Murder Out of Character Read online

  Table Of Contents

  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

  Chapter Thirty Two

  Anna May’s Southern Style Pralines

  About the Author

  Murder Out Of Character

  Copyright © 2022 Patricia Sargeant-Matthews

  Cover Design by Michael Rehder

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereinafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher.

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

  Print: ISBN: 978-1-952210-56-3

  eBook: ISBN: 978-1-952210-57-0

  www.hallmarkpublishing.com

  Chapter One

  “I’m as nervous as a long-tail cat in a room fulla rockin’ chairs.” Adrian Hobbs, the lanky twenty-six-year-old library assistant at my right, shifted from foot to foot.

  Would these Southernisms ever get old? I was a recent transplant to Peach Coast, a small town in Georgia—I’d relocated five months ago from my native New York—but I couldn’t imagine that ever happening.

  Adrian had good reason to be anxious. Our library was hosting its first Summer Solicitation Drive Cocktail to launch our fundraising season. I didn’t want any of the seventy-six attendees who’d joined us this Thursday evening to sense his discomfort, though. Everything had to appear perfect…even if it wasn’t.

  Masking my own nerves with a confident smile, I turned to him. Adrian loomed nine inches above my five-foot-three-inch height; seven, if you adjusted for my navy Oxford pumps. Placing a hand on his arm, I felt the tension knotting his muscles. Perhaps I should offer him another praline.

  “Try to enjoy yourself, Adrian.” I let my arm drop, but held his over-bright blue eyes. He may have had enough sugar. “After all your hard work, you deserve to. Besides, you’re making the rest of us uneasy.”

  “Marvey’s right. You’re gonna cause a panic.” Floyd Petty, our rapidly-nearing-retirement reference librarian, settled his features into a deeper scowl. He tugged again at his gray and black striped tie. Would he tear it off this time? He lowered his hand and I breathed again.

  Vivian Liu jerked a look toward Floyd beside her. Her raven bob slashed above her narrow shoulders. As Adrian’s supervisor, the circulation manager was protective of him. “His anxiety’s understandable. This is his first fundraising event.”

  Viv and I were wearing almost identical black cocktail dresses. I was doing my best to avoid standing next to her.

  Floyd snorted. “It’s a first for all of us, except Marvey and Corrinne. You don’t see me jumping out of my skin.”

  Actually, I did, but I didn’t think it would be prudent to point that out.

  Corrinne Carpenter, our head librarian and boss, stood apart from us, seemingly unaware of the anxiety behind her. She focused on the podium where Cecelia Jean Holt, our new chair of the Peach Coast Library Board of Directors, was wrapping up her greeting and underscoring the importance of our summer fundraising campaign.

  Corrinne embodied serenity. I admired that about her. But after working with her for five months, I could identify small signs that gave away her tension: the clouds darkening her grass-green eyes and the tightness around her wide pink lips. This event was critical to establishing an annual calendar of donor solicitations.

  We were hosting it after hours in our upper activities room. The library was a renovated bus depot. When it had opened in 1951, it had arranged travel along the coast and around town for residents and tourists. Ticketing, departures, and arrivals had occurred on the main floor, which was now the heart of the library. A cafeteria for passengers and employees had operated up here. The floor hadn’t been used in the five years before my arrival, but it hadn’t taken much effort to reopen and decorate it. And it was free, something our budget appreciated.

  Our long-term goal was to expand the library’s offerings and services into this space. But for tonight, the room was comfortably crowded with devoted patrons and donors.

  The festive decorations—balloons, streamers, and table centerpieces—were on loan from staff and volunteers. The eclectic mix of styles and colors looked deliberate and emphasized the evening’s fun and relaxed tone. Classic jazz from Floyd’s surprisingly diverse compact disc collection provided the background entertainment.

  Cecelia ended her remarks, then made a beeline from the podium to our group.

  I pitched my voice over the applause as she joined us. “You were perfect.”

  The expression on the older woman’s smooth sienna features was pure relief. Her eyes gleamed with triumph. “Thank you again for writing it. You provided a lot of critical information on the value of a strong library system that I wouldn’t have thought to include. I love the library, but I can’t always put my finger on all the reasons why.”

  I offered Cecelia a plastic flute of nonalcoholic strawberry margarita. We hadn’t had time to apply for a temporary liquor license. No one seemed to mind. “I’ve worked for libraries even before graduating with a degree in library science. That information’s second nature to me, especially the summer slide statistics.”

  The slide was an estimated forty-seven percent drop in students’ academic skills. It occurred during summer breaks when kids were less likely to be reading.

  “Is that the reason the library’s issued a Summer Reading Challenge for students?” Spencer Holt joined our conversation. His tall, lean frame was impressive in a smoke gray business suit and red tie. But then the man looked good in everything, even a backwards University of Georgia Bulldog baseball cap and crimson apron that read, I Cook, Therefore, I Am.

