File M For Murder

I found Diesel at the combined circulation/reference desk with Teresa and another of the staffers. We chatted for a few minutes, until other patrons approached the service points for assistance. Diesel and I bade our friends good-bye and headed home.

I nodded to the policeman on duty in a squad car parked in front of the house as I pulled into the driveway. I was grateful to know he was there. I had done my best not to let the arson attempt rattle me, but it was there at the back of my mind, ready to unnerve me the moment I let the thought surface.

The house was quiet when Diesel and I entered the kitchen, and for the first time in my life I felt slightly spooked by the silence. This was a big house, three stories plus an attic, with many places for an intruder to hide.

Diesel picked up on my unease. He pushed against my legs and meowed, and I realized how foolish I was being. The police had been watching the house, and they wouldn’t let someone sneak inside. I removed Diesel’s leash and harness and hung them on the rack by the back door, all the while talking to the cat to reassure him that everything was fine. A small worm of doubt kept niggling at me, however, but I did my best to ignore it.

Obeying an impulse I pulled out my cell phone and speed-dialed Sean. He answered quickly. “Hey, Dad. What’s up?”

“Just back from the library. How are you and Laura? Where are you?”

“We’re fine. We’re in her office. I’m reading, and she’s grading some papers. Want to talk to her?”

“No, that’s okay. I’m sure she’s got plenty to do. I thought I’d check on you, that’s all.” Stop being such an idiot, I told myself. Of course they’re fine.

“Are you sure you’re okay? You sound a little odd.”

“I’m fine, really.” I put as much conviction as I could muster into my voice, though truth be told I was still uneasy. “I’ll fill you in later on what I found out at the library.”

“See you around three or so,” Sean said. He ended the call.

I put my cell phone away, frowning. Why couldn’t I shake this feeling that something was wrong in the house?

I stood there for a moment, irresolute. Then I felt even more foolish. I couldn’t stand here in the kitchen like a spooked child until someone else came home. This was ridiculous.

Forcing my feet to move, I headed for the den. I wanted to sit down with Lawton’s play again, now that I knew more about the Norris family, to see what connections there were with the Ferris family in the play. I ignored the prickles at the back of my neck as I approached the den.

I paused on the threshold for a moment, willing myself to go in. I reached for the overhead light switch and flipped it on.

After glancing around the room, I reassured myself there was no intruder lurking in here.

I scooped up the stack of papers that contained the play and settled on the sofa. I had plenty of room, because Diesel hadn’t come with me. He was probably busy in the utility room and would be along soon.

Soon absorbed in Lawton’s play, I forgot about Diesel. It wasn’t until I became aware of loud meows coming from somewhere not far away that I realized at least ten minutes had passed and he still wasn’t with me.

I set the papers aside and called out his name. “I’m in here, boy. Come on.”

I waited, but the meowing didn’t abate. I frowned. This was unusual behavior for him. Now he started yowling, and that really spooked me. I jumped up from the sofa and hurried out into the hall.

I spotted the cat near the front door, sitting near a pile of mail. I hadn’t noticed it when I came through the hall earlier, but there was obviously something in the mail that concerned Diesel.

He quieted a bit as I approached, and I squatted by him and stroked his back. “What is it, boy? What’s bothering you?”

I examined the mail. There were several letters, a magazine, several circulars, and one slightly bulky manila envelope. Diesel nudged this last item with his paw and looked at me. He meowed as if to say, This is the one.

The address side was down, so I turned it over, a bit gingerly, though I wasn’t sure why. There was no return address, but it was for Laura. Her name and address had been cut from what looked like newspaper headlines and pasted onto the envelope. The postmark was a local one, and the amount of postage on it seemed excessive. It didn’t feel very heavy, so I couldn’t figure out why so many stamps were necessary.

Diesel bumped my leg with his head, and I set the envelope down again. He meowed again, and I realized with a chill what he was trying to tell me.

My hands trembling, I unlocked the front door and opened it and urged Diesel out ahead of me. I pulled the door shut and then ran down the walk, yelling and gesturing at the police car in front of the house.

THIRTY-FIVE

The policeman on surveillance duty must have seen us the moment I opened the door, because he met us on the sidewalk a few feet from his patrol car.