Page 45 of Secrets in the Stacks

“No, I think you took care of those on your last visit. How was your ride here? And your week?” Rarity decided to be friendly rather than let him see her gut fear reaction. “And it’s Lloyd, not Nick, right?”

“Yes, my name is Lloyd. And much to my surprise, your little town here has lots of things to offer as far as new experiences. I’ve never ridden in the back of a police car, so having the police pick me up at the airport and drive me into town were nice touches.” He studied her. “And from your reaction, what I’m telling you isn’t a surprise. I didn’t kill Catherine Doyle. I admit I did sneak into her house that night, and I’m sorry I scared you and your friend.”

“If you didn’t kill her, why were you in the house?” Rarity decided to play along with his explanation. Although in her mind, he was still on the suspect list.

“I’m working on a story.”

When she didn’t say anything, he sighed. “You’re going to make me tell you, aren’t you?”

“You don’t have to do anything. I’d like you to get out of my shop, though, if you’re hiding things.” Rarity nodded to the door.

He pulled out a business card, but instead of handing it to her, he tapped on the counter with it. “What do you know about Catherine Doyle? Not the woman who lived here but the woman before? The one whose husband was killed because she refused to give up her sources?”

“He was murdered in front of her house.” Rarity corrected his version of the story.

“Yes, but the why is what’s interesting. It wasn’t a random killing. Catherine was working on an exposé on a local agricultural company. She lived outside of Des Moines at the time. Her husband was an engineer at the city, and she was a freelance writer and stay-at-home mom. Perfect little family.” He tapped the card again. “One day, she gets a call from a source. She had been looking into a new product that this agricultural company had in development. She’d tried to get information from the actual company, but she was told it was confidential and, frankly, boring. No story here.”

Rarity watched him as he filled in the background of Catherine’s life. Background she’d tried to find out. Now, if she believed him, he was just giving it to her. “So the ag company wasn’t playing nice with a reporter? Not so crazy there.”

“Yeah, but she kept pushing, and when she found women who had worked for the company having stillbirths, she was curious. Of course, none of those recently very wealthy women would talk to her. All about the NDA they’d signed. Anyway, she kept asking questions. Then Tom was killed. And Catherine disappeared.”

Rarity was still confused. It was a good story, but it didn’t link then to now. “Explain how you know this, and why were you in her house?”

“I was working with her on this project. She had all the notes. The last time I saw her, we’d met that afternoon, and I’d given her my notebook as well. She was going to type up everything, then we’d see what we were missing. Honestly, I didn’t think there was a story there, but she still believed. We were up against a brick wall. There wasn’t any proof there was a problem, just this nagging feeling. I told her we should shelve the article. My boss was pushing me to go to New York for a voting scandal. When she didn’t show up the next day for our meeting, I figured she was done too.” He ran a hand through his too-long hair. “I should have called her.”

“So you went off to New York on the new story.” Rarity added to the story.

Guilt flowed out from this guy in waves. If he was acting, he was good at it.

“I found out about Tom a month later. I went back to Des Moines, but she and the boy were gone. No forwarding address. And my notes were gone with her. I figured she was dead.” He glanced at the front door. “Not my finest hour, but I put it behind me. No notes, no story. And no Catherine to push the issue. Then about six months ago, the story picks up again. Rumors out of Iowa about a shelved product that had killed people. I decided to try to find Catherine.”

Rarity leaned back on the stool. “You’re thinking her husband was killed because of the story. She got scared and moved here, to Sedona. You can’t think the ag company tracked her down after all this time just to kill her.”

He tapped the business card one more time. “I found her. It took a few months, but I found her, and I’m just one man. What if I had a multi-billion-dollar company supporting me? Anyway, if her granddaughter runs into any files about Agricultural Norms in Iowa, can you ask her to call me? I’ll pay her for them and for her trouble. And, bonus, it will get those files out of her house so she’ll be safe.”

“You think she’s in danger?” Rarity’s heart started racing.

“Both her grandparents are dead. It might just be a coincidence, but are you willing to take that chance with her?” He nodded to the card. “My cell phone is listed. I’ll be in town for a few days. Your police detective needs some time to go through my story—the same one I just told you. I hope you’ll call.”

He turned and grabbed a couple of books off the new arrivals shelf. “I need some reading material.”

Rarity rang up the purchases, and Lloyd handed over his credit card. “I’m a fast reader, so I may be back. Don’t think I’m doing anything wrong the next time I walk in your cute little shop.”

He signed for the charge, then took the bag and his receipt. He strolled to the front door and then stopped and turned back. “One more thing. Her name isn’t Catherine Doyle back then. I guess she took back her maiden name when she moved here. Her last name when I knew her was Jackson. Tom Jackson was her husband..”

When he left, Rarity went to the door, locked it, and turned over the closed sign. Then she went in the back and checked her back break room door. She only used the door for dumping trash in the dumpster, but it was better to be safe than sorry. Gathering up her stuff, she was ready to go home in record time. She was just gathering Killer into her arms when she heard a knock on her front door. She called out without looking. “We’re closed.”

A second knock sounded, and this time she turned with Killer and hurried over to look out the window. Archer stood there, waving at her. She turned off the lights, then opened the door, turning to lock it almost immediately after closing the door. That done, she turned to Archer. “What’s up?”

He took her tote and put it on his broad shoulders. “Drew called and said you might want an escort home. I had to be bribed to do it, but here I am.”

She smiled as Killer hurried in front of them. “I have to say, I’m glad to see you. I had a rather disturbing last customer.”

“The journalist? Jones?” He glanced down at her in the darkening light. “Are you okay? He didn’t hurt or threaten you, did he?”

“No, I should rephrase that. The story he told about Catherine was disturbing.” Rarity relayed what Lloyd had said about Catherine and how he knew her. “I guess he was here trying to find his notebook and Catherine’s notes on the company. He seems to think it’s a big enough story for his attention now.”

“You think he’s just here to get her work on this story? Maybe he killed her for the information. I did some reading on this guy, and he’s done some extreme things to get a story. He lived with a tribe in Africa to do a story on poachers. One where a relative of a big shot politician was caught killing endangered wildlife just for the fun of it.” Archer stepped closer to her as they turned down her road.

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