Connecting Rooms(18)
Author: Jayne Ann Krentz

Enthusiastic applause broke out from the large crowd gathered in the library. Madeline Villantry smiled graciously from the lectern.

Owen leaned toward Amy, who was standing next to him in the throng. “You get the feeling she really means all that talk about progress and literacy?”

“Yes, I do,” Amy said resolutely. “I know she looks like she’s trying out for the role of Queen of Villantry, but Aunt Bernice and Arthur believe that Madeline is honestly committed to this town’s welfare. I think they’re right.”

“Maybe. But I’m not so sure about Raymond Junior over there. I have a hunch he’s not the altruistic sort.”

“I won’t argue that point.” Amy scrutinized Raymond, who was following his mother down from the small speaker’s stand. “But who knows? Maybe he’ll learn.”

“I won’t hold my breath.” Owen stopped clapping. He kept his eyes on the door of the men’s room as the crowd broke up and began to mill around.

Amy stood on tiptoe in an effort to see over the heads of the people swarming in front of her. “What’s happening?”

“Crabshaw went inside the men’s room a few minutes ago. He just came back out. Now he’s headed outside to join your aunt at the punch table.”

“Darn, I can’t see a thing.”

“I can,” Owen assured her.

There had been a light but steady stream of males coming and going through the swinging men’s room door during the past hour. Tredgett, the janitor, had been busy as he made a heroic effort to keep up with the demands that had been placed upon the facilities. As Owen watched. Tredgett emerged from the women’s room, removed the small sign he had temporarily placed in the doorway, and wheeled his bucket and mop next door to the men’s room.

Raymond Junior followed the janitor inside.

Amy peered at Owen. “So? What do you see?”

“Someone who’s bent on cleaning up,” Owen said softly.

“What the heck does that mean?”

“It means that this case is almost concluded.” He gave her a repressive look, aware that he had to be forceful and authoritative if he wanted Amy to follow orders. She didn’t seem to take them any better than he did. “Wait right here. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

Amy’s eyes widened. “Where are you going? Did you spot the blackmailer?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll come with you.”

“No, you will not. You will do as you’re told. I’m not taking any more chances with your neck.”

“But, Owen, what can possibly happen here?”

“That’s what I said to myself last night when we made that little detour behind the library,” he muttered. “Stay put.”

Without glancing over his shoulder to see if Amy had obeyed him, Owen slipped away from her side and began to ease through the crowd. The conversations ebbed and flowed around him.

In a few minutes it would all be over, Owen thought as he made his way toward the men’s room. The identity of the blackmailer was obvious. It should have been from the beginning, but Owen admitted to himself that he’d been distracted by more personal considerations.

It was time to confront the culprit, wrap up the case, and get back to worrying about the more important dilemma he faced. Nabbing a blackmailer was simple compared with the problem of trying to figure out if Amy loved him.

He’d been sweating that out since he had awakened to an empty bed this morning. His initial response to the discovery that Amy was not lying beside him had been a surge of emotion that he knew came very close to something that could be labeled fear. For a terrible instant his sleep-fogged brain had registered an anguished sense of loss. Amy was gone.

Reality had returned with the sound of the shower in her room. She had not left him in the middle of the night. She had merely risen to take her morning bath.

Owen had taken a deep breath and regained his usually unshakable sense of control. But he had not been able to shake the memory of the unnerving sensation he had experienced when he had found himself alone in the bed.

The door of the men’s room swung open. Raymond Junior strolled out. He paused for a moment to search the crowd. His gaze fell on Owen. He nodded sternly and then turned to walk toward the knot of people gathered around his mother.

Owen propped one shoulder against the wall and watched the swinging door. He did not have to wait long. It soon opened again.

Tredgett, the janitor, emerged, dragging his bucket behind him. Without looking at anyone, he trundled off toward a door at the far side of the central gallery.

Owen followed at a leisurely pace. When he reached the door, he went through it quietly. He found himself in a dimly lit storage room. Stacks of aging magazines and newspapers lined one wall. The shelves on the opposite wall were filled with dusty books that looked as if they were awaiting repair.

There was no sign of the janitor, but a sliver of light gleamed beneath a closed closet door. Owen smiled humorlessly. He went toward the closet and opened the door. He found himself gazing into a small space filled with mops, sponges, and other assorted janitorial equipment.

Tredgett was inside the closet. He was busy counting the bills he had just removed from a plain white envelope. He jumped at the sight of Owen.

“Busy day,” Owen observed.

Panic and rage lit Tredgett’s eyes. He clutched the money in one fist. “Damn you,” he whispered. “Who the hell are you, anyway? Why have you been nosing around in my business?”

“I’m the naturally curious type.”

Tredgett’s face worked furiously. “Bastard. I warned you last night. If you and your lady friend think I’m going to share this money with you, you’re crazy.”

“The janitor,” Amy murmured from the shadows behind Owen. “Of course. The one man who is always going in and out of restrooms.”

Owen groaned. “Amy, I told you to wait outside.”

“I couldn’t let you finish this alone.”

Tredgett’s desperate gaze shifted wildly from Owen to Amy and back again. “Leave me alone or I’ll tell all.” He picked up a jar of cleaning solvent and hurled it at Owen.

Owen easily sidestepped the jar. Unfortunately, in the process, he collided with Amy, who had come up behind him. She yelped as she fetched up against a row of metal bookshelves. The shelves shuddered beneath the impact. Several tattered volumes cascaded down from the top shelf.

Owen whirled around at the sound of the toppling books. “Amy, look out.”