Connecting Rooms(10)
Author: Jayne Ann Krentz

“He’s leaving the magazine rack. Don’t let him see you.”

“Why not?”

“Because we want to keep an eye on him. We need to find out where he’s going.”

“I think he’s headed for the men’s room,” Owen said.

“Oh.”

Owen rested one arm over the back of the hard wooden library chair and watched Arthur Crabshaw disappear into the men’s restroom. Amy looked severely disappointed.

“Cheer up,” Owen said. “Maybe he’ll do something really suspicious when he comes out of the john.”

“You think this is amusing, don’t you.”

“I think you’re overreacting,” he said gently. “Why are you so determined to prove that Arthur Crabshaw is up to no good?”

“I told you, I don’t want him to take advantage of Aunt Bernice.”

“Just because he happened to return to Villantry a few months after your uncle died doesn’t mean he’s out to marry Bernice for her money.”

“I still say the timing is very suspect. Be careful, he’s coming out.”

Owen dutifully retreated a little farther behind the shelter of the microfilm reader. Arthur Crabshaw emerged from the men’s room and headed swiftly toward the front door of the library.

“He seems to be in a big hurry all of a sudden,” Amy observed.

Owen chewed on that for a while. He hated to admit it, but there was something about Crabshaw’s behavior this morning that was at odds with the genial man who had entertained them at dinner last night. Whatever it was, it reminded Owen of the look that had been in Crabshaw’s eyes last night when he had chatted with Madeline Villantry.

Owen reached a decision.

“Wait here, I’ll be right back.”

He got to his feet and walked casually toward the men’s room. He passed the three elderly men bent over their financial papers. None of them bothered to look up from the stock market listings. The janitor, whose name tag read E. TREDGETT, had finished mopping the women’s room. He started off toward the new wing with his clanking wheeled bucket.

Raymond suddenly emerged from the conference room, apparently intent on heading toward the restroom. He walked out just as the janitor went past the door. The toe of Villantry’s Italian leather shoe struck the bucket. Sudsy water sloshed over the edge.

“Damn it, Eugene, watch where you’re going.”

“Sorry, sir.” Eugene Tredgett seemed to fold in on himself. He hurriedly used his mop to clean up the spill.

Raymond appeared to realize that Owen was watching the small incident. He scowled and then apparently changed his mind about his destination. With a disgusted shrug, he turned back into the conference room and closed the door.

Owen gave the janitor a sympathetic smile. Tredgett acknowledged it with a wan nod and trundled off with his bucket and mop.

Owen went through the swinging door of the men’s room.

The gleaming, white-tiled facility was empty. Owen dismissed the two urinals with a glance and then considered the two stalls. Amy would never forgive him if he didn’t make a thorough search of the premises.

He walked into the first cubicle and lifted the tank lid. There was nothing inside the tank except water and the usual float-ball assembly.

He went into the second stall and tried again.

A sealed envelope was taped beneath the lid.

Chapter 5

“Take it easy, Amy,” Owen said. “Calm down. This may have nothing to do with Crabshaw. I need time to think. I’ve got to get more information before I can decide what to do next.”

Amy scowled at him across the picnic table. It wasn’t easy. Every time she looked at Owen a flood of memories washed over her. She could still feel the heat of his mouth on hers. She was certain that his arms had left permanent impressions on her body. But his stubbornly slow, methodical approach to his work was going to drive her crazy.

“Are you nuts?” she demanded. “It’s got everything to do with Crabshaw. There’s a thousand dollars inside that envelope and Crabshaw was the last man to go into that restroom before you. He must have been the one who left the money under the tank lid.”

“It could have been left by someone earlier this morning.”

“Hah. What are the odds?”

“Okay,” he muttered, “I’ll grant you that a coincidence like this is something of a long shot.”

“That’s putting it mildly.” Amy threw up her hands, exasperated. “Who else would have left that money inside a toilet tank? I think it’s safe to say that there aren’t that many people here in Villantry who could come up with that kind of cash.”

“Amy, that envelope could have been taped inside the lid at any time during the past week, or even the past month. Hell, it could have been left there sometime during the past year, for all we know. No one checks the inside of a toilet tank unless the toilet acts up.”

“You’re going to be difficult about this, aren’t you.”

“I’m going to be careful. Methodical. I’m going to take it one step at a time. That’s the way I do things, Amy.”

“Hmm.” Amy folded her arms on the picnic table and glumly surveyed Villantry Park. She and Owen had come here to discuss their next move, but so far all they had done was argue about it.

They were seated at a table located near a magnificent mass of rhododendron bushes. The stately Raymond C. Villantry Memorial Public Library was at the far end of the park. The Villantry Inn was on the opposite side. There was a bandstand in the center.

A pond, complete with ducks and a couple of geese, added eye appeal to the attractive setting. Banners announcing fireworks hung over the entrance of the park.

Amy was frustrated by Owen’s approach to this startling new development in the case. On the other hand, she had to admit that he was the expert.

“All right. Hypothetically speaking,” she said, making an effort to sound reasonable, “what sort of scenario do we construct to explain that envelope you found?”

Owen raised one black brow. “Hypothetically speaking, I’d say that it looks as if Arthur Crabshaw is being blackmailed.”

“Blackmail.” Amy tasted the word with a sense of dreadful wonder. “Holy cow.”

Owen fingered the envelope in his hand. “It’s conceivable that he’s been told to leave the money in the men’s room of the library. Think about it. Anyone can go into a public library at any time when it’s open. A person can hang around for hours, a whole day even, without anyone taking much notice. The victim can leave the money at any time. The blackmailer can pick up the payoff whenever he feels like it.”