Arsenic And Old Books

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.

FOURTEEN

“Evening, Marie.” I stood in the doorway and glared down at her upturned face. “What do you want?”

From the wild gleam in the woman’s eyes, I knew I was in trouble. She put her head down and butted me in the stomach. Hard.

I stumbled back and almost tripped over Diesel. I managed to step around him. He darted up the stairs while I turned to face my attacker.

“Why did you do that, woman? Are you insane?” I rubbed the spot where her head had connected with my midriff. “I have a good mind to call the police and charge you with assault.”

“You already set the police on me.” Her pitch rose with every syllable. “I could kill you for what you’ve done to me. Why do you hate me? What have I ever done to you?”

To my dismay she broke into wild sobs. Tears rolled down her face. She stood there, arms hanging down listlessly, and continued to cry. Despite my anger at her attack, I felt a sneaking sympathy for her distress. I stepped around her to close the door, then came back to where she could see me.

“What happened?” I asked in a gentle tone.

Her chest heaved as she struggled to regain enough composure to respond to me. “The police showed up at my house this afternoon and accused me of theft. That’s what happened. Then they tore my house apart looking for the diaries. You were responsible for it—I know you were—so don’t try to deny it.” Suddenly she collapsed in a seated heap on the floor and started sobbing again.

I knelt by her. I was afraid to touch her because the good Lord only knew how she would react.

“Marie, I’m sorry for your distress,” I said. “I did report the theft of the diaries, and naturally I had to give the authorities the names of anyone I knew who had expressed interest in them. I didn’t do it out of malice, I swear to you. It was simply the truth.”

“It was humiliating.” Her voice was so low I barely made out the words. The volume grew as she continued to speak. “Never in my life have I been so embarrassed. I’ll be a laughingstock on campus because of this. And on top of everything else, the diaries have disappeared. Now I’ll never get to work on them, and I won’t get tenure.”

“Did you steal the diaries?” I asked her. Time for a tougher approach, I thought. Maybe that would force her to see sense, if anything would.

She glared at me, her expression full of loathing. “No, I did not. I’ve never stolen anything in my life.”

“Then stop acting like a drama queen trying to hide her guilt.” I stood and extended a hand. “Get up off the floor and come into the kitchen with me. I’ll give you coffee or something stronger, and we’ll talk about this.”

Her eyes narrowed as she stared at me, then at my hand. After a long moment, she grasped my hand, and I helped her get to her feet.

“How about brandy?” She sounded hoarse now from the crying and carrying on.

“I have some,” I said. Might as well have some myself, I decided. I glanced up at the stairs, but there was no sign of the cat. Diesel was probably under my bed. He would be okay until I had Marie calmed down completely and out of the house.

Marie pulled out a chair and plopped down. Her short legs barely touched the floor. I found the brandy in the cabinet and poured some for both of us.

“Thanks,” she said in a less than gracious tone before she knocked it back in one go.

I held up the bottle, and she nodded. This time she had a sip and set the glass down. “I’m waiting,” she said. “Talk. I want you to explain to me how you were careless enough to let someone walk in and steal those diaries.”

I set the brandy bottle down before I was tempted to slug her with it.