Миранда Джеймс - Arsenic And Old Books

“Very well,” she said as she accepted them. She frowned. “There are only three volumes here. Where are the other two?”

“We can get to those in a moment,” Kanesha said smoothly. She joined the mayor in front of my desk. “Why don’t you go ahead and check these three first?”

The mayor looked puzzled, but she did as the deputy suggested once she had her gloves on. I had placed them so that she would be able to open them properly, and she opened the one in the middle first. That happened to be the one with the missing pages, and I wondered how long it would take her to notice the gap.

I glanced at Kanesha. She had her eyes on the mayor.

Mrs. Long carefully flipped pages until she reached the gap. “What is this?” She glared at me. “Someone took pages out. How could this have happened?”

“It happened when they were taken from this office,” Kanesha said. “I’m pretty sure that Dr. Steverton is the one who stole the diaries and then cut out those pages.”

The mayor shook her head. “Why would Marie do such a thing? She was so excited to work on them. I can’t believe she would deliberately damage them.”

“She might if the stakes were high enough,” Kanesha said. “Tell me, Mrs. Long, did you ever read the diaries? All five volumes?”

THIRTY-EIGHT

What was Kanesha’s strategy here? I couldn’t figure out where she was headed with this particular gambit.

The mayor evidently found it strange. She handed me the volume she was holding and turned to face the deputy.

“What does that have to do with Marie vandalizing Rachel Long’s diaries?” the mayor asked. “If you must know, I only read a bit of the first one. The handwriting gave me a headache, and I didn’t have time to read further. What I did read seemed interesting enough to be of potential historical value. That’s why my husband and I decided to donate them to the archive.”

“I see,” Kanesha said. “And the fifth volume? The one you found in a false bottom of the trunk. Did you read any of it?”

“I fail to see what you expect to accomplish with these questions,” the mayor said, her tone increasingly frosty. “I don’t have time for this.”

“Could you please answer my question, Mrs. Long?” Kanesha said.

The mayor stared hard at the deputy, but then Mrs. Long’s glance fell away. “Well, I might have looked at a couple of pages, but the handwriting was too small and cramped, as I’ve said. I was as surprised as everyone else when Mr. Harris told me about that slave woman getting involved with a Singletary.”

Mrs. Long seemed uneasy to me, and I was surprised. She was an experienced politician, and I would have expected her to maintain a calm, poker-like demeanor. Perhaps she didn’t handle guilt well, I thought.

The mayor pointed to the volume I now held. “Have you found the missing pages? If you know Marie took the diaries, surely you know what she did with them.”

“We do have them,” Kanesha said. “Because they’re evidence, though, they will remain in the custody of the sheriff’s department until it’s determined whether they will be needed for the trial.”

“Yes, I understand,” Mrs. Long said. She turned to me. “Did Marie remove pages from any other volume?”

“No, the others are all intact,” I said.

“I would like to see the other two to reassure myself of that,” the mayor said.

“I’m afraid that won’t be possible,” Kanesha said. “I’ve sent the fifth book you found along with one of the others to the state crime lab for testing.”

“Testing?” Mrs. Long said. I thought she suddenly looked a bit pale. “Whatever for?”

“We suspect that the one you found in the bottom of the trunk is a forgery,” Kanesha said. “I want to know how recently it was done. Do you have any ideas about that?”

The mayor laughed, a shaky sound. “Now, why would I know about such a thing? It can’t be a forgery.”

Kanesha looked at me, and I realized this was a signal for me to talk.

“I’m certain it is,” I said. “I asked one of the chemistry professors here to compare it to one of the original four.”

“Why would you do that?” The mayor stared hard at me.

“I began to suspect, because of the contents, that something wasn’t right with it,” I said. “The story about Rachel Long’s slave getting involved with the present Jasper Singletary’s ancestor didn’t hold water. I spoke to Mr. Singletary after he’d had a chance to read that volume, and he was puzzled by it. He thought it odd that, if Celeste truly was a slave, no one in the family knew about it.”

The mayor laughed harshly. “It’s hardly the kind of thing one would pass down to one’s family. Apparently she was light enough to pass for white, and that’s how they fooled everyone.”

“I don’t think they could have gotten away with it,” I said. “Celeste might not have interacted with the people in town, but the other slaves would certainly have known she was one of them. I don’t think they would have been quiet about her marrying a white man once she was free. It was illegal for blacks and whites to marry then.”

“Well, I think you’re wrong,” the mayor said. “I think they did get away with it.”

I glanced at Kanesha, and she nodded again.

“There is other evidence,” I said. “I found a copy of Angeline McCarthy Long’s memoir of Rachel and read it.”

The mayor did pale visibly this time. “How did . . . But Marie said . . .” She fell silent, obviously horror-stricken over what she let slip.

“I’m sure Marie told you that she had taken care of the library’s copy of the memoir, and I imagine you visited Miss Eulalie Estes and borrowed her copy,” I said. “Someone found the copy Marie had hidden and brought it to me. I read it. Angeline Long states very clearly that Celeste was white. She was the daughter of the white overseer on the Afton plantation in New Orleans. Rachel wouldn’t have written that Celeste was a slave when she clearly wasn’t. Therefore that volume of the diary is a forgery.”

Mrs. Long sank into the chair behind her. She looked back and forth from me to Kanesha twice. I knew my expression was every bit as stony as the deputy’s.

“Did Marie Steverton play a role in creating the forged diary?” Kanesha asked. “Before we go any further, Your Honor, I will read you your rights, unless you waive them.”

The mayor stared down at the floor. Behind me I heard Diesel stirring, so I set down the book I was holding and reached behind me to pat him for reassurance. He stilled under my touch.

“Well, Mrs. Long?” Kanesha said.

“I’ll waive them, and Mr. Harris can be your witness.” The mayor sighed. “Marie did all the work, actually. At my request.”

“What did you promise her?” I asked. “To make sure she got tenure?”

Mrs. Long’s head jerked up. “Yes. How did you know?”

“It was pretty common knowledge around campus that she was desperate to get it,” I said. “She had tried and failed at previous colleges, and this was her last shot before retirement.”

“I see. It was mostly her idea,” the mayor said. “I found Rachel’s diaries several months ago and told her about them then. She kept pestering me to let her have them, but I refused to do it. I didn’t trust her with them.”

“How did you hit upon the scheme to forge a volume of the diary?” Kanesha asked.

“Jasper Singletary was gaining ground in the campaign against my son, and his campaign manager was worried that unless something drastic happened, Singletary would overtake Beck and win.” The mayor shook her head. “I love my son, but he is not a natural politician. He is handsome and charming, but he doesn’t have the oratorical gifts his opponent has; nor is he as quick on his feet. My husband refuses to see that, however, and is determined that Beck will be elected. He’s too proud to believe Beck isn’t going to win.