The Silence of the Library (20 page)

I hated the idea that the five manuscripts might be fakes, but there were more important things to consider.

First, though, I had to call Kanesha. I pulled out my cell phone and punched in the number.

After two rings her voice growled in my ear. “This better be good.”

“Did I wake you up?” I felt bad about that, considering how tired she had looked this morning. But this couldn’t wait.

She ignored my question. “Why did you call?”

“I know who the murderer is.” I paused for a reaction. None came right away. I plunged ahead. “Mrs. Cartwright is an impostor. It’s her grandson, Eugene, pretending to be her. He killed Carrie Taylor because I’m pretty sure she had evidence in her files that would have exposed him.” I paused again.

Kanesha snorted in my ear. “If I didn’t know you better by now, I’d swear you were drunk out of your mind to come up with a far-out tale like this.”

I decided the wiser course would be not to respond to that sally and wait for her to continue.

“But I do know you better. You wouldn’t make such an outrageous claim if you weren’t sure you could prove it somehow.”

“I believe I can,” I said, vastly relieved. “It would be easier to show you, though. I can’t really do it over the phone.”

“Give me twenty minutes, and I’ll be there. That okay?” She sounded more alert, less aggravated.

“That’ll be fine.” I ended the call and immediately started agitating over the best way to present my evidence. I grabbed the pad of paper I was using earlier to make notes from my research, found a blank page, and started outlining.

Diesel must have sensed my mental turmoil. He sat up and prodded at my leg, then butted it with his head until I noticed him. “Everything is fine, boy.” I scratched his head with my left hand while I continued to jot things down with my right. He calmed after a minute or so of attention, and I could concentrate completely on my task at hand.

By the time Kanesha arrived, I felt confident that I had put together a reasoned, coherent case against Eugene Marter. I offered to make coffee, and when she declined, I mentioned other beverages. She shook her head. She wanted to hear what I had to say, obviously. She did take a moment to say hello to Diesel, however, and I appreciated the gesture.

I recounted my fruitless search through the newsletters, but I did suggest that they all needed to be examined carefully in case there was further evidence in them. She leafed through the scrapbook while I talked, and when she found the picture of Marietta Dubois with Mrs. Cartwright, I explained how I’d verified the actress’s height.

“That sounds convincing.” She nodded at the picture. “Tell me the rest of it.”

I took her through each of the strange incidents and offered my explanations for each. She seemed particularly interested in my theory about the planting of the manuscripts in Winston Eagleton’s hotel suite.

“I couldn’t figure out why he would do something that was so obviously stupid,” she said. “But I had to charge him, given the evidence. Eugene Marter has a record—mostly petty crime, but he’s a shifty devil. Not as bright as he thinks he is, either.”

“I can’t say I’m surprised.” I recounted the story of my one meeting with him—as his real self, that is. “He did admit to me he’d had trouble with the law in the past.”

Kanesha nodded. “For most of his adult life. I felt sorry for his mother when I checked his record. Never did meet the grandmother, though I got the impression it was her money that bailed him out.”

“No doubt it was. Tell me, do you think she’s still alive?”

“Hard to say. You didn’t find her listed in the death index. We’ll have to contact Social Security to find out whether they’re still sending her checks. That doesn’t mean she’s living, but it will be another charge against the Marters for fraud.”

I hadn’t thought of that. “What if she’s alive but not in any condition to make decisions for herself?”

“If one of them has the right power of attorney, they’re okay.” Kanesha examined the scrapbook photo again. “The problem is, I’m not sure I can convince a judge to give me a search warrant. I’d like to go in that house and see just who’s there, and in what condition.”

“I think Yancy Thigpen is there, too. Alive, I hope, like Mrs. Cartwright.” I shuddered. “If they’re not, what will you do?”

Kanesha’s answered chilled me further, though it wasn’t unexpected. “Start looking for evidence of digging on their property.”

“If only there were a way to unmask Eugene in public. That would do it, wouldn’t it?”

“It would certainly get the ball rolling,” Kanesha said. “But I’m not going to go up to Mrs. Cartwright and accuse her of being Eugene in drag. Too risky.”

An idea had occurred to me, but I wasn’t sure whether Kanesha would go for it. It was corny and clichéd, but it had worked in the past. “How about this? We get Eugene, as Mrs. Cartwright, to come to the library tomorrow with Marcella. Maybe I can ask Teresa to call them and say that we want to discuss further the idea of paying Mrs. Cartwright to appear at the library. I could ask them questions, see if Eugene squirms, and if all else fails, I could try to get the wig off.”

Kanesha almost smiled. “Would you really go through with it?”

I nodded.

“You realize you could be laying yourself open to a lawsuit if by some chance you’re wrong. Even if you’re right, Eugene might try to sue you or charge you with assault.”

“I’m willing to take the chance.” My heart thumped harder than usual in my chest, but I would do as I promised.

Kanesha regarded me in silence for a long moment. “Why not? It’s unorthodox, but I don’t have any better options at the moment. Do you think Teresa Farmer will go along?”

