A Firm Foundation Page 11

  “Ah. Children.” Tosten didn’t sound as if he was familiar with the concept.

  “Do you have a family?” Kate inquired. “We have three children. Two of them are married and have given us grandchildren. Grandchildren are such a blessing.”

  “I’m not married,” Tosten said. His tone was a bit stiff.

  Oops. The last thing she wanted to do was make the man uncomfortable. She took a deep breath and adopted a sympathetic tone. “How are you doing? I imagine it’s been a difficult day.”

  His eyebrows rose. “Difficult?”

  “Well, yes,” she said. “People all over town are talking about the library closing. I bet you’re fielding questions left and right.” She barely paused for a breath. “And I’d venture to say that a number of them aren’t exactly calm and friendly.”

  “That’s certainly true,” Tosten said. His tone was warmer now, and he nodded.

  “If I’ve heard one idea about what’s going to happen to that building,” she told him, “I’ve heard twenty. The most popular rumor is that it’s going to be turned into an apartment complex. I was also told it might just be torn down to make way for condominiums. My personal favorite is the movie-theater rumor.” She chuckled.

  Tosten chuckled too. “People do have vivid imaginations.”

  “Do you mind if I run something by you?”

  “Of course not.” He looked pleased to be consulted. If he was a bantam rooster, he’d have been strutting.

  “I had an idea,” she said. She smiled at him. “You’re the perfect person to consult.”

  “Consult away.” He beamed and stood straighter.

  “I was thinking of bricks,” she said, choosing her words carefully. Timing was everything, and she didn’t want him to see what was coming. “Have you ever seen painted bricks from a building sold as mementos or historical memorabilia?”

  He nodded. “Of course.”

  “Well, I thought that if the library really did get torn down, it might be smart to save some bricks. We could have them hand painted with a picture of the old library and perhaps a blurb about the years it existed on the back. It could be a fabulous fund-raiser.” She paused expectantly, plastering a wide smile on her face.

  “I’m sure we can arrange to salvage some—” Tosten stopped abruptly. “I mean, in the event that were to happen, that’s an excellent idea. But as you said, the rumors are flying thick and fast. I imagine we’ll hear some that will make a movie theater seem conservative.”

  Kate forced herself to laugh heartily at his attempt at humor, ignoring his first response. Finally she said, “I’d better get going. Dinner doesn’t make itself, unfortunately. It was nice to see you again, Tosten.”

  After Tosten said good-bye and walked away, Kate stood where she was, her whole body trembling as she placed a hand against one of the sturdy shelves for support. Her scheme had worked, but she wasn’t happy with the results. Although he hadn’t come right out and said it, she was nearly certain that Tosten had all but confirmed her worst fear: the library was going to be torn down. He had told her, she thought. The beginning of his response to her idea about the bricks was probably the most honest thing the man had said all day.

  She debated about what to do next. The time for caution had passed, she feared. Her first inclination was to rush to the library and tell Livvy about the demolition. Her second thought was that she needed to contact some of the other council members and find out if they were aware that the library might be demolished. The third thing she needed to do was try to talk with the lawyer in McMinnville.

  She paid Sam for her items and left the Mercantile, heading for her car. She quickly decided that she wasn’t going to tell Livvy just yet. The news was going to be a devastating blow. The more information Kate could gather first, the better. For the first time, she realized what a monumental task she could be facing. How did one stop a demolition?

  But that was exactly what she was determined to do.

  As she walked up Smith Street to her car, a man came out of the Country Diner and walked toward her. His size was the first thing Kate noticed; the man was huge.

  Then she realized she knew him. It was Ben Dean, the man she had likened to the Grinch at the town-council meeting. As he stomped toward her, she drew in a deep breath. This was the perfect opportunity to find out what—if anything—he knew about the demolition.

  “Mr. Dean?” she called. “Good afternoon.”

  Ben Dean’s head came up. He looked around until he had focused on her, and the motion reminded her of a bull trying to decide whether or not to charge.

