Charlaine Harris: Shakespeare’s Landlord

“While they were driving around with Pardon’s body, Tom went to Pardon’s apartment to pay his rent. Door unlocked, no Pardon. Then the Yorks returned, pulled right up to the back door, opened the camper door, stowed Pardon back in his apartment.”

“How come they didn’t hear Deedra knock on his door?” I asked.

“Alvah got nauseated,” Claude said, looking down at his hands. “She had to run in her place to the toilet and T.L. went with her. While Alvah was being sick, Deedra left for work. They never knew she’d seen the camper-lucky for Deedra. When Alvah was better, they drove away again. They didn’t think about disposing of the curtains he’d been wrapped in. They didn’t think about the threads from his torn pocket getting left in the camper. They didn’t think about people trying to pay their rent, not finding Pardon in his place. And they couldn’t lock the door to Pardon’s apartment because they had to get back in, and they couldn’t find Pardon’s keys.

“They evidently drove around in a daze, and just came home when they’d originally intended to, between seven and eight at night. They put the rest of their gear into their place. They’d been talking, of course, and they’d decided Pardon had to be found somewhere close to his apartment, some place he could’ve walked, but also some place he could have chanced across a mugger. The arboretum was the logical place, maybe the only sane choice the Yorks made. T. L. remembered your garbage-can cart. He’d seen it sitting by the curb on garbage days and always kind of coveted it… So he waited, thinking no one in Shakespeare would be up that late. And he was nearly right.”

“When did you decide it wasn’t Norvel?”

“When I saw T. L. come out of the camper at you.” He smiled at me, making fun of himself. “I’d thought maybe Norvel had just used the camper to stow Pardon’s body and that the Yorks were so afraid of looking guilty that they were covering that up. I didn’t want it to be the Yorks.”

“I knew it was the Yorks,” I said calmly. “Because of the curtains.”

“You figured it out that way?”

“If Alvah’s curtains were missing, there had to be a reason. And only T. L. would grab curtains down from their hooks. If Alvah had known what he was doing, she would have run and gotten a sheet or tablecloth that I wouldn’t‘ve missed. But I missed the curtains,” I said drowsily, “and I knew someone had watered the plant.”

“Why… Lily, why did you go to the camper?”

“I wanted to see what was in it,” I said, and let my eyes close.

“Oh, yeah,” I said thickly, hauling my lids up again. “How come you didn’t know T. L. was in there?”

“I did,” he said, trying not to sound angry with me. “I was waiting for him to come out with some evidence. He couldn’t destroy it in the camper; he would’ve had to take it into the apartment. I couldn’t get a warrant to search the camper. I didn’t have enough evidence.”

“ ‘Kay. My mind’s at rest.”

“One more thing.”

“Mmm?”

“What about the handcuffs on the Drinkwaters’ steps, Lily? What about the dead rat?”

“Oh, that was Thea. I was pretty sure as soon as Marshall told me what her secret life was like. And I knew for sure after I realized you’d threatened everyone who worked for you with death if they talked about what happened to me. But Tom David had already told his honey bunch. He didn’t let her tell anyone else. But she knew, and she wanted to torment me. Once I figured that out, I didn’t worry about it anymore. I can handle ole Thea.”

I rolled an eye at Claude.

“Secret life?” he said hopefully. “Thea Sedaka has a secret life?”

“Maybe tell you sometime,” I said.

“I hear Marshall’s coming back tomorrow, Lily,” Claude said when I was almost drifting off. “What are you going to do?”

“Go to sleep,” I mumbled, and did.