While Lizzie and Bronwyn asked Mrs. Taylor further questions, I motioned for Teresa to step aside with me. In an undertone I said, “We should talk to Mrs. Cartwright about this and rethink our plan. She may not realize the furor that her public appearance could cause.”

“If Mrs. Taylor isn’t exaggerating.” Teresa grimaced. “That one person aside, do we really think everyone will behave that way? Surely he’s an extreme case.”

“Mrs. Taylor could be exaggerating, I suppose, but she doesn’t impress me as that kind of person.” I paused to examine the lady again. Nothing in her demeanor set off any alarm bells with me, and I had many years of experience dealing with the public.

Teresa folded her arms across her chest. “Wishful thinking on my part. You’re right either way. We need to talk to Mrs. Cartwright. I’ll go call her daughter and discuss the situation with her.”

“Good plan. If necessary, we can just say that Mrs. Cartwright will do the interview but is unable to sign books because of her health.”

Teresa nodded before she headed for her office. I turned back to the conversation with Mrs. Taylor.

“I never heard of Connie Blair,” Bronwyn said. “But I read Betty Cavanna’s books and never knew she wrote under another name.”

The Connie Blair series, written under the name Betsy Allen, featured a young woman who worked in advertising. Connie, like Cherry Ames the nurse and Vicki Barr the airline stewardess, was one of the “professional” girl detectives.

“I read some of those,” Lizzie exclaimed. “Didn’t the titles all have a color in them?”

“Yes, they sure did.” Mrs. Taylor beamed at Lizzie. “Connie was more sophisticated than most of the other girl detectives.”

By now several other library patrons had drawn near to listen to the discussion. Two of them were women about Mrs. Taylor’s age, and another was a girl who looked about fourteen.

“Mrs. Taylor, we definitely need to include you in our programs for National Library Week. Perhaps a talk on the different girl detectives? I think our patrons would enjoy that.” I glanced at the bystanders and was pleased to see the teenager nod enthusiastically.

“I know my book club would love to come to something like that.” This came from one of the older women. She turned to her companion. “Don’t you think so, Martha?”

Martha nodded. “I surely do, Kathryn. There are about twenty of us, and I know most of us read Nancy Drew and Veronica Thane growing up.”

Mrs. Taylor appeared delighted at their enthusiasm. “I’d love to give a talk. That was one of the things I discussed with your director, and she was interested.”

“Then we will definitely set it up,” I said. Once again beside me, Diesel rubbed against my leg and warbled loudly. Everyone laughed, and he warbled again. He enjoyed being in the spotlight when it suited him.