Trudy's Diary Read online

  TRUDY’S DIARY

  A Libraries of the World Mystery: Book One

  Amy M. Reade

  Pau Hana Publishing

  Copyright © 2019 by Amy M. Reade.

  Cover design by http://www.StunningBookCovers.com

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.

  Pau Hana Publishing

  Print ISBN: 978-1-7326907-2-1

  Ebook ISBN: 978-1-7326907-3-8

  Printed in the United States of America

  Contents

  Acknowledgments

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Chapter 52

  Chapter 53

  Chapter 54

  Chapter 55

  Chapter 56

  Chapter 57

  Chapter 58

  Chapter 59

  Chapter 60

  Chapter 61

  Chapter 62

  Chapter 63

  Chapter 64

  Preview of DUTCH TREAT

  Newsletter Sign-Up

  About the Author

  For Rich Thompson,

  who always knew whodunit

  Acknowledgments

  This book has been a long time in the making, and there are several people who were instrumental in helping me bring it to publication. As always, I’d like to thank my husband, John, who is my first reader.

  My editor, Jeni Chappelle, also deserves a big thank-you for her advice and recommendations, all of which were invaluable in making this a much better book.

  I would also like to thank the DiMarco Family of Ocean City, New Jersey, for their support of the Ocean City High School Drama Club. The DiMarcos won the opportunity to name a character in one of my upcoming novels. Gabriella DiMarco chose the names Gertrude (“Trudy”) and Grover, both of whom have prominent roles in the book.

  Finally, I owe a debt of gratitude to Amanda Zimmerman, a Rare Book librarian at the Library of Congress in Washington, DC. Amanda was very helpful in my research into the library’s dime novel collection.

  Prologue

  Daisy Carruthers left New York City because of a murder investigation.

  When her boyfriend, Dean Snyder, fell from their ninth-floor balcony to the deserted Brooklyn sidewalk below late one evening the previous year, it was Daisy who had been named the prime suspect in his death. It was Daisy who spent the better part of a year trying to clear her name, trying to get people to stop thinking of her as a ruthless criminal, trying to get everyone to understand that Dean’s tragic fall had been accidental.

  Trying, most of all, to grieve the loss of someone she had loved so completely.

  As long as she was a suspect, she couldn’t move away from the city, couldn’t start fresh. She couldn’t bear the thought that she might be remembered as a black widow of sorts, killing her mate so she could continue life unencumbered by a weighty relationship.

  But the day came when a witness stepped forward to confirm what Daisy had been saying all along: that Dean had been alone on the balcony that night and that he had fallen over the railing trying to catch a cocktail napkin which had blown out of his hand. The witness had not realized for many months that there was an investigation surrounding Dean’s death because it had so obviously been an accident.

  The witness’s story confirmed what Daisy had been saying all along.

  Dean’s death was finally ruled an accident, and Daisy was no longer a suspect.

  By then, she was ready to leave the city that had been so cruel to her. She wanted to start fresh in a city she had never visited with Dean.

  So she packed her bags and moved to Washington, DC.

  Chapter 1

  One year later

  Daisy stood pouring herself a much-needed cup of coffee in the galley kitchen of the Global Human Rights Journal offices. Rain from her jacket dripped onto the linoleum floor.

  Jude Laughton, the senior editor, looked up from the table where she was reading the headlines on a discarded newspaper and frowned. “You’re getting water all over the floor. Are you going to wipe it up?”

  Though Daisy had worked for the journal in Washington, DC, for almost a year, Jude was still as cold as she had been the day Daisy interviewed with her.

  “Of course I am. Just give me a minute.”

  “Why don’t you carry an umbrella?” Jude asked.

  “Because I keep forgetting to put one in my tote bag,” Daisy answered, a hint of annoyance creeping into her tone.

  “It’s not that hard to remember. I keep one in my briefcase all the time.” Daisy rolled her eyes and walked to the paper towel dispenser on the wall. She pressed the lever several times, tearing off a long sheet of the barely-absorbent paper toweling, then wadded it up and placed it on the water that had fallen from her coat. Jude’s lips curled in a tight grimace, but she didn’t say anything.

  Daisy threw away the paper and left the kitchen without another glance at Jude. She walked into the small conference room between her office and Jude’s office and took several manila folders out of her tote bag, spreading them on the table in a circular pattern. Jude walked by, steam curling from the mug of coffee she carried. “What are you doing?” she asked. Nothing escaped Jude’s curiosity about Daisy and her assignments.