  As he drew closer, he grunted. “You’re the lady from the meeting.”

  She nodded. “Kate Hanlon.”

  “Whaddaya want?” Ben Dean was never going to win any awards for his social graces.

  “As a member of the town council,” she began, “you might be able to help me.” She watched him closely, choosing her words. She might be using the same scheme, but she was going to have to vary her approach a bit. “I was just speaking with Tosten Glass a few moments ago about an idea I had.”

  He just looked at her. “Huh?”

  She wondered how in the name of heaven this man had been elected to the town council. “I was thinking,” Kate said, “that perhaps we could salvage some bricks from the original library, paint and date them, and then sell them. People love historical memorabilia.”

  “Salvage bricks? You can’t just take bricks out of a wall willy-nilly.” His tone was scornful.

  Kate kept her voice light. “Oh, I know. I’ve just been hearing rumors all day about what’s going to happen with the library, and at least one of them has the library being torn down completely. I thought if that’s going to happen, perhaps we could save some of the bricks for a fund-raiser.” She warmed to her theme, even though she intended for it to remain nothing more than an idea. “You know, we could give the proceeds to the library, wherever the new location will be.”

  “Where’d you hear the library might get torn down? From that feller, that lawyer?”

  “Ellis Hayer?”

  “Yeah, him.” Ben didn’t appear to remember, or perhaps care, that he wasn’t supposed to give out confidential information from the closed meetings.

  “Was there anyone at the meeting with Mr. Hayer?” she asked, wondering how much she could get out of him.

  His eyes narrowed, and Kate realized this man wasn’t as dense as he appeared to be. “I’m not going to talk about that with you. Tell me how you know the library’s gonna be torn down.”

  “Oh, I don’t,” she said. “I heard the rumors, and I just was what-iffing, trying to think of ways to capitalize on it if that ever happened.”

  “What-iffing? Huh.” He gave her one brusque nod and brushed by her without another word, leaving Kate standing there staring after him. Was he involved? Did he know about the possibility of a demolition? Reviewing the conversation in her head, she realized it was impossible to tell for certain from Dean’s reactions whether or not he already knew—although his first scornful response indicated that he wasn’t thinking about the building coming down.

  Should she pursue ambushing other council members with the same technique? Kate thought about them. Carey Carver, with his seeming inability to make an independent decision; Eva Mountjoy, who seemed like a smiling pixie until one realized she had held a demanding job in banking for many years; Malcolm Dekker and Floyd Jenkins; and Chalmers Petersen. No, she decided. Unless the opportunity presented itself, she wouldn’t seek them out. Ben Dean was the one she deemed most likely to have been involved in shady activities...and now she wasn’t even sure about him.

  She dug for her car keys and unlocked the Honda, leaning inside and turning the air-conditioning on high as she started the engine. Then she opened the windows and waited a few minutes. It might be hot on the sidewalk, but it was an oven inside the black Accord when it was parked and closed up on days like this.

  After a minute or so, she slid
behind the wheel. Ellis Hayer, Esquire, in McMinnville was going to be her next stop.

  KATE MADE THE DRIVE to McMinnville to search out Ellis Hayer, the lawyer whose name had been mentioned in the minutes she had read earlier.

  Ellis Hayer wasn’t hard to find. She had the address, which was right on Main Street. As she drove into town, on the right she saw a large green and gold sign reading, “Hayer and Strate, Attorneys-at-Law.”

  Kate swung into the parking lot. Apparently Hayer and his partner did all right for themselves. The practice was a small building of attractive gray limestone with a flagstone walkway from the parking lot to the front door. It was beautifully landscaped with holly interspersed with petite dogwood trees and shrubs, such as summer-flowering pink clethra and hydrangea.

  When Kate stepped into the office, the impression of quiet luxury was even more pronounced. An oriental rug created a small seating area surrounded by elegant cherry chairs and a love seat. Another rug led back a short hallway.

  A receptionist behind an L-shaped counter looked up and smiled. “May I help you?”

  “Is Mr. Hayer available?”

