Authors: Miranda James

Classified as Murder (24 page)

BOOK: Classified as Murder

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“Does Arthur flirt with you the way Stewart did?” I was very curious. Sean was actually offering me a glimpse of his life in Houston.

“He did when we first met, a couple of years ago,” Sean said. “But he soon got over it when I told him I wasn’t interested. It’s no big deal, Dad.”

“It doesn’t make you uncomfortable?” I asked.

Sean shrugged. “It did a little, at first. But now I don’t think twice about it. I say ‘No thanks’ and that’s the end of it.”

Sounded to me like it must happen on a regular basis, but I forbore commenting. I was pleased to know, however, that Sean responded in a mature manner.

“What about this source of information? Are you going to pump him for details about the family?”

Sean grinned. “If he’s as much like Arthur as I think he is, we won’t have to do much priming. He’ll be more than happy to shovel the dirt. And he could have some very helpful details.”

“I suppose so,” I said, though I wasn’t quite sure about this. I decided I would leave Stewart to Sean’s tender mercies, and if he extracted useful information from my new boarder, I’d be willing to listen. I wondered, though, what Kanesha might have to say about it. If Stewart’s dirt helped solve the case, she probably wouldn’t mind.

“Come on, then,” I said as I stood. “Let’s get to work on the inventory.”

“Sure thing,” Sean said. “When Stewart’s ready to take his things to the house, I can go over with him and get him settled and then come back to help you.”

“Fine,” I said as we walked into the hall. “He can have the big room on the third floor that’s over my bedroom.”

Deputy Bates occupied a chair in front of the library. He glanced up from his cell phone when Sean and I, along with Diesel and Dante, neared him.

“Afternoon,” he said as he got up to unlock the door.

“Thanks,” I said. Sean preceded me into the room with the boys. “Deputy, I forgot to ask earlier, but what happened with my satchel? I don’t remember seeing it in here before I left for lunch.”

Bates shrugged. “If it’s not in here, then it’s probably down at the sheriff’s department. Probably best to ask Deputy Berry about it. She may be willing to release it if it’s not needed as evidence.”

“Thank you, I will,” I said.

Bates followed us into the room, bringing his chair. He set it a couple of feet inside the room and shut the doors. I supposed Kanesha didn’t want anyone watching what we were doing in here.

Sean put Dante in one of the chairs and told him to stay. Diesel curled up on the floor nearby.

After pulling a pair of cotton gloves from the box for Sean, I picked up the first volume of the inventory, and we set to work, picking up where I left off yesterday morning. That seemed like a week ago rather than one day. I did my best to keep the image of Mr. Delacorte’s body out of my head as we worked.

Sean scanned the shelves while I read out the titles, and when a book wasn’t where it should be, we both looked for it. The job went a little faster that way, and we worked for about an hour without a break.

A knock sounded at the door. Bates opened the door a few inches and spoke to the person outside in the hall. “Let me check, sir,” he said.

Bates shut the door and walked over to where Sean and I stood. “Mr. Stewart Delacorte,” he said. “Wants to speak to you.”

“Thanks, Deputy,” Sean said. “I know what he wants.” He turned to me. “If you’ll give me your car keys, I’ll take care of it. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

I handed over the keys and suggested that he take Dante with him. The poodle would be too restless if he had to stay here without Sean.

I returned to my work, and Bates resumed his seat by the door. Diesel decided that he had been neglected long enough, and he came and rubbed against my legs. I had to put down the inventory book and give him some attention. Otherwise, I knew he would start butting his head against my legs and mewing at me. He was very difficult to ignore when he wanted to be noticed.

After a few minutes of that, Diesel relented and found a spot under the work table. He was close enough to watch me and to reclaim my attention if he wanted. Maine coons can be very possessive, or so I’d read. Diesel could be that way on occasion by maintaining physical contact with me. That was sometimes awkward, but for now, at least, he seemed content to nap under the table.

I worked without a break until Sean returned. When I checked my watch I was surprised to note that it was almost four-thirty.

“Sorry I was gone so long.” Sean shook his head. “Would you believe Stewart got lost three times on the way to the house? He was following in his car, and despite my best efforts, he couldn’t seem to keep up.”

“That’s ridiculous,” I said. “It’s not that far.”

“I know,” Sean replied. “But I think he was talking on his cell phone the whole time.” He sighed. “I finally got him to the house and helped him carry his things in. Then he insisted on making another trip back here to pick up stuff he forgot, and that took a while, too. But I finally got away from him. When I left, he was having a grand old time rearranging the furniture in his bedroom.”

“If that keeps him amused, that’s fine with me,” I said. “I’m still not sure about having him in the house, but I’ve decided that you’re going to be his minder, not me.” I noticed then that Sean didn’t have Dante with him. “Where’s your dog?”

“With Stewart.” Sean laughed. “Stewart took a fancy to him, and he begged me to let Dante stay with him so he’d have company until we came home. That was fine with me, and Dante seemed happy to stay. I can work better without having to check on him every five minutes to make sure he’s not getting into something.”

Diesel perked up when Sean returned, and he appeared to be searching the room for his little pal. “Sean left him at home, Diesel,” I told him. The cat stopped, turned, and went back to his spot under the table.

“That’s amazing,” Sean said. “I swear he understands anything you say.”

“I know. It’s spooky sometimes.” I brandished the inventory book I was holding. “Let’s get a bit more done, and then we’ll head home for the night.”

We resumed our earlier method, with me reading and Sean checking the shelves. After a few minutes of this, Sean spoke suddenly.

“I just realized something, Dad.” He rubbed his chin. “All the books we’ve been dealing with so far are pretty old. I don’t think a single one of them was published after 1900.”

