I quickly sent a pic to Amy as Ian and I walked away.
“Books, second floor, blue room, I’m going to head there,” Ian said.
“I’m going to browse down here. I’ll join you in a few.”
“Take your time. I’m in no hurry,” he said yet hurried off eager to hunt through the books.
“Pepper, I haven’t seen you in some time.”
I smiled when I saw Ken Bradley headed my way. He owned Willow Lake Barbershop and, at seventy-five, just recently semi-retired. His daughter Fran now worked and ran the family business. She had recently done a remodel on the barbershop, blending the old and the new beautifully together, and business from what I’d heard was booming.
“Hi, Mr. Bradley, are you enjoying being semi-retired?”
“Better than expected. I thought I might be bored, but I’ve found I’m quite enjoying myself and might fully retire. I’m glad I ran into you. I wanted to tell you that your blog on the multi-pocketed vests worked wonders for me. I never thought of one for when I gardened, and now I can’t do without it. And I always look forward to getting your newsletter. Did some small prepping for myself and it saves me trips to the grocery store.”
“I’m so happy to hear that,” I said, surprised and pleased.
“I heard about Travis Rodgers’s body being found, such a shock after all these years. Everyone thought he killed Rita and it seems now that he was innocent.”
I took the opportunity to see what he recalled about the murder if anything. “Did you think Travis was guilty?”
“With everything that was being reported, it seemed the most logical conclusion.”
There was a hesitancy in his voice that had me asking, “Did you think differently?”
“It was common knowledge that Travis could be a hothead, but,”—he shook his head—“maybe I saw it or maybe it was what I wanted to believe, but when I saw him with Rita, you could see he loved that girl.”
“There were rumors he abused her.”
“So I heard, but I often wondered if it could have been someone else, someone in her family,” he suggested.
“From what I’ve heard Rita had good parents, though they divorced about a year after the murder, and both moved away. But that’s not unusual after losing a child in such a horrific fashion.”
“True. I suppose I’m a sucker for the underdog. Travis didn’t have it easy, his father a raging alcoholic and a mother who deserted them both. I guess I wanted to believe he had a chance with Rita at a possible better life. I have no doubt the mystery will be solved after all these years. Your dad was a young rookie back then and now he has thirty-five years of experience on the force. With all the new advanced techniques in crime-solving, I’m sure your dad will find the answer and put this murder to rest.”
After speaking with Mr. Bradley, I realized that I had failed to start in the right place… with the victims. I needed to learn more about them, more than was learned thirty-five years ago. It just might prove helpful in whittling down the suspect list to a reasonable few.
I browsed and found a few old and different sized milk bottles, which I use as vases throughout the house for flowers. The small ones I keep fresh-cut herbs in for quick use. I left them with Kate while I went to find Ian.
I smiled when I saw the stack of books he had piled on one of the tables in the large room that at one time probably served as a bedroom. He had an even larger stack of DVDs.
“Films, lots of old ones,” he said and held one up.
My eyes went wide, and I hurried to him. “The Uninvited with Ray Milland and Ruth Hussy. I love that movie.”
“Wait until Amy sees the room dedicated to nothing but romance books. She’ll never leave here,” Ian said.
We did some more browsing. I found a couple of old cookbooks that interested me and a garden book as well.
“I’m going to take this pile down to Kate,” Ian said. “Is she holding anything for you?”
I nodded. “Milk bottles.”
“I thought we’d finish up here and head back to your place and work on the case for a while, then grab lunch and get back to work in the library if that suits you.”
“Perfect,” I said, figuring I’d tell him about meeting Mr. Bradley and what I thought we needed to do once we got to my place. “I’m going to take a peek at the romance room. I’ll be down in a few.”
I stood stunned, looking at the room. The walls were covered in bookcases, the shelves stocked full. A comfortable chintz sofa with two overstuffed chairs facing it and a coffee table between them sat in the middle of the room, beckoning visitors to sit and enjoy. Low stacks of books sat on the coffee table and side tables while low lighting provided romantic ambiance though lighting over the bookcases allowed for easy browsing. Amy was going to spend hours here.