  Spence was Cecelia’s only child and one of my new best friends. The Holts was the richest family in Peach Coast and one of the wealthiest in Camden County. In addition to a bed and breakfast, a hotel, and a community bank, they owned The Peach Coast Crier, the town’s daily newspaper. Spence was its editor and publisher. The paper had written a substantial article on the reading challenge, which had help boost our efforts to register students for the program.

  The Holts were generous with their philanthropy. They were Peach Coast’s version of Gotham City’s Wayne Foundation. Spence was like a Southern Bruce Wayne/Batman. The impression
went beyond his appearance, money, and prestige, though. He and his mother were local celebrities. He didn’t like it when I reminded him of that, and who could blame him? I wouldn’t want that kind of attention, either.

  “Summer slide’s one of the reasons for the challenge.” I blinked away a mental image of Spence in a cape.

  “Our budget restrictions forced us to take six programming hours away from students this summer.” Corrinne crossed her arms over the jacket of her cream linen skirt suit. She was tall and fashion-model slim. “None of us are happy about that.”

  Viv shook her head. “No, we’re not.”

  Floyd’s scowl returned. “That’s right.”

  Adrian nodded while eating another praline. His eyes glowed like high beams. Perhaps it had been a bad idea to stand so close to the refreshments. The pecan confections, an old-fashioned Southern tradition, were hard to resist.

  Cecelia considered us as she sipped her margarita. “I hope these fundraising programs are successful. I don’t want to have reduced hours again next summer, either.”

  Because of its pencil-thin budget, last weekend—Memorial Weekend—the library had transitioned to its summer schedule. Weekly hours had been cut from sixty-nine to sixty-three. I couldn’t be the only one who feared that if our finances didn’t improve, the next cost-saving measure could be staff layoffs.

  I was suddenly cold in the warm room. I’d left my home in Brooklyn less than six months ago, bought a house, and resettled my rescue tabby. What would I do if the library let me go? I drew a deep breath, catching the scents of pastries and sauces, and crammed those fears back into their box.

  “I understand your concern.” Spence angled his squared chin to indicate the guests circulating nearby. His close-cropped natural emphasized his spare sienna features. “On a positive note, the shortened hours allowed the library to hold this fundraiser onsite.”

  “You have a talent for turning lemons into lemonade.” Feeling marginally better, I shared a smile with him before turning to my colleagues. “We should mingle.” I considered Floyd, who once again tugged at his tie. “Will you be okay speaking with our guests?”

  “Sure.” He grunted before burrowing into the crowd of very important, very loyal donors.

  “I won’t let him out of my sight.” Corrinne’s firm hand on my back felt like a lifeline.

  She and Cecelia went after Floyd. It would take both of them to minimize the damage he could do in social settings. I still had chilling flashbacks of his participation in our first small business seminar. We’d had to convince the presenter to continue the series and encourage Floyd to take those evenings off.

  “Can I tag along with you?” Adrian’s request of Viv was muffled by another praline.

  “Sure—but no more treats. You’ve had enough sugar for the evening.” Viv’s voice was thick with amusement.

  Spence looked at me, sweeping his right arm before him. “Lead the way.”

  I hesitated. It would be wonderful to have Spence’s help navigating the room. He had a way of breaking the ice. And I enjoyed being with him. Still... “Are you sure you don’t mind keeping me company? You’re not here to work the room. You’re here as our guest.”

  He gave me his Bruce Wayne smile, confident and charismatic. “Even guests need to work the room. We might as well do it together.”

  “In that case, thank you.”

  I set a course for Anna May Weekley. The red-haired café owner shared a tabletop at the opposite corner of the room with her younger sister, Lisa May DuVeaux.

  “Pardon me, Anna May.” I stopped beside her and offered Lisa May an apologetic smile. “Thank you again for donating the refreshments. Your generosity is a big reason this event is going so well.”

  My sentiment earned me the Anna May Weekley Seal of Approval. Her peaches-and-cream features glowed and her periwinkle eyes twinkled. “I’m glad to do it for a good cause. Besides, Nolan said I can deduct it from my taxes as a charitable donation.”

  Nolan Duggan was a certified public accountant and Lisa May’s boss. He also was one of Spence’s best friends.

  Anna May shifted her attention to Spence. “Your mama did a fine job with her remarks.”

  Spence inclined his head. “Thank you, Ms. Anna May. I’ll pass your kind words on to her.”

  “People do seem to be enjoying themselves, don’t they?” Lisa May’s blue dress complemented her shoulder-length reddish gold curls. Her gaze drifted back to a spot behind Anna May. Her expression was smug.

  Anna May looked over her shoulder. “Don’t you see enough of Nolan during the workday? Why are you spying on him after hours?”

