“Okay. Who disliked him enough to kill him?”
Hannah grimaced. “Poor Tom. He was good at making people dislike him. I don’t know why.”
“Then where should I start?”
“Well, two places. I heard he had a fistfight with Junior Bradley, the zoning commissioner. They were childhood friends. Tom wouldn’t tell me why they fought.”
I’ll bet he wouldn’t tell her why. The girl adored him, and he would have shattered her view of him if he told her that he and his friend had come to blows over a stripper. I’d definitely have to check out that dancer and Junior Bradley. “And who else?”
“Well, you should probably consider Dinah Hooper.”
The name sounded familiar, but with all the locals I had been meeting, I was momentarily stumped. “Who is she?”
“She is . . . was . . . Rusty’s girlfriend. She works at Turner Construction. Her son, Dinty, worked there, too, but he left town some time back.”
“How is Dinah dealing with Rusty’s disappearance?”
Hannah looked pensive. She angled her face upward, and a ray of light shone in one of the few high windows in the dim library, catching her eyes, beaming brightly in the luminous gray depths. She was like a faery, sometimes fey, sometimes grave, looking like a child but speaking like a woman. I’ll admit, among the many characters of Autumn Vale, she fascinated me most.
“I feel sorry for her; I’d say she’s truly upset and worried. It’s difficult for her, I imagine. But . . . I won’t say anything else. You should talk to her yourself.”
“I will. Is Dinah Hooper in a position to inherit anything, now that Tom is gone, and Rusty probably, too?”
She didn’t flinch from the question, and in fact I could tell she had already considered it. “I don’t think so. She didn’t live with Rusty, and they weren’t married. If anything, I think it kind of exonerates her, you know? Because if she was out for money, it would have been better for her if Rusty had stuck around and married her.”
“The son, Dinty . . . when did he leave town? Before or after Rusty disappeared?”
“Uh, after. A few months, actually. Why?”
I shrugged. It could mean nothing at all, or it could have been guilt that sent the guy away. I didn’t know him, but I’d bet that Gordy and Zeke did. I’d have to tap into those two guys’ knowledge at some point. Should be easy if I used Shilo as a lure.
“I don’t care what happened to Rusty,” Hannah said, her fine-boned face holding a grim expression. “We’re trying to figure out who killed Tom, and why.”
“I know. I’m just trying to find my bearings. Could it all be tied up together?”
“I suppose.”
Shilo came back in to the library, a poorly hidden expression of excitement on her face.
“Shilo, this is Hannah,” I said. “Hannah, this is my best friend, Shilo.”
“Shilo . . . that means peaceful.”
“Bad name for me!” Shilo said with a laugh, plunking down in a chair by the librarian.
“You’re so beautiful,” Hannah said, gazing at her steadily. “You look how I always imagined Rebecca from Ivanhoe would look.” She reached out and touched Shilo’s long, dark hair. She fingered the curled locks with a wistful look. Her own hair was thin and mousy, lying flat on her narrow skull, parting around her ears like a stream around a rock.
“And you make me think of the pixies,” Shilo said, touching Hannah’s hand gently. “I believed in pixies when I was a kid. I played with them, out in the forest. Always my favorite faery folk.”
I could see they would be friends, each a little odd, each willing to say exactly what she thought. Hannah nodded, as if reading my mind.
“I saw Jack McGill,” Shilo said, her eyes sparkling, as she turned back to me.
“McGill?” Hannah said.
I whirled around and looked at Hannah. “You call him McGill, too?” I said.
“Sure,” Hannah replied. “Jack is too common a name for him.”
“I know. Even though he is a Jack-of-all-trades, in a sense. He’s filling in the holes that Tom dug.” That sobered me, bringing me back to Tom’s death. I could see it had affected Hannah similarly. “How did you happen across him, Shi? What did McGill have to say for himself?”
“Well, he was showing an empty storefront to a prospective tenant. The tenant was Dinah Hooper.”
“Dinah Hooper?” Once you hear a name, I thought, you just keep hearing it! “Rusty Turner’s girlfriend. Why would she be renting out a storefront?”
“He wouldn’t tell me,” Shilo said. “But it’s interesting, right?”
I chewed my lip. It was certainly interesting.
There was probably more I could have asked Hannah, but a local library patron came in, an odd woman, heavyset and with a determined frown; she wore a red hat and purple dress, and pushed a rolling walker along the shelves, but didn’t seem to depend upon it for support. She grabbed books as she went, tossing them into the basket of her walker.
“Hey, do you take book donations?” I asked.
“We do!” Hannah said, luminous eyes glowing. “Do you have any?”
“I sure do. I have my mother’s books, which have been in storage since she died; a lot of classics and poetry. I also have my grandmother’s. She favored kids’ books and classic mysteries. Lots of hardback Agatha Christie novels. All my boxes are coming from storage, and I could sure use a home for the books . . . that’s if they’re in good shape. They should be. Can you use them?”
“We definitely can. Whatever we can’t use, we sell to raise money at the annual Autumn Vale Harvest Sale.” Her smile died. “Tom always takes the books to the auditorium for me.” Tears welled up.
“I bet Jack would help out with that,” Shilo said softly, smiling down at Hannah.
The girl brightened just a shade. “Do you think so?”
“You know he will,” Shilo answered. “He seems to be very civic-minded, and the book sale . . . I’m sure lots of folks count on that every year.”
Hannah colored faintly and nodded. “Thank you.”
I told Hannah I’d be back another day, and she said she was often at Golden Acres for their Book Hour. She took in coffee table–type books for some of the old folks to look over and reminisce about. She was something of an amateur historian, it seemed, and talked to the oldsters about their early years in Autumn Vale and made up trivia games. She had heard about the muffins I was supplying, she informed me, and approved.
“I like muffins,” she said. “Take the book I gave you; it will give you some information on Wynter Castle. And come back in and check out more of the local history books sometime.”
As Shilo and I left, the purple-dressed woman eyed us covertly, using the brim of her red hat to shield her interest. Not very successfully, I might say. “Maybe I’ll see you at Golden Acres, then, or I’ll come back here!” I said as I waved good-bye to Hannah.
As we emerged out to the main street, I felt like I’d just left a dream. Hannah was an odd, little creature, full to the brim with emotion and tremulous longing. I wondered how hard that would be, to have people dismiss you because of your stature or disability when inside you were an adult woman, yearning for love. But she filled the library with her personality, making a gray, dull interior into a faery land.
“Do you want to see the store Dinah Hooper was looking to rent?” Shilo asked.
Tucking the book into my voluminous bag, I replied, “Yes! I do.” I didn’t know Dinah Hooper, and so couldn’t conclude that she had anything to do with Tom’s murder on my property. I was grasping at straws, but it was worth a look.
We strolled along the main street, as I tried to get used to being stared at. It was natural, I suppose; I was a stranger, and the owner of a notorious plot of land. I was a Wynter. But a local had also been murdered on my property, after vandalizing it repeatedly. I smiled and nodded at those who met my eyes, and ignored those who didn’t.