Arsenic And Old Books

The cat stared at me for a long moment before he resumed his position at my feet beneath the table. I found it uncanny sometimes the way he seemed to understand what I told him.

When I focused my attention again on the two politicos and their opposing camps, I saw Singletary making his way toward Beck Long. Beck didn’t appear to have noticed Singletary yet, but then the latter spoke.

“Good morning, Beck. Glad-handing the voters, I see.” Singletary’s tone was jocular, yet I thought I heard a sharp edge to it.

The noise of conversation in the bakery suddenly dropped to a low hum as most people tuned in to the chat between the two young men.

I regarded the pair for a moment. They definitely formed a study in contrast. Beck Long was the proverbial golden boy—tall, blond, blue-eyed, with the body of a trained athlete. Top of his class in law school, partner in a successful practice in Athena, he seemed to achieve anything he wanted with ease. Jasper Singletary had the dark good looks of the Black Irish, as my late aunt would have said. Not quite as tall, chunkier like a heavyweight boxer, he also had a pugnacious attitude—or so I had gathered from reading about some of his encounters with the press.

“Hey, Jasper.” Long turned with a smile and an outstretched hand. “Yeah, you know the drill. Have to get out into the community and talk to everyone.” The two shook hands. “Have you met the owner of this fine bakery, Helen Louise Brady?”

Singletary inclined his head at Helen Louise, who smiled warmly at him. “I have indeed. She makes some of the best chocolate cake I’ve ever eaten.”

Beck laughed. “Amen to that.” He patted his trim waistline. “I’ve spent many an hour in the gym to compensate for it, let me tell you.”

“I’d love to work out in a gym,” Singletary said with a slight smile. “I have bigger priorities for my budget, however, so I have to settle for jogging around the neighborhood.”

Singletary’s reference to his budget was a subtle nod to the fact that, unlike Beck Long, he hadn’t grown up in a privileged, wealthy family. The son of an impoverished local farmer with only a small holding, he had worked two jobs to put himself through college and law school. His ambition and hard work paid off as he became a successful lawyer in Memphis, but in the past year he’d moved back to Athena, evidently to enter politics in his home state.

Long gave little outward sign that he registered Singletary’s jab. “You’re lucky you’ve got the knees for it. I guess I played too much tennis, because my knees give me heck these days.”

I remembered reading that Long had been a tennis champion all through high school and college and had even flirted with the idea of turning professional, but decided instead to stick with family tradition.

“That’s too bad,” Singletary said in a patently insincere tone. “My advisors and I are planning to have lunch in this excellent establishment, and our schedule is tight. Have you finished here?” He waved a hand toward the cash register.

“Yes, I’m afraid we have to push on. No time for lunch today. So many folks to see. We just stopped by to say hello to Ms. Brady.”

Long’s entourage of five evidently took that as their cue, because they started moving away from the counter and toward the door. Long turned back to Helen Louise and nodded. “Always good to see you, Helen Louise. Let me say again how much my parents and I enjoyed your food the other night.”

“My pleasure, Beck,” Helen Louise said.

I watched as Long paused on his way toward the door to shake a few hands. My attention switched back to the counter, however, when I heard Helen Louise greet Singletary.

“Nice to see you again, Jasper,” she said. “We have that chicken salad you like so much today. How about that?”

Singletary grinned. “You know my weakness, so how can I say no?” He motioned for his companions to join him at the register.

I listened for a few moments but when I realized all they were talking about was food, I lost interest. I hoped they would finish soon because I was getting hungrier by the minute, I realized. Diesel chose that second to reappear from under the table and tap my thigh again. “I know,” I told him. “I’m hungry, too. Won’t be long, though, I’m sure.”

The cat appeared to understand, though the look he gave me was far from happy. He meowed twice and slunk under the table as if disgusted.

When I focused on the register area again, there was no line. I surveyed the room and spotted Singletary and his companions sitting on the far side of the bakery from me. They occupied a table next to the small one where Kelly Grimes sat. I was surprised to see her still here, because I thought she might be following Beck Long discreetly for either personal or professional reasons.