Arsenic And Old Books

Azalea had worked for my aunt for many years, and on the day I moved in, Azalea told me she would stay on because Aunt Dottie made her promise to look after the house—and me. I hadn’t argued because I knew a superior force when I met one. Besides, Azalea took such good care of the house—and of me—that I had quickly grown used to being looked after and fed delicious Southern food. My expanded waistline attested to that.

For a moment I fancied I saw my aunt standing right behind Azalea and nodding her head at what her housekeeper had said. I blinked, and the image faded. This wasn’t the first time over the past year that I’d had these hallucinations—if that was indeed what they were.

“You’re right.” I nodded. “I won’t melt. Guess I’d better get a move on.”

Azalea picked up the basket and nodded. “I’ll be gone by the time you’re home again. I’m going to bake a casserole for you. It’ll be in the oven.”

I thanked her before I went into the hall to grab my raincoat from the coatrack. When I walked back into the kitchen on my way to the attached garage, I heard her singing in the utility room, along with the sound of water filling the washing machine.

The drive to the public library took only a few minutes. Nothing was far from anything else in Athena, a fact over which I marveled frequently after so many years in Houston. I parked my car in the lot beside the building. The front end touched the low hedge that bordered the lot on three sides. As I stepped out of the car, unfurling my umbrella as I did so, I thought I saw something moving in the shrubbery. I shut the door and stood for a moment, watching, but then decided I must have imagined it. There was no further movement in the dark areas beneath the shrubs on this murky day.

I headed into the library to get out of the rain and into the warmth. The cheerful faces of two of the library staff members, Lizzie Hayes and Bronwyn Forster, greeted me, and my spirits began to lift. Really, I was lucky to have such nice people to spend time with, and I ought to be more grateful for that. Besides, I knew they appreciated the help I gave them.

I spent a couple of hours cataloging and processing new books, interrupted by the occasional short burst of conversation with either Lizzie or Bronwyn. Teresa Farmer, the chief reference librarian, popped her head into the office to say hello, and we chatted for a moment. Teresa asked if I could work the reference desk from two to three today, and I said I’d be happy to. After that I would be done for the day.

The time passed pleasantly enough, though slowly. Few people made it into the library, probably due to the weather. When I finished my stint at three, I bundled up again, bade everyone goodbye, and headed to my car, umbrella over my head.

As I neared my car, I saw a longish, dark shape dart out of the shrubbery and run under the car. I stopped a few feet away and squatted awkwardly as I tried to keep the umbrella over me. I thought I saw an animal of some kind behind one of the rear wheels, but the afternoon was so gray that I had difficulty discerning anything clearly.

My knees protested as I stood, and I remained in place. What kind of creature was under my car? Could it be a possum or a raccoon? They turned up in people’s yards all the time. The last thing I wanted was to be attacked by a wild animal. No, I decided after a moment’s reflection. The way the creature moved, it had to be a cat. Probably a family pet that had strayed away from home.

I took a couple of steps toward the car and knelt again. “Hello there, kitty. Don’t be afraid. I’m not going to hurt you. Come out where I can see you better.” I repeated my words in a croon, over and over, and although my knees ached, I kept it up until finally a dark head with two large ears appeared from behind the rear tire.

“Well, hello, kitty,” I said. “You look wet and unhappy. How about you let me come closer? Would that be okay?” I kept up the soft patter as I moved clumsily forward in a crouch.

The cat didn’t run off. Instead he—or she—watched me intently. I got as close as three feet from him, and still he hadn’t moved. I stopped and held out my hand.

“Why don’t you come over and say hello? I’m not going to hurt you, I promise. I bet you’re really wet and cold by now, and I’ve got an old towel in the backseat of my car. I can wrap you up in that and you’ll be all nice and warm. How does that sound?”

The cat regarded me for a moment, and I had the strangest feeling he understood every word. He meowed, rather loudly, and took a couple of steps toward me. I held still, but kept murmuring to him, and finally he came close enough for me to touch his head gently.