Arsenic And Old Books

I held my hand out for the book, but she shook her head. “No, I think I’ll hold on to this until we can come to an agreement.”

“An agreement on what?” I said, irritated. I couldn’t believe the nerve of the woman.

“I want an exclusive interview with you,” she said. “Because after you’ve read this, you can help me prove that the story about Jasper being descended from slaves is a lie.”

I stared at her. She couldn’t possibly know that Stewart had determined the diary was a forgery. Then I focused on something she’d said. After you’ve read this, meaning the memoir. “What’s in the memoir that disproves the story in the diary?”

She shook her head again. “Are you going to give me the interview?”

I didn’t have a choice, I supposed. Although I could call Kanesha and she would probably be able to take the book as evidence in the case. I didn’t tell Ms. Grimes this. At the moment my curiosity had too strong a hold. I had to see what was in the memoir that made Ms. Grimes so certain of her position.

I was about to reply when I thought of something. “I spoke to Jasper Singletary this morning, and he didn’t say anything about this. Surely you’ve told him you have this so-called proof that the story is a lie.”

She looked disconcerted for a moment. “He’s been too busy the past two days, and I only read the memoir last night. I wanted to be certain before I told him.”

I wasn’t sure I trusted her, but I wanted to get my hands on that book. There had to be a reason Marie had hoarded it away, and why someone had taken Miss Eulalie’s copy.

“Okay, then, I’ll give you your interview,” I said. “Once I’ve read that memoir. And when the murderer has been identified. Not before.”

“Fine.” She held the book out to me. “I think you’ll find the contents interesting.”

“Contents of what?” Helen Louise asked. I looked up to see her standing behind the writer. Kelly Grimes started and half rose from her chair.

“Sorry if I startled you,” Helen Louise said.

The writer gave a polite smile. “Not at all. Mr. Harris and I are done for the moment. I’ll hear from you soon, I hope.” She picked up her briefcase and stood.

I nodded. “When we agreed.”

She stared hard at me for a moment before she turned and walked away.

During that interchange, Helen Louise and Diesel were greeting each other. Once Ms. Grimes was out of earshot, Helen Louise slid into the chair next to mine. Her hand still on the cat’s head, she said, “What was all that about?” Her glance fell on the book I held. “Something to do with that?”

“Yes.” I explained about the memoir as much as I could. I couldn’t discuss the diary’s claims about Jasper Singletary’s great-great-grandmother Celeste. “I’ll tell you the rest of it as soon as I can.”

“All right.” Helen Louise smiled. “I bet it’s a doozy of a story. Now, how about lunch?” She glanced around the room. “I’m shorthanded today, so I’m not going to be able to eat with you.”

“I understand,” I said. “Don’t worry about us. I’m sure you’ve picked out something wonderful as always.”

She leaned over to brush my cheek with her lips. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

Diesel watched her go, then turned his head to look up at me and meow.

“She’ll be back with food,” I told him. “You’re going to get your treat like you always do. You’re not going to expire from starvation for another sixty seconds or so.”

He regarded me solemnly for a moment before he positioned himself to watch for Helen Louise’s return.

I had to confess to Helen Louise later that I couldn’t remember what she served me for lunch that day. My brain was so focused on the memoir, Rachel Long’s diary, and the murder of Marie Steverton and how they all connected, I couldn’t process much else.

When Diesel and I both finished and Melba came to collect us for the drive back to campus, I at least remembered to wave good-bye to Helen Louise. She was busy with customers but gave me a quick wave back.

Melba chattered about something she and her friend discussed over lunch but I barely heard her. Diesel warbled a few times from the backseat, and Melba laughed.

“At least one of you is paying attention to what I’ve been saying.” She pulled her car into her parking space in the library lot and turned to grin at me.

“Sorry.” I had the memoir clutched to my chest like a favorite teddy bear. “I didn’t mean to ignore you; I’m just really preoccupied right now.”

“No kidding,” Melba said as we got out of the car. “It’s okay. I know you. Go on up to your office and start reading.”

“Thanks, and thanks again for the ride to the bakery and back.” Diesel and I followed her into the building through the back door, and we parted ways in front of the stairs.

“Come on, boy.” I jogged up the stairs, but Diesel made it up to the office door several seconds ahead of me. He thought I was playing, and he liked to race me on the stairs. Sometimes he acted almost like a dog.