Jeanne Glidewell - Lexie Starr 05 - Just Ducky by Jeanne Glidewell Read Free Book Online

a sign to hang on the library door, which read, Closed until further notice.
    This was an ominous beginning to my “tranquil” time working at the library. It suddenly occurred to me even my job was up in the air now. If the library were allowed to open again in the near future, would Stone be agreeable to me working there after what had just taken place? Did I ever even want to enter this building again?
    Thinking back to the joke Ducky had told the day before about ‘books regarding committing suicide’ sent a chill up my spine. Little did I know she would be suspected of doing that exact thing just hours later. However, I refused to accept the idea that Ducky might have taken her own life. This did not even seem to be within the realm of possibility to me, and I intended to press that point to Detective Johnston when I got the chance.
    I suddenly had the overwhelming desire to go home and consume an entire pot of strong coffee while I ruminated over the bone-chilling events of the morning.

 
     
     
    Chapter 5

     
    “Are you doing okay? I’m totally stunned, so you must be absolutely blown away by what awaited you at the library this morning.” While Stone spoke, he lovingly caressed my back as I sat hunched over the kitchen table in quiet disbelief.
    I was comforted by the touch and words from my husband of just over five months. When I couldn’t form a verbal response, I shook my head and wiped a tear off my cheek that had just escaped from my overflowing eyes. I was not normally highly emotional, but I’d just met the deceased, and was beginning to bond with her. I felt it was a very unfortunate way for one’s life to end, just a couple of days before a long-awaited retirement. I still believed her fate had been at the hands of another individual, and not a decision Ducky had made for herself.
    I was having trouble wrapping my head around the very idea Ducky might have decided to end it all by hanging herself from the rafters after I’d left the building the previous evening. Was I being naïve by denying it was even possible? Did I just not want to believe she could do such a thing, despite the fact that every piece of evidence indicated she had? It was not unheard of for me to bury my head in the sand when I didn’t want to face the truth.
    Ducky could be crotchety and disagreeable much of the time, but my thoughts kept slipping back to how impassioned she was when telling me of her plans for the future. Would someone who had just expressed a desire to spend her coming days gardening and jumping out of perfectly good airplanes, suddenly decide that life was not worth living? I didn’t think it was likely. Just as I was about to share these thoughts with Stone, Detective Johnston entered through the back door and strode into the kitchen.
    “Hey, Wyatt,” Stone said, as the detective pulled his favorite chair out from under the table and took a seat. He had long ago adopted the chair, which allowed him to sit with his back to the wall, a cop habit thoroughly ingrained in him.
    “Hi guys,” Wyatt replied in greeting.
    Like Stone, Wyatt’s first order of business was to ask how I was faring. I assured him I was all right, but very shocked and dismayed at the untimely death of Bertha Duckworthy. “I can’t help but think that under the circumstances, if her death turns out to be something other than a suicide, I will be the prime suspect. Am I right?”
    In response to my question, Wyatt reached out and patted my trembling hand that was resting atop the table. “Relax. I don’t think that will be an issue, Lexie. Her death has been unofficially classified as a suicide. We’re still waiting for the results of the autopsy, of course. I believe Wendy said it would be performed this afternoon. Right after you left, a suicide note was found. Apparently, after you left the library last night, Ducky typed out a short note, certainly not a manifesto or anything of that nature. Then she printed it off and