Миранда Джеймс - Arsenic And Old Books

I thought about my scenario a little while longer. I finally concluded it was possible, but until Kanesha found evidence, it was only a theory.

FORTY

“That was pretty much the way it happened, as it turned out.” I paused to have a spoonful of the delicious lemon sorbet Helen Louise had brought for our Sunday dinner.

“Was the hit-and-run an accident?” Frank Salisbury, my son-in-law, asked.

“According to Kanesha, Kelly Grimes claimed it was. She panicked and drove off,” I replied.

“Do you believe her?” Laura asked.

“I’m willing to give her the benefit of the doubt,” I said. “When Kanesha confronted her with evidence linking her to her neighbor’s car, she went ahead and admitted it. Insisted that it was an accident, though.”

“Where was the neighbor during all this?” Helen Louise asked. “Did Kanesha tell you?”

“Oh, yes,” I said. “He was at Enid Lake, fishing with a couple of friends. One of them has a cabin nearby, and he finally turned up Friday evening. Had to be at work Saturday apparently.”

“So Kelly Grimes lied about when he left, obviously,” Sean said. My lawyer son always liked to nail down every detail.

“Yes, he got up at four and left half an hour later. He didn’t spot the damage to the blinker until he got home Friday. Of course, one of Kanesha’s deputies was waiting for him. They hadn’t been able to find him, but luckily he turned up sooner rather than later.”

“What’s going to happen to the diaries?” Stewart ladled more sorbet into his mouth and smiled. “Helen Louise, this is heaven on the tongue.”

“Thank you,” Helen Louise said. “I’ll give you the recipe if you like.”

“I like.” Stewart grinned. “Now, Charlie, about the diaries. I kept quiet like you asked me to, but I’m burning to find out the whole story.”

“I’m really not sure,” I said. “A lot will depend on how much of the content of them factors into the trial. Kelly Grimes has been charged with vehicular manslaughter and failure to stop and render aid. The contents of the diaries might not enter into the prosecution’s case.”

Since Beck Long and his campaign manager had been stopped before they used the false information about Jasper Singletary’s heritage, Singletary didn’t seem inclined to make an issue of it. He could change his mind, however, because the forged diary might figure into Kelly Grimes’s defense somehow. I couldn’t share any of this with my family, however, because none of it was public knowledge yet. I had promised the mayor I wouldn’t tell people about the forgery, and I would abide by my word.

“I wish you were able to tell us more about what’s in those diaries,” Alexandra Pendergrast, Sean’s girlfriend and law partner, said. “They must be pretty hot stuff to be the cause of so much activity.”

“There are a lot of interesting details in them,” I said. “If you’re really curious, you can read some of Rachel Long’s story in the memoir of her written by her granddaughter-in-law, Angeline McCarthy Long. The college library’s copy isn’t available at the moment, but Miss Eulalie Estes has graciously donated her copy of it to the archive. The only other copy known to exist is one belonging to the Long family.”

Miss Eulalie had colored slightly when she offered me her copy of the memoir on Friday afternoon. “It turns out I was mistaken, Charlie. I found my copy after a more thorough search at home, but now I think it belongs in the archive.”

I thanked her, well aware that both of us knew that Lucinda Long returned it after having stolen it in the first place. I wasn’t going to embarrass Miss Eulalie, and since I had promised the mayor my silence, I simply took the book and added it to the Long collection.

“Can’t you tell us some of the stories, Dad, without our having to read the book?” Laura asked with a big smile. “As much as I like to visit you in your office, I don’t have a lot of time this semester.”

Diesel, back beside my leg from one of his periodic treks around the table in search of handouts, warbled loudly. Everyone laughed because the cat always seemed to know just when to speak up.

“I suppose I can, especially since Diesel has asked, too,” I said. I thought about what to tell them, and I decided to recount the story of Rachel Long and the Singletarys. Though it was sad, it illustrated what a strong and charitable woman Rachel had been. I had since read more of her diaries—they were still in the archive, pending a decision by the Longs to ask for them back—and had come to admire her.

“Rachel was an admirable woman,” I said. “She, like everyone in Athena, had difficult times during the war. Food and other supplies became increasingly scarce, but she was willing to share what she had. One example from the first year of the war is the Singletary family.”

“Jasper Singletary’s ancestors?” Sean asked.

I nodded. “Yes, the same family. The head of the family at that time was also Jasper, and he had a son, Franklin, by his first wife. She died, and when Franklin was around ten, Jasper remarried, a young woman named Vidalia. They had three children, one right after another, and they were all under six in 1861. Franklin was sixteen, I think.”

I paused for the final spoonful of sorbet. “Times were hard for the Singletarys. Jasper had a heart condition; plus he was around sixty by then, and couldn’t work. Franklin, though much younger, had similar heart problems. Their only hired hand left to enlist in the war. Jasper didn’t condone slavery, you see.”

“Good for him,” Laura said. “I like him already.”

“They didn’t have enough food, but Jasper refused to ask for help, particularly from the Longs. He hated them, and Rachel’s father-in-law wasn’t too fond of Jasper, either. Vidalia, on the other hand, couldn’t stand seeing her children go hungry. Without Jasper’s knowing about it, she went to Rachel and begged for food. Her children also needed clothes. Rachel, being a compassionate woman, gave Vidalia food and bolts of some material she had but had never used.” I paused, trying to remember the name of the cloth. I had meant to ask Laura about it.

“That was kind of her,” Alexandra said.

“She was a good woman,” I said. “Green tarlatan, that’s it.” I looked down the table at my daughter. “That was the name of the cloth Rachel gave Vidalia. I’d never heard of tarlatan before, and I’ve been meaning to ask you about it.”

Laura’s nose wrinkled. “I’ve heard of green tarlatan, Dad. It was actually poisonous.”

“What do you mean?” I was stunned, and, I could see by their expressions, everyone else except Frank was equally taken aback.

“It had arsenic in it,” Frank said. “Arsenic was used in many things in the nineteenth century. In wallpaper, for example, and in cloth.”

“It helped fix the dye in the cloth,” Laura said. “But it was deadly. There were cases of people getting really sick and even dying from it because of the fumes it gave off.”

“I read somewhere recently that they examined some wallpaper produced by William Morris,” Frank said. “It still had enough arsenic in it to be deadly, even after more than a century. I’d never heard of it, but Laura and I were doing some research on nineteenth-century clothing and stumbled across it. We’re thinking of putting on a stage version of Little Women .”

“What happened to the Singletarys, Dad?” Laura asked with a frown. “Were they affected by it?”

“Yes, they were, sadly.” I paused for a breath to steady myself. The unintentional tragedy of Rachel’s charitable act upset me. “All three of the little children and Vidalia died several months after Rachel Long gave them the cloth. The winter was harsh, and I suppose the children were already weak from malnutrition. Vidalia probably died from heartbreak as much as from exposure to the cloth herself.”