File M for Murder

by Miranda James

  “Did you also tell her Laura has no interest in Connor romantically? That they’re just friends, according to Laura?” I wanted every detail of that conversation.

  “I’m not fresh out of law school. I knew what to tell her, and I handled it.” Sean’s tone had an edge to it, and I realized I had offended him.

  Diesel meowed, alert as ever to changes in the emotional temperature. I stroked his head, and he settled back down.

  “I’m sorry, son, I didn’t mean to question your abilities.” Even after five months of working on strengthening our relationship, I still managed to annoy my son on occasion. “Put it down to overprotectiveness.”

  “It’s okay, Dad. I overreacted.” Sean had the grace to appear abashed.

  I smiled to indicate I understood. “Did Ms. Vane make threats against Lawton?”

  Sean laughed. “Not exactly. She said she’d be watching to make sure no other woman got her claws into him. He belongs to her, and her alone, and no other woman—except she used a more colorful and vulgar word—stands a chance. She expects Connor to come to his senses eventually and realize she’s the only one for him.”

  “Good luck to her, I guess.” I shrugged. “As long as she leaves your sister alone, that’s all I care about. The same goes for Lawton.”

  “Even so,” Sean said, his tone more serious, “Laura needs to steer clear of both of them.”

  “I’ll talk with her,” I said. “And with Kanesha Berry. Now, change of subject. How about dinner?”

  Sean expelled smoke and pulled the cigar from his mouth. “I’m good. I had a couple sandwiches before I came out here.” He tapped his cigar on the ashtray. “I figured you’d eat at the party.”

  “I did.” I sighed. “Not a lot, but probably enough. I don’t really need anything else.” I rose from the sofa. “But I could use something to drink. Can I bring you anything?”

  “No, thanks.” Sean pointed to a bottle of beer on the table by his chair. “Still got a ways to go with this.”

  “Then I’ll leave you to it. I’ll call Kanesha and then probably head upstairs.”

  “Good night, Dad.”

  “Night, son.” I headed for the door with Diesel at my side. I used the kitchen phone to call the sheriff’s department and left a message for Kanesha. I didn’t hear from her that evening. I planned to give her until the following evening to get in touch with me, then I’d start calling until I got through to her.

  After a quiet Sunday, on Monday morning I headed to work at the college library at a quarter to nine. Diesel wore his harness, and we strolled the few blocks to campus in the warm, thick morning air. We met several people along the way, and we had to stop to let Diesel greet his admiring public. Even after three years, the sight of a gigantic cat on a leash still attracted attention.

  Our stroll was so routine, I was able to think about other things as we walked. Kanesha hadn’t returned my call yesterday, and I’d left another message before I left for work. Where the heck was she? I should have asked Azalea about that this morning, but I didn’t want to cause irritation between mother and daughter. If Azalea knew Kanesha failed to return my calls, she’d probably chastise her daughter severely for bad manners. I’d try again later.

  Inside the antebellum home that housed the library’s administrative offices, archives, and rare book room, I removed Diesel’s leash. He scampered upstairs on his own. I followed in a more leisurely fashion, and he greeted me with a few chirps when I reached my office door.

  Diesel preceded me inside. He waited for me to remove his harness, then walked to the window behind my desk and climbed onto the large cushion I keep there for him. This was his special perch, and he loved it. An ancient oak tree right outside often lured birds, and the morning sun warmed him. He yawned and stretched while I booted my computer.

  I managed to read three e-mail messages before Melba Gilley, administrative assistant to the library director, Peter Vanderkeller, popped in for her morning visit. Melba and I had known each other since elementary school, and we’d always been friends. She was a knockout in high school, and at fifty-one she retained her figure and her fashion sense.

  “Morning, Diesel honey.” Melba adored my cat, and Diesel returned the feeling. He sat up and warbled for her, and she blew him a kiss as she slid into the chair by my desk. “And good morning to you, Charlie. What’s this I hear about your daughter working in the Theater Department?”

  I suppressed a smile. If the campus grapevine could be likened to a computer network, then Melba could be called the hub. I widened my eyes innocently. “Melba, you let me down on this one. How come you didn’t know about this last week?”

