The Silence Of The Library

“Yes siree Bob, they sure have.” Marter nodded several times as if to emphasize his point. “That funny little guy that claims he’s a publisher, what’s-his-name? Eagleton, that’s it.” His head bobbed again. “He got downright ugly on the phone with me last night. He was carrying on all about how Grandma done promised him he could publish those books of hers—you know, the ones ain’t never been published before?” When I nodded, he continued. “He said he ain’t gonna stand for Grandma going back on her word now that she thinks one of them big New York City outfits might be interested.”

Marter sat back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest, and focused his gaze on me. He nodded two times more, as if to say, See, what did I tell you?

“I’m sure he was angry with your grandmother”—and privately I thought Eagleton had a right to be, if she was planning to renege on an agreement with him—“but I’m not sure that constitutes an actual threat. Was that all he said, he wasn’t going to stand for it?”

“No, he said more than that.” Marter scowled. “He said, ‘Miz Cartwright don’t want me mad at her.’ In fact, he musta said that two or three times.”

I had to admit, those words did sound like a threat. A vague one, but still a threat. I said as much to Marter.

“It don’t sound that vague to me.” Marter’s tone was heated. “That little bastard means to do my grandma harm if she don’t do what he wants.”

Surely the man realized he was talking to the wrong guy. “If you’re really worried that Eagleton might do something violent, you should go to the police. I don’t see what I can do about it.”

Diesel didn’t like the tension he could sense. He scrunched up against my legs again and meowed plaintively. I kept petting him, hoping he would relax and not be so worried.

Marter’s glance shifted sideways, then back again. “Well, it’s kinda like this.” He paused. “Me and the police don’t get along too good. I kinda had a little trouble with ’em now and again, and I don’t figger they’d take too kindly to me coming and bothering ’em. I got what you might call a ‘credibility gap’ when it comes to the law.” He glanced away again.

Now I could see what he was getting at, coming to me instead of going to the authorities. He must have thought I had a good working relationship with the police since I was some kind of detective. I suppressed a deep sigh as I put those thoughts into words. “So you figured if I talked to the police, they would pay more attention?”

Marter nodded, suddenly willing to face me again. “Yeah, that’s it. Can you do it and keep me out of it?”

“I could mention it to Chief Deputy Berry—she’s with the sheriff’s department—but there’s one problem.”

“What’s that?”

“I wasn’t the one who heard Eagleton threaten your grandmother.” I paused. “Even if I went to the deputy with your story, she’d still have to talk to you to confirm it. She wouldn’t accept it on my word alone.”

“Couldn’t you just say you heard him say that somewhere?” Marter gave me a weak grin.

I shook my head. “No, I can’t. I’m not going to lie to the police.”

“That ain’t much help.” Marter looked disgruntled. “Done wasted my time talking to you.” He stood.

“Sorry, but I still think you should talk to the police yourself. Call the sheriff’s department and ask for Chief Deputy Berry. Tell her your story, and you can tell her I said to call her.” That was the best I could do under the circumstances.

Marter sighed. “Well, I reckon I’ll think about it.” He bobbed his head in my direction before he turned and strode off.

He was barely out the door before Helen Louise walked up behind me and startled me by putting her hands on my shoulders. She chuckled. “Sorry, love, didn’t mean to make you jump like that.” She kissed my cheek before taking the seat vacated by Marter.

Diesel immediately sidled up to her and started chirping. No doubt he was explaining how he was at the point of utter starvation and that only tidbits of chicken, straight from her hands to his mouth, would save him.

Helen Louise started to rise—headed for the kitchen and the chicken, I was sure—but I forestalled her. “He’s already had his chicken treat this morning, thanks to Melba Gilley.”

Helen Louise pursed her lips and glared, first at me, then at the cat. “Sacrebleu! Fickle, the both of you. Here I am, slaving away, making treats just for you, and then you go and take up with that woman.” She tossed her head. “I never in my life knew two such faithless males.”

Then she spoiled the effect by giggling. Diesel warbled at her. He probably thought she was serious, but he looked relieved when she laughed. I grinned at her. She had a silly side that I found appealing.

“How is Melba, by the way? I haven’t seen her in weeks.” Helen Louise rubbed Diesel’s head, and he rewarded her with his rumbling purr.

“Not so good.” I informed her of Carrie Taylor’s murder, and she was duly shocked. “She and Melba were really close, and Melba’s taking it hard.”