File M For Murder

Laura turned to me. “Once he was back here, little things started coming back to him. There were some places that were vaguely familiar, like that old toy store on the square and a couple of buildings on campus.” She smiled sadly, and for a moment I thought tears were in the offing. She took a deep breath, however, and continued steadily. “He also made a comment or two about a house, but I wasn’t sure which house he was talking about. I think, though, it was the house they lived in here.”

“That doesn’t sound very specific.” Sean picked at the label on his beer bottle. “Couldn’t he tell you where the house was?”

Laura looked uncomfortable as she glanced at me. “He was drinking a lot.” She shrugged. “He always did when he was really into a new play. At least that’s what he told me when I complained about it.”

“I know the house he lived in,” I said, startling them both.

“How did you find that out?” Sean sounded incredulous.

“Well, I am a librarian, you know.” I grinned at them. “We know how to find things out.”

Sean laughed, and Laura smiled at me. I went into mini-lecture mode as I recounted the process by which I figured it all out. While I talked, Diesel left Laura’s side and came to sit by me. He butted his head against my leg to gain my attention, and I scratched his head as I continued my story.

“Pretty clever,” Sean commented when I finished.

“I’ll say,” Laura added. “So Connor lived in the house next door to Sarabeth and her family.” She paused, looking thoughtful. “That may explain something he said to me on the phone the other day.”

When she didn’t continue, I prompted her. “What was that?”

Laura blushed. “It wasn’t very nice, I’m afraid. I don’t want to repeat his exact words, Dad, because you wouldn’t like it.”

I grimaced. “At this point I doubt anything he said could shock me. Go ahead.”

“Me either,” Sean said. “Spill.”

“Well, okay then. He was angry about something, and when I tried to get him to tell me what happened, he wouldn’t. All he said was, ‘That fat witch’—except he didn’t say witch—‘may think she can shut me in like she used to, but I’m too big now.’”

THIRTY-SEVEN

I frowned. There was something odd about what Laura said, but for a moment I couldn’t quite isolate it.

Then I had it. “You said just now ‘may think she can shut me in like she used to.’ Are you sure he said ‘shut in’ and not ‘shut up’?”

Laura nodded while Sean looked on, obviously curious. “Yes, I thought it was odd, too. I tried to ask him what he meant, but he’d obviously had a lot to drink. Getting him to focus when he was drunk was difficult.”

“So who was the fat witch”—Sean grinned slightly at the euphemism—“he was talking about?”

“Sarabeth Conley,” Laura and I said in unison.

“Had to be,” I continued on my own. “She’s tall and heavy, and she gave him a dressing-down on Monday, right there on stage. He seemed a little intimidated by her, too. Plus, her family was probably the one he stayed with.”

“She did act like she knew him,” Laura said. “I wasn’t around the two of them together, except maybe twice, but she wasn’t intimidated by him like everyone else seemed to be.”

“If she used to babysit him when he lived here, she probably wasn’t.” Sean laughed. “Like Azalea, for example. Remember that summer you and I came and stayed with Aunt Dottie for two weeks while Mom and Dad went to England? I was, what, eleven? And you would have been nine.”

A shadow passed over Laura’s face at the mention of her mother, but she managed a smile. “I’d forgotten about that, but you’re right. Once someone’s cleaned your snotty nose and supervised your bath, I guess they don’t always see you as an adult.”

I cleared my throat to get rid of a sudden lump. “Another question, sweetheart. Do you remember the context of that statement Connor made?”

“You mean what prompted him to say that about Sarabeth?” Laura asked.

“Exactly.” I of course couldn’t prove it, but I was sure now that it was Sarabeth Connor had been referring to with his rude comment.

“He was talking about the new direction he was going with the play. He had started with one set of characters, but then he decided to switch and write about different ones instead.” Laura shook her head. “I asked him why, and all he could tell me was that he felt like he had to. This story was coming to him, kind of like memories, and he just had to write about them. He wasn’t sure why.”

Sean snorted. “Probably just the bourbon talking.”

Laura looked thoughtful. “I was inclined to think that at first. But Connor said that, whenever he sat down to write, these things kind of poured out. It was slow at first, but the longer he was in Athena, the more often it happened.” She glanced at me. “Does that make sense to you?”

“It’s starting to,” I said. My amorphous idea was finally beginning to coalesce into something substantive. “Repressed memories.”

Sean and Laura looked at each other, then at me. Sean spoke first. “So you think he was writing about things that really happened? To him?”