Deadly Steps: A 1940s Historical Cozy Mystery (A Riverton Library Mystery)

  Deadly Steps

  A Riverton Library Mystery

  By

  K. Pinkley

  Copyright © 2020 by K. Pinkley. All rights reserved. This book

  is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places and incidents

  are either products of the author’s imagination, or used

  fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or

  persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. All rights

  reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or

  transmitted in any form or by any means, electronically or

  mechanical, without permission in writing from the author or publisher.

  Chapter One

  September 1945

  Pauline Jameson gazed at the photo of the sailor kissing the woman in a white dress in the middle of Times Square and smiled. What would it be like to be in love with a sailor? The war had ended, and everyone was celebrating. The world would be right again, wouldn’t it? No more horror, no more fear. They’d survived the worst the world had to offer, and with the end of the war, things would improve.

  She took one last look in the mirror, straightened her white blouse, and put her favorite black beret on her head, tucking her short, curly brown hair beneath it. Pinching her cheeks, she smiled. The coral-colored lipstick she’d splurged on had been a last-minute thought. Today was the first day of her new life. She was officially a career woman. One last, longing look at the couple in the Life magazine article and she closed it, placing it carefully in the top drawer of her bureau. She’d look at it again when she got home and reread the article. Everyone was celebrating, it seemed.

  She walked past the kitchen doorway, and her mother turned to her. Her apron was tied loosely, and she held a spatula in one hand. “Pauline, come and eat something before you go to work.” She smiled. “It’s your big day.”

  “No, thank you, Mama. I’ve got to get going.”

  “You need to eat,” her mother admonished.

  She paused, “I couldn’t eat a thing. This is my first day, and I don’t want to be late.”

  Her mother frowned. “Take an apple with you. You’ll get hungry.”

  Reluctantly, Pauline grabbed an apple from the bowl on the kitchen table. “See you later.”

  “Have a good day!” her mother called to her receding form.

  Pauline tucked the apple into her pocketbook and hurried outside. Her bicycle leaned against the front porch, and she took hold of the handlebars and pushed it to the sidewalk. She had graduated from college at nearly the top of her class, one of the highest-ranked women in the school. And so when the job at the city library had opened up, she had gleefully applied for it. It was her dream job, one where she would be surrounded by the things she loved the most. Books. But the interview had been harrowing, to say the least. The head librarian, Mr. Brantley, had seemed indifferent to what she had achieved in college and she had left the interview with a heavy heart, thinking he must already have someone else in mind for the job and was only going through the motions with her interview. The letter that came two weeks later with the news that she had been hired had been stunning. Now it was Monday morning, the last Monday in September, and she was reporting for work as instructed in the letter.

  She hummed Buffalo Gals as she pedaled the bicycle downtown, her eyes moving back and forth as she rode, careful of automobile traffic. Her humming was intended to distract herself from her stomach doing flip-flops as she rode. She’d never had a job before. If she’d had her preferences, she would have studied journalism or creative writing in college. Her favored job was one of a mystery author, but her mother insisted that that wasn’t proper for a young woman, and so, until she married and settled down, she would work as a librarian. What her mother didn’t know was that she had already begun looking for apartments in the newspaper. When she had worked long enough to come up with rent money, she was going to move out of her parents’ house and into her own apartment. If a husband came along, fine, but until then she intended to be a modern woman with her own home.

  She made it to the library steps unharmed by traffic, and she dismounted the bicycle, stowing it in the rack that was bolted to the sidewalk near the entrance. Glancing at her watch, she saw it was 7:45. Good. She took a deep breath and steadied her nerves. What would work in a library entail? She had an idea, but she thought it must be more than putting books back on the shelves.

  There were nine concrete stair steps to the library door. She had been counting them since her first trip to the public library when she was five. The library had been her hideaway, the place where her mind could run free without worry that she might be dwelling on something her mother termed unladylike. She counted the steps now as she ascended them, and when she got to the double doors of the library, she glanced at her watch again. 7:46. The library opened at 9:00. She pushed on the door handle, but it stood firm. What did she do now? She was supposed to be at work at 8:00, and she was never late for anything. Never.

  She moved her face closer to the glass, without touching it, squinting. The library was dark, save for a light that shone through an open door toward the back of the building. She rifled through the pocketbook on her shoulder for the letter and pulled it out, unfolding it and reading it again.

  At the sound of someone clearing their throat, she jumped and spun around. An elderly woman with a cane stood at the foot of the steps, peering up at her, her lips pursed. Pauline recognized her as Elsie Smith, one of the other librarians. Mrs. Smith had been at the library as long as she could remember, and she had always been just as ancient-looking as she was now.

  “What are you doing?” Mrs. Smith asked. “The library doesn’t open until 9:00. We don’t open early. Ever.”

  “Doing? Oh. Oh, I’m Pauline Jameson, and I’ve just been hired on as librarian here. At the library.” She nodded, smiling.

