The Silence Of The Library

Nasty, but plausible, I decided, based on my interactions with Betts. He seemed to be short a card or two in his deck, as my mother would have said. Mrs. Taylor didn’t deserve what happened. Memories of her enthusiasm for Mrs. Cartwright’s books and her excitement over the planned public appearance made me determined to do what I could to identify her killer.

Time to track down Mr. Betts and ask him a few questions.

FOURTEEN

The Farrington House was the finest hotel in Athena, and I figured that must be where Gordon Betts was staying. I looked up the number and jotted it on a notepad. Before I could place the call, however, Laura breezed into the kitchen with Diesel trotting beside her.

“Morning, Dad.” She kissed my cheek and gave my arm a quick squeeze. “Seems like ages since I saw you.” She poured herself a cup of coffee. “What have you been up to?”

Both my children were avid mystery readers like me, and I knew Laura would be interested in hearing about the murder of Carrie Taylor. I wasn’t ready to talk about it with her, however—at least not right this minute. I was more interested in catching up with my daughter. Push the awfulness away for at least a little while, I thought.

“I’ll tell you all about it later,” I said. “Right now, why don’t you bring me up to date on the wedding plans? You haven’t asked for my checkbook for at least two weeks now.” I grinned to show her I was only teasing.

She had a sip of coffee before she spoke. “I’ve picked out my wedding dress. It’s an absolutely stunning Badgley Mischka.” She batted her eyes at me. “I’m sure you’ll love it.”

“What’s a Badgley Mischka? Sounds expensive.” I thought she might be teasing me, but with brides and their dresses, you never knew.

“Badgley and Mischka are designers who work together. And yes, their dresses can be expensive.” Laura giggled. “But don’t worry, I have a friend who got it for me wholesale through somebody she knows in Memphis. It really is gorgeous. I’ve got some fittings coming up, and then everything will be set.”

“You’ll look beautiful no matter what you wear. Your mother . . .” I felt my eyes sting suddenly as I envisioned escorting Laura down the aisle. How excited her mother would have been to see it, too.

Diesel, back from a visit to the utility room, meowed at me and rubbed against my legs. Laura came to me and gave me a hug. “I know, Dad. I’ve been thinking a lot about her lately. But I know she’ll be there with us.”

I slid my arm around her and held her close for a long moment. I cleared my throat. “Yes, I’m sure she will.”

Laura smiled at me as I released her. She picked up her coffee and moved over to the table. We sat across from each other. “All the arrangements are pretty much set now. The chapel at the college is reserved, and the chaplain is all set, too. My best friend, Dodie, will be my maid of honor, and Helen Louise offered to cater the reception. Now we just have to wait for June ninth to get here.” Laura leaned back in her chair, obviously pleased with her plans.

“I won’t have any trouble remembering your anniversary,” I said. June ninth was my maternal grandmother’s birthday. “Have you decided where you’re going on your honeymoon? Last I heard you were leaning toward New York.”

“We were at first. We thought about California, too,” Laura replied. “But I’ve had enough of Hollywood for now, and I’ve never been to London. Frank has been several times, and he wants to show me around.”

“London would be perfect—the West End and all the wonderful shows.” I drained the last of my coffee. “I’m sure you’ll want to experience the London theater scene.” Jackie and I could never afford to take our children abroad, but we did take them to New York and Hollywood, among other places.

“Absolutely. I can’t wait to see The Mousetrap.” Laura laughed. “I know it’s probably hokey, but as a mystery lover, I can’t pass up the chance.”

“I’d love to see it myself,” I said. Agatha Christie’s play, the longest running in theater history, had entertained audiences for over six decades now.

Laura grinned slyly. “Maybe you can go to London on your honeymoon. And then of course over to Paris. I’m sure Helen Louise would love to show you her favorite city in the world.”

I gazed sternly at my daughter. “None of that, now. I have to get you married and off my hands first. Sean, too. You’ve both been hanging around this house unmarried far too long. I need grandchildren to spoil. Then maybe I can think about Helen Louise and a wedding of my own.”

At the mentions of Helen Louise’s name, Diesel—who had been dozing quietly under the table—perked up and meowed. He adored Helen Louise, and she pampered him whenever we visited her bakery. She always had tidbits of chicken for him.

Laura held up her hands in mock surrender. “I’m not getting married for two months yet, Dad. You’re going to have to wait a year or two for a grandchild.”