File M For Murder

By the time Diesel and I finished our pancakes and Azalea started on the laundry in the utility room, none of the other occupants of the house had yet appeared. I went upstairs to dress and brush my teeth, then grabbed my cell phone before Diesel and I went out back to inspect the damage to the house.

Diesel hunted in the flowerbeds while I stood in the hot morning sun and began to sweat. I shaded my eyes with my hand and started my examination.

The porch ran the whole length of the back of the house, and the fire had started to the left of it on the west side. The white paint had blackened and bubbled in a mostly circular patch about four feet wide. Thanks to Sean’s quick response, the fire hadn’t had time to gain hold. From what I could see, it hadn’t managed to burn through the wood into the interior.

Feeling vastly relieved, I stepped back and for the first time noticed the state of the flowerbeds. The firemen had trampled several azaleas, and the plants would have to be replaced. Thankful the loss wasn’t much worse, I retreated to the shade of the porch to cool off and call my insurance agent and then the college library to let them know I wouldn’t be in today. I was lucky with the latter call, because my friend Melba, assistant to the library director, was out of the office, and I reached her voice mail instead. I simply told her I wasn’t feeling very well and was staying home. She’d hear the truth soon enough. Right now I didn’t want to spend an hour on the phone with her while she pumped me for every little detail.

By lunchtime the insurance agent had come and gone, plus one of my high school classmates, a contractor, responded to my call and came to give an estimate on the time and cost for the repairs. My contractor friend said he could have the work done within two weeks, and that sounded fine.

I lunched alone, except for Diesel. Laura had a class to teach this morning, and Sean went along as her bodyguard. Stewart and Justin both had classes as well, and Dante went with Stewart. He was now accustomed to accompanying Stewart on campus, and Stewart claimed the dog was much better behaved than any of his students.

While I enjoyed Azalea’s chicken salad, an alternate recipe that included sliced grapes and walnuts, Diesel sat by me and meowed occasionally for a bit of chicken. With the mundane matters of insurance and repair fairly well settled, I was able to concentrate on the ongoing threat to Laura.

I was tempted to go to the sheriff’s department and insist on seeing Kanesha. I was impatient to discover whether she had read Lawton’s vicious letter about Ralph Johnston’s play. There was also the matter of Lawton’s affair with Magda Johnston. Kanesha had to know about that by now.

And what about Damitra Vane? Those e-mails shed a revolting light on Lawton’s relationship with her. From what I had seen so far, she had a temper on her, as my late mother would have said. I could see her killing Lawton in a rage over his obscene insults. If she truly believed he was in love with her, his true opinion of her might have pushed her too far.

The more I thought about it, the more I was convinced that I needed to seek Kanesha out right away.

I cleared the table and washed my hands. “Come on, boy,” I said to Diesel. “We’re going to visit the sheriff’s department.”

Diesel headed straight for the back door and stopped under the rack on the wall from which his harness and leash hung. He knew what going meant. I smiled as I bent to fit him into the harness.

I had my hand on the back door when I heard the front doorbell ring. I hesitated a moment. Azalea would answer it, and I could sneak out and be on my way to the sheriff’s department.

Then common sense asserted itself, and I headed for the front door. Diesel padded along with me, and I realized I still held the leash.

I peered out the peephole, and there stood Kanesha, scowling as she rang the bell again. I opened the door and stood aside.

“Afternoon, Deputy. I was just about to come to see you.”

Kanesha stepped inside, and I closed the door.

“Come on in the kitchen. Would you like something to drink?” I turned and took a couple of steps, expecting her to follow me.

“Mr. Harris, this isn’t a social call.”

There was a note in her voice that gave me a bad feeling. I turned back to face her. “What’s happened?”

“Damitra Vane is dead.”

THIRTY

“Dead?” I repeated the word as I tried to make sense of it. Beside me, Diesel warbled. The sudden tension made him uneasy, and I patted his head. “Murdered?”

Kanesha nodded. “No doubt this time.”

I stared at her for a moment. Then I wheeled toward the kitchen. “I need to sit down.” Diesel trotted with me. I didn’t look back to see whether Kanesha followed.

As I sat I realized my legs were shaky. Diesel hunched up close against my legs, and I stroked his back and murmured to him. All the while my brain was trying to digest the murder of that poor woman.