Arsenic and Old Books

by Miranda James

  I realized I was babbling, so I shut up. The chief’s stern countenance and steely gaze made me feel guilty even if I hadn’t goofed and left the door unlocked.

  “Any idea who might’ve done this?” The chief pulled out a notebook and pen.

  “Yes, I do. There are two people who have been pretty determined to get access to the diaries. The first is a professor, Marie Steverton. Member of the history department. The other is a writer for the Register named Kelly Grimes. Ms. Grimes,” I added.

  “Other than being real interested in these books, why would one of them break in here and steal them?” Again the intense stare.

  I shrugged. “The whole thing sounds nuts to me, frankly. The mayor, who’s an old college friend of Dr. Steverton, arranged for her to have exclusive access to the diaries for three weeks. Once I had them ready for use, that is. Ms. Grimes was the first to approach me about them.” I gave the chief a quick summary of the writer’s initial phone call. “Then she showed up here this morning, and she and Dr. Steverton had a bit of an altercation.”

  The chief shook his head as if in amazement at such behavior. “And how old are these books?”

  “They date back to before the Civil War,” I said. “I couldn’t put a monetary value on them, but they could be valuable as historical documents.”

  “I’ll be talking to both those ladies about this,” the chief said. “Anybody else you can think of might want to get hold of the diaries?”

  I hesitated. Should I tell Chief Ford what I suspected about the connection between Kelly Grimes and Jasper Singletary?

  My poker face evidently failed me.

  “You’ve thought of something,” the chief stated flatly.

  “It’s hearsay, probably. Something I saw today and then a short snatch of conversation I overhead.”

  “I’m listening,” the chief said.

  I wondered briefly whether Chief Ford had heard about my previous experiences with the murder cases I’d been involved in, and what he might think about me as a result. With Kanesha Berry, chief deputy in the sheriff’s department, I was on a surer footing. She knew me pretty well, but Chief Ford and I were barely acquainted. I decided that, if necessary, I’d refer him to Kanesha to check my bona fides.

  “Okay, here’s what happened.” I launched into a description of the events at the bakery and the epilogue at the bookstore.

  “Sounds like you have a knack for being in the right place at just the right time,” the chief commented when I finished. His expression gave me no clue as to whether he was making a joke.

  He didn’t wait for a response. “Does sound to me like there’s a connection to the diaries. Pretty logical, based on everything you’ve told me. Looks like I’m going to need to work with either Athena PD or the sheriff’s department on this, though.”

  Here was my chance. “If you work with the sheriff’s department, I’m sure Chief Deputy Berry will vouch for me, in case you need any reassurance.”

  The chief nodded. “Anything else missing?”

  “I haven’t really looked yet,” I said. “I figured I should wait until you arrived. Shall I go ahead now?”

  “Yes,” the chief said. “Touch as little as possible, because we’re probably going to check your desk for fingerprints and trace evidence. The diaries were on your desk, right, when you left for lunch?”

  I confirmed that they were before I checked around my desk. Without inventorying the shelves in my office I couldn’t say for sure whether anything else had been taken, but I didn’t get the feeling that anything was missing from the shelves. Everything looked as it should.

  “I don’t think the thief took anything else,” I said finally.

  “Okay,” the chief said. “How about you go wait downstairs in Ms. Gilley’s office? I’ll be down soon to talk to her. Meantime, I’m going to get a couple of my officers over here, and I’m going to contact the locals and see how they want to proceed. I can question Dr. Steverton, but they’ll probably have to track down Ms. Grimes.” He whipped out a cell phone without waiting for a response.

  “I’ll be down there if you need me,” I said. I didn’t think he heard me, so I headed downstairs. Melba would be bouncing with excitement when I told her what happened.

  Mayor Long, on the other hand, would probably be angry, and I wasn’t looking forward to that conversation.

