Миранда Джеймс - Arsenic And Old Books

TWENTY-THREE

I could read nothing but malice into Jasper Singletary’s words. If it were indeed true that Rachel Long and her maid were somehow responsible for the deaths of Singletary’s family members, I could understand his wanting to have the truth known.

The rancor he felt toward the Longs—that was harder to understand. Had the Singletarys made the Longs the scapegoats for every misfortune they suffered since the Civil War? For that to be true, I reckoned, the Longs would have to have been actively persecuting the Singletary clan for more than a hundred and fifty years.

Or had the bitterness of that one terrible winter eaten into the Singletary family’s collective soul and kept the hatred alive all this time?

That sounded melodramatic, but bitterness corroded. I was curious to find out what other incidents could have kept the feud fresh one generation after another. Another talk with Miss Eulalie was in order, and I might consult the Ducote sisters as well. If those three ladies couldn’t answer my questions, I doubted anyone could.

While I woolgathered, Jasper Singletary stared at me, his impatience obvious.

“I understand that you want to know the truth,” I said, “but have you considered the possibility that the diaries may contain no proof whatsoever that these allegations are valid?”

“Yes, I have thought about it,” Singletary replied. “If the proof I need isn’t in the diaries, I’ll keep looking. One way or another I will prove that the Long family harbored a murderer, no matter how long ago it was.”

“How dare you say such a thing.”

Neither Singletary nor I was aware that the mayor stood in the doorway. She had obviously heard the young man’s words. Her eyes glinted with anger as she advanced into the room. To my surprise, she wasn’t alone. The tall figure of her son loomed behind her.

Singletary got to his feet and regarded Mrs. Long coolly. “I dare say it, Your Honor, because according to my family, it’s the truth. Only, the Long family has been able to cover it up all these years.” He shrugged. “Maybe now the truth will come to light.”

Beck Long stepped past his mother, who for once seemed at a loss for words. “Listen here, Singletary, I know you’re desperate because your campaign is going nowhere. Unless you want to have your behind hauled off to jail for libel, you’d better stop spouting crap like that.”

Singletary laughed harshly. “Your family really did waste money by sending you to law school.”

Long’s face reddened. He turned to his mother. “What is he talking about?”

Mrs. Long’s expression was enigmatic as she regarded her son. “The events he’s talking about must have taken place well over a century ago, so anyone he’s accusing of the crime has been dead a long time. You can’t libel the dead, so he can accuse Rachel Long or anyone else from her time of being a murderer.”

“Oh, yeah, that,” Beck Long said. “Well, he’s still trying to ruin our family name. That ought to count for something.”

Singletary turned to me. “Thank you for your time, Mr. Harris. I look forward to hearing from you.” He turned back to nod at the mayor and her son. “Sorry I can’t stay and chat, but I have meetings to get to.” He strode out of the room.

All during the foregoing exchange, I could feel Diesel becoming more and more restless. The tension in the room had mounted steadily, ever since Singletary began telling me his story. Now, with this open hostility, he was not happy. He climbed down from the windowsill and crowded against my legs. I rubbed his head to try to reassure him. He began to relax.

The mayor came forward and sank wearily into the chair Singletary had vacated. Beck Long hovered over her.

“Mama, what are we going to do? We can’t let him run around and start telling people those lies.”

“Find a chair and sit down,” Mrs. Long said in a sharp tone. “I will take care of it, like I always do.” She turned to me. “Mr. Harris, have you had a chance to read through the diary I brought you yesterday?”

Was I supposed to pretend the nasty scene hadn’t happened? I couldn’t help but admire the mayor’s cool in the face of such unpleasantness. At the same time, I was not much impressed with her son.

“No, Your Honor, I haven’t,” I said. “I was able, however, to scan all the pages to create a digital copy. My plan for today is to read through it.”

“You’re not going to let anybody else have a copy of the file, are you?” Beck Long stared hard at me.

“If the family chooses to have the diary remain private for now, then no, I won’t let anyone else have a copy of it,” I said. “Perhaps it might be better for me to return the diary to you, along with a copy of the scan, so that you can decide whether you want the contents known. Frankly, if I were to read it and find evidence to support Mr. Singletary’s allegations, I would be in an awkward spot—and I prefer not to be.”

Beck Long started to speak, but his mother held up her hand. He closed his mouth and leaned back in his chair, his expression sulky.

“No, Mr. Harris, my husband decided to share these diaries, and we are not going to renege on that agreement now. I cannot believe you will find anything to substantiate that wild story Mr. Singletary has come up with. Frankly, the sooner the contents are public knowledge, the better. Singletary may be sorry he ever wanted to know what’s in them. His family have been lazy, good-for-nothing whiners for generations.” Her face hardened. “I’m tired of them blaming the Longs for their troubles.”

Beck brightened during his mother’s speech. By the time she finished he was grinning and nodding his head. “That’s it, Mama,” he said. “We’ll show those lousy Singletarys a thing or two.”

Thus far during the state senate campaign I had not heard any speech given by Beck Long. I had a feeling I hadn’t missed anything significant, were I to judge by his remarks to his mother and Singletary. Could he really be as dim-witted as he sounded this morning?

The mayor ignored her son’s comment. “How long do you think it will take you to read through it?”

I shrugged. “Barring unforeseen complications, I should think sometime today. When I examined the first volume the other day, I found the handwriting easy enough to decipher.”

“Excellent.” Mrs. Long smiled as she rose. “Come along, Beck. We should let Mr. Harris get on with it. I’ll discuss with you later, Mr. Harris, about getting a transcript made of the diaries.”

I stood to bid the Longs good-bye. Diesel climbed back onto the windowsill. He seemed not at all interested in either the mayor or her son. Perhaps he was still uneasy from all the tension, though it had rapidly dissipated.

Seated once more, I turned to the computer to retrieve the files I had made of the scans. The scanner was high resolution, so I anticipated little trouble reading the pages, as long as I had scanned them properly.

The mayor’s confidence in the diary’s contents impressed me. After I thought about it a moment, I decided she might have read at least this one volume before she brought it to me.

If her confidence were misplaced and I did find something damaging or incriminating, I would of course inform Mrs. Long. After that, what could I do?

I had no quick and easy answer to that question—particularly if the incriminating information somehow connected to the present-day murder of Marie Steverton. I would face that situation if it occurred.

In the meantime, I was more eager than ever to read, and I settled into my chair and started on the first page. One advantage of reading the pages from scans was the ability to increase the size. With the diary itself I’d have had to use a magnifying glass. In this case the computer made things much easier.