Миранда Джеймс - Arsenic And Old Books

I stopped, unable to believe what I saw there.

One of the four volumes of Rachel Long’s diaries without its archival box.

My legs trembled for a moment, and I couldn’t move from the spot. Then I gained control of myself and walked around the desk to sink into my chair. I continued to stare at the book.

My eyes strayed to the shelf. The other three volumes sat there as if they’d never been gone, but without the archival boxes I’d made for them.

This made no sense. Why would the thief steal the diaries one day, only to return them less than twenty-four hours later?

My mind felt stuck in a groove, with that thought going round and round. Then I realized that it was possible that the thief didn’t bring them back. Some other person might have found them and decided to return them, for reasons unknown.

I shook my head. Either way, it was bizarre.

What would Kanesha say when I told her?

Thinking of Kanesha made me realize something that had my stomach twisting in knots.

The diaries were evidence in a crime. That meant Kanesha would take them away for testing. Would the technicians who examined them treat them with the care they deserved?

For a moment I was tempted to hide the diaries and not tell Kanesha they’d been returned. That way I could go ahead and start scanning them and find out what was in them that caused all this brouhaha. When I finished, I could say I found them back on the shelves.

Then I realized that wouldn’t work, for two reasons. The first, and most important, was that I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I couldn’t lie to Kanesha like that. The second was that, once the lock was changed, it would be extremely difficult for someone to get into the office to put them back. There wouldn’t be a way around that inconvenient fact that I could see.

I checked my watch—already three minutes past nine. Kanesha ought to be here any second now. I sat back in my chair and tried to relax. Hearing the purring cat behind my head helped. Happy to be in one of his favorite spots, Diesel rumbled away as he lay there and stared out the window.

A few minutes later Kanesha walked in. “Morning, Charlie.”

I returned her greeting, then said, “You’re not going to believe this.” I gestured toward the book on my desk. “The diaries are back.”

Kanesha stared at me as if she thought I’d lost my mind. She strode forward until she stood less than an inch from the other side of my desk. She looked from me to the book on my desk a couple of times.

“You’ve got all four of them?” she asked.

I nodded. “The other three are on the shelf there.” I pointed to them. “They were in archival boxes when they were taken, but they came back without them.”

Kanesha shook her head. “This is the craziest dang thing I’ve ever seen.” She pulled out her cell phone and punched in a number. After a few moments she identified herself and then gave instructions for retrieval of the diaries for forensic examination. Call completed, she put away the cell phone and found a chair.

“I know you have to take these as evidence,” I said as I resumed my own seat, “but they really have to be handled with extreme care.”

“I understand that,” Kanesha said with a faint note of impatience. “The state crime lab is used to handling all kinds of fragile objects. I’ll be sure they understand the importance of the diaries, and I’m sure they’ll take all due care with them.”

That didn’t completely reassure me, but I had no say in the matter. “How long do you think they’ll take to complete their examination?”

Kanesha shrugged. “Ordinarily it could take several weeks to a few months. They’re always busy. But the mayor might be able to call in a few favors and get them first in line. She knows a lot of influential people.”

Political clout was a good thing, I reflected, when used for a good reason.

“Helpful that they already have your prints on record.” Kanesha grinned.

I decided to ignore that little sally. I was about to ask her a question when I heard a knock at the open door. I glanced past Kanesha to see Lucinda Long in the doorway, her purse on one arm and a canvas bag hanging from the other.

“Good morning, Your Honor,” I said. “Please come in. I have some news I think you’ll be happy about. Deputy Berry and I were just discussing it, in fact.”

The mayor moved forward. “Good morning, Ms. Berry. I’ve got news of my own that I think will make you happy, Mr. Harris.” She brandished the canvas bag. “I’ve found another volume of Rachel Long’s diaries.”

SIXTEEN

Diesel jumped down from the windowsill to go sidle up to the mayor. Kanesha rose from her chair, and I did, too, as soon as I could gather my jumbled thoughts enough to do so.

“Another volume,” I said. “That’s exciting.”

“I thought you’d be pleased,” Mayor Long said as she patted the cat’s head. “With the loss of the other four, and not knowing if—and when—we might get them back, this is truly lucky.”

She stepped forward, and Kanesha moved to one side. The mayor’s eyes lit on the diary on my desk. She stared at Kanesha, then at me. “That looks like one of the missing diaries.”

“When I came in this morning,” I said, “I found them on the shelves here, as if they had never disappeared.”

The mayor shook her head back and forth several times, obviously surprised. “What in the blue blazes is going on here?”

Kanesha motioned for Mrs. Long to take the chair she had vacated, and the mayor nodded. She made herself comfortable, her handbag in her lap. She leaned forward to place the canvas tote and its contents on the front edge of my desk. Diesel, evidently convinced the petting was done, went back to his spot in the window behind me.

Kanesha pulled another chair near the mayor and sat while I resumed my own seat. I was about to speak when Kanesha caught my eye. She shook her head slightly, so I stayed quiet.

“Your Honor,” Kanesha said, “I have some news I need to share with you. Pretty shocking news. I was planning to call you this morning after I finished with Mr. Harris, but we might as well talk now.”

Mrs. Long’s hands tightened on her handbag. Her expression blank, she said, “Go ahead.”

“I’m sorry to inform you that Dr. Marie Steverton has died,” Kanesha said.

“Dead? What on earth happened? I just talked to her last night.” The mayor sounded bewildered.

“She was the victim of a hit-and-run in the street in front of her house,” Kanesha said. “A neighbor was wakened by the noise around two a.m. and went out to investigate. He found her, but she was beyond help by then.”

“How horrible,” the mayor whispered. “What in the name of all that’s holy was Marie doing outside at that time of the morning?”

“We are investigating that,” Kanesha said. “At present we don’t know what would have brought her outside then.” Her gaze focused on the tote bag on my desk. Her tone sharpened when she spoke. “Your Honor, where did you get that bag?”

“The bag?” Once again the mayor appeared at sea. “I’ve had it for some time. I picked it up years ago at a college reunion. Why do you ask?”

“We found one like it, with that same emblem on it, in the street near Dr. Steverton,” Kanesha said. “It was larger than yours. It was also empty, although there were traces of something that had been inside it. We’re going to have it examined thoroughly, of course.”

“This gets weirder by the minute,” I said.

“Marie and I were at Sweet Briar together,” the mayor said. “It’s no surprise she had a bag with the crest on it. But why did she have it with her then?”