Arsenic And Old Books

I mulled that decision over for the next quarter hour. Diesel returned and stretched out on the floor beside my chair while I pondered the situation.

Was I making too much of this? Surely Miss Eulalie wouldn’t be in danger. I was letting my imagination go into warp drive.

Then again, if the person who took Miss Eulalie’s copy of the memoir was the same person who ran over Marie Steverton, then Miss Eulalie could well be in harm’s way.

Finally I decided that I couldn’t risk anything happening to that little old lady. I looked up her number again and punched it into the phone.

The phone rang seven times, and I was about to hang up and call Kanesha when Miss Eulalie answered.

“Thank goodness,” I said. “This is Charlie again. I hope you’re not going to think I’m crazy, but I’m worried about your safety because of that missing book. Miss Eulalie, did you really misplace it, or did someone take it from your house?”

I heard a sharp intake of breath from the other end of the line. Then Miss Eulalie laughed. “Charlie, my goodness, you are one for getting excited about the oddest things. I was about to call you to let you know I remember what happened to my copy of the memoir. I put it in the Long collection several years ago, and I forgot all about it.” She laughed again, but I thought it sounded a bit forced—definitely not the fairy-like tinkle I remembered from our earlier conversation.

“I’m glad to hear it’s safe,” I said. “I hope your headache is better.”

“My headache? Oh, yes, it’s much better. Thank you for being so kind as to ask. Now I really mustn’t keep you any longer. Good night.”

I barely had time to bid her good night in return before she hung up.

I put the receiver back on the hook and returned to my seat at the table. I had the oddest feeling that Miss Eulalie had lied to me. The first thing I’d do tomorrow at the archive would be to delve through the Long collection to find that memoir. I would also check the accession records. If Miss Eulalie had indeed donated her copy, there should be a note about it. I knew from my experience with her recordkeeping that she had been meticulous during her tenure.

If she lied to me, then why had she done so? Was she protecting someone? Mayor Long? Jasper Singletary? Or someone else, someone I hadn’t considered?

Now I had a headache. As curious as I was about the contents of the diary pages I scanned today, I would leave them for tomorrow. A good night’s sleep might bring clarity, clarity that I needed.

I knew Helen Louise would not be calling me tonight. She was catering a private dinner party and probably wouldn’t be home until at least eleven. She would be too exhausted to talk.

“Come on, boy,” I said to the cat at my feet. “Let’s get ready for bed.”

*   *   *

I heard my cell phone ring the next morning right when I stepped out of the shower. I dried myself enough that I wouldn’t drip water everywhere and hurried into the bedroom to answer the call. I caught it in time.

In response to my greeting, the caller said, “Good morning, Mr. Harris. Jasper Singletary. I’d like to talk to you in private as soon as possible. Are you available this morning?”

“I’d very much like to talk to you, too, Mr. Singletary,” I said. I thought he sounded tense. “I’m available this morning. When and where would you like to meet?”

“How about your office at eight forty-five?”

I glanced at the clock. I had time for a quick breakfast before I would need to head to the archive. “That will be fine.”

He rang off.

While I dressed I thought about the coming interview. Kelly Grimes had no doubt given him an earful about my recent conversation with her. I hoped he wouldn’t be hostile, but I certainly didn’t expect him to be overly friendly. Nothing like a good confrontation to start the day, I thought morosely.

Azalea had my breakfast on the table when Diesel and I walked into the kitchen. Cheese grits, bacon, and toast this morning. I loved her buttery cheese grits, but I groaned inwardly at the thought of all the calories.

“Good morning,” I said. “Breakfast looks delicious as usual.”

“Morning, Mr. Charlie,” Azalea said. “You, too, cat.” She stared down at Diesel as he looked back and forth between her and me. He wanted bacon, and he didn’t mind who gave it to him first.

“I’m going to have to make this fast,” I said as I picked up my coffee. “I’ve got an appointment at eight forty-five.” Azalea would cluck over me if she thought I was eating too quickly.

“All right,” she said.

I had a sip of my coffee, then a bite of the heavenly grits. “So good. Do you know the Singletary family? I don’t remember them from when I was growing up. Now, of course, Jasper Singletary’s in the paper all the time lately.”