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Story: Lament at Loon Landing
Jack’s brows drew together. “It sure as hell needs to be.”
“No, Imean—what I’m getting at it is, I don’t think the person who sent these threats to Lara is behind her accidents. There might be something prosecutable here—” Catching Jack’s eye, Ellery amended, “I’msurethis is something prosecutable here, but it isn’t attempted murder.” Jack started to reply, and Ellery added quickly, “ButI also don’t think Lara’s accidents are accidents. I think someone’s definitely trying to kill her.”
Jack studied him, said—and it was not a question, “The husband.”
“Too obvious?”
“It’s only the least likely suspect in books and movies.”
“Well, it could be the sister. I lean toward the husband. But actually, right now, I’m just dealing with the writer of these letters. And I think I know who it is.”
“Who?”
“Imelda Appleby.”
Jack blinked. “The receptionist at Vincent Veterinary Hospital?”
“Yes.”
“Have you ever had any problems with Imelda?”
“No. None. Never. She’s always very pleasant. Actually, she’s a really good customer.”
“Has Lara ever had any problems with Imelda?”
“She’d never even heard of Imelda.”
“Then why…”
“I don’t know.” Ellery shook his head. “No clue.”
“Then why do you think Imelda is sending you death threats?”
“I guess she doesn’t like me.”
“Right,” Jack said patiently. “What is thebasisfor your belief that Imelda is the one leaving you death threats?”
“Oh. She dropped off a box of used paperback books late Friday. Then Saturday morning, I found this envelope at the bottom of Rupert’s case. I forgot about it until this morning, but then, when I started thinking about it, I realized that these letters always seem to show up after Imelda’s been by the store.”
Jack looked less impressed than Ellery had hoped. “You’re sayingeverytime Imelda visits the store—”
“No. But—I think—every time a letter is left, Imelda has visited the store.”
Jack opened his mouth to point out all the obvious flaws in this sort of deductive reasoning, but Ellery said triumphantly, “Plus, she was caught on the security cameras.”
That clearly startled Jack. Ellery smiled. “You can see for yourself. I emailed you the CCTV footage.”
Without a word, Jack turned back to his computer monitor, and checked his email. A couple of clicks later, he murmured, “So you did.”
Ellery waited, doing his best to remain patient, as Jack downloaded the video and opened the file. “You’ll want to start watching around timestamp four forty-five.”
Jack wheeled his chair to the side so Ellery could watch with him. Ellery couldn’t help thinking that the a.m. scents of coffee and shower gel were especially appealing on Jack.
“Here’s where I leave to go meet you for dinner,” he commented.
They watched his tall figure walk through the bookshop. He paused at the door, called something to Nora, who was out of frame, stooped to pat Watson, and stepped out of the grainy video.
Watson threw his head back and began to soundlessly bark.
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