  THIRTEEN

  By the time I got home that evening, I felt like I’d been dragged backward through the briar patch. That’s what my late mother used to say anytime she was exhausted. Occasionally she’d say she was “plumb wore out.” No matter how I described it, I was beat.

  Poor Diesel was fatigued, too. All the noise, with law enforcement personnel going up and down the stairs outside Melba’s office, and the tension he picked up from me, wore him plumb out. We were both glad to get home to the quiet and peace of an empty house.

  Or so I thought. Sean came noisily down the stairs about five minutes after Diesel and I walked into the kitchen. I was seated at the table, and the cat was stretched out beneath it after a visit to the utility room.

  “Hey, Dad,” he said as he headed for the fridge. “How was your day?” He pulled out a beer and popped the cap off with his thumb. The cap hit the floor, but Diesel couldn’t be bothered. Usually he would bat it around until I took it away from him to stop the noise.

  “I’ve had better.” I leaned back in my chair.

  Sean put his beer on the table and sat across from me. “You look out of it,” he said. “And when Diesel doesn’t want to play with a bottle cap, I know he’s out of it as well. What happened?”

  I realized I hadn’t seen my son for at least a couple of days; thus I had a lot to tell him. “Tell you what. Pour your poor exhausted old dad a glass of iced tea, and I’ll fill you in.”

  “Deal.” Sean got up and went to the cabinet for a glass. “I’m not buying the poor old dad bit, though. You’re not quite ready for the old folks’ home. Next year maybe, but not now.” He grinned broadly as he set the full glass in front of me.

  I clinked my glass with his bottle once he resumed his seat. I drained half the tea before I started talking. “This will take a few minutes.”

  “I’ve got the time.” Sean leaned back in his chair and sipped his beer.

  The cold tea and the caffeine revived me a bit, though by the time I finished my recital of the events of the past two days, I was ready to go up to bed and forget about dinner.

  Sean’s first question surprised me.

  “What did the mayor say when she found out about the theft?”

  I shrugged. “Luckily for me, the college police chief called her. I didn’t talk to her until after she’d had time to cool down. She wasn’t happy, but she did say at least twice she didn’t hold me responsible.”

  “You took reasonable precautions for the safety of the diaries.” Sean sounded like the lawyer he was now, rather than just my son.

  “I locked the door to the office when I left for lunch,” I said. “It’s such a habit with me, I can’t believe I didn’t do it today. So, yes, I took reasonable precautions. I don’t have a safe to put things in.” I paused for a moment. “I suppose I could have put them in the storage room next door. It has a much better lock, one that’s not easily compromised.”

  “You could have,” Sean said. “But did you have any reason to suspect that the diaries were vulnerable to theft?”

  I shook my head. “No, but I knew there were two parties anxious to get hold of them.”

  “Do you think the professor or the writer stole them?”

  “Surely it must be one of them,” I said. “At least, I hope it was one of them, because I don’t think either of them would destroy the diaries. My biggest fear is that the thief might do that for some unknown reason.”

  “Let’s hope the cops find them before the thief has
a chance to do anything drastic to them,” Sean said. “Right now I’d give a lot to know what’s in those diaries to stir up this kind of kerfuffle.” He shook his head. “By now I’m pretty much used to weird things happening around you, but this is even more bizarre than usual.”

  “Thanks for that,” I said sourly. “Are you sure you weren’t serious about putting me in a home?”

  Sean laughed. “I wouldn’t dare. For one thing, Helen Louise would extract my liver and then feed it to me. As would Laura, and probably Azalea as well.” He got up for another beer, and I motioned that he should refill my glass, too.

  “Seriously, Dad, how do you keep getting involved in these things?” Sean frowned as he set my refilled glass in front of me.

  “Must be karma,” I said, half joking. “Maybe in my last existence I went around whining about being bored all the time, and this is the payback.”

  Sean rolled his eyes. “People are going to stop letting you come near them at this rate.”