  “Just organizing my work. My desk isn’t big enough,” Daisy answered with a sly peek at Jude. She started moving folders around, standing back with her arms crossed. She knew it irritated Jude that the Editor-in-Chief, Mark John Friole, had given her so many assignments, and laying everything out for Jude to see gave her a jolt of devilish glee. Jude, though higher in the pecking order at Global Human Rights Journal, wasn’t as good a researcher as Daisy and she didn’t hide her jealousy well. But it was only natural that Daisy, as a Master’s-level anthropologist, should be the better researcher--if she weren’t, it would just
be embarrassing.

  Daisy pulled out her laptop and sat down to wait for it to boot up.

  “I have a meeting in this room today, so you won’t be able to keep your stuff in here,” Jude said.

  “I’m not planning to. As soon as I get these folders organized, I’ll work in my office.” Daisy was pretty sure Jude didn’t have a meeting later.

  Jude was just turning away to go back to her office when Mark John came into the conference room.

  “Update me, please. What are you working on?”

  Jude stood up a little straighter and gave him a big smile. “I’ve made significant progress on the clean water story,” she said brightly, batting her eyelashes.

  “Good,” Mark John said, nodding. “Daisy?”

  “I’ll be ready to submit my current story today, then I’ll dig more into the story about childbirth centers.”

  “I have an idea I’d like to run by you, Daisy, if you would please hand off the childbirth center story to Jude.”

  “Sure,” Daisy answered, suppressing a slight grin at Jude’s scowl. “Do you want to talk about it now?”

  “Yes. In my office, please.” Mark John left.

  “Don’t be long in Mark John’s office,” Jude said. “I need to talk to him about something.”

  Daisy gathered up her notebook and sharpened pencils and left the room without another glance at Jude.

  Mark John wasn’t in his office when Daisy knocked on his door, which was partially ajar. “Mark John?” she asked, poking her head into the room. There was no answer. She went inside and sat down in one of the chairs in front of his desk. She idly flipped through her notebook, then cracked her neck and checked her watch. When five minutes had passed and Mark John still hadn’t appeared, Daisy stood up and wandered around his office, picking up and setting down various mementos from his travels. She went to the window behind his desk and looked down onto the ground far below, at the people scurrying about with their umbrellas up, hiding their faces. She felt another surge of annoyance that she had forgotten her own umbrella that morning. As she turned away from the window, a photo of Mark John and his wife, Fiona, caught her eye. She picked up the photo and gazed at it for several moments, focusing on Fiona’s wide smile. In her time at Global Human Rights, Daisy had only heard Mark John mention his wife’s name a few times. Daisy wondered what she was like. She set the photo back in its spot and sat down to wait.

  Mark John came into the office a minute later.

  “Damn secretary can’t do anything without asking me twenty questions about it,” he said, settling into his chair.

  Daisy didn’t reply.

  “This won’t take long,” he said. “I’ve been thinking--we should do a feature about women’s roles in this country. You know, how they’ve changed since the time when the United States was an agrarian society.”

  “Sounds interesting, but that’s going to take up more space than just one article.”

  “I know. I’m thinking we’ll do it in three parts.”

  “All right.”

  Mark John sighed. “You’re probably going to have to tell Jude about this, but take your time telling her. The last thing I need right now is listening to her complain about why I gave you the assignment instead of her.”

  Daisy grinned. “I’ll keep it quiet as long as I can.” She looked at her watch and chuckled. “I give it about two minutes. Maybe three.”

  Mark John ran his hand over his forehead and squeezed his eyes closed for a long moment. “Well, I don’t feel like dealing with it today. I have a headache.”

  “If you prefer, we can talk about particulars of the assignment later,” Daisy said. “In the meantime I’ll get started on some preliminary research.”

  “Sounds good.” Mark John looked around his office, puffed out his cheeks, and let out a sigh.

  “You okay?” Daisy asked.

  “Yeah,” he said, rubbing his face with both hands. “There was a burglary in my neighborhood last night. A house just across the street and a couple doors down from us. A bit unnerving, you know?”

  “I’m sure it is,” Daisy replied. “That’s scary. Was anyone hurt?”

  “Not that I know of.”

