Миранда Джеймс - Arsenic And Old Books

I looked up and Melba was back in the office. “You’ve got company,” she said in an undertone, “and it’s not the deputy.”

She had no chance to explain further. Behind her I saw Beck Long and a strange man pause at the door. Long knocked and smiled.

“Sorry to interrupt you, Mr. Harris, ma’am.” He took a couple of steps into the room. “I really need to talk to you for a few minutes, if you have time.”

I wanted to tell him to go away, that I was far too busy, but I knew I had no choice. I hoped I could get rid of him and his companion before the deputy arrived.

“Come in, Mr. Long.” I rose and came around the desk to shake his hand. I introduced Melba, and they shook hands.

Long nodded to indicate his companion. “This is my associate, Daryl Kittredge. He’s a member of my campaign staff.”

Melba and I shook hands with Kittredge. He was short, verging on plump, with dark hair and eyes, a definite contrast to tall, blond Beck Long.

I glanced over at the windowsill, and Diesel remained there. He was watching the proceedings, however. I wondered why he hadn’t come over to greet the visitors. Perhaps he had picked up on my unsettled state and was keeping out of things.

Melba quickly excused herself. She paused in the door to mime something. I thought she was trying to tell me she would hover nearby in the hall in case I needed help. I gave her a slight nod.

“What can I do for you, Mr. Long?” I didn’t ask them to sit because I didn’t want to encourage them to hang around.

Long didn’t seem to notice the lack of invitation. He smiled, exposing a set of perfectly formed, dazzlingly white teeth. “My mother shared with me the contents of the diary. Daryl and I would like to see it for ourselves. He’s going to take a few shots of the pages for a press release.”

Exactly not what I needed to hear. My hopes of keeping the mayor from finding out I suspected the diary was a fake were fading quickly.

In as bland a tone as I could manage, with my heart suddenly racing a mile a minute, I said, “I’m sorry, but that won’t be possible.” My mind raced along with my heart as I tried to come up with a plausible excuse for denying their request without revealing I didn’t have the diary in my possession.

Long’s brow furrowed. “Why not? It will only take a few minutes.”

“It’s not the time,” I replied. Inspiration struck. “Or rather, it is the time. Your timing, I guess I should say. The binding of that volume has some problems, and it’s in the process of being repaired. These problems had to be addressed immediately to insure the integrity of the binding for the future. I’m sure you understand. I know you wouldn’t want such an important resource to be damaged; nor would your mother.”

I cut the babbling off as Long’s eyes glazed over. I wasn’t sure he understood what I was telling him; he looked so blank. His associate, Kittredge, however, caught on quickly.

“That’s too bad,” he said. “I suppose we’ll have to go with the scans.” He reached in his jacket and pulled out a leather business card holder. He extracted a card and handed it to me. “If you could e-mail the scanned pages to me right away, I’d appreciate it.”

“No problem,” I said.

Long frowned at his associate. “I don’t see what the big deal is about letting you take a few pictures. That’s not going to hurt an old book.”

Kittredge looked slightly exasperated but then cleared his expression.

“That’s the problem,” I said quickly. “Until the binding is fully repaired, you can’t open the book wide enough to take good pictures without damaging it.”

“We understand,” Kittredge said. “How long before the repairs are completed?”

“A week, I suppose.” I shrugged. I prayed that this would all be over well before a week passed.

Kittredge nodded. He shook my hand. “Thanks for your time, Mr. Harris.”

Long looked sulky as he in turn shook hands with me. “Yeah, thanks.”

I watched them leave with great relief. I went back to my chair and sank down. Diesel meowed and tapped my shoulder with a paw. I turned to face him. He meowed again, and I rubbed his head. “Everything’s okay, boy. No need to fret.”

Diesel and I sat quietly for a couple of minutes, until I heard another knock at the door.

Deputy Turnbull walked in. “Morning, Mr. Harris. Ms. Gilley alerted me that Mr. Long was here, so I waited down in her office until he and his associate left the building.”

“I’m glad to see you, Deputy,” I said. “It’s been a bit nerve-racking the last half hour or so. If you’ll come with me, I’ll retrieve the pages.”

He nodded and then followed me next door to the storage room. I picked up the envelope with the pages inside, and we went back to my office.

“It won’t take me that long to scan these,” I told the deputy. “Please have a seat if you like.”

Deputy Turnbull shook his head. “Thank you, sir, but I’ll stand here in the door to keep an eye out for potential visitors.”

“Good idea,” I said. While I readied the scanning station, Diesel got down from his spot and walked over to the deputy. He sat at the man’s feet, looked up, and meowed. Turnbull grinned and said hello to the cat. He rubbed Diesel’s head, and that apparently satisfied my boy. He left the deputy and came to sit beside me.

I felt tense as I worked on the pages. The cotton gloves I wore made the process a bit slower as I took each page and scanned both sides. I was sweating by the time I finished. I reassembled the pages but did not paper-clip them. The paper clip could damage the pages. I advised Turnbull of this when I gave him the envelope. Then I remembered I should let Kanesha know what I’d told Long and Kittredge about the diary volume they wanted to photograph. “Sorry to load you down with messages for Deputy Berry,” I said when I finished.

“Not a problem, Mr. Harris. I’ll pass it all along to her when I give her the envelope,” Turnbull said. He smiled briefly before he left the office.

Before I shut down the scanning station I e-mailed the file of the scanned pages to myself and to Kanesha.

I returned to my desk, where I collapsed in my chair, Diesel by my feet, and mopped my sweaty brow with my handkerchief. My rampant curiosity about the contents of the missing pages made me want to start reading right away, but my brain needed time to relax from the tensions of the morning.

“I don’t know about you, boy, but I’m ready for lunch,” I said to the cat. “Let’s go home.” A good meal in the quiet of my house was what I needed right now.

Diesel meowed loudly to indicate his approval, adding in a couple of the odd trills he made sometimes.

Downstairs we stopped by Melba’s office to let her know we were going home for lunch.

“I’m about to head out myself,” she said. “I’m going over to the bakery to meet a friend for lunch. Y’all want to tag along? I know Helen Louise would be happy to see you. As hard as she works, I reckon she doesn’t have a lot of free time.”

Hearing Helen Louise’s name gave me a guilty start. Hadn’t I promised her last night we would come to see her at lunchtime today?

I had promised her, I decided. “Thanks, we’d appreciate the ride,” I said. “Saves me from going home to get the car.”

About fifteen minutes later Melba found a parking space on the square across from the bakery. We crossed the street, and I opened the door for Melba. The ever-tantalizing scents from the bakery filled the air.

“There’s my friend,” Melba said, nodding in the direction of a lone woman seated at a nearby table. “Y’all enjoy your lunch, and we’ll head back in about forty-five minutes, okay?”