The Silence Of The Library

“He’s large for his breed,” I said. “He’s a Maine Coon, and they are generally larger than most domestic cats.”

“Well, I’ll swan.” Marter shook his head, and I struggled to hide my amusement over an expression I hadn’t heard since my own grandmother passed away thirty-five years ago.

“You mentioned on the phone that you wanted to talk to me about something.” I thought a gentle prompt wouldn’t hurt, since Marter seemed in no hurry to talk. Instead, he sat staring at the cat, and Diesel seemed equally fascinated by him.

Marter focused on me. “Huh? Oh, yeah, matter of fact there was something I wanted to talk to you about.” He leaned forward. “According to Grandma, you’re a pretty sharp guy. She also said she’d read in the paper where you was some kinda detective or something. That right?”

I felt like squirming in embarrassment. I had managed—mostly—to keep my name out of the local newspaper, thanks to the cooperation of Ray Appleby, reporter for the Athena Daily Register. But my name had been mentioned a couple of times in connection with some recent investigations, plus I knew my good friend Melba had been busy on the grapevine, singing my praises. I had begged her not to, but I knew she hadn’t really listened to me.

“I’m not a detective,” I said, trying to keep the irritation out of my tone. “It’s true that I’ve been involved in helping the authorities solve several murder cases. But I’m a librarian, not a gumshoe.”

Marter frowned. “I reckon that’s all right. Long’s you ain’t a real detective, it figgers you don’t charge nobody for helping, right?”

“I certainly would not charge anyone for helping them.” Had he planned to hire me to be a detective? I could hear my grandmother saying, Don’t that beat all!

“That’s good, ’cause I sure ain’t got the money to pay you.” Marter grinned. “Been outta work awhile, and just between you and me and the fencepost, Grandma ain’t too liberal with the spending money.”

Where was he going with this? I wondered. I was beginning to feel uncomfortable, especially when I recalled Carrie Taylor’s dismissal of the man as being lazy and shiftless, more or less.

“That’s too bad,” I said with as much sympathy as I could muster—and it wasn’t very much. Perhaps Mrs. Taylor had been right about him. He looked more than healthy enough to be holding down a job.

“It’s like this, see.” Marter leaned forward, his elbows on the table. He glanced around, perhaps to see whether anyone was within earshot. “Mama and Grandma told me about these here collector-type people, and how crazy they are about getting to Grandma. That don’t sound right to me. All she did was write those old books, and I don’t think they should be bothering her.”

I started to say something but Marter didn’t appear to notice as he continued. “She’s as old as Methuselah, and she ain’t got the energy to deal with all that crap. They’re like to kill her with all this crazy-ass stuff. Just between you and me and the cat here, I’m kinda worried they might cause her to have a heart attack and die on us.”

“I respect your concern for your grandmother,” I said. What was it he actually wanted from me? “And if she doesn’t feel up to doing the event, then of course we will understand.” My stomach knotted at the thought of having to cancel, but we couldn’t insist Mrs. Cartwright go through with it, not at her age.

Marter rolled his eyes. “You don’t know my grandma. She’s loving every bit of attention she’s getting, like an old coonhound soaking up the sunshine. People done been ignoring her so long, and now all they want to do is hang around her like she’s some little tin god or something. She probably ain’t got many years left, and I don’t want one of them crazy fans of hers to kill her off before she’s due to go.”

“Is her heart really as frail as that? The two times I’ve seen her, I have to say she looked like she was in pretty good shape for someone who’s about to be a hundred years old.”

“Her heart’s okay, far as I know. She ain’t been to the doctor in years, though. Don’t believe in ’em.” Marter stared hard at me. “But what I’m talking about here is an actual honest-to-goodness lowdown threat.”

NINETEEN

“Has someone actually threatened harm to your grandmother?” I could hardly believe what I was hearing. Diesel, upset by my obvious agitation, pushed against my legs and meowed. I stroked his head while I waited for Marter to explain his provocative statement.