Миранда Джеймс: Arsenic And Old Books

I hit speed dial on my cell phone to call Melba at home. She answered after three rings.

She listened patiently as I explained the events of the afternoon and the encounter with Marie. “What kind of connection could there be between them?”

Melba laughed. “That’s easy, Charlie. They were at Sweet Briar together forty years ago. Marie may think she and Lucinda are good buddies because they went to college together, but Lucinda sure don’t tolerate fools—and Marie’s as big a fool as I’ve ever met. She always thinks she’s more important than anybody else in the room. That just goes to show how stupid she really is.”

Trust Melba to cut Marie down to size. I laughed. “Sounds like you know Lucinda Long pretty well.”

“I sure do,” Melba said. “I worked on her very first campaign as mayor, and I’ve supported her ever since. She’s done more for this town than all the good ole boys who were in office before her.”

I had to take Melba’s word for that last statement, since I hadn’t been here during the previous mayors’ tenures. I knew better than to argue with her, anyway.

“She’s not going to be paying any attention to that idiot,” Melba said. “So don’t even worry about it.”

“Thanks,” I said. “I hope the mayor’s rebuff will keep Marie out of my hair. I do not want to have to deal with her having a hissy fit every five minutes because she’s not getting her way.”

“If Lucinda can’t manage it,” Melba said, “give old Dr. Newkirk a call. He can’t stand the sight of Marie, and all he has to do is say, Leap, frog , and the head of the history department says, How high ? He’ll see to it she doesn’t bug you.”

“Good to hear.” I knew all about Dr. Newkirk’s reputation, and the fact that he was a close friend of the Long family convinced me that I could be firm with Marie and not worry about it. I didn’t intend to keep her from having access to the diaries, but I certainly wasn’t going to let her take them over like they were her own property.

“Enough about Marie.” Melba chuckled. “When are you and Helen Louise going to set a date?”

I rolled my eyes, even though I knew she couldn’t see me. There was no point in getting exasperated with Melba. She was incorrigible, and she reveled in it.

“When we do, I’m sure you’ll know about it three seconds later,” I said. “The CIA could learn from you and your spy network.”

“How do you know they haven’t already?” Melba retorted. “I notice you said when we do , and not if we do . I reckon that means you’ll get around to asking her one of these days. I just hope it’s before you need a gurney to get you down the aisle.”

“You keep it up, and I won’t let you see Diesel for a week,” I said in as stern a tone as I could muster.

“That’s cruel and unusual, and you know Diesel won’t stand for it. Well, I guess I’d better get off the phone and see about dinner. I’ll see you Wednesday.”

I smiled as I set my phone on the kitchen table. Melba loved kidding me almost better than breathing, and I had come to regard her as the sister I never had.

I checked the casserole in the oven, and it wasn’t quite ready—another ten minutes ought to do it. I prepared a salad and poured a glass of iced tea. I was trying to give up diet sodas, and that meant drinking more tea. I also drank a lot of water, but I needed my caffeine.

While I ate my salad I thought more about Rachel Afton Long and her diaries. Why was there such sudden fierce interest in them? I had both a student and a professor panting to get their hands on the old volumes. I wondered whether Kelly Grimes was a student of Marie’s. That could make an awkward situation even more difficult. I would do my best not to get in the middle of that, but I might not have a choice.

Diaries were an important source for women’s history. Perhaps the most famous Civil War–era woman’s diary was that of Mary Boykin Chesnut. Her husband, James, served as a senator from South Carolina before the war. Later he became an aide to President Jefferson Davis and a brigadier general in the Confederate Army. The Chesnuts moved in the highest social circles, and Mary’s observations of life in the South before, during, and after the Civil War offered great insight into women’s lives at the time.

If Rachel Long’s diaries proved to be as rich in content as Mary Chesnut’s, I knew Southern historians and feminist scholars would want to read them. Marie Steverton, I reckoned, wanted to prepare them for publication, and that would help her bid for tenure.

The decision regarding publication didn’t fall to me. I was simply the custodian of the primary documents, and I was determined to see that they were conserved and preserved properly. No matter who worked on them.

Diesel came warbling into the kitchen the moment I set the casserole dish on a trivet on the table. The cat had impeccable timing—and an infallible nose—when it came to mealtime.

I barely had time to dish up the food when the house phone rang. I stared at it. Not again .

Diesel meowed, ready for a piece of chicken.

“Hold on, boy, and you can have a bite in a minute. It’s too hot anyway.” I kept an eye on the cat as I answered the phone. He had been known to jump up on the table in his quest for food.

“Mr. Harris, Lucinda Long here. Sorry to trouble you at home, but a situation has arisen that I need to discuss with you.”

Right then I could cheerfully have consigned Marie Steverton to the farthest pit of hell. She was going to be a pain in the posterior after all.

FOUR

I struggled to keep the irritation out of my voice when I responded to Mayor Long. “That’s okay, Your Honor. How can I help?” I imagined myself making a voodoo doll of Marie and sticking pins in it.

The mayor sighed into the phone. “This is all rather awkward, but I have been approached by an old friend—someone I went to Sweet Briar with many years ago. She has expressed an interest in the diaries I brought you earlier today.” She paused. “I understand she has already spoken with you.”

“Yes, Marie came to see me a little while ago,” I said. “She was pretty insistent that she have exclusive access to the diaries, and I had to explain to her that it wasn’t up to me.”

“I know you were within your rights to tell her that,” the mayor said. “Unfortunately Marie gets stubborn when she decides she wants something, and she doesn’t always understand that the world isn’t going to change its ways just for her.”

I responded in a dry tone. “Yes, that was my impression.”

“I’d like to help an old college friend because I know this is important to her. Frankly, she hasn’t left me much choice, but that’s neither here nor there.” She paused for a moment. “At the same time, I’m well aware of her reputation at Athena College, and that makes me a little hesitant to grant her request.”

She had probably had an earful about Marie from Professor Newkirk. According to Melba, he had little respect for Marie and her abilities as a historian.

“I see. How would you like me to handle the situation?” I wasn’t going to make this any easier for the mayor. I didn’t want to be in an awkward position myself, and I thought this decision was her responsibility. I would abide by it, whatever it was.

Mrs. Long still sounded uncertain when she replied. “My husband will want to see the diaries handled properly by qualified historians and students, and so do I. I would like to give Marie a chance, however, in light of her needs and interests. I must get this settled, because I have many other matters that require my attention.” She paused, and I waited for her to continue. “How about this as a compromise? Marie can have exclusive access to the diaries for three weeks.”