  “Hired as librarian? Do you mean hired on as a librarian? Because there isn’t just one librarian here, surely you were informed of this.” She placed one boot-clad foot onto the first step, and with some effort, brought the other one up beside it. “There are three librarians here at the Riverton city library, four if you count Mr. Brantley, but we rarely do.” She chuckled to herself and brought the first foot up onto the next step.

  “Oh. Yes, of course. But I’m supposed to be here at 8:00 a.m., and the door is locked, and I’m not sure what to do. It’s almost 8:00 now.” She watched as Elsie slowly climbed the steps. She wanted to offer her a hand, but she didn’t know her well enough. And besides that, Mrs. Smith had always been the grumpy sort, and she didn’t want to make her angry.

  “Oh, well, in that case, you’ll be hearing about it from Mr. Brantley.” She chuckled again and finally made it to the top of the steps. “He likes his librarians to be here at least fifteen minutes early, so they don’t waste any time getting right to work.”

  Alarm seized Pauline. Had she angered her new employer on her first day? Without even trying?

  “How do I get inside?” she asked breathlessly.

  Elsie looked at her as if she were daft. “You could try knocking.” She reached a bony arm out and knocked on the glass door. Almost immediately, a woman came out of the backroom, keys in hand. Elsie turned to look at Pauline as if to say, I told you so.

  “I’m sorry. Thank you,” she muttered, looking away. Heat rushed to her cheeks, and she cleared her throat. Pauline recognized the woman with the keys as Madge McFee, one of the other librarians. If it were possible, she was more unfriendly than Mrs. Sm
ith.

  Madge McFee unlocked the door, pushing it open with both hands, and smiled at Elsie. “Good morning, Elsie,” she said and then looked at Pauline and sobered. “We aren’t open. You’ll have to come back later.”

  Elsie hobbled through the door, and before Madge could push the door closed, she said, “Apparently, she’s our new librarian.” She glanced at Pauline, looking her up and down, and then shook her head.

  Pauline forced herself to smile and introduced herself. “I’m Pauline Jameson. Pleased to meet you.” She held out her hand.

  Madge looked her up and down again. “Well. Your skirt is too short, and your shoes haven’t been polished. I don’t know what kind of library you think we run around here, but that will not do.”

  Pauline’s eyes went wide. Grabbing the waistband of her skirt, she tugged it down so that the hem covered her knees, and then she glanced at her shoes. Somehow there was a bit of dust on the toe of the right one. It must have happened when she went to get on her bike. “I’m sorry.” She rubbed her toe against the back of her left leg.

  “Oh, you will be.” Madge turned and stormed toward the back room that she had come out of, and Pauline grabbed the door before it could slam closed.

  She slipped inside and watched the two ladies’ receding backsides, and she felt a lump rise in her throat. What had she gotten herself into? The keys were still in the door lock, and she hesitated. The library wouldn’t be open for another hour. Surely they would want the door locked? Before she could worry about what to do, she quickly turned the key in the lock and withdrew it, then scurried to catch up with the other ladies.

  Mr. Brantley looked up when she followed the ladies into the room where he had previously conducted her interview. He was sitting behind an over-sized oak desk, paper in hand. Glancing at his watch, he frowned. “Miss Jameson, you are late.”

  She wanted to protest that it was still several minutes before her starting time of 8:00 a.m. but thought better of it. “I’m sorry. I’m afraid I forgot to ask you how I would get into the library in the morning. Since it wasn’t open.” The keys jingled in her hands as they nearly slipped through her fingers, drawing her attention back to them. She clutched them tighter.

  Mrs. McFee cleared her throat and held her hand out. “My keys?”

  “Oh, of course,” she said and handed them back.

  “I will not tolerate excuses, Miss Jameson. If you had had the foresight to ask, you wouldn’t have been late.”

  She nodded, feeling her cheeks get hot again. She hadn’t even known if she had the job at the time she had left the interview. “Yes, sir.”

  He studied her a moment, and then he nodded at the empty chair in front of his desk. She hurried over and sat obediently, just having time enough to glance at the young man sitting in the chair beside her. He smiled, and for a moment, she stared at him, then looked away, noticing the tip of her shoe was still dusty. She stuck her feet beneath the chair.

  Mr. Brantley cleared his throat. “Now then, as you may have noticed, we have a new librarian. The city decided that we needed another since the war is over, and the men will be coming home. Apparently, there will be a run on library books,” he said dryly.

  Pauline tried to find a spot on the floor to fix her gaze. She suddenly wondered if anyone wanted her here at this job, and if not, then why hire her?

  There were some announcements that Mr. Brantley, and then Mrs. McFee, made and she tried to follow along, but she didn’t understand some of the things they talked about, not having any library work experience. She wished she had thought to bring a notebook to take notes in.

  After Mr. Brantley said all he needed, he looked up at Pauline. “Will someone give Miss Jameson a tour of the facilities?”

  “Oh, I’ll do it,” the gentleman sitting next to her said.

  She turned to look at him, and he was smiling again. She smiled back and realized they hadn’t been introduced. He seemed friendly enough, and she thought perhaps there was one person that didn’t mind so much that she was here.

