Миранда Джеймс - Twelve Angry Librarians

“I’m on it,” Stewart said. “You sit right down there and take it easy.”

“Thanks.” I did as he told me. Now that I was home, and my immediate needs were being addressed so efficiently, I felt able to relax. “It was a cowardly thing to do, to hit me from behind so that I couldn’t defend myself, but I almost can’t blame the jerk. I never should have punched him today.”

“Maybe so.” Haskell frowned. “But he shouldn’t get away with it. If only you had seen him, you could press charges.”

I shrugged, and my shoulder twinged. “I didn’t see him, so there’s nothing more I can do. I will do my best to avoid him the rest of the conference, I promise you.” Lisa Krause would have to find someone to take my place for the panel discussion on Saturday. The less contact I had with Gavin the better.

Stewart handed me a plastic bag with ice wrapped in a towel. I held it to the bump on my head. The coolness soon began to soothe the ache.

“There were no witnesses?” Haskell seemed determined not to let it go.

“No, I don’t think so. A security guard found me on the ground, but he thought I was drunk. When I told him what happened, he said he hadn’t seen anyone besides me.”

“I guess that’s that, then,” Haskell said. “The main thing is you weren’t badly hurt.”

“As far as we can tell,” Stewart said. “I’m going to keep an eye on you, Charlie, to make sure you don’t have a concussion.” He grinned and batted his eyelashes at me. “Just a warning, so that when I creep into your bedroom at two a.m. and wake you up, you know why.”

I couldn’t help but laugh at that. I didn’t relish the idea of being awakened during the night, but I knew arguing with him would not achieve anything.

“I appreciate your concern,” I said. “Not a word about this to anyone else yet, if you please. I will tell the family, but when I’m ready to. Are we clear on this?”

Both men nodded, Dante barked, and Diesel meowed loudly. “I guess that covers everyone.” I shared a laugh with Stewart and Haskell before getting slowly out of my chair, keeping the bag of ice in place at the back of my head. “I think I’ll go upstairs and lie down for a while, if you don’t mind.”

“Fine, but I’m coming with you to make sure you get up the stairs all right.” Stewart’s tone brooked no argument.

He kept a hand on my free arm as we moved out into the hall and up the stairs. Diesel ran ahead. Haskell held Dante back in the kitchen. The last thing I needed was to take a tumble because the poodle got under my feet.

In my bedroom, Stewart helped me ease my jacket off and then my dress shirt. He pulled down the neck of my tee shirt to examine the sore shoulder. “Looks like it will be nicely colored by the morning. Let me get you another ice pack for it. I’ll be right back.”

He was out the door before I could say anything. I managed to get my shoes off by pushing them off my feet and letting them fall where they might. I went into the bathroom to take some aspirin, then came back to sit on the side of the bed, ice pack against my head, until Stewart returned. In the meantime, Diesel watched me anxiously, head-butting my free arm a few times. I spoke to him and assured him I would be okay.

When Stewart returned with the second ice pack, he hovered nearby while I took off my pants, then helped me position myself in bed with the two ice packs. Diesel stretched out on the bed next to me and continued to watch.

“I’ll be back in a little while to check on you, maybe refresh those ice packs if you need me to.” Stewart turned off the overhead light and switched on the reading lamp by the window. He came back to stand by the bed.

“Thank you. You’re an excellent nurse.” On impulse I added, “I’m really thankful you are part of my family.”

Stewart smiled down at me. He squeezed my unhurt shoulder for a moment. “I’m thankful, too. Any time you need me, I will always be here for you,” he said softly. Then he slipped out of the room.

Diesel yawned beside me, and he soon fell asleep. I felt a little drowsy, thanks to the aspirin, but the cold spots at my head and my shoulder reminded me that I still ached. My hands hurt a bit as well.

It could have been a lot worse , I told myself. I wondered what Gavin had used to hit me. I didn’t think it was his hand, or hands. He wasn’t the martial arts type, as far as I knew. Whatever he used, he hit hard, but not hard enough to kill.

Had he meant to do more than knock me out? I didn’t know why that thought hadn’t occurred to me before. I felt a little sick to my stomach as I considered the possibility.

Had he been trying to kill me? Did he really hate me that much?

Or did he want my job badly enough to commit murder for it?

TEN

Stewart woke me twice during the night, and each time I came awake quickly. The second time I got up and took more aspirin, then went back to bed and fell promptly asleep. When I woke the third time, the bedside clock told me it was nearly seven. Diesel was gone from the room, and I suspected he was downstairs in the kitchen with Azalea.

I tested the back of my head. Sore, but not as painful as I expected. My shoulder had stiffened, but a hot shower ought to help that. My hands remained sore, and I needed to clean the cuts again and dab them with some antibiotic ointment.

In the shower, while I let the hot water hit my stiff shoulder, I thought about the attack. I had a gut feeling Gavin was responsible, but I had no way to prove it. Maybe he owed me that much, since I knocked him off his feet twice in twenty-five years.

I had talked to Helen Louise last night, the first time Stewart woke me. It was around ten o’clock then, and I knew she ought to be home and getting ready for bed. I didn’t keep her on the phone long because I knew how tired she was after a full day at the bistro. I also didn’t tell her about the incident with Gavin. I didn’t think anyone else would tell her about it before I had a chance to, and I didn’t want her lying awake, worrying, when she needed rest. I would tell her about it when we were face-to-face so that she could see that I was okay.

Twenty minutes later, showered, shaved, and dressed for the conference, I went downstairs. To my surprise I found my son at the table, eating a hearty breakfast. Diesel greeted me first. Sean waved a fork in greeting. I could see he was busy chewing.

I greeted Azalea in the meantime, and she poured coffee for me while I took my accustomed place at the table. When Sean could speak properly, he said, “Morning, Dad. What’s this I hear about you getting in fights yesterday?”

I had a sip of coffee before I replied. “Is that why you’re here this morning, instead of at home with your wife? Did you come to lecture me?”

That sounded more hostile than I intended, but Sean paid no mind.

“Alex had to leave for Jackson early this morning for a trial, and I needed to talk to you.” He grinned. “And somehow I figured Azalea might have a few extra crumbs to feed me.”

Azalea set my plate of scrambled eggs, bacon, and grits on the table, along with a smaller plate of biscuits. She regarded Sean with an indulgent smile. “Always like to see a man eating a hearty meal, Mr. Sean. No trouble cracking a couple extra eggs for you and throwing a few more slices of bacon on the skillet.”

“And I thank you most heartily in return, Azalea. There’s nothing to compare with your breakfast anywhere.” Sean sighed. “Those biscuits are so light and fluffy it’s a wonder they’re not floating off the table.”

Azalea shook her head at his fanciful description, but I could tell she was pleased. Sean didn’t exaggerate by much. Azalea’s were the lightest biscuits I’d ever had, and I had eaten way too many to count in my fifty-plus years.