Arsenic And Old Books

“Oh, her,” Laura said with a tinge of exasperation in her tone. “She’s the one Frank told me about. He said there was a woman in the history department who had a fit when the college players put on The Taming of the Shrew. She even went to the president to try to get it stopped.” She paused. “Hold on—you said was. What happened?”

“She was killed in a hit-and-run accident early this morning,” I said.

“How awful,” Laura said. “I heard she drove people nuts, but to think that she died that way. So sad.”

“The worst part is, it probably wasn’t an accident.”

“Another murder?” Laura’s eyebrows rose. “Dad, don’t tell me you’re involved in this.”

“Don’t start on that,” I said, perhaps a bit defensively. I was still sensitive from the ribbing Sean had given me. “If you’ll sit there and be quiet, I’ll tell you all about what’s been going on.”

Laura nodded. “I will.”

Before I could start my recital, Azalea served us both steaming bowls of chicken and dumplings. I was ravenous, and I remembered that I had eaten only about a third of my breakfast this morning. In between mouthfuls of the delicious food, I gave Laura the salient facts about my encounters with Marie.

By the time I finished, I realized I had put away two bowls of chicken and dumplings to Laura’s one. Azalea rewarded Diesel with a small plate of boiled chicken breast, enough to keep him happy for an hour or two before the starvation pangs set in again.

“Those diaries must be hot stuff,” Laura said. “Maybe Athena after the Civil War was a nineteenth-century Peyton Place.”

“There’s no telling what’s in there,” I said. “The diaries are certainly a hot property. I’m praying, though, nobody else gets hurt because of them.”

“Especially you.” Laura shot me a stern look. “You be careful while you’re working on them. I don’t want to get a call from somebody telling me you’re lying on a bed in the emergency room because you’ve been conked over the head.”

“I’ll do my best to avoid your having to get that call,” I said. I pushed back my chair. “I need to get back to work. I want to finish scanning the one volume I have by the end of the day.”

“You just be careful, Mr. Charlie,” Azalea said. “Miss Laura’s right. Ain’t going to do nobody no good if you end up in the hospital over some old books.”

Laura gave me a triumphant smile.

“Yes, ma’am, I’ll be careful.” Sometimes Azalea made me feel like I was ten years old. I knew she was fond of me in her own way, but I was over fifty, after all. “Come on, Diesel, let’s go.”

Diesel, still seated next to Laura’s chair, looked back and forth between my daughter and me. I could tell he was torn. He loved Laura and didn’t see her often enough these days.

Laura understood. She rubbed the cat’s head. “You’d better go with Dad, boy. I’d love to stay here the rest of the afternoon and play with you, but I have to leave in about an hour. You go on, and I’ll see you again soon.”

The cat chirped a couple of times before he got up and walked over to me. “Good boy,” I told him. I reattached his leash. Laura rose to give me a hug and a kiss, and I bade her and Azalea good-bye.

Ten minutes later I unlocked the office door and let the cat inside and unleashed him. Then I went to the storage room next door to retrieve the diary.

I woke up the computer and scanner and set to work. I really wanted to finish this by the end of my workday, around five o’clock, if not before.

I didn’t know how much time had passed when a voice from the doorway interrupted my concentration.

“Come in, Ms. Grimes,” I said. “I’m glad you’re here.”

“Oh, really, that’s a switch.” She laughed as she approached me. Her eyes widened when she realized what I was scanning. “You got them back? That’s amazing.”

I closed the book and stood. “I did get the diaries back. I found them here when I came to work this morning.” I ushered her toward the chair in front of my desk. “They are now in the custody of the sheriff’s department, on their way to the state crime lab for examination.”

“That sucks,” she said, obviously disappointed. “How long will they keep them?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “It could take weeks.”

Ms. Grimes swore, and I shot her a look.

“Sorry,” she said, although she didn’t sound all that penitent. She jerked her head in the direction of the scanner. “So what’s that you’re working on over there? Some other project?”

“No, it’s a fifth volume of the diary that the mayor found last night. She brought it over this morning.”

“When can I have a look at it?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “In light of everything that’s happened, I’ll have to discuss that with the mayor and the sheriff’s department.”

Ms. Grimes scowled at me. “You’re deliberately trying to keep me from looking at those diaries. Why are you making this so difficult?”