The Silence Of The Library

“Thank you, Mr. Harris. I shall not forget your kindness in my hour of need, I can assure you. Oh, dear, the policewoman is looking at me rather fiercely now, so I suppose I must end this call and wait for my legal representation to sort this out. But pray do not believe what you will hear, for I am not a thief.” The phone clicked in my ear.

Thief? What had Eagleton allegedly stolen? Carrie Taylor’s copy of Spellwood Mansion? That was the only thing I could come up with that was pertinent to the case.

Diesel nudged my hand, his signal that more attention should be paid, and I rubbed his head with that hand while I speed-dialed Sean with the other.

“Hey, Dad,” he said when he answered. “What’s up? Everything okay?”

I assured him I was fine before I told him that he had a new client. I explained who Winston Eagleton was and related what I knew of the circumstances—precious little, actually. “It must have something to do with Carrie Taylor’s murder, though,” I concluded.

“I’ll get down there right away,” Sean said. “Alex and I were watching a movie, but it can wait. I’ll see what I can do for the man.”

“Thanks, Son,” I said. “I’ll just warn you that he tends to use seven words when one will do, particularly when he’s excited. So be prepared.”

Sean chuckled. “Got you. Talk to you later.”

I put the phone down, confident that Sean would advise Eagleton well. If only I could go with Sean, I thought. I burned with curiosity over what happened. Who accused Eagleton of theft? If I knew that, I might have some idea of what it was he was supposed to have stolen.

If he was indeed in financial straits, as I suspected, he might well have stolen a valuable item in hopes of selling or pawning it. Or maybe he couldn’t pay his hotel bill, and the Farrington House management sent for the police.

Would they really do that, though? I wondered.

I was giving myself a headache from the fruitless speculation. I went into the bathroom, found the aspirin in the medicine cabinet, and downed a couple with water.

Too restless to read, I put my book away. Perhaps I should try to relax and get some sleep. I doubted Kanesha would call me tonight when she was busy dealing with Winston Eagleton. Diesel had dozed off again, and I stretched out beside him and switched off the light.

Though my mind buzzed for a while over the happenings of the past couple of days, I eventually relaxed and felt myself slipping into sleep.

When I awoke later, I thought at first morning had come, but the bedside clock informed me it was a few minutes shy of midnight. I turned the light on and sat up. Diesel was gone, and I felt suddenly alert. And hungry.

Time for a midnight snack, I decided. I slipped on my house shoes and headed downstairs in search of nibbles. I could see from the stairs that the light was on in the kitchen, and as I came closer, I heard my children’s voices in conversation.

Laura broke off talking when she spotted me. “Hi, Dad. What are you doing up this late?” Diesel lay on the floor beside her chair. He raised his head briefly to acknowledge my presence but didn’t vocalize.

Sean turned to greet me. “We didn’t wake you up, did we? I didn’t think we were that loud.”

I laughed. “No, you didn’t wake me.” I padded over to the fridge. “I guess my stomach did. I feel like a snack. Maybe another ham sandwich.”

Sean shook his head at me. “Sorry, Dad, but we polished off the ham about ten minutes ago.”

“I think there’s still some of the pimento cheese, though,” Laura said. She knew how fond I was of it, particularly Azalea’s homemade variety.

“That will do.” I found the plastic container, retrieved a knife and crackers, and joined my children at the table. Diesel abandoned Laura and came to sit hopefully by my chair. He was destined to be disappointed, though, because cats shouldn’t have cheese.

Sean raised his mug. “We made decaf if you want some of that.”

“In a minute maybe,” I said as I spread pimento cheese on a cracker. “What were you two plotting when I came in?” Diesel batted at my arm with one of his large paws, and I frowned at him and shook my head. He knew what that meant.

Laura grinned. “No plotting, I swear. Sean was telling me about his new client. He sounds like a real trip.”

“Were you discussing Eagleton’s case with her?” I frowned at Sean.

“Don’t worry.” Sean gave me one of his surely-you-know-better looks. “I haven’t violated the attorney-client privilege.”

“He was only telling me about Mr. Eagleton and how eccentric he is.” Laura stood and carried her mug to the dishwasher. “Nothing inappropriate.”

“Sorry,” I said. “Guess I was too hungry to think before I spoke.”

Sean grinned. “No offense taken, Dad. I do have Eagleton’s permission to talk to you about it, though.”

I paused, about to stick another cheese-laden cracker in my mouth. “Really? Why?”