Миранда Джеймс - File M For Murder

“Of course. I’ll call Melba first thing in the morning and let her know I won’t be in.”

“Sorry you have to miss work again.” Sean stood, and Diesel grumbled at the removal of the attentive hand on his stomach. “Have you talked to Kanesha yet?”

“Missing work isn’t a problem,” I said. “And no, I haven’t talked to Kanesha. She wasn’t available, and I had to leave a message.”

“Irritating,” Sean said with a sympathetic smile. He knew how impatient I could be in situations like this. “Dinner won’t be long. I’ll give you a holler when it’s ready.”

“Thanks.” As he left I turned back to the papers on my desk. Perhaps I should go through them and make my own set of notes, help me organize my thoughts for when I did talk to Kanesha.

I found a pen and a legal pad and started to work. A few minutes later I felt a large paw on my thigh, and then Diesel thrust his head under my right arm and pushed. I put down the pen and rubbed his head. “Sorry, boy, I know you want some attention. I’m distracted right now, so you’ll have to forgive me.”

Diesel responded with some plaintive meows, but continued attention to the area behind his ears turned the meows into happy warbles.

Sean called me for dinner before I could get back to my notes, and Diesel and I headed for the kitchen.

I had a hard time getting to sleep that night. Kanesha had yet to return my call, and I had to use every ounce of self-restraint I possessed not to call the sheriff’s department every half hour. I could have tried to talk to someone else, at least to assuage some of my growing need to share this theory. But I knew that Kanesha was the one who would have to decide what to do with my information, so I might as well wait until I could tell her.

Sleep, when it came, was not particularly restful, and I wanted to take a baseball bat to my alarm when it went off the next morning. Diesel, who had been sleeping next to me, picked up on my grumpy mood and did what I referred to as his “adorable kitty routine.” Winsome looks and sympathetic chirps added to languorous stretches were all designed to soften me and make me say, “What a sweet/cute/adorable boy you are,” and thereby improve my mood.

Naturally I couldn’t resist this and did feel better by the time I went downstairs for breakfast. Thinking about the morning ahead and fretting over the lack of a return call from Kanesha, however, pushed my level of grumpiness right back up. I considered insisting that Laura stay home today, but I knew she would argue with me.

We made it to her office on campus a few minutes before nine, with Diesel in tow. He inspected her office while I settled in the only visitor’s chair. Laura booted her computer and prepared to read e-mail.

“There’s coffee down in the staff commons area,” Laura said.

“I’m fine.” I’d had my requisite two cups before we left home. “Don’t worry about me. You focus on your work, and I’ll sit here and read. Diesel will settle down in a few minutes after he’s smelled everything there is to smell in here.”

Laura smiled as she watched the cat for a moment. “He is definitely curious, isn’t he?” She turned back to her computer screen and soon became absorbed in her task.

I pulled a book out of my briefcase and settled down to read. In times of stress I tended to reread old favorites, and this morning I had pulled an old favorite off the shelf, Georgette Heyer’s The Grand Sophy . I was soon immersed in it and barely noticed when Diesel came to stretch out under my chair.

I’d read about twenty pages when the entrance of a visitor startled me.

“Good morning.” Sarabeth Conley stood in the doorway. “May I come in?”

FORTY-ONE

I’d hoped we could avoid Sarabeth today, at least until I’d had a chance to talk to Kanesha. But here she was in the doorway, offering a tentative smile as she peered around the door at Laura.

I stood and forced a smile. “Good morning. Would you like to sit down?”

Sarabeth spotted Diesel under the chair. “Goodness, what a big cat. He won’t bite, will he?”

“Not unless you’re mean to him.” Laura, her expression neutral, looked up at Sarabeth. “Then he might gnaw your leg off.”

Sarabeth tittered nervously and darted glances back and forth between Laura and Diesel.

“It’s okay,” I said. “Sit down. He won’t bother you.”

When Sarabeth made a tentative move toward him, Diesel crawled from under the chair and moved around the desk to sit by Laura. Sarabeth occupied the chair, and I took up position against the wall between her and Laura. If she attempted anything, I could block her before she could reach my daughter.

“What can we do for you?” Laura’s tone was cool but professional.

“I just wanted to see how you’re doing,” Sarabeth said. “After that nasty bump on the head. I hope you’re feeling a lot better.”

Sarabeth sounded completely sincere, and I wondered whether she had any acting experience. I knew I’d have to call upon every bit of acting ability I might possess to keep from letting her realize I was suspicious of her.

“I’m feeling fine,” Laura said. “Luckily I have a hard head.” She darted a mischievous glance at me before gazing solemnly at Sarabeth again. “I’m pretty hard to kill, as it turns out.”

Sarabeth frowned. “What are you talking about? You don’t think whoever assaulted you here was trying to kill you, do you?”

She was playing this to the hilt. In a way, I couldn’t help admire her nerve. I felt fairly certain her brother Levi was the one who hit Laura, and she must have known that, if not condoned it.

“Oh, that bump on the head wasn’t much.” Laura’s airy tone alerted me that she was up to something. I tried to catch her eye but she studiously avoided my gaze. “But add to that an attempt to burn down our house while we were all asleep, and then a letter bomb delivered to the house with my name on it, and I think that adds up to attempted murder. Don’t you?”

Sarabeth paled, and she clutched at her heart. For a moment I was afraid she was going to topple over in a faint. She held on to the chair for dear life with her other hand. “Burn down your house?” Her voice came out in a strained whisper. “Letter bomb?”

Laura nodded. “Pretty nasty, isn’t it?”

“Was—was anyone hurt?” Sarabeth still had a hand over her heart. The color had yet to return to her face, and her breathing was labored.

Did I need to call 911? Was she going to have a heart attack? If she was acting, she was carrying it way too far.

“Are you okay, Sarabeth?” I moved nearer. “You don’t look so good.”

She shook her head. “I’ll be okay in a minute. Just the shock, I guess. I had no idea any of these things happened. I never dreamed—” She broke off, appearing confused.

“Sorry, what was that?” Laura asked, her expression hard.

“Nothing,” Sarabeth said. She pushed herself to her feet. “Nothing really. I’m glad you’re safe, but I really have to get back to my desk. Something urgent to deal with that I just remembered.”

“Of course,” Laura said, and we both watched her go.

The moment I thought she was safely out of earshot, I spoke. “That was truly bizarre. If she was telling the truth, she didn’t know anything about the arson attempt or the letter bomb. Was she acting, do you think?”

“Hard to say.” Laura bit her lower lip for a moment as she considered further. “If she was acting, she ought to be on Broadway right now, because she’s brilliant.” She paused, then shook her head. “But you know, somehow I don’t think she was acting. I think she really was surprised and upset.”