  Melba scowled at me. “Because my usual source didn’t tell me about it until after church yesterday, dang her hide.” She picked at an invisible piece of lint on her sleeve. “And before you go asking, I’ll tell you. It was Sarabeth Conley.” She grinned. “She said she used to babysit you when you were a sprout. Said you were a little dickens, too. The only way she could get you to sit still was to sing.”

  I reddened, and Melba chuckled.

  “You were a little dickens in grade school too, as I recall. Always in trouble for talking in class. Until Mrs. Tenney broke you of the habit.”

  “And as I recall,” I said in a wry tone, “I wasn’t the only one who got in trouble for talking in class. I remember a holy terror in pigtails who gave about as good as she got.”

  We both smiled.

  “I know you’re thrilled to have Laura here for a whole semester.”

  I nodded. “I sure am. I don’t get to see her that often. I’m proud of her and her career, but I hate that she’s so far away.”

  Melba leaned forward and patted my arm. “That’s the rough thing about being a parent, I guess.” A shadow passed over her face. Melba had no children, a situation I knew she regretted.

  I decided to change the subject. “What have you heard about the resident genius in the Theater Department, Connor Lawton?”

  “That he’ll be lucky to make it through the year without getting his rear end whupped.” Melba shook her head. “He aggravates people left and right. Being a hotshot will carry him only so far.”

  “Some people think artists should be allowed to behave badly. It’s part of their creative personalities.”

  Melba snorted. “I don’t see why. There’s no excuse for anybody being that rude. Besides, he ought to know better, being born in the South.”

  “Born in the South?” That was news to me.

  “Right here in Athena as a matter of fact.” I could see Melba enjoyed my surprise. “Lived here till he was about four or five, from what I heard. Then his daddy got a job back east. Connecticut, or maybe Vermont.” She frowned. “At least, I think that’s what Sarabeth said.”

  Sounded to me like Sarabeth was another hub in the gossip network. I decided I should advise Laura to be careful what she said and did around the Theater Department’s administrator.

  Since news spread so quickly around campus, I figured I might as well tell Melba about Connor and Laura. She’d find out anyway, and I’d rather she had the real story from me, and not some lurid tale of unrequited passion from another source. “Laura dated him briefly. She said there’s a gentler side to him, though I must say I have yet to see it myself.” I didn’t tell her about Lawton’s threats.

  I rarely managed to surprise Melba with such juicy tidbits, and I had to work to keep from laughing at her expression.

  “At least he has good taste in women. She’s better off without him, though, from what I’ve heard.” Melba stood. “Guess I should get my carcass back downstairs before His Majesty gets into a flap over something.” Peter Vanderkeller was a bright man, overall a good library director, but he lacked common sense. Without Melba there to keep him organized, I doubt he’d ever get anything done.

  Melba bade me good-bye and blew another kiss to Diesel. He meowed for her as she left.

  Thankful for the quiet, I went back to my
e-mail.

  Once I finished that, I moved on to other tasks, like cataloging more books from the Delacorte Collection. I regretted the manner in which Athena College received the bequest—as the result of violent death—but I had to admit I was thrilled to hold first editions of such classics as Pride and Prejudice, Middlemarch, and Vanity Fair in my hands as I cataloged them.

  I surfaced from deep concentration on my work when I heard a knock at the door. I looked up to see Laura striding into the room. She smiled as she halted in front of my desk. “You sure do get into your work, Dad. I had to knock a couple of times before you heard me.”

  I laughed as I set aside the book I’d been cataloging. “Guilty as charged. I lose track when I’m working.” I glanced at my watch and noted the time with surprise. “It’s eleven-thirty.”

  Laura’s cheeks dimpled. “You promised to take me to lunch, remember?”

  “That I did.” I gazed at her for a moment, remembering our talk yesterday when I’d told her about Connor Lawton’s threats of violence.

  In the uncanny way she had, my daughter picked up on my thoughts. “Stop worrying, Dad. I told you, Connor isn’t brave, for all his big talk. He won’t attack anyone. He’s all hat and no cattle, like they say in Texas.”

