See Also Murder by Larry D. Sweazy Read Free Book Online Page A

faith as a Christian man, a devout believer, who had attended church every Sunday.
    My eyes began to burn, and I looked at my watch. Time had slipped away, and if I didn’t leave right away I’d be late for my appointment with Raymond. He hated tardiness more than I did.
    My reflexes told me to stand up, tell Calla good-bye, and exit the library as quickly as I could, but another sense told me to stay seated.
    I felt a set of eyes staring at me, on the back of my neck, and I caught sight of the shadow of a man standing in wait as I arranged my things to leave.
    I took a deep breath and looked over my shoulder. Herbert Frakes was staring at me from an odd vantage point, stuffed in an alcove like he had been sent there as a punishment.
    I jumped with a start.
    When I made eye contact with him, his left shoulder twitched and he looked to the floor, just like he always did. But the glance downward didn’t last. Herbert stepped toward me, his arms to his side, his eyes—almost black in the shadows—focused straight on me.
    Out of instinct, I stood and grabbed up my purse. The look in Herbert’s eyes concerned me. My purse was the only weapon I had if I needed to defend myself. I had never felt threatened by the janitor’s presence, but I did now.
    â€œYou startled me, Herbert,” I said, in a little louder voice than normal, in hopes that Calla was within hearing range.
    He stopped about four feet from me, lowered his head, and looked away. The twitch had stopped. “Sorry, Miss Marjorie, I didn’t mean to scare you.”
    â€œIt’s okay.” I relaxed a little bit and thought for a second that I might have been overreacting—but I still held a tight grip on my purse. I was on edge. Had been ever since Hilo had come to give me the bad news and left me with the amulet.
    Herbert Frakes was a gentle soul shattered by the war. I felt a little ashamed of myself for thinking he might hurt me in the one place I was sure that we both felt safe.
    â€œShe had a cousin like me, you know?” Herbert said.
    â€œWho had a cousin?”
    â€œThe dead one.”
    I was uncomfortable all over again. His tone was odd. I looked past Herbert, hoping to catch a glimpse of Calla, but I saw nothing but an empty desk at the front of the library. “Lida Knudsen?” I asked.
    Herbert nodded his head yes.
    â€œI didn’t know that,” I said. Which was true. Lida had never had reason to mention some errant cousin. We’d never talked much about our distant families.
    â€œWas in my unit,” Herbert said. “Hurt the same day as me. D-Day. We was green as a bushel of spring apples.”
    I nodded again. “You think he had something to do with what you read in the paper?” It was an assumption on my part. Truth was, I didn’t know if Herbert could even read. I tried to think if I had ever seen him with a book, and I couldn’t remember a time when I had. I was tempted to show Herbert the amulet, but I restrained myself. Hilo’d told me not to.
    Herbert shrugged. “Don’t know. He moved to St. Paul after we came back. Never seen or heard from him since.” He never looked up from the floor. “Just thought you should know since you was looking for answers.” He turned and started to walk away.
    â€œHerbert?”
    He stopped. “Yes, Miss Marjorie?”
    â€œYou should tell Hilo about him if you think it’s important.”
    â€œSheriff knows. They was best friends when they were boys,” Herbert said, then looked up at me like he wanted to say something else but couldn’t find the words.
    Instead, he hurried off, leaving me standing there alone in a tomb of books with a bit of information that I didn’t quite know how to organize.

CHAPTER 7
    I left the library drained. I sat in the Studebaker and tried to gather my thoughts for a long minute; a minute that I didn’t have to spare.
    The sounds of Dickinson