Checked Out

Chapter One-3

It looked like my challenge today was going to be Zelda. I was getting my mail at the end of my driveway and she suddenly materialized from the other side of a bush.

“There you are!” she said with her gravelly voice. I jumped.

“Ms. Smith!” I said in an accusatory voice. “You scared the living daylights out of me.”

“Sorry,” she said, although the glint in her eyes told me she was anything but. “I have a really tough time catching you at home.”

“That’s because I’m rarely here,” I said, trying to keep my tone light. “Usually, I’m at the library. I’ve mentioned this before. You’re more than welcome to find me at work if you need to.”

Zelda made a face. “I don’t read.”

I said politely, “There are many other reasons to come to the library. We have great study areas. And you can also check out music or stream movies from our website. Or even take a class. We have some interesting options coming up. I’d be happy to sit down with you and show you all the different ways you can use the library. There are some fantastic services.”

I could never seem to help myself from being an evangelist for the library. I could tell, though, my propaganda was not having the desired result. In fact, Zelda now appeared even less inclined to visit.

“I’m all right, but thanks,” she said in a completely disinterested voice. “What I really wanted to talk to you about was the homeowner association.”

Apparently, Zelda’s entire mission in life was to pressure me to be on the neighborhood homeowner association board.

This, however, was not in line with my own plans. If I didn’t even have time to plant a vegetable garden, I certainly didn’t have time to serve on our homeowner board. Plus, I’d had several neighbors complain to me about the board and their intrusive policies.

Everyone was fine with many of their rules: rolling the trash and recycling bins back after collection and not allowing the yards to get too out of hand. But they also ruled on homeowner construction . . . whether they were allowed to put up a deck or a porch or even a backyard treehouse. That seemed to rile up my neighbors and was another reason why I didn’t want to have a spot on the board.

“I think we’ve already discussed it, Ms. Smith. I appreciate all the work the board does, but it deserves to have a member who has the time to do a really excellent job. I simply don’t have that kind of time. I’m frequently working both at night and on the weekends. And I don’t take on anything unless I know I’ll do a great job.”

Zelda Smith narrowed her eyes. “It’s your turn, Ann. Your late aunt, God bless her soul, was a legend on the board. Such a gift she had! I know she would want you to take a turn.”

The mention of my aunt was something of a low blow. “I don’t think she’d have wanted me to lose all of my meager free time, Ms. Smith. I wish I could talk longer about this, but I’m afraid I need to go.” I hesitated. As a librarian, my single focus was always helping people. It was very, very hard for someone to ask for help with something and me not provide it. I said slowly, “There’s a new neighbor on our street. I don’t know his name, but maybe he’d be interested in being on the board.”

“That young man?” Zelda’s expression indicated what she thought of youth in general. It also showed she didn’t really consider me as being part of that group, although I was pretty sure he and I were about the same age. “Someone told me he was a radio DJ.” She spat out the words as if music was potentially poisonous.

“I don’t know him,” I added quickly. “I only thought perhaps he was worth contacting.” I pulled out my key and headed to my front door with determination. “See you soon, Ms. Smith.”

I unlocked the front door and pushed it open with a relieved sigh, turning on a few lights as I came in. The cheerful interior never ceased to make me smile with its overstuffed gingham chairs and sofa, the multicolored scatter rugs, and the book-lined walls.

I opted for a quick shower, mostly to feel warm again finally after being out in the rain and drain water for so long. I put on a pair of black slacks and a gray three-quarter sleeve top. I pulled my black hair back into a loose ponytail, put in some small silver hoop earrings, and put on the gold locket I always wore. It looked like I was about to head back to work, but I wanted to wear something conservative for this date my patron had set me up on. I wasn’t planning on being encouraging, despite Wilson’s reminders to keep an open mind. At least there was one good thing; the rain had finally stopped.

I couldn’t help but sigh as I climbed back into my car. It would have been so nice to stay at home, pull on loose-fitting yoga clothes, warm up some leftovers from last night, and finish reading The Alchemist, which somehow, I’d never gotten around to reading. Then I told myself to get a grip. It was one date and it would make Emily very happy. Besides, my date was probably just as reluctant as I was. Maybe it would be something he and I would even laugh over. I tried to remember his name. Roger. Roger Walton. I said it under my breath a couple of times to make sure it set in my brain.

One thing I thought was odd was that he’d invited me over to his house for supper. In my long and disaster-ridden dating experience, I’d definitely learned one thing: meeting for coffee or lunch was safest. It was quick enough that you didn’t feel trapped, but long enough to give you some sort of impression of the person you were with. This made me wonder if Roger hadn’t been part of the dating scene for very long. Maybe he was recently divorced or had just ended a long-term relationship. His great-aunt Emily definitely hadn’t provided many clues.

I pulled up in front of a large house with a manicured yard. It looked like one of those lots where they put a huge house on top of two small lots. The sun was trying to peek out from the clouds, and I could see purples and pinks of an approaching sunset over the mountain peaks. I got out of the car, smoothing down my clothes and the wayward hairs from my ponytail. I sighed as I walked down the front walk. Emily had meant well, and it was really sweet that she’d wanted to set the two of us up. But I could never figure out why everyone was so determined to force single people into pairs. Taking a deep breath, I rang the doorbell, a few butterflies in my stomach. And waited.

After a minute had passed, I hesitantly rang the bell again. I didn’t want to sound frantic to get in and start this date, but it was the appointed time we’d agreed on. Wasn’t it? I frowned and checked my phone to re-read the text thread in case I’d lost my mind. But there it was . . . six o’clock. At his house.

Maybe the doorbell wasn’t working. I rapped at the door a minute or two later, shifting uncomfortably on my feet and starting to feel foolish standing at his door for so long.

Then I sniffed the air. Did I smell charcoal? Maybe Roger was planning a cookout and had neglected to tell me simply to walk around to the backyard. At any rate, he definitely wasn’t answering the door, so I decided to try the backyard.

When I circled around to the back, squelching through the muddy lawn, I saw a barbeque grill smoking . . . and the body of my date on the ground beside it, a skewer through his neck.