Миранда Джеймс - Arsenic And Old Books

I had to laugh because I couldn’t remember ever seeing Stewart look less than his best. “I appreciate it.”

Before I called Kanesha I wanted to organize my thoughts. One in particular intruded, and I was irritated by it. The mayor obviously thought I wasn’t experienced enough, or smart enough, to catch on to the forgery. Maybe she thought I would believe the diary was real simply because she said it was. The Longs, I guessed, were so accustomed to being respected and obeyed, she thought I would just toe the party line, as it were.

I felt my temper rising, and I had to keep it under control. I would have to guard my tongue if I encountered Mrs. Long anytime soon. I couldn’t afford to let her know I knew the one volume was forged.

Kanesha answered her cell phone almost immediately.

“I’ve got big news for you,” I said. “One of the diaries is forged. I think you should send it off for a complete forensic examination, because you’re going to need expert proof.”

Kanesha didn’t waste time with questions. “I’ll be there in about fifteen minutes. Keep those diaries locked away until I get there.”

I didn’t have time to tell her that I didn’t have the forged one, but I figured Stewart would have it back in my office before Kanesha arrived.

Sure enough, Stewart turned up ten minutes later with the box. I thanked him again, and he grinned. “Glad to do it. Made for a nice little puzzle this afternoon. I wish I could hang around but I have a lot to do today.” He ran his fingers through his thick, dark blond hair. “For one thing, I have to get this shaggy mop tended to. I’m starting to look like a Yeti.”

His hair was a bit longer than I was used to seeing, but it wasn’t anywhere near long enough to qualify as a mop of any kind.

“Have fun tonight,” I said.

Stewart bade Diesel and me good-bye and vanished through the door.

A few minutes later Kanesha arrived and strode into the office. She greeted me and stood in front of my desk. “Tell me about this forgery.”

“Please, have a seat,” I said. “My neck will cramp if I have to sit and look up at you like this.”

Kanesha sat and leaned forward in the chair. Her laser stare focused on me, and I knew I’d better start talking. “There were things in this one volume—the one the mayor brought after the others were stolen—that weren’t adding up. I talked to Jasper Singletary this morning, and he says the family has never heard anything about his great-great-grandmother Celeste being a freed slave. He wasn’t particularly upset about it, just puzzled.”

Kanesha nodded. “Go on.”

Diesel had climbed out of the window to greet her, and she gave him a few rubs on the head while she listened to my explanation. When he’d had enough attention, the cat went in search of his water and food bowls, along with a litter box, that I had stowed in a corner of the room.

I explained the duplication in time coverage between the forged volume and one of the original four. “I’m not sure what the forger was thinking. It would have been smarter to keep back the volume from the same time period and substitute the forged one for it. I might have been slightly less suspicious if she had done that.”

“She?” Kanesha asked. “Do you think the mayor is responsible for the forgery?”

“I think it’s the most likely answer,” I said. “And if she didn’t do it, then someone in the family or closely connected to the family did it on her orders.”

“The reason for the forgery?” Kanesha said.

“To embarrass Jasper Singletary and help Beck Long win the election.”

Kanesha shook her head. “Strange way of going about it, if you ask me. Politics makes people crazy sometimes, although I don’t know why the Longs are so afraid of Jasper Singletary. Beck Long was ahead by a mile in the polls until recently, and no one could have produced that forgery in a few days. It would have taken several weeks, don’t you think?”

Point to Kanesha. I hadn’t considered that, but she was right. “Yes, it would have taken more than a few days. The planning had to take some time as well before anyone sat down and started to write.”

Diesel reappeared, his errands done, and chirped at me before he climbed into the window.

“What about the handwriting?” Kanesha asked, seemingly oblivious now to the cat. “Did it look like the same person’s writing to you?”

“I wasn’t able to compare them until today,” I said. “Remember, the four real diaries were missing when I received the forgery. I didn’t get the real ones back till this morning, but when I did compare the writing, it looked close enough to me. A handwriting expert could—and will, I’m sure—find discrepancies.”

Kanesha gave me a grim smile. “This is going to get nasty. I’m sure you realize that.”

I nodded. “That’s why I wanted you to know right away, so you can take care of getting these analyzed before the mayor knows they’re gone.”

“I’ll do my best,” she replied. “I’m still trying to figure out how this ties into the murder of Dr. Steverton.”

“I have no idea, either,” I said. “Did your men ever figure out where Marie hid the diaries?”

“Yes, because they were a lot more thorough than the first time,” Kanesha said. “Dr. Steverton had an old chifferobe with a hidden compartment. They found it this time because it hadn’t been closed completely, and they also found tiny flakes of leather that matched the bindings. No sign of those boxes you had them in, either. I’m figuring she must have discarded them somewhere on campus.”

“Marie must have been careless and in a hurry,” I said. “Did they find the missing pages in the compartment?”

“No, it was empty,” Kanesha said. “We’re still looking for them but I’m out of places to try.” She stood. “I’d better get these on their way to the crime lab. In the meantime if you come up with any ideas on where we should look for those pages, let me know.” She picked up the box and headed for the door.

If the pages still exist, I thought. I hoped they hadn’t been destroyed, but depending on their contents, it might have been the safest thing for the killer to do.

Who was the killer? I asked myself.

Because I was so certain the mayor created the forged diary, she had to be at the top of my list. She had a lot at stake, especially if she was willing to go to such absurd lengths to help her son win a state senate race. She couldn’t afford to let Marie get in her way. Lure Marie out into the street in the early hours of the morning, run her down when the neighbors were sound asleep, and Marie was no longer a problem.

That was cold-blooded, I thought. I had never thought of Lucinda Long as a ruthless person, but I didn’t really know her. She had married into a family that was used to commanding respect and wielding power—political, social, and economic. Her own family, the Beckwiths, were also wealthy and well connected.

Did they think they were above the law? I wondered.

The only other candidate for murderer that I could come up with was Beck Long, but it was possible his father was involved. I didn’t know either Beck or his father, although I had seen Beck twice recently and observed him in action. He was less than impressive intellectually, but I could see him acting on impulse and aiming a car at someone who was causing him trouble. Whether he had the temperament to act so rashly, I didn’t have a clue. It might have been an accident, but it wouldn’t do for a rising political star to be caught at the scene of a hit-and-run. That could compromise his career pretty quickly.

Time to stop all this woolgathering. I had work to do, and I should get on with it. I went back to the diary volume I was reading earlier, the one with missing pages.