File M For Murder

Diesel preceded me inside. He waited for me to remove his harness, then walked to the window behind my desk and climbed onto the large cushion I keep there for him. This was his special perch, and he loved it. An ancient oak tree right outside often lured birds, and the morning sun warmed him. He yawned and stretched while I booted my computer.

I managed to read three e-mail messages before Melba Gilley, administrative assistant to the library director, Peter Vanderkeller, popped in for her morning visit. Melba and I had known each other since elementary school, and we’d always been friends. She was a knockout in high school, and at fifty-one she retained her figure and her fashion sense.

“Morning, Diesel honey.” Melba adored my cat, and Diesel returned the feeling. He sat up and warbled for her, and she blew him a kiss as she slid into the chair by my desk. “And good morning to you, Charlie. What’s this I hear about your daughter working in the Theater Department?”

I suppressed a smile. If the campus grapevine could be likened to a computer network, then Melba could be called the hub. I widened my eyes innocently. “Melba, you let me down on this one. How come you didn’t know about this last week?”

Melba scowled at me. “Because my usual source didn’t tell me about it until after church yesterday, dang her hide.” She picked at an invisible piece of lint on her sleeve. “And before you go asking, I’ll tell you. It was Sarabeth Conley.” She grinned. “She said she used to babysit you when you were a sprout. Said you were a little dickens, too. The only way she could get you to sit still was to sing.”

I reddened, and Melba chuckled.

“You were a little dickens in grade school too, as I recall. Always in trouble for talking in class. Until Mrs. Tenney broke you of the habit.”

“And as I recall,” I said in a wry tone, “I wasn’t the only one who got in trouble for talking in class. I remember a holy terror in pigtails who gave about as good as she got.”

We both smiled.

“I know you’re thrilled to have Laura here for a whole semester.”

I nodded. “I sure am. I don’t get to see her that often. I’m proud of her and her career, but I hate that she’s so far away.”

Melba leaned forward and patted my arm. “That’s the rough thing about being a parent, I guess.” A shadow passed over her face. Melba had no children, a situation I knew she regretted.

I decided to change the subject. “What have you heard about the resident genius in the Theater Department, Connor Lawton?”

“That he’ll be lucky to make it through the year without getting his rear end whupped.” Melba shook her head. “He aggravates people left and right. Being a hotshot will carry him only so far.”

“Some people think artists should be allowed to behave badly. It’s part of their creative personalities.”

Melba snorted. “I don’t see why. There’s no excuse for anybody being that rude. Besides, he ought to know better, being born in the South.”

“Born in the South?” That was news to me.

“Right here in Athena as a matter of fact.” I could see Melba enjoyed my surprise. “Lived here till he was about four or five, from what I heard. Then his daddy got a job back east. Connecticut, or maybe Vermont.” She frowned. “At least, I think that’s what Sarabeth said.”

Sounded to me like Sarabeth was another hub in the gossip network. I decided I should advise Laura to be careful what she said and did around the Theater Department’s administrator.

Since news spread so quickly around campus, I figured I might as well tell Melba about Connor and Laura. She’d find out anyway, and I’d rather she had the real story from me, and not some lurid tale of unrequited passion from another source. “Laura dated him briefly. She said there’s a gentler side to him, though I must say I have yet to see it myself.” I didn’t tell her about Lawton’s threats.

I rarely managed to surprise Melba with such juicy tidbits, and I had to work to keep from laughing at her expression.

“At least he has good taste in women. She’s better off without him, though, from what I’ve heard.” Melba stood. “Guess I should get my carcass back downstairs before His Majesty gets into a flap over something.” Peter Vanderkeller was a bright man, overall a good library director, but he lacked common sense. Without Melba there to keep him organized, I doubt he’d ever get anything done.

Melba bade me good-bye and blew another kiss to Diesel. He meowed for her as she left.

Thankful for the quiet, I went back to my e-mail.

Once I finished that, I moved on to other tasks, like cataloging more books from the Delacorte Collection. I regretted the manner in which Athena College received the bequest—as the result of violent death—but I had to admit I was thrilled to hold first editions of such classics as Pride and Prejudice, Middlemarch, and Vanity Fair in my hands as I cataloged them.