  The girl glanced down. “Do you have an appointment?”

  Kate shook her head. “No, but I’d like to speak with him if I may. My name is Kate Hanlon.”

  “May I tell him what this is in reference to?”

  Kate smiled and shook her head. “I’d rather discuss that with Mr. Hayer, if you don’t mind.”

  “All right.” The woman smiled as she rose and walked down the hallway. “Give me a moment.”

  Assuming that a moment could mean fifteen minutes or more, Kate took a seat and picked up a copy of Southern Living.

  Before she could even finish the first article on theme elements to give a home a Southern flair, Kate heard a masculine voice say her name. She glanced up.

  A good-looking younger man approached with his hand extended. His blond hair was cut in a youthful style that gave him disordered curls on top paired with close-cropped sides. He wore dark pants with a white shirt, a gleaming black leather belt and black dress loafers, and a floral-patterned tie of lavender, black, and pale gray.

  Kate rose and took his hand. “Hello. I’m Kate Hanlon.”

  “Ellis Hayer.” He sent her a sparkling smile, and she saw that his eyes were an arresting shade of light brown, almost amber. “How can I help you today?”

  “I’d like to ask you a few questions. Before I do, I have to ask that you keep this conversation in confidence.”

  Hayer’s face was inscrutable. “I can’t promise that unless you are a client,” he said.

  Kate was silent for a moment. “It’s about the Copper Mill Public Library,” she finally said.

  Hayer’s expression froze.

  Thinking quickly, she dug into her handbag and pulled a quarter from her wallet. “Here,” she said, placing it in his hand. “If I pay you, may I be considered a client?”

  Hayer looked startled. Then he laughed, his expression warming. “I’m intrigued.” He pulled a yellow notepad toward him and scribbled across a sheet, tearing it off and handing it toward her. “Here’s a receipt,” he said. “Consider yourself a client.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Ellis Hayer’s brows drew together as he absorbed Kate’s statement. “The closing of the library?” His voice was quiet, but Kate thought she detected an element of anxiety.

  Kate nodded. “I know that you addressed the Copper Mill town council last Thursday, after which the council went into private session. The following morning, the Copper Mill librarian was told the library would be closing next Monday.”

  Ellis blinked rapidly. He crossed his arms in a classic defensive gesture. “I can’t confirm any of that, Ms. Hanlon.” He smiled. “Even if you are a client, any information I might have about a previous client would have to remain confidential.”

  “It’s Mrs. Hanlon, but you can call me Kate.” She smiled at him as she went on. “Yesterday afternoon, I attended an emergency session of the town council, and something that was said led me to believe that the council is worried about a lawsuit if some information becomes public. I presume you have a client who is involved in the closing in some way.”

  Ellis took a deep breath. She could almost see his thoughts racing around inside his head. “I’m not permitted to talk to you about this. It would violate the hypothetical client’s privacy, not to mention client-attorney privilege.”

  “I understand,” Kate said in a reassuring tone. “But Mr. Hayer, please listen. This library has served Copper Mill faithfully for years. Has it been sold, or are there other plans for it? Is there a new owner to whom I could speak?”

  “The building hasn’t been sold. It was never owned by the town in the first place,” Ellis said. A moment later, he looked horrified with himself. “You didn’t hear that from me,” he mumbled, his face growing red.

  Kate patted his arm. “Hear what?”

  But Ellis continued to look upset.

  “Who holds the deed?” she pressed. “Is it still the original owner? Or at least a descendant of the original family?”

  Ellis straightened. He held out his hand very formally and said, “I’m afraid I can’t represent you anymore in this matter, Mrs. Hanlon. I can refer you to someone else if you wish.”

  “No thank you.” Kate smiled. “I appreciate your time.”

  “Good-bye.” Hayer paused just long enough to shake her hand briefly before striding away and vanishing into an office near the end of the hallway.