  “I hope you’re right.” I still planned to ask Kanesha to speak with him, no matter what Laura said.

  Diesel hopped down from the windowsill and padded around the desk to Laura. He meowed at her, and she obliged by scratching his head. The rumble of his purr told us how much he appreciated such treatment.

  “You are such a beautiful boy.” Laura gazed at Diesel, and he meowed again, as if to say, I sure am. Laura and I both laughed.

  With the cat once again in his harness and leash we headed out of the library for the student union and the small café there. Overall the food was passable, but their chicken salad—a favorite of both Laura’s and mine—was scrumptious.

  The shaded patio sported thirty tables, but today only three were occupied. Laura and Diesel chose one in a corner that offered privacy while I went inside for our food. When I exited the front door ten minutes later, I saw Laura frowning up at a voluptuous, tanned blonde talking too loudly and gesturing at her. Diesel growled, his ears back.

  As I hurried across the patio, my hands full, I hoped I could stop my cat from attacking the woman.

  SEVEN

  I’d never seen Diesel behave this way. He was normally a gentle cat. I called out, “Diesel, it’s okay.” I repeated that as I drew closer.

  Laura heard me and glanced down. She reached forward to reassure the cat with her touch. She spoke in a mild tone to the blonde. “Back off, Damitra. You’re upsetting the cat.”

  With not-quite-steady hands I set the tray of food and drinks on the table. “Yes, please lower your voice. There’s no need to cause such a ruckus.” I glared at Damitra Vane.

  The combination of two humans and one large cat facing her down seemed to shock her into silence. She frowned at the cat, next at me, then her gaze rested on Laura.

  “What is all this about?” I directed my question to my daughter.

  Laura shot a glance of pure loathing at Damitra Vane. “Diesel and I were sitting here, not bothering anyone, and then Damitra popped up and accosted me.” She held up a hand when Damitra started to speak. “You shut up, or I’ll let Diesel bite off one of your legs.”

  “Keep that nasty thing away from me.” The woman cast a terrified look at Diesel and backed up at least two feet.

  I started to protest that Diesel would never do such a thing, but Damitra Vane bolted.

  Diesel crowded close to me and chirped. I bent to wrap my arms around his head and chest. I murmured, telling him he was a good boy and that everything was okay.

  “Diesel, sweetie, I’m sorry to malign you like that.” Laura laughed. “But I figured that would get rid of Damitra. Diesel freaked her out anyway. I told her he was a rare breed of hunting cat from Tibet, and she bought it.”

  “If she’s silly enough to believe that, it’s okay by me. She shouldn’t have bothered you.” I distributed plates and drinks and set the tray aside. “What was she going on about?”

  Laura unfolded her napkin and spread it over her lap. “Apparently my lawyer visited her Saturday night to warn her to leave me alone. Did you put my lawyer up to it, even after I told you I could handle her?” She had a steely glint in her eye as she dipped her fork into the chicken salad.

  “It was a mutual effort.” I picked up my own fork. “Sean and I both thought it was a good idea. Neither of us is keen on some nutcase—your word, I remind you—harassing you over a man you say is only a friend now.”

  Laura put her fork down and glared at me. “I am not twelve years old anymore, and you and Sean need to get that through your thick chauvinist heads. I’ve coped pretty dang well in Hollywood for four years now.”

  I raised my hands in a gesture of surrender. “Point well taken. Sean and I shouldn’t have acted without talking to you first.” Now it was my turn to glare a little. “But remember, young lady, no matter how old you are and how capable, you’re always going to be my daughter. I reserve the right to be concerned for your well-being.”

  Laura regarded me with fond amusement. “You’re incorrigible.” She ate another bite of chicken salad. “This is crazy good.”

  “By far the best thing on their menu.” I savored a forkful before I had a sip of tea. Laura may have thought she deflected me from her conversation with Damitra Vane, but she ought to know her father better than that.

  “About Ms. Vane.” My tone was mild. “I’m not trying to run your life, but if she plans to hang around town the whole time you’re here, I want to know when she harasses you.”

