Arsenic And Old Books

Diesel slid down from the windowsill and went over to the door while I powered down the computer and gathered my things. Minutes later we were down the stairs and ready to walk out the front door, when Melba hailed me from her office. I suppressed a sigh and turned to greet my friend as she hurried out to where we stood. I had hoped to sneak out without her seeing us because I couldn’t tell her what I had read in the diary. Melba had an unfailing instinct, however, for the times when I tried to duck out on her.

“How’re y’all doing?” She bent to rub Diesel’s head and coo at him.

“Fine, but tired,” I said.

Melba straightened. “What have you been doing that’s so tiring besides sitting up there in your chair all day? I’ve been run off my feet or else I’d’ve been up there to visit earlier.”

“Staring at a computer screen,” I said. “That always tires me out and gives me a bit of a headache.” I did have a headache, so I wasn’t making a play for sympathy, hoping she would be satisfied and let us go without further questioning.

“I’ve got aspirin in my desk.” Melba turned and walked back into her office.

I had no choice but to follow because I knew she would be offended if I didn’t accept the aspirin.

“Here.” She held out two of the pills and went over to the watercooler to fill a paper cup for me.

I took the pills with the water and thanked her. Diesel warbled anxiously. I was sure he felt my tension, and I made a conscious effort to relax. I was being silly, trying to avoid talking to Melba.

She beamed at me. “By the time you get home that aspirin ought to kick in, and you’ll feel better. Sit down a minute before you head into that sticky humidity out there.” She gestured toward the visitor’s chair by her desk.

I waited until she sat before I complied with her order. Diesel rubbed himself against her legs, and she scratched his head and neck.

“Anything new on the murder?” Melba asked.

“Not that I know of,” I said. “This is one time when I’m probably not going to be much help to Kanesha.” I didn’t think I’d found information in the diary all that significant to the investigation. It could certainly lead to embarrassment on Jasper Singletary’s part depending on how he felt about his heritage, but I wasn’t sure it was connected to Marie Steverton’s death.

“You do know something,” Melba said with a shrewd glint in her eyes. “I reckon, though, you’re not going to tell me because it’s confidential, right?”

I nodded. “Right. Anything I find in the diaries I have to discuss with the mayor first, and then with Kanesha, if it’s at all pertinent. If the mayor decides to let the diary be publicly available, well, then I can tell you.”

“Fair enough,” Melba said. “I bet you there’s going to be something juicy in there somewhere. Every family has skeletons in the closet, but nobody’s been able to find the ones the Longs are hiding.” She grinned broadly.

“I thought you were a big supporter of the mayor’s,” I said. “Sounds to me like you’re hoping there’ll be mud to sling.”

“Lucinda’s a Long only by marriage,” Melba said. “And I do support her. I just don’t have much use for her son.” She shook her head. “That boy didn’t get a full serving of brains the day they were handing them out. If he wasn’t so dang good-looking, nobody would think twice about voting for him.”

Based on the scene I witnessed earlier today, I couldn’t disagree with Melba. “I haven’t heard him speak that much,” I said. “But what little I have heard hasn’t impressed me.”

“Guess that’s why Lucinda is doing all she can to help get the boy elected. I don’t know why she didn’t run herself. She’d be a lot better state senator than her son.”

“That may be,” I said, “but she isn’t running.”

Melba shrugged. “I reckon her husband is the one pushing to get the boy in office. He served a couple terms a while back in the state house of representatives, and he’s probably aiming higher for his son. Trying to keep up the Long legacy.”

“It’ll sure be interesting to see how this race turns out.” I stood. “Thanks again for the aspirin, but Diesel and I need to head on home. We’ll see you tomorrow.”

Melba gave the cat a few last head rubs before she bade us both good-bye. Despite the heat of the afternoon I was glad to get out of the building before I let something slip to Melba that I shouldn’t.

I thought about our conversation on the short walk home. Having been close up with Beck Long and then hearing Melba’s assessment of him, I gained a better understanding of why Mrs. Long believed the diaries could help. Emphasis on the Long family’s history and accomplishments for generations might dazzle voters enough that they would overlook Beck’s deficiencies.