  “It’s not my fault,” I protested. I was beginning to get a little annoyed with my son. “I don’t go out of my way to find dead bodies or get involved in thefts. They just happen, and there I am.”

  My son burst out laughing. “You are way too easy, Dad.”

  For a moment I contemplated throwing the contents of my glass across the table at him, but then I started laughing, too. I could feel the tension drain away. Diesel joined in with a few chirps. Even if he didn’t understand the words, he understood the mood.

  Time for a change of subject, I decided. “How is Alexandra?”

  “Fine,” Sean said. “And before you ask, no, I haven’t asked her to marry me yet.”

  “I wasn’t going to ask,” I said. I knew better. Sean had never liked being hounded—as he called it—about anything. “The last time I saw her she was having trouble with her allergies. I hope she’s feeling better.”

  Sean looked mollified. “She is. Whatever was blooming seems to have stopped, so she’s not sneezing and getting watery eyes like she was a few days ago.”

  “Staying busy at the office?” I asked. Sean had recently become a partner in the law firm established by Alexandra’s father, the legendary Q. C. Pendergrast.

  “Plenty of work,” Sean said. “Q. C.’s starting to take it easier, so Alex and I are taking on more of his work.”

  “That’s good.” A few months ago Sean and his prospective father-in-law were locked in a battle of wills. Q. C. wanted to make Sean a partner as a wedding gift, but my stubborn son wanted to pay his own way and buy into the firm. They finally came to an agreement over the summer. I kept out of it.

  “Are you in for dinner?” I asked.

  Sean shook his head. “No, sorry. I’m about to head upstairs for a shower and a change of clothes. Alex and I are going to a Chamber of Commerce dinner tonight. Three hours of rubber chicken and listening to speeches. The mayor has some new plan for attracting more tourists to Athena.”

  I loved my hometown, but I would be hard-pressed to name enough local sights or activities that would interest many tourists. We did have a number of historic homes from the antebellum era, and a few were open to the public. Nothing like the spring pilgrimages, as they were called, held every year in Natchez and Holly Springs, though.

  “I’m sure local business owners would love that,” I said. “I’ll be curious to hear about the mayor’s plan.”

  “I’ll tell you all about it tomorrow.” Sean got up to drop his two beer bottles in the recycling bin. “Gotta get a move on, Dad. See you later.” As he walked past, he gave my shoulder a quick squeeze.

  As the sound of my son’s footsteps faded away, I let the quiet of the kitchen settle around me. I could hear Diesel purring and the ticking of the wall clock, but otherwise there was blessed calm. I sat and enjoyed the peace for several minutes. Then I decided it was time to eat.

  I still had half the casserole from last night and a bit of salad that would be fine for my dinner. There was some more of the boiled chicken for Diesel. While the two of us enjoyed our meal, Sean popped back through the kitchen on his way to meet Alexandra. He looked distinguished and handsome in his black suit, white shirt, and dark red tie, I thought. Every inch the successful young professional. I was proud of my accomplished son, but I didn’t tell him. I knew he would only squirm with embarrassment, so I simply smiled and bade him good night.

  Diesel and I were halfway up the stairs when the doorbell rang. I had an uneasy feeling that if I went down and opened the door, it wouldn’t be to good news. I was tempted to ignore it and take refuge in my bedroom, but the adult in me prevailed.

  I turned and clumped back down the stairs. I peered out the peephole. There was still enough daylight left that I could see who stood on the doorstep.

  I felt my blood pressure start to rise as I opened the door.

  FOURTEEN

  “Evening, Marie.” I stood in the doorway and glared down at her upturned face. “What do you want?”

  From the wild gleam in the woman’s eyes, I knew I was in trouble. She put her head down and butted me in the stomach. Hard.

  I stumbled back and almost tripped over Diesel. I managed to step around him. He darted up the stairs while I turned to face my attacker.