“I’m sure she will. I don’t have to tell her everything if you don’t want me to, just that we need to get Eugene, or rather Mrs. Cartwright, and Marcella to the library as soon as possible.”

“If you can get her to do it without telling her completely why, that would be better. That way she can’t give anything away.”

Teresa was shrewd and no doubt would realize that I was hatching some kind of plot, but I thought she would trust me enough to go along without asking any inconvenient questions.

“I’ll call her right now.” I took out my cell phone. She answered almost immediately. After we got the preliminaries out of the way, I said, “I can’t tell you why, but I really need to get Mrs. Cartwright and Marcella to the library tomorrow.” I explained what I wanted her to do. I could tell by her tone that she was burning with curiosity, but she obviously trusted me enough to agree without pressing me for more information. “Call me back as soon as you’ve made the arrangements with them.”

I ended the call and put the phone on the table. “Now all we have to do is wait. Eugene will bite, I’m sure of it.”

The meeting was set for nine thirty the next morning. After Kanesha left, I kept thinking about my plan, and through the afternoon and the evening, I went over it and over it until my head started pounding.

While I lay in bed, trying to still my brain enough to get to sleep, I realized I had overlooked two of the odd occurrences in this strange affair.

The first was the business with the glaring lights when Teresa and I went to visit Mrs. Cartwright in her home. Now that I knew that Eugene was sitting in for his grandmother, I understood. With all that glare, visitors would have a hard time focusing on details of Mrs. Cartwright’s appearance—like an Adam’s apple or hands that looked too young for a centenarian. At other meetings Eugene had worn a scarf and gloves.

The second incident was the fainting spell Marcella had at Winston Eagleton’s party. The news of Carrie Taylor’s murder caused it, but I wondered whether it was a put-on or whether Marcella really had been shocked by the news. I hoped it was the latter because it would mean that she had no idea her son had committed murder until that very moment.

After an hour of lying in bed wide awake, I decided I might as well finish reading
The Mystery at Spellwood Mansion
. If I focused on that for a while instead of the murder, I might relax enough to go to sleep.

I finished the book in about forty-five minutes, and then I put it aside and turned off the light. The plot of the book gave me an idea for the meeting with Eugene and Marcella, and at last I drifted off. Diesel had gone to sleep right away, stretched out beside me in bed.

The next morning I arrived at the library a few minutes before nine, and Bronwyn let me and Diesel in. After she extended the usual greetings to the cat, I pulled her aside and told her I needed a favor. “I can’t explain why I need you to do it, but afterwards I can.”

“That’s okay, Charlie.” Bronwyn smiled. “I can contain my curiosity until you’re ready to come clean.”

While I headed into Teresa’s office, Diesel followed Bronwyn as she went to unlock the door for the day. I knew he would stay with her, which was just as well.

“Morning, Teresa.” I stood in the doorway of the director’s office with a nervous smile.

Teresa greeted me, her expression solemn. “This isn’t going to be anything dangerous, is it? I know it has something to do with Mrs. Taylor’s murder, but I don’t want any kind of violence. I almost called you at midnight last night.”

“I’m sorry.” I sat across from her and put down my briefcase. “I really don’t believe there will be any kind of violence. Kanesha and another officer will be here, but I don’t expect there will be much of a scene.” I doubted that Eugene carried a weapon. Besides he wouldn’t be expecting anything but good news about a fee for the library appearance.

Teresa sighed. “I hope you’re right, Charlie. I told Marcella Marter exactly what you wanted. She tried to press me for details but I said that I couldn’t discuss it any further, that she and her mother really needed to meet with us this morning.”

“Thank you. I appreciate your trust, and I promise you this will all be over soon.” I couldn’t tell her that our plans for the big event would have to be canceled, but she would learn that soon enough. “Once we get in the conference room, I’ll take over. You just be on the alert, okay?”

Teresa looked dubious at that bit of instruction. “If you say so.” She glanced past me at the doorway.

“Good morning.”

I turned to see Kanesha, accompanied by Deputy Bates. “Morning, Officers. Let me show you to the conference room.” There was a closet inside the room, where staff kept supplies for meetings, such as bottled water, soft drinks, and so on. It was large enough for two people to wait in comfortably until they were needed—in this case, to make an arrest.

Kanesha and Bates followed me to the room, and I showed them the closet. I explained to Kanesha what I had asked Bronwyn to do, and she nodded. “Good idea. Another deputy will enter the library ten minutes after the Marters arrive. He’ll be on hand to assist, and they won’t realize he’s here.”

I felt jittery. “I hate the waiting part. I just want it all to be over.”

Bates grinned. “Amateur status.” From his tone I could tell he was teasing, but he was right. I wasn’t used to this kind of setup, and the professionals were.

I left them in the conference room and went back to Teresa’s office. By then it was nearly nine fifteen. I hoped the Marters would be on time. I itched to tell Teresa the truth, but I knew it was probably better not to. I could trust in her courage and good sense to react properly when the time came.