  As Kate left the comfort of the air-conditioned office and braved the heat once more, she felt pleased that her trip had not been in vain. She may not have gotten a name, but she’d learned another vital piece of information. According to Ellis, the town of Copper Mill had never owned the library. It was exactly what Paul had proposed.

  Could that possibly be true? The Harrington County Historical Society was housed in an early twentieth-century schoolhouse in Pine Ridge. She’d have to visit and see what they could tell her about the library’s history. Glancing at her watch, she realized she would have to stop in Pine Ridge the next day. For now, she needed to head home and get ready for her dinner guests.

  The Harrington County Courthouse could be another important stop, she thought as she drove back to Copper Mill. She wanted to get a look at the deed to the library. Did a deed show who all the owners of a property had been, going back to the very beginning? And if not, was there any way to get that information? She didn’t even know, but she was determined to find out.

  It felt as if the drive back to Copper Mill took much longer than the same drive had taken a short time ago. Of course, she reminded herself, she’d stopped a couple of times then. And she hadn’t been nearly so tired.

  As she drew close to Copper Mill, she saw a modest white house with a wide front porch and a steeply pitched roof on her right. Glancing at the time, Kate went with an impulse and put on her turn signal. She pulled into the gravel driveway that led to the little house, which was on a slight rise a bit back from the road, and parked beside the house.

  Joshua Parsons, who lived in the house, was ninety-three years young, as he liked to tell folks. His beloved wife, Alma, had passed on before Kate moved to Copper Mill, but Kate knew they had lived in the little white house since the day they had married decades earlier. Joshua had shown Kate a small black-and-white snapshot of Alma and him on their wedding day once, and Kate had been tickled to see what an attractive young man he had been.

  As she got out of the car, a movement at the front door caught her eye.

  “Howdy there, Kate.” The old man stood just inside his screen door, grinning at her. “No pie?” he asked when he saw that her hands were empty.

  “Hello, Joshua. I’m sorry, I didn’t bring any pie today.” As she came up the short cracked concrete of his walk, she noticed a galvanized bucket next to a flower bed. Kate knew that Joshua still planted and tended a small garden out back, and on previous visits, she’
d also seen the old-fashioned pump he drew water from to take care of his flowers and vegetables.

  “Joshua Parsons, I hope you’re being careful in this heat,” she told him. “I see that bucket, and I know you’ve been out here watering.”

  “Gotta keep my garden goin’,” he responded. “Dusk and dawn, Kate, dusk and dawn. I ain’t goin’ out there when the sun’s out. It’s just too hot for me.”

  “It’s too hot for everyone.” Kate reached for the handle of the flimsy screen door.

  “I can’t stay long,” she said as he led her into the living room and cleared a pile of newspapers off a chair for her. “I’m on my way home from McMinnville, but I have a question for you.”

  “Shoot,” he said, pointing his index finger at her with his gnarled thumb cocked like the hammer on a pistol. Then he cleared off another chair, setting its pile of newspapers atop yet another stack heaped on a side table.

  Having been to Joshua Parsons’ home several times, Kate was aware of his habit of stockpiling large quantities of newspapers and books all over the house. It was still a sight to behold. “Do you remember if the Copper Mill Public Library is or has ever been owned by anybody other than the town?” she asked.

  The old man shook his head slowly. “I can’t recall. Seems like there mighta been somethin’ once.” He cackled. “It just ain’t in these old memory banks no more.”

  Kate chuckled along with him. “That’s all right. I know what you mean about the memory banks. Mine seem to short-circuit more than they used to.”

  “Land sakes, girl, you’re just a young thing,” Joshua declared. “You get to be my age, you won’t be able to remember your own name!”

  “It wouldn’t surprise me,” Kate said ruefully.

  She stayed for a little while longer, visiting with her friend. He was in high spirits and seemed quite well, despite the heat. Before she left, he managed to extract a promise from her to bring him a pie the next time she was out his way.

  As she finally took her leave and headed home, something was bobbing around in her brain, almost within reach. But she wasn’t quite able to catch the stray thought. There was something about Joshua’s house that she thought could aid in her investigation—