  “Very well,” Mr. Brantley said, frowning, and then dismissed them.

  “I’m Henry Townsend,” he said and stretched a hand out to shake hers.

  When he said his name, she realized that she did know him. Or rather, knew of him. He had gone to school with her, but he had been two years ahead of her. “Pauline Jameson. Pleased to meet you.”

  He nodded. “Why don’t I take you to the break room in the back, and then we’ll take a look at the library.”

  “Thank you for offering to show me around,” she said, getting to her feet.

  “It’s no trouble.”

  She followed him out of the room. Henry was tall, at least six feet, she thought, and he was thin. His dark curly hair looked as if it had recently been trimmed, and he wore gold-rimmed glasses that at first glance made him look older than he was.

  “Here we are,” he said, opening a door for her. “We have a table back here and a refrigerator. You can put your lunch in the refrigerator if you’d like.”

  She stepped inside the room. The refrigerator was small, but it would do if she ever brought her lunch with her. Her stomach suddenly growled, reminding her that she hadn’t eaten breakfast. She glanced at him, but he didn’t seem to notice.

  “Do you often bring your lunch?”

  He nodded. “Oh, yes. It’s easier that way. Now let’s take a walk around the library, shall we?”

  She nodded and followed him. She wanted to ask him how he liked working here. He seemed much friendlier than the others. “How long have you worked here?” she asked instead.

  He glanced over his shoulder. “Almost two years. It’s not a bad place to work, and you can read during the slower periods.” He smiled at her.

  “That sounds like my kind of job,” she said.

  He chuckled. “There’s the card catalog.” He pointed to the cabinet with small drawers that held the location files of all the books in the library. “And we’ll take a look at the various sections of the library stacks.”

  She didn’t bother telling him she had spent most of her childhood in this library and knew where everything else was. His tour gave her respite from the others, and his bright demeanor made her feel happier.

  Chapter Two

  “Pauline, how was your first day of work?” her mother asked when she came into the kitchen. Her parents had gone to their weekly card night at the neighbors’ the previous evening and had left as soon as she had returned home from work. She’d been exhausted and went to bed early and hadn’t had time to talk to her mother about how it had gone, other than to say it was good as they passed one another in the hall.

  Pauline smiled. “It was fine.” Her mother wanted to know more, and she wanted to say more, but she didn’t want to complain about Mr. Brantley, Elsie, or Madge. If it weren’t for Henry, she thought she might have changed her mind about working at the library.

  “Fine? How fine?” Her mother turned back to the stove and ran her spoon around the edge of the pan of scrambled eggs to keep them from sticking. “Will you be eating breakfast this morning?”

  “Yes, please,” she said and went to the refrigerator and removed the pitcher of orange juice that her mother had squeezed earlier. She had been starving by the time she left the library the day before, and she didn’t want a repeat of that. “And my day was good. I mostly observed and learned how they did things. It isn’t complicated, and I can read during the slow times.” That was the part she was looking forward to.

  “Well, I’m proud of you, Pauline. Your father is, too. Neither of us was on board with college when you first asked, but if you enjoy the job you’ve taken, then maybe it’s not so terrible.” She sighed and lowered the fire beneath the pan.

  Pauline nodded and got juice glasses down for the three of them and set them on the table. Howard, her older brother, had married this past June, and he had his own house with his wife now. She missed him, but he was just on the other side of town. Even tho
ugh a lot of women had taken on jobs during the war that men used to do, her parents had had their hearts set on her getting married soon after high school. College and a job were her idea.

  “Good morning,” her father said, coming into the kitchen and sitting down at the table. His newspaper was sitting beside his plate, and he picked it up, unfolding it.

  Pauline could smell his aftershave from across the room. “Good morning, Papa,” she said, and went to him and kissed his cheek, and then sat at her place across from him while her mother brought the eggs, bacon, and toast to the table.

  Her father looked at her. “How was the first day on the job?” John Jameson was a traditional man, and he had had to warm up to his daughter going to college and beginning a career. Standing in her way was the last thing he wanted to do, but in his mind, marriage and children would make her happiest.

  She smiled. “It was good,” she said, leaving it at that. She knew her father’s feelings about her working. He had hoped she would have found a husband before college, but barring that, he assumed she would find one while at college. But it hadn’t happened. And now she had a job. A dreaded job.

  She glanced at the clock and helped herself to the eggs and bacon.

  “Are you sure you want to do this?” he asked hesitantly.

  She forced herself to smile. “Of course, Papa. Working will be good for me.”

  It wasn’t that her parents were unsupportive, it was that they wanted the best for their only daughter. Pauline understood that. But she wanted her independence, and she intended to have it. It might take some wheedling and fancy footwork, but she would have it.

  ***

  “Hey! Pauline, wait up!” she heard someone call from behind her.

  She braked, and came to a stop, leaning the bike to the side as she looked over her shoulder and saw Henry pedaling furiously to catch up.

  “Good morning,” she said as he pulled alongside her.