Миранда Джеймс: File M For Murder

“Sounds good to me,” Laura said. “I’m starving. All I had for lunch was a few pretzels on the plane.” Diesel hopped from her lap to the floor and rubbed his head against her leg.

I smiled down at the cat. “Diesel is hoping you’ll drop him some tidbits like you did the last time you were here. Just don’t overdo it.”

Laura and Diesel came with me to the kitchen. Sean disappeared upstairs, saying he’d be down later.

In the kitchen I found a note stuck to the refrigerator door with a cat magnet. I recognized Stewart Delacorte’s handwriting. Stewart, a professor of chemistry at Athena College, moved in five months ago after his great-uncle was murdered in the Delacorte family home. His stay was supposed to last only until he found a permanent place to live. Somehow he didn’t seem to be able to find a place he liked, so he was still here, occupying a large bedroom on the third floor.

The note informed me that Stewart had prepared a chicken and mushroom risotto and left it in the refrigerator. The note included instructions on heating it for supper. He concluded by stating that he would probably be late tonight and not to wait for him.

“Looks like I don’t have to cook after all,” I said as I handed the note to Laura.

She skimmed the contents and handed it back to me. “Sounds yummy. You told me he’s an awesome cook.”

“He is,” I said. “Between him and Azalea, Sean and I have been eating better than ever.” I patted my waistline ruefully. “I need to be getting more exercise. I miss seeing my feet.”

Laura laughed. “Oh, Dad, stop exaggerating.” She cocked her head to one side as she regarded me. “But if you want to get up and run with me in the morning, I’d love it.”

“Thanks, honey,” I said. “I’ll stick to walking, if you don’t mind. Besides, Diesel likes to go with me, and he doesn’t get motivated to run unless there’s a squirrel involved.”

At the sound of his name, Diesel chirped several times, and Laura reached over to scratch his head. “Yeah, big boy, I bet you’d run with me, wouldn’t you? We’d have fun.”

I laughed at the expression on the cat’s face. I would have sworn he understood Laura and didn’t like the notion of running any better than I did. He moved away from Laura and closer to me.

“I guess not,” Laura said with a wry grin.

“I’ll make a salad to go with the risotto,” I said and opened the fridge door to find the salad makings.

Laura set a large bowl on the counter by the sink and pulled a knife from the drawer. “Do you have any plans for tomorrow night, Dad?”

I placed lettuce, onions, and red bell peppers in the sink. “Helen Louise and I talked about having dinner.” Helen Louise Brady, owner of a local Parisian-style bakery, was a good friend, and lately we’d been spending more time together. We’d known each other since childhood, and she had also been a friend of my late wife’s. “Was there something you wanted to do?”

“I don’t want to interfere with your plans.” Laura began to tear the lettuce and drop it into the bowl. “There’s a cocktail party tomorrow night, kind of a reception for the faculty and the grad students in the Theater Department. I was hoping you’d go with me.”

“I don’t think Helen Louise would mind skipping dinner when I explain,” I said. “I’ll invite her for Sunday dinner instead. She’d like to see you again.”

“Thanks, Dad. I appreciate it.” Laura found the chopping board, then started cutting up the peppers. “Do you know any of the Theater Department faculty?”

“Not well,” I said as I tried to remember names.

“The host of the party is the chair of the department,” Laura said. “His name is Montana Johnston.”

I snickered. “His real name is Ralph. I do know him. He decided a few years ago when he started writing a play that he needed a more artistic-sounding name, and he came up with Montana .”

“I thought it sounded odd.” Laura dropped slices of pepper into the bowl.

“Pretentious is more like it,” I said. Unpleasant memories of the man’s play came back to me. “I actually went to a performance of his play, and it was dreadful. The man just isn’t the best writer.”

“Then he’d better not ever ask Connor to read anything of his,” Laura said. “Connor is brutal to less-talented writers.”

“Like water off a duck’s back with ol’ Montana,” I said as I shredded the last of the lettuce. I picked up the onion and started to peel it. “Ralph has the thickest skin of any person I’ve ever known. He’s as convinced of his own worth as your friend Connor. It might be interesting to see the two of them trying to dent each other’s hides.”

“Count me out,” Laura said with an exaggerated shudder. “That’s the kind of drama I don’t need, thankyouverymuch.”

“Dad, can you come here a minute?” Sean’s voice came from out in the hall.

“As soon as I finish with this onion,” I called out in response.

“Could you come now?” Sean’s tone sounded more urgent.

“Okay.” I handed the onion to Laura and wiped my hands on a dishcloth before I went out to the hallway.

Sean stood there, a puzzled expression on his face, as he stared at a large piece of paper he held gingerly by two corners. As I moved closer to him, he glanced at me.

“I found this on the floor by the front door,” Sean said. “Someone must have slipped it through the mail slot. It’s offensive.” He turned the sheet so I could see it clearly.

The paper was a photograph, a publicity shot of Laura. I had one like it framed on my bedside table.

But my copy of the photo didn’t have a red A painted on Laura’s forehead.

THREE

Sean shifted position so we could examine the photograph together. “You think Lawton is responsible for this?”

“Why would he do such a thing?” My anger was building over this insult to my daughter.

Then a chilling thought struck me. Was it a threat of some kind instead?

Diesel rubbed against my legs and muttered. He always picked up on my emotions, and he didn’t like it when I was upset or angry. I rubbed his head to reassure him.

“Other than you and me, who else in Athena knows her? Or even knows she’s here?” Sean continued to stare at the photograph.

“Good point, although I can’t imagine why he’d do something like this.” I locked gazes with Sean. “I don’t want her to see this.”

“See what?”

I was so intent on the photograph that I failed to hear Laura come up behind Sean and me in the hall. I nudged Sean, hoping he would hide the photograph, but he didn’t move.

“I think she should see it,” Sean said. “I wanted you to see it first, Dad.”

“What are you hiding from me?” Laura stood in front of me, right hand on her hip, head cocked in the same direction. She wrinkled her nose and frowned, sure signs of irritation from her.

“This.” Sean turned the photograph toward her.

Laura’s eyes widened, and then she laughed. “So Damitra’s in town. I didn’t figure it would take her long, once she heard I’d be spending several months here.”

“Who is Damitra, pray tell? And why do you think she’s responsible for this?” I was surprised that Laura appeared to take it so lightly.

“Damitra Vane.” Laura rolled her eyes. “She’s this nutcase Connor dated before me. Basically harmless, but she’s crazy jealous. Calls herself an actress, but she’s terrible. The only reason she ever gets cast in anything is her open-leg policy with casting directors.” She flashed a wicked grin at me. “Oh, and her giant boobs.”