Page 11 of The Bride Wore White

Jack watched her. “You must have talked to the clerk. What did he tell you about the stranger who followed you into the stacks?”

For the first time since they had been introduced, Prudence gave him her full attention. Behind the lenses of her spectacles, her eyes flashed with awareness. He smiled a little, satisfied that she was still trying to figure him out.Good luck, lady. I’ve had a lot of experience staying in the shadows, too.

The ability to intuitively read people was a talent that had its uses in his work, but when it came to his personal life, it was a curse. Sure, it was helpful for law enforcement to know whether a killer intended to go on murdering people or if a particular murder was a one-time event. And yes, his talent could be employed to track down the bad guys. But being able to predict that a friend’s marriage would fail or that there was a high probability a lover would betray you forced a man to view other people in a cold, realistic light. His motto wasDon’t expect too much and you won’t be disappointed.

“The clerk’s name is Reginald Herring,” Prudence said. “He did not go out of his way to be helpful.”

Jack reached inside his jacket and took out a notebook and a pencil. “Think he might have been involved?”

“No,” Prudence said. She watched as he made notes. “Herring disliked me intensely because I got the job that he was convinced should have been his. He was very happy to see me fired, but I can’t imagine he is mixed up in the murder of Gilbert Dover.”

Jack looked up. “What else did he tell you?”

“He said the man identified himself as a visiting professor named Smithton. That was no doubt a lie, but Herring did tell me that Smithton mentioned being affiliated with a college in San Francisco. I think that is important.”

Jack heard the chimes but he did not need them to see the obvious. “Because the Dovers live there,” he said.

Prudence nodded encouragingly, evidently pleased that he hadbeen able to make the connection. Jack wondered if he should be offended. Luther gave a soft, amused snort.

“I’m sure it was a slip of the tongue or else Smithton did not think that bit of information would reveal anything useful,” Prudence continued. “He was probably just trying to provide some background to make his story look solid.”

“Did you ask the clerk for a description?” Luther said.

“Yes.” Prudence looked grim. “Again, Mr.Herring was not helpful. He assumed the worst, of course.”

Jack frowned. “What the hell is worse than getting kidnapped and set up for murder?”

“Not much,” Prudence admitted. “But what I meant was that Reginald Herring chose to believe that I invited Mr.Smithton to join me in the stacks.”

For the first time in a very long while, Jack realized he had just gone blank. “Why would you do that?”

Prudence gave him a pitying look that had nothing to do with his scars and everything to do with her opinion of his intelligence.

“Take a wild guess, Mr.Wingate,” she said.

Jack caught the glint of amusement in Luther’s eyes. It was all he could do not to groan with embarrassment. He had been so focused on the kidnapping and murder that he had missed the obvious.

“Got it,” he said. “Herring thought you and Smithton had planned a, uh, atrystin the stacks.”

Prudence flushed—not from embarrassment, Jack realized, but from outrage.

“Mr.Herring made no secret of the fact that he did not approve of my being hired as research librarian,” she said. “Director Attwater didn’t want to put me in the position in the first place. I discovered later that he was pressured into employing me. He’d spent thepast few weeks looking for an excuse to fire me, and thanks to Mr.Smithton, he got one.”

“Right,” Jack said. “Let’s get back to the case. You woke up in the bridal suite of the Pentland Plaza.”

Prudence tightened one gloved hand into a small fist. “Wearing a wedding gown and veil. I still had on all of my underthings, thank goodness, but whenever I think of that horrible man putting me into that awful dress, I want to kill him.”

Luther’s brows rose a fraction of an inch.

She winced and tapped one gloved finger on the arm of the chair. “I probably should not have said that.”

“Under the circumstances, your reaction is understandable,” Luther said.

“The thing is, even if I had the opportunity, I would prefer to do it with a weapon other than a knife,” Prudence said, very earnest now.

Curiosity glinted briefly in Luther’s eyes. “Why not a knife?”

“Too messy,” Jack said before Prudence could respond.

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