  “Why did you do that, woman? Are you insane?” I rubbed the spot where her head had connected with my midriff. “I have a good mind to call the police and charge you with assault.”

  “You already set the police on me.” Her pitch rose with every syllable. “I could kill you for what you’ve done to me. Why do you hate me? What have I ever done to you?”

  To my dismay she broke into wild sobs. Tears rolled down her face. She stood there, arms hanging down listlessly, and continued to cry. Despite my anger at her attack, I felt a sneaking sympathy for her distress. I stepped around her to close the door, then came back to where she could see me.

  “What happened?” I asked in a gentle tone.

  Her chest heaved as she struggled to regain enough composure to respond to me. “The police showed up at my house this afternoon and accused me of theft. That’s what happened. Then they tore my house apart looking for the diaries. You were responsible for it—I know you were—so don’t try to deny it.” Suddenly she collapsed in a seated heap on the floor and started sobbing again.

  I knelt by her. I was afraid to touch her because the good Lord only knew how she would react.

  “Marie, I’m sorry for your distress,” I said. “I did report the theft of the diaries, and naturally I had to give the authorities the names of anyone I knew who had expressed interest in them. I didn’t do it out of malice, I swear to you. It was simply the truth.”

  “It was humiliating.” Her voice was so low I barely made out the words. The volume grew as she continued to speak. “Never in my life have I been so embarrassed. I’ll be a laughingstock on campus because of this. And on top of everything else, the diaries have disappeared. Now I’ll never get to work on them, and I won’t get tenure.”

  “Did you steal the diaries?” I asked her. Time for a tougher approach, I thought. Maybe that would force her to see sense, if anything would.

  She glared at me, her expression full of loathing. “No, I did not. I’ve never stolen anything in my life.”

  “Then stop acting like a drama queen trying to hide her guilt.” I stood and extended a hand. “Get up off the floor and come into the kitchen with me. I’ll give you coffee or something stronger, and we’ll talk about this.”

  Her eyes narrowed as she stared at me, then at my hand. After a long moment, she grasped my hand, and I helped her get to her feet.

  “How about brandy?” She sounded hoarse now from the crying and carrying on.

  “I have some,” I said. Might as well have some myself, I decided. I glanced up at the stairs, but there was no sign of the cat. Diesel was probably under my bed. He would
be okay until I had Marie calmed down completely and out of the house.

  Marie pulled out a chair and plopped down. Her short legs barely touched the floor. I found the brandy in the cabinet and poured some for both of us.

  “Thanks,” she said in a less than gracious tone before she knocked it back in one go.

  I held up the bottle, and she nodded. This time she had a sip and set the glass down. “I’m waiting,” she said. “Talk. I want you to explain to me how you were careless enough to let someone walk in and steal those diaries.”

  I set the brandy bottle down before I was tempted to slug her with it.

  “Chief Ford examined the lock on the office door,” I said as evenly as I could. “He believes the thief picked it. I always lock the door whenever I leave the office, even for a few minutes. I’m sure I did that today when I left for lunch.”

  Marie looked skeptical. “Why didn’t you have them somewhere more secure, like a safe?”

  “For one thing,” I said, “I don’t have a safe in the archive. I could have put them in the storage room next door. It has a better lock on it, one that’s difficult to get into.” I shrugged. “But there was no reason to. I had no reason to think someone would steal the diaries. They aren’t that valuable.”

  “I guess you’re right,” Marie said. “At least about locking them up. They are valuable, though, extremely valuable. Not in terms of money, of course. To me they’re priceless.”

  “I can understand that they could be valuable to your research,” I said. “What I don’t get is why you’re so convinced they will be. You don’t know there’s anything interesting or worthwhile to a historian in them.”

  Marie looked down at her hands. “No, I don’t know for sure, but those diaries are still the best shot I have at finally getting tenure.” Her shoulders sagged. “And now they’re gone. It isn’t fair.”