  Laura gazed at me for a moment, and from her expression I could see she was exasperated. Diesel chose that moment to warble at her—no doubt hinting that chicken salad would be more than welcome—and the sudden tension eased. She smiled. “You men. What am I going to do with you?”

  “Answer my question, maybe? What was she going on about?”

  Laura capitulated. “Honestly, Dad, it was just more of the same. Evidently Sean didn’t frighten Damitra off, because she was haranguing me about Connor. I tried to tell her Connor and I are through, but she won’t listen.”

  “If she causes any further trouble, I’ll go to the sheriff’s department. I know someone who could probably get through to her.”

  “Azalea’s daughter, you mean?” Laura patted her mouth with her napkin before she picked up her fork for another bite.

  “Exactly.” I still hadn’t heard from Kanesha, and now I had another reason to talk to her. “Kanesha is scary even when she’s not trying to be. I’ll bet she can make Ms. Vane back off.” I gave Diesel a small bite of chicken salad. It disappeared quickly. Then a large paw tapped my leg. One bite was never enough.

  “It won’t come to that.” Laura glanced over my shoulder, and her sudden change of expression startled me. “Oh, crap. Like I really need this right now.” She grimaced. “Don’t lose your temper, Dad. Let me handle this.”

  “Handle what?” I started to turn, but as the person approaching from behind me spoke, I stilled in my seat.

  “Laura, why aren’t you answering my calls? Do you know how pissed off I am with you right now?”

  Laura suggested what Connor could do with his cell phone and, while not anatomically impossible, it would be painful. I was aghast at my daughter’s crudeness, but part of me couldn’t blame her. Lawton affected people that way.

  I stood to face him. “I told you last night, leave Laura alone. She’s not interested in you. If you continue to annoy her, you’ll find yourself in jail.”

  Diesel hissed again, his ears flattened. He crouched as if he was about to pounce on the playwright, but he relaxed as Laura stroked his head.

  Lawton simply shrugged. Then he pulled out a chair and sat. “Relax, Pops, I’m not going to hit anybody. I’d had a little too much to drink last nig
ht when I saw you. Take a chill pill and park it.” He waved a hand in my direction, then faced Laura. “What’s up, babydoll?”

  “I cannot tell you how much I despise that loathsome nickname. It—and you—have all the charm of a baboon’s rear end.” Laura picked up her tea, and her gaze flicked back and forth between Lawton and the glass. I wouldn’t be surprised if Lawton got a face full of iced tea.

  Lawton laughed, to my great surprise. “You’re not going to throw that at me, are you? Remember, Daddy’s watching.”

  Laura put her glass down. “Connor, you’re such an oaf. No wonder Dad’s ready to call the police and have them haul you off to jail.”

  “Hey, I’m being good.” Lawton grinned. “Shouldn’t good boys be rewarded?”

  “Honestly.” Laura folded her arms across her chest and glared at her former boyfriend. “Please go away and let us finish our lunch in peace.”

  Lawton pulled a crumpled pack and lighter from his shirt pocket and extracted a cigarette. He lit it and exhaled smoke that drifted in my direction.

  “I’ve met pigs with better manners than you, Mr. Lawton. I don’t care to have your foul smoke in my face.” I waved the air to dispel it.

  “Sorry.” Lawton raised his hands in mock surrender. He drew on his cigarette again and turned his head away from me to exhale. The smoke still floated toward me. He shrugged and stubbed the butt against the bottom of his worn boot. He pitched the spent cigarette into the grass several feet away. “That better?”

  I gave him a grudging nod, deciding that a remark about littering would do no good. Instead I sat and picked up my fork again. I hadn’t quite lost my appetite, but all the joy had gone out of this meal with my daughter. For Laura’s sake I didn’t want to scrap with him. I decided the old saw about holding your friends close and your enemies closer had some merit, at least for the moment.

  “Wouldn’t hurt you to keep your mouth shut and your ears open for a couple of weeks.” Laura stabbed so hard at her food I thought she might go right through the plate into the wood of the table. “You could learn a lot from the people in this town about how normal folk behave.”