  “Because it’s past time for Nolan to settle down and get married. I’d say it’s also past time for Jolene to do the same.” Lisa May’s eyes, so like her sister’s, gleamed with determination as they remained fixed on a nearby tabletop.

  Nolan stood there with my other best friend, Jolene Gomez, owner of To Be Read, an independent bookstore and one of my favorite places in my adopted hometown. Jo and I had become best friends bonding over our love of literature, her bookstore, the library, and chocolate.

  Lisa May portioned a speculative look between Spence and me. “You’re friends with Jolene and Nolan. Have either of them said anything to you about their...relationship?”

  Anna May gaped at her. “Lisa May DuVeaux, that’s none of your business.”

  Lisa May sniffed. “I’m just looking out for the health and well-being of my employer.”

  Ann May snorted. “That dog won’t hunt.”

  I adjusted my impression of Lisa May to include her newly discovered role as Peach Coast Matchmaker. “Jo hasn’t said anything to me, but I’ve noticed Nolan spending more time with her at the bookstore.”

  Ignoring her sister, Lisa May turned to Spence. “You’re Nolan’s best friend. Has he confided in you?”

  “He’s very private.” Spence sipped his drink as though warding off additional questioning.

  That was just the kind of response the Caped Crusader would give. Understandable. If Bruce Wayne expected his friends to protect his secrets, he’d have to do the same for them.

  “Jo has a rival for his affections, though.” Lisa May inclined her head toward one of the refreshment tables lining the perimeter.

  Like the other stations, it was burdened with hot and cold hors d’oeuvres, punchbowls of lemonade, iced tea, and Anna May’s prize-winning pastries. Groups of people orbited the treats laughing and chatting.

  The young woman in question stood slightly apart from the crowd. She was with a man who was working hard to appear fun and interesting. I didn’t think he was succeeding. The woman kept glancing toward Jo and Nolan as she picked at the frosted pecan brownie she’d balanced on a clear plastic plate. Her expression was wistful.

  She looked to be in her mid-thirties. Three-inch black stilettos boosted her average height. The silhouette of her knee-length cocktail dress hugged her slim figure. The crimson material made her pale skin appear almost luminescent. She’d gathered her light brown hair at the crown of her head, revealing a long, elegant neck.

  I could understand her seeming infatuation with Nolan. He was kind, intelligent, interesting and handsome. Much like another Peach Coast resident I knew. I slid a look toward Spence. But if Jo was attracted to Nolan, I wanted to know more about her potential rival. “Who is she?”

  Lisa May looked away from the refreshment table. “That’s Gertrude Trueman.”

  “Most people call her Trudie.” Anna May gave her sister a pointed look.

  “Trudie Trueman?” I’d probably go with Gertrude as well.

  Lisa May continued her report. “She’s recently returned to town and inherited her family’s construction company, Camden County Construction Contractors.”

  I blinked. “The Trueman family’s fond of alliteration.”

/>   Lisa May either didn’t hear my comment or chose to ignore it. “She doesn’t seem interested in waiting in line for the eligible bachelors. Nolan’s the accountant for her family’s company. She uses every conceivable feeble excuse to see him—without an appointment.”

  “Nolan built a successful accounting firm. I’m sure he can handle Trudie.” Anna May waved her praline between Spence and me. “So can Spence, so you don’t have to worry either.”

  Chapter Two

  My cheeks filled with heat. “We’re not—”

  “Why didn’t Ms. Cecelia read your name with the Class of 2006 gift announcement?” Anna May asked, narrowing her eyes at Spence. The Class of 2006’s gift had given the library fundraiser a significant pre-launch boost as well as publicity for the Summer Solicitation Drive.

  “I didn’t graduate in 2006, ma’am,” Spence corrected her. “I’m Class of 2008. This year, we’re making a gift to the medical center.”

  “That’s wonderful.” Lisa May gave him an approving look. “Our community has a lot of worthy organizations in need of help.”

  “Yes, we do.” I stepped back. “We’re going to mingle some more. Thank you so much for coming. I look forward to seeing you at the library.”

  “Why are young couples always so worried about work?” Lisa May shimmied her shoulders. “You need to sneak away for some quality time, just the two of you.”

  The idea of quality time alone with Spencer Holt made my pulse skip. I understood why he was considered one of the most eligible bachelors in Peach Coast. Still...

  “We’re not—”

  “It won’t do any good,” Spence said, placing a hand onto the small of my back and leading me away.

  I fell into step beside him. His peppermint-and-sandalwood scent was distracting. “Aren’t you concerned people have the wrong impression of our relationship?”

  “Not even a little.” Spence’s Barry White voice rumbled with amusement. “You’re providing me with cover from well-meaning people who’ve been playing matchmaker with me for years.”