Teresa pretended to work on a document on the computer while I sat across from her and tried to keep calm. The minutes seemed to drag by, but at nine thirty-two Bronwyn brought Mrs. Cartwright and Marcella Marter to Teresa’s office.

“Good morning, Ms. Farmer, Mr. Harris. I hear you have some good news for me,” Eugene said. As expected, he wore a scarf around his neck and thin gloves on his hands. He carried a cane, but not a handbag. That was good. Marcella fidgeted beside him, darting glances at him. It seemed to me that she was afraid of him.

“Good morning, Mrs. Cartwright.” Teresa came from around her desk to shake Eugene’s hand. “Mrs. Marter, nice to see you again. I appreciate you coming in on such short notice, but we need to discuss things for your appearance here on Friday afternoon. Let’s go to the conference room to talk.”

Eugene and his mother followed Teresa, and I found it interesting that Marcella did not assist her son as she had done in the past. To me that was another indication that I was right. Before, Marcella had always been careful to hover close in case she was needed. This morning she was a step behind Eugene.

When we were all in the room, I maneuvered Eugene to a seat at the end of the table nearest the closet. Best to have him as close as possible to Kanesha and Bates with nothing in the way. Marcella sat to one side, Teresa beside her, while I took a chair immediately to Eugene’s left.

Marcella’s gaze darted from Eugene to me over and over again. Her uneasiness was beginning to unnerve me slightly. I had better get things going. Eugene looked from Teresa to me expectantly. Without the sunglasses he had worn in the past, I found it easier to see the heavy makeup he wore to feminize his features. He had paid particular attention to his eyes, even adding false lashes and thick, bright eye shadow.

“As Teresa said, we really appreciate your coming out early this morning and on such short notice, but I think you’ll be happy with the news I have.” I glanced toward the door, and right on cue, Bronwyn stepped in.

“Excuse me,” she said. “Mrs. Marter, there’s a call for you at the desk. A young lady insists on talking to you.”

Marcella stared at Bronwyn. “Wh-who is it?”

Bronwyn shrugged. “I’m sorry, she didn’t say. She did say it was urgent, though. If you’ll come with me, I’ll take you to the phone.”

Marcella cast an uncertain glance at her son, and he frowned. I caught the hint of a nod from him, though, and Marcella stood. “Very well,” she said. “I’m sure it can’t be anything important.” She followed Bronwyn out of the room.

I quickly turned to Eugene. “Before I share the good news with you, Mrs. Cartwright, there’s something I want to show you.” I put my briefcase on the table, opened it, and withdrew Aunt Dottie’s scrapbook. “My late aunt was a huge fan of yours—I inherited her wonderful collection of your books, by the way—and while I was looking for things to use for our exhibit, I came across this.” I patted the scrapbook.

Eugene eyed it nervously. He licked his lips. “Really, how interesting.”

I beamed at him, and Teresa gazed at me blandly, though I knew she was as curious as Eugene to see what I was going to do.

“Yes, it’s very interesting. My aunt cut out articles from newspapers and film magazines, lots of pictures, too, and put them in her scrapbook. I just couldn’t resist bringing it to show you.”

Eugene tittered. “That’s all very nice, Mr. Harris, but I don’t really need to see all those old things. I lived it all, remember. I’d rather focus on the present.”

“Of course you would. But there is one picture I would love for you to sign, if you wouldn’t mind.” I opened the scrapbook and flipped the pages to the photo of Marietta Dubois and Mrs. Cartwright. “It’s such a shame that the movie never got made, I think. Veronica would have been even more famous.”

Eugene scowled. “Can we get on with this? I’m not having one of my good days, and I don’t have the time or energy to sit around here listening to such foolishness. Tell me about the offer of money.”

“I’ll get to that. Please, won’t you look at this picture?” I shoved the scrapbook in front of him, and he glanced down at it. “That actress surely was tall, wasn’t she? You look short standing next to her.”

Eugene glared at me, his eyes narrowing. I could feel the fear and anger emanating from him.

“You can find out all kinds of things on the Internet,” I continued in a chatty tone. “For example, there’s a site you can go to and find out how tall famous people are. Marietta Dubois wasn’t all that famous, but I did find out her height.” I paused and glanced at Teresa. Her eyes were wide with shock. I reckoned she had figured out where I was headed with this. “Turns out Miss Dubois was only five foot six. Judging by that picture, you must be a good four inches shorter than her.”

Two things happened at once. Kanesha and Bates stepped out of the supply closet, and Eugene pushed his chair back so hard it toppled over. He grabbed his cane and headed for the door. Bates surged past Kanesha to grab him, but Teresa was up and out of her chair and stepped in his way. Eugene made it out the door. Kanesha ran past Batesand Teresa, who disentangled themselves quickly. Bates shot after Kanesha and Eugene, with Teresa and me trotting after them.

Eugene was racing for the door, Bates only inches behind. That was when Diesel darted in front of Eugene. The cane went flying, Diesel got out of the way, and Eugene hit the floor. Hard. Bates fell right on top of him.