Миранда Джеймс - Twelve Angry Librarians

Five minutes passed, then ten. Fifteen, and I was getting drowsy. Was she ever going to respond?

I thought about sending another text, one that I knew would grab her attention. Perhaps something like the killer was the first to die . That ought to get results.

I put the phone on the nightstand. Kanesha would respond when she was ready to. In the meantime I was getting drowsier by the minute. Diesel slept soundly beside me, and soon I drifted into sleep myself.

The ringing of my cell phone woke me out of a deep sleep. I fumbled for the phone, dropped it on the floor, and had to scramble to retrieve it before it stopped ringing. I knew it had to be Kanesha.

I noticed the time as I answered her call. Six fifteen. Sunday morning, then.

“Hello, this is Charlie.” I yawned right into the phone the moment the words left my mouth. “Sorry.”

“Guess I woke you up,” Kanesha said. “I’ve been up most of the night. Could sure use some coffee.”

I was suddenly wide awake. “I’ll make the coffee. Come on by, and I’ll have it ready.”

“On the way.” She ended the call.

“Come on, Diesel, time to get up.” I glanced at the bed and realized I had been talking to the air. No Diesel on the bed. That meant Stewart must be downstairs with Dante.

Good, that meant the coffee was already made. Bless Stewart, I thought, and not for the first time, as I stumbled out of bed and into my bathroom to splash cold water on my face.

A few minutes later, after having exchanged my shorts and tee shirt for clothes suitable for talking to the law, I walked into the kitchen. Stewart sat at the table, reading the newspaper and drinking coffee. Diesel and Dante wrestled on the floor near him. The wrestling didn’t amount to much, because whenever he wanted, Diesel could call a halt to the proceedings by sitting on the dog. He was at least three times the dog’s size and weight.

“Good morning, Charlie.” Stewart lowered the paper. “You’re up earlier than usual on a Sunday morning.”

“Good morning,” I said. “Not by choice. Kanesha is coming over for coffee. I think I’ve figured out the solution to the two deaths, and I suppose she’s coming to hear me out.”

“There’s plenty of coffee,” Stewart said. “I made a whole pot, and I’ve had only one cup so far. Haskell is still in bed. He didn’t get in until around one this morning.”

“He must have been totally worn-out.” I took a mug from the rack near the coffeemaker and filled my cup. I pulled out my usual chair and sat.

“Yes, he was knackered, as the Brits would say.” Stewart smiled. “He’s off duty today, so I plan to let him sleep in as long as he wants.”

“Lucky Haskell,” I muttered. I couldn’t really complain, however, because I was the one who wanted to talk to Kanesha.

“Should I make myself scarce?” Stewart asked. “Is this meeting with Kanesha confidential, or can anyone sit in?”

“Probably confidential,” I said. “Considering that the investigation isn’t closed yet.”

“No problem.” Stewart rose from the table and went over to the coffeemaker. “I’ll take my refill and the newspaper up to our sitting room. You’re not going to be reading the paper anytime soon, right?”

“Right, you’re welcome to it,” I said.

“Okay, toodles, then,” Stewart said. “Come on, Dante, let’s go upstairs.” He headed out of the kitchen. Diesel got up off the dog, and Dante scooted after his master.

I grinned at my cat. “You love having that dog to torment, don’t you?”

Diesel gave me one of those feline-trademarked supercilious looks and started cleaning his right front paw. The doorbell rang moments later, though, and he abandoned his pose of indifference to follow me to the front door.

Kanesha looked as if she hadn’t slept in two days, but her manner was as brusque as ever.

“Come on in, coffee’s ready,” I said.

“Thanks, I could use a gallon or two right about now.” She headed past me to the kitchen, Diesel ambling alongside her, meowing the whole time.

While Kanesha chose a seat at the table, I poured coffee and gave it to her. She gave Diesel a couple of absentminded pats before downing about half her coffee at one go.

“Oh dear Lord, that is good,” she said. “Stewart must have made it. He’s the only one I know can make coffee as good as my mama.”

“Yes, he did. Let me know when you want a refill.”

In response she drained her mug and held it out to me. “Thanks, Charlie, I appreciate it.”

I returned the mug full, and she took a couple of sips. She looked better now for having caffeine coursing through her system. I waited, though, for her to initiate our conversation about the case.

I didn’t have to wait all that long. A few more sips of coffee, and she appeared to be ready to talk. “You think you’ve got it all figured out. Go ahead and tell me your solution.”

“I will, but first I have at least one question,” I said. She nodded, and I continued. “Did you find any evidence of the threats Gavin alleged to have received?”

“We did,” Kanesha replied. “Several in his e-mail inbox, and he had a folder with seven printed ones in his laptop case. And, before you ask, the printed ones weren’t copies of the e-mail messages. They were different.”

“I’m willing to bet you’ll find that Gavin wrote them himself,” I said. “I don’t suppose you’ve been able to trace any of them yet.”

“Not yet,” Kanesha said. “I’ve turned them over to the MBI. They have people who can do the necessary electronic forensics on the e-mails. They’re also looking at the printed ones.”

“There were no envelopes with the printed ones, were there?” I asked.

Kanesha shook her head. “If he kept them, he didn’t bring them with him.”

“I assume the police in Alabama, or their bureau of investigation, will be searching his house for evidence.”

“Naturally. Already done,” Kanesha said. “After you’ve told me your solution, I’ll tell you what they found. We’ll see if it corroborates what you’re going to tell me.”

“Okay, fair enough.” I paused for a sip of coffee and a deep breath or two. I was preparing myself for being laughed at.

Kanesha sipped her coffee and regarded me with that laser stare of hers. I hesitated, because all of a sudden I was certain I’d gotten it all wrong. It wouldn’t be the first time you’ve made a fool of yourself . I told my inner voice to shut up. Not aloud, of course.

“Well, go on,” Kanesha said. “I’m listening.”

“Here goes,” I replied. “Gavin was the poisoner. He killed himself accidentally, but Maxine Muller deliberately.”

THIRTY-FOUR

Kanesha didn’t laugh. Didn’t even blink, in fact.

I wasn’t sure how to interpret that lack of response. I found it unnerving, but I couldn’t let it rattle me or I wouldn’t remain coherent enough to explain my theory.

“Okay, well.” I cleared my throat. “Gavin didn’t intend to die, of course. He wanted to kill two people but make it look like they died accidentally while he himself was the actual target. He’d set it up so that his victims accidentally got the water bottles that were poisoned instead of him.”

If Kanesha’s eyes hadn’t been open I’d have thought she’d gone to sleep on me. Then she drank more coffee.

“I think he probably prepared the two bottles—and I’m guessing that there were only two—with poison back home in Alabama. Maybe the investigators there found evidence of that in his home, but I guess you’re not going to tell me that right now.”

Kanesha shook her head. “Go on.”

“So Gavin brings the poisoned bottles to Athena with him. He told Lisa Krause, the chair of the local arrangements committee for the conference, that he had to have a certain kind of bottled water in his suite. He demanded it as a keynote speaker. Lisa got the water bottles for him. They were his cover , so to speak, for the doctored ones.” I paused for a sip of coffee.