  “Do you have an alarm system?”

  “Yes, but so did the people whose house got hit. They had left a window open downstairs.”

  “Kind of defeats the purpose of having an alarm,” Daisy said.

  “Yeah,” Mark John said curtly. He shook his head in disgust. Daisy knew the conversation was over and she left the office. She walked by Jude’s office on the way to her own.

  Jude smirked and pushed her chair back. “I’ll go see him now. You were longer than I expected.”

  “He wasn’t in his office so I had to wait for him,” Daisy said. “He has a bad headache,” she warned.

  “I just want to ask him a couple quick questions. I won’t bother him,” Jude said.

  Daisy returned to the conference room and sat down.

  Chapter 2

  Indeed, it wasn’t long before Jude came out of Mark John’s office. She walked into the kitchen, where Daisy was pouring a second cup of coffee. Jude looked flushed--her cheeks were red and her lips looked a bit puffy. Her hair was just the tiniest bit out of place.

  “Is everything okay, Jude?” Daisy asked.

  “What?” Jude looked distracted. “Oh. Yes. I’m fine. Mark John told me about your new assignment.”

  So much for not wanting her to know about it right away.

  Daisy watched as Jude took a bottle of mineral water from the refrigerator, unscrewed the cap, and took a long drink of it. She leaned against the counter when she was done, looking into the glass bottle as if it held some fascinating secret.

  Jude, tall, slim, and well-proportioned, typically wore a uniform of a dark pencil skirt, expensive white blouse, an elegant yet understated necklace, pumps with two-and-a-half inch heels, and tortoiseshell glasses. She wore her glossy chestnut hair either down in a long bob or up in a chignon. She was gorgeous. Daisy, on the other hand, was tall in a lanky way, wore her hair in a loose ponytail, preferred loafers to pumps so she wouldn’t tower over everyone, and liked to wear wide-leg linen pants and peasant blouses. And whereas Jude’s glasses gave her a sexy, alluring look, Daisy knew that if she didn’t wear contacts, she would end up looking scholarly and geeky in those same glasses.

  Daisy cocked her head and gave Jude one last glance. Jude wasn’t paying any attention to her. Daisy, who normally saw a cold, aloof woman whenever she looked at the senior editor, tried to look at her as others might see her. And what she saw surprised her--this time she saw an elegant woman who exuded professionalism as well as, perhaps, a hint of vulnerability in the set of her mouth.

  She wondered which Jude Mark John saw when he looked at her.

  Chapter 3

  Not long after Daisy had moved into her Dupont Circle apartment in Washington, she joined a local oenophiles’ club for two reasons: first, she loved wine; and second, she thought it would be a great way to meet people. Indeed, she had met her two best friends in that group.

  Grover Tavistock owned a catering business, DC Haute Cuisine, and business was very good for a startup company. Grover had been fortunate enough to cater a few parties that ended up in the society pages shortly after he opened for business; his services had been in high demand ever since.

  A chemical engineer by training, Helena Davies worked at a Washington think tank which studied the effects of climate change brought on by the use of fossil fuels. She had more brains than common sense and wasn’t afraid to admit it.

  Helena and Daisy had become fast friends when they were introduced at a tasting event held at a wine shop not far from Daisy’s office. Helena, tall with blonde hair, dark brown eyes, and a willowy figure, had a knack for being the center of attention. Daisy, though pretty in her own right, usually felt plain and rather ignored next to her friend, but that was okay with her. She didn’t want any romantic entanglemen
ts. Not after Dean. At least it allowed her to sit back and observe her surroundings and the people vying for Helena’s attention, which the anthropologist part of her enjoyed doing. And in the almost-year since they had been friends, Daisy had saved Helena from more than one would-be disastrous date by sharing her observations with her smitten friend.

  There was the man Daisy dubbed the “picked-his-nose-before-he-shook-your-hand” guy, the “he-tried-to-pick-your-pocket” guy, the “I-saw-him-arguing-with-himself” guy, and countless others. Helena had always been grateful for Daisy’s keen sense of people’s personalities.

  Helena and Grover had already been friends for years when they saw Daisy at an Italian Reds tasting event. Helena introduced Grover to Daisy and those two had also become good friends.

  Not long after Daisy received the women’s history assignment from Mark John, she and Helena and Grover met for pizza one evening in Dupont Circle.