Миранда Джеймс - Arsenic And Old Books

Ten minutes later I unlocked the office door and let the cat inside and unleashed him. Then I went to the storage room next door to retrieve the diary.

I woke up the computer and scanner and set to work. I really wanted to finish this by the end of my workday, around five o’clock, if not before.

I didn’t know how much time had passed when a voice from the doorway interrupted my concentration.

“Come in, Ms. Grimes,” I said. “I’m glad you’re here.”

“Oh, really, that’s a switch.” She laughed as she approached me. Her eyes widened when she realized what I was scanning. “You got them back? That’s amazing.”

I closed the book and stood. “I did get the diaries back. I found them here when I came to work this morning.” I ushered her toward the chair in front of my desk. “They are now in the custody of the sheriff’s department, on their way to the state crime lab for examination.”

“That sucks,” she said, obviously disappointed. “How long will they keep them?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “It could take weeks.”

Ms. Grimes swore, and I shot her a look.

“Sorry,” she said, although she didn’t sound all that penitent. She jerked her head in the direction of the scanner. “So what’s that you’re working on over there? Some other project?”

“No, it’s a fifth volume of the diary that the mayor found last night. She brought it over this morning.”

“When can I have a look at it?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “In light of everything that’s happened, I’ll have to discuss that with the mayor and the sheriff’s department.”

Ms. Grimes scowled at me. “You’re deliberately trying to keep me from looking at those diaries. Why are you making this so difficult?”

I heard Diesel shifting around on the windowsill behind me. He had picked up on the tension, and it made him uneasy. I turned to rub his head for a moment in reassurance. Then I faced the writer again and did my best to keep my rapidly escalating temper from erupting.

“Tell you what, Ms. Grimes. I’ll make a bargain with you. You stop lying to me, and maybe I’ll be a little more cooperative.”

NINETEEN

Kelly Grimes’s face reddened. “How dare you accuse me of lying.” She jumped up from her chair and leaned forward over the desk.

I didn’t flinch. I regarded her calmly as I replied, “I dare because you lied to me about being secretly engaged to Beck Long. You might be engaged, but if you are, I’d bet it’s to Jasper Singletary.”

That took her by surprise. The red faded, and she stepped back. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Sit down, Ms. Grimes,” I said. “I’m not in a mood to lollygag around over this. Marie Steverton was murdered early this morning, and I’m sure you know that, what with you being a writer.”

Ms. Grimes jutted her chin out, and her eyes flashed fire. “I don’t appreciate the tone of that remark, Mr. Harris. I’m a damn good writer.”

“What about journalistic ethics?” I asked. “Aren’t you supposed to be fair and honest in gathering information? I looked that up, by the way, on the Society of Professional Journalists website.”

The writer stared at me, evidently unable to frame a reply.

“I want to know why you and Jasper Singletary are so interested in the contents of a diary kept by a woman who’s been dead for over a hundred years. If it had anything to do with the murder of Marie Steverton, I’m sure the sheriff’s department will be interested, too.”

Behind me I heard Diesel muttering. I knew he didn’t like the tone of my voice. I hated for him to be upset, but I was determined to get through to this foolish young woman. While I waited for her response, I turned my chair toward the window and let Diesel climb into my lap. He sat with his body against my chest, his head rubbing up against my chin. I could feel him start to calm down.

Together we turned back to face Ms. Grimes. “Well?” I said.

The writer sighed. She looked tired. “Okay, so I lied to you about being engaged to Beck Long. I wouldn’t have done it, but Jasper asked me to help him. He’s feeling desperate because Beck has all the advantages in the race.”

“Such as?” I asked. I already knew the answer, but I wanted to hear what she had to say, and how she said it.

She cast me a glance of loathing. “You can’t be that naive. You grew up here, right? You know the Long family’s had a lock on politics in this town for several generations.” She laughed, a bitter, unpleasant sound. “They’re corrupt from decades of sitting in power, getting elected just because they have good looks, a lot of money, and facile tongues.”

“What does Jasper Singletary have?” I asked.

“For one thing, he graduated third in his law school class. Beck Long barely scraped through. If his daddy hadn’t pledged a lot of money to the school, he would have failed. Jasper is smart, Mr. Harris. We need intelligent men like him in our government.”

I had heard stories about Beck Long’s lack of academic prowess, so I wasn’t surprised to hear Grimes bring up his law school performance. He wouldn’t be the first young man to skate by on good looks, money, and a family name.

“If Beck Long gets elected,” Ms. Grimes continued in a heated tone, “it’ll just be more of the same. Jasper wants to lead this state forward, and he deserves a shot.”

Her passionate loyalty impressed me, but I wasn’t ready to concede anything. We still hadn’t hit the root of the issue.

“I’ll take that under consideration,” I said as Diesel nestled closer to me. I had to be careful not to get cat hair in my mouth when I talked. “Are you engaged to him?”

Ms. Grimes’s shoulders slumped. “Yes, we’re engaged, but he wants to keep it private.” Her tone sounded a bit resentful, and I suspected she wasn’t happy about being kept in the background.

“Why is your fiancé so interested in Rachel Long’s diaries? What can possibly be in them that could help him in a race against Beck Long?”

“That’s not for me to say,” the writer said sharply. “Jasper will have to tell you, but I don’t know whether he will. I doubt he’ll think it’s any of your business.”

“It might not be,” I said, “but it is the business of Chief Deputy Kanesha Berry. She’s in charge of the murder investigation. The diaries are linked to Marie’s murder, and to my mind, anyone as interested in the diaries as you and your fiancé are has to be connected somehow.”

“How did you figure out about me and Jasper?” the writer asked.

“Did you not see me sitting there in the bakery yesterday?” I asked. “I watched you on and off for quite a while. I had to wonder why a writer—a good one, that is—didn’t approach either Beck Long or Jasper Singletary when such a golden opportunity presented itself.”

Ms. Grimes shrugged. “You can’t be badgering people all the time. Sometimes you simply have to leave them alone in a public place.”

“Sure,” I said. I figured even Diesel heard the ironic inflection in that one syllable. “Then there was the business of the note you left on your table for him. He did it discreetly, but I still saw him stop by the table and palm the note.”

The only response I got from that was a stony expression.

“Is the bookstore a regular rendezvous spot for the two of you?” I asked. “I just happened to stop in there after I left the bakery, and I overheard a bit of your conversation. I recognized your voices. What I heard confirmed my suspicion that you’re involved with him and not with Beck Long.” I wanted to add that she would have a brief career if she ever went into espionage but I figured that would be twisting the knife a bit too hard.