I thought about it a moment. “I believe you’re right. Perhaps Mr. Delacorte concentrated on pre-1900 books when he first started collecting. I know there are books in the collection published after 1900, though, like a set of Faulkner first editions, and some Welty editions, too.”

“That makes sense,” Sean said. He turned back to the shelf.

I called out the next title, and then we heard a knock at the door.

Bates answered it, but I wasn’t paying much attention, being more focused on the task at hand.

The high-pitched tones of Eloise Morris’s voice caught my ear, however, and I turned to see her standing in the doorway. Bates hovered over her with a puzzled expression. Since she was in one of her antebellum gowns, I could understand his confusion.

Then I noticed what she was holding.

It looked like the missing volume of the inventory.

TWENTY-FOUR

“This belongs to Uncle James,” Eloise said. “I know he wants it back.” She gazed up at Deputy Bates. “Why won’t you let me give it back?”

“Well, ma’am,” Bates said, “I don’t rightly know how to tell you this, but . . .”

“Hold on, Deputy,” I said.

“Sure,” Bates said. He appeared relieved that I chose to intervene.

I set down the inventory book I held and moved at a deliberate pace toward Eloise. I stopped about a foot in front of her, and she stared at me for a moment. Then she gave me a tentative smile.

“You look nice,” she said. “I’ve met you before, haven’t I?”

“Yes, we’ve met a couple of times. Perhaps I can help,” I said. “I’ll be happy to take the book for you.”

“Uncle James likes you.” Eloise still smiled. “You came to tea.”

“Yes, I did,” I said. “How kind of you to remember me.” I held out my hands, encased in the protective cotton gloves I wore.

Eloise glanced at my hands and giggled. “You’re wearing gloves, too.”

I hadn’t noticed until now that she wore delicate lace gloves. “Yes, I am. It’s the proper thing to do, isn’t it, when one goes calling.”

Eloise nodded solemnly. “Yes, it is.” Then she attempted to peer around me. “Uncle James isn’t at his desk.”

“No, he stepped away for a few minutes.” I paused for a breath, feeling suddenly nervous. “I’ll be happy to give him the book for you, if you’d like.”

She pondered that for a moment, then thrust the book at me. “He likes you, so it’s okay. He doesn’t like some people. He doesn’t want them playing with his books.”

“No, he doesn’t,” I said as I clutched the book.

“He especially doesn’t want Hubert to play with them.” Eloise sniffed. “Hubert messes up everything.”

“That’s too bad,” I replied. This reference to her husband intrigued me. “Was Hubert playing with this book?”

Eloise blinked at me. “Uncle James loves cookies, just like me. He eats a lot of them.” She glanced at the desk. “Look, the ones I left for him are all gone. I think I’ll ask Truesdale for more. Maybe this time I can have some, too.” Then she whirled and disappeared through the open doorway.

I thought about going after her but decided that it would probably be like trying to pin a raindrop to the wall.

Bates closed the door and then turned to me with a look of admiration. “Man, you handled her good. I wasn’t too sure what to say to her.”

“Yeah, Dad,” Sean said. “She really is around the bend. She doesn’t even know her uncle is dead.”

The lucid part of Eloise knew, because I had told her. But I wondered how often the lucid Eloise put in an appearance.

I glanced down at the book in my hands. “We need to let Deputy Berry know this has turned up. Lord knows where Eloise found it, but I’m sure Kanesha will want to have it checked for fingerprints.”

Bates whipped out his cell phone and punched a number. I went to the desk and put volume four of the inventory down. I was itching to open it and find out if there was an entry for
Tamerlane
, but I didn’t dare. That would have to wait until Kanesha was present.

I stared down at the book on the desk, lost in thought as I picked back over the brief but odd conversation with Eloise. Did her mention of Hubert mean that she found the missing book among his things? Or was it simple rambling, like most of Eloise’s conversation appeared to be?

That was something Kanesha would have to follow up on, I decided.

“She’s heading this way,” Bates said as he snapped his phone shut.

I was about to comment when the deputy stiffened and held up his hand. “You hear that? Sounded like a scream.”

He whirled and was out the door before I could frame a reply. Sean brushed past me and went after the deputy. I glanced over at Diesel, and he was sitting up and staring toward the door.

“Come on, boy; let’s go see what’s going on.” I headed after Sean and the deputy. I made sure Diesel was behind me as we approached the front of the house. I heard the ruckus now. A woman whimpered while a man yelled.

When I reached the foot of the stairs, I looked up. Deputy Bates had a firm hold on Hubert Morris, who struggled to pull free. The deputy outweighed Hubert by at least thirty pounds of muscle, so Hubert wasn’t going anywhere. He continued to yell at his wife, who cowered in my son’s arms.

“How many times have I told you to stay out of other people’s rooms? Stupid, stupid, crazy idiot.” Everything Hubert yelled was some variation of those words.

“Quiet!” Sean and Deputy Bates roared in unison.

The word reverberated up and down the stairs and through the hall.

Hubert was apparently so startled that he shut up.

“And stay that way.” Bates growled in Hubert’s ear before he practically carried him down the stairs to where Diesel and I stood.

My poor cat had scrunched up against my legs as hard as he could, and I squatted down to reassure him. I didn’t like this yelling any more than he did.

When I looked up again, Sean was carrying Eloise up the stairs to her room, I guessed. She was no longer whimpering, and that had to be a good sign. I hoped she would recover quickly from Hubert’s verbal assault.

At least, I hoped it was only verbal.

I stood and examined Hubert, still in the deputy’s strong grip. “What was that all about?” I asked.

The doorbell rang, and Bates indicated that I should answer it. He had made no move to release Hubert.

I opened the door to Kanesha Berry. “Afternoon, Mr. Harris,” she said as she stepped into the hall.

I returned the greeting, but I didn’t think she heard me.

BOOK: Classified as Murder

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