Arsenic and Old Books (7 page)

I called myself all kinds of idiot while I waited for the college police to respond to my call. How could I have been so stupid? Leaving the door unlocked, as I must have done, was inexcusable, and thanks to my forgetfulness, someone had been able to walk in and take the diaries.

After a cursory examination I thought nothing else was missing, but I wouldn't know for sure until I could do a more thorough search. I didn't want to touch anything until after the police finished investigating.

At least I could give the police a short list of suspects: Marie Steverton and Kelly Grimes. I thought about adding Jasper Singletary's name, based on what I'd overheard earlier, but I realized that was only hearsay. Both the professor and the writer had made determined efforts to get their hands on the diaries, and I was willing to bet one of them had walked into the office and out again with the four volumes.

But why? What was the urgency?

I couldn't figure out what could be so important about those diaries that a person had to have access to them today rather than wait just a few days more.

Perhaps I was looking at this from the wrong way round. What if the thief already
knew
what was in the diaries and didn't want something in them made public?

The whole thing didn't make much sense to me. Those diaries recorded events that happened a century and a half ago. I understood, like any reasonably intelligent person, that the past did affect the present. But in this case I was stumped. Until I could read those diaries for myself, I wouldn't be able to figure this out.

I didn't want to consider the possibility that the thief took the diaries in order to destroy them, but I couldn't ignore it. They could already have been destroyed, consigned to a fire, or hacked apart and shredded.

That made me feel sick to my stomach.

“Mr. Harris? You called and reported a theft?”

The deep, authoritative voice brought me out of my self-absorption. I turned to see the college's chief of police in the doorway.

“Yes, I did, Chief. Thanks for responding so quickly,” I said.

Martin Ford, a grizzled veteran Marine Corps retiree, had been at the helm of the campus police for about six months, I recalled. He had a distinguished record in the Corps, based on what I'd read about him. This was only the third time I'd met him, but I'd found him businesslike and professional in our previous encounters.

“Tell me again what's missing. Something connected with the Long family, I believe.”

I nodded. “Yes, I think I mentioned that to the dispatcher. Sorry, but I'm still a bit in shock.” I paused for a deep, steadying breath. “Right. Yesterday the mayor brought four volumes of a diary written by one of her husband's ancestors, Rachel Afton Long. She donated them to the archive to add to the Long family's already extensive collection. I was in the process of preparing them for use by the public. I hadn't made much progress, and now they've disappeared.”

“When was the last time you saw them?” Chief Ford's laser-like gaze made me feel like a bug pinned to a board.

“Right before I left for lunch. I was pretty sure I locked the door behind me—I am usually very careful about that—but the door wasn't locked when I returned from lunch a few minutes ago and found the diaries gone.”

“How long were you out of the office?”

I checked my watch for the current time. “Close to two hours.”

“Plenty of time for the thief to come in here and walk out with the diaries.” The chief nodded. “They had to risk being seen, but I guess y'all don't get a lot of people in the building most days.”

“No, but Melba Gilley, the library director's executive assistant, has a pretty good view of the door. She usually sees who comes in and out. But I met her coming back from lunch when I got back, so she was probably out of the building, too, for an hour or so.”

“I'll check with her on that shortly,” the chief said. “I want to have a look at the lock first.”

“Sure.” I watched as he pulled a small flashlight off his belt and crouched by the door. My nerves tautened while I waited, wondering whether he would find any signs that the lock had been picked or forced. I wouldn't feel so stupid if the thief had broken in, instead of waltzing in through a door I forgot to lock.

Chief Ford grunted as he stood and put away his flashlight. “That lock should have been replaced twenty years ago.” He shook his head. “Way too easy to pick or force. Looks to me like it was picked recently. Maybe you're off the hook for leaving it unlocked.”

“I'm glad of that,” I said, “though it disturbs the heck out of me that someone could pick the lock so easily. I'll talk to the library director right away about installing a new lock. They put in a new one on the door to the storage area about four years ago. I don't know why they didn't upgrade this one at the same time.”

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.

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.