Miranda James - The Silence of the Library

Kanesha frowned. “That explains part of the note that was puzzling me. Above your phone number and your name she—or someone—had written EBC .”

“Maybe she was planning to call me about something to do with Mrs. Cartwright,” I said. “When she left the library the second time, she said she was going home to look through her EBC archive.”

“What was she looking for? Did she say?” Kanesha drained the last of her coffee, but waved away the offer of another refill.

I thought for a moment. “She had a picture she wanted to find, of the garden shed where Mrs. Cartwright used to write when she was younger.” There was something else, but what? I dug into my memory. “Oh, and there was a remark about Gordon Betts.”

“Who is Gordon Betts?” Kanesha frowned. “I don’t remember a family in Athena called Betts.”

“No, he’s not from around here. Chicago, I think I heard him say. He’s one of the book collectors who showed up because of the information on the library website. He’s a rabid fan of Mrs. Cartwright’s, and he has a large collection of her Veronica Thane books.” I related briefly the two incidents with Betts. “The last thing Mrs. Taylor said was that she had items in her own collection that Betts didn’t know about. The way she said it, I took her to mean that he would want them badly if he knew about them.”

I had a sudden horrible feeling. Would Gordon Betts want these mysterious items badly enough to kill?

“Do you have any idea what these items were, or how valuable they might be?” Kanesha had pulled out a small notebook and a pen and was jotting down notes.

“No, I don’t. She didn’t explain, and we didn’t really have a chance to ask.”

Kanesha looked up from her notebook. “What about this Betts? If he’s a collector, does he have a lot of money?”

“According to Mrs. Taylor he does. Inherited from his father, something to do with manufacturing. She said he has never had to work.” I shrugged. “This is all hearsay, because I have no idea whether her information is accurate, or where it came from. These collectors all seem to know one another.”

“There are others?”

I nodded. I told her about Della Duffy and said that we expected more—perhaps many more—to turn up in time for Mrs. Cartwright’s appearance at the library.

Kanesha looked disgruntled at the news. “If Mrs. Taylor’s death is connected to Mrs. Cartwright in some way, that means potentially way too many suspects. I’ve had nightmares like this.”

I couldn’t believe she said anything so personal, because usually she was careful not to let her feelings show. Particularly to me.

“Maybe her death is completely unrelated to Mrs. Cartwright and her books. You should talk to Melba Gilley. According to Helen Louise, they were really close. Melba will be able to tell you if Mrs. Taylor had any enemies in town.”

That news seemed to cheer Kanesha up slightly. Her expression became a tad less morose. “Thanks for the tip. I’ll check with Ms. Gilley.” She stood. “Thanks for the coffee, too. I’ll probably have more questions for you later, but you’ve given me a lot to work on.”

“Glad I could help.” I escorted her to the door. We exchanged nods as she departed.

Back in the kitchen, I poured another cup of coffee—the last in the pot—and started to make a fresh one. While I did so, I thought again about the collecting bug and the lengths to which some people would apparently go to acquire highly desirable items.