Миранда Джеймс: Arsenic And Old Books

“If that is what you want, then that is what we will do,” I said. “I need to make you aware of two things, however. I work at the archive only three days a week, because that is all the library budget covers. Also, I can’t allow Dr. Steverton or anyone else to remove the diaries from the archive—unless you are willing to give permission and assume the risk. It’s possible that they might be photocopied but I can’t guarantee it.”

“The most important thing to my husband and me is that the diaries be carefully conserved.” Mrs. Long spoke firmly. “If you would be willing to work five days a week at the archive for the next three weeks, I’m sure my husband will arrange with the library director to cover the costs.”

Frankly I was surprised the mayor was going to such lengths to accommodate Marie, even if she was an old college friend. They must have been pretty close, and still might be, for all I knew. I would have to discuss this further with Melba. In the meantime, I knew the mayor was waiting for my answer.

“I can do that,” I said. “I’ll also need to let Teresa Farmer know I won’t be able to work my volunteer shifts on Fridays at the public library during those three weeks, but I’m sure she’ll understand.”

Teresa was a good friend, and I knew she wouldn’t object. I looked forward to those volunteer stints, however, and I knew the staff and patrons would miss seeing Diesel as well, since he always went with me.

“I can’t tell you how much I appreciate your flexibility on this.” The mayor’s gratitude sounded sincere—but with politicians, one never really knew.

“One final thing,” I said. “If Dr. Steverton’s three weeks of exclusive use could start next week, that would be most helpful. I’ll need a few days to assess the condition of each volume and do conservation work.”

“That sounds fair. Marie will abide by that; I’ll see to it. Thank you again, Mr. Harris.”

I was not in a happy frame of mind when I sat down to eat, thanks to Marie Steverton. Diesel immediately put a paw on my thigh to let me know he had waited long enough for his tidbits of chicken. I found a small piece and was about to give it to him but I noticed that the casserole included onions. They were not good for cats, so I couldn’t let Diesel have any of the chicken.

“Sorry, boy, this chicken wouldn’t be good for you.” I pushed back from the table and went to the fridge. I found a container of sliced chicken breast and popped some in the microwave to heat. “Just a minute, boy,” I said to the impatient feline now meowing piteously by my legs.

As I ate I doled out the warm chicken breast. Diesel was content, but I was not. I did not look forward to spending three weeks with Marie in my office at the archive. Her unfriendly presence would make for a tense atmosphere, and I knew Diesel would feel it and be unsettled. He would be even less happy if I left him at home those three weeks, but then I realized he could spend time with Melba instead when he needed a break from Marie. I, unfortunately, would have no such option. I would have to keep an eye on her the entire time. I didn’t feel I could trust her not to do something stupid that could compromise the state of the diaries.

Then I realized there was a further complication—Kelly Grimes. She approached me first about working with the diaries. I predicted she would be mighty annoyed to find out that Marie now had dibs on them for the next three weeks. Another situation that I did not anticipate with any pleasure whatsoever.

If Ms. Grimes was that unhappy, she would simply have to make her own appeal to Mayor Long, I decided.

Before this, I hadn’t had to deal with such a complicated situation regarding access to resources in the archive. I had students and professors come from time to time to consult documents, and once, I even had a visiting professor working there for a couple of months. I had never had people competing for the same resources, however.

It was only three weeks, I reminded myself.

Surely I could get through three weeks in close proximity to Marie Steverton without throttling her or bashing her over the head.

I finished my meal and cleared the table. Diesel wanted more chicken but I told him firmly there was no more. He stared at me for a moment before he trotted off to the utility room. I heard loud crunching noises emanating from that direction as I popped my plate and salad bowl into the dishwasher.

I felt restless. For once, curling up with a good book didn’t appeal to me. Helen Louise was busy at the bakery, and I would have to wait to chat with her until later in the evening when she had time to call. I had several hours to fill until then.

There was nothing to tempt me on television tonight. I could always watch a DVD of a favorite movie, but that didn’t appeal, either. I finally sat down in the den with my laptop and started searching the Internet for information on Rachel Afton Long. Given all the interest in her from other parties, I figured I might as well research her life before I started working on the diaries.

I started with the online catalog at the college. I had vague knowledge of the contents of the Long family collection in the archive, and I ought to acquaint myself fully with the extent of it. The catalog record had only broad headings for the contents, but there was a finding aid created by my predecessor, Miss Eulalie Estes. It had not been digitized yet, so I would have to wait to consult it when I was back in the office. There might be letters or other documents connected to Rachel, but I wouldn’t know until I delved into the collection itself.

I discovered a record in the catalog for a memoir of Rachel, however, written by her granddaughter-in-law, Angeline McCarthy Long. Privately published and part of the regular circulating collection, the memoir was only seventy-eight pages long, but it could prove helpful for background detail. Then I noticed the status of the item: Lost .

That annoyed me. There might be a copy in the Long collection in the archive, however. Out of curiosity I decided to log in to the back end of the catalog where I could see more detail about the item’s status that wouldn’t be visible to the public.

What I discovered disturbed me. The status Lost had been applied earlier today.

Simple coincidence? I wondered. Or was there something suspicious about the book’s disappearance?

FIVE

Get a grip, Charlie, I told myself. Next thing you know, you’ll be turning into a conspiracy theorist .

The memoir could have been missing for years and its absence only discovered today when someone wanted to check it out. I speculated that either Marie Steverton or Kelly Grimes had looked for it and then reported it missing. As far as I knew no one else had been interested in Rachel Long for years, if not decades.

Still, I thought, it is odd . For a moment I fantasized a battle between Marie and Ms. Grimes over any resource connected to Rachel Long. Could one of them have stolen it to keep the other from having access to it?

My flights of fancy were becoming ever more absurd, I decided. I had yet to establish any connection whatsoever between Marie Steverton and Kelly Grimes. Let alone a link between either one of them and the missing book.

On impulse I went to the college website and entered Kelly Grimes into the people directory search. I retrieved three results: Jonathan Kelly , Andrea Kelly , and Winston Grimes, Jr .

I was pretty sure that all students and faculty were listed in the directory. If Kelly Grimes wasn’t a student or a faculty member, then who was she?

I exited the college’s website and typed the name into a search engine. The first result told me what I needed to know.