than I’d seen her in some time.”

“What did the two of you talk about?”

Samantha tapped a finger against the armrest, thinking.“It was Cordelia’s first time closing the library, and she wanted to go over everything with me to make sure she got it all right.”

“Is it common for a volunteer to close?”

Samantha looked down, going quiet for a time.

“It isn’t,” she said.“I’ll admit, I was supposed to close tonight, but my granddaughter had a volleyball game this afternoon.I was telling Cordelia about it, and I mentioned how much I wished I could be there.She offered to close for me.I suppose I should have given it a bit more thought, but I was too excited about making the game to think much of it.”

“How many employees and volunteers work here?”

“Johnny Mansfield is an employee, and Cordelia is …wasour only volunteer.We had one other volunteer, but she moved away a few months ago.”Samantha glanced toward the library, placing a hand over her forehead like a visor.“I don’t … I don’t want to see … I don’t know how I’m ever going to be able to step foot in there after what’s happened.I suppose we’ll need to close for a while.What’s the process like?How long will it take?”

“I can’t answer that right now,” Whitlock said.“It depends on several things.For one, the chief of police needs to be satisfied that we’ve gathered all the relevant evidence and we’ve done all we can here.”

“It’s surreal.Even after hearing it from your lips, I still can’t believe it.”

“We appreciate you taking the time to talk to us tonight.Why don’t you leave me your contact information?I’ll be in touch when I have more news to share.”

Samantha nodded, and Whitlock put her information into his phone.

She blotted her eyes a few more times, and I said, “I’m sorry about your friend.”

“I am too.”

She reached for the door handle once more.

“Would you mind answering one last question?”I asked.

“Sure.What is it?”

“Do you wear glasses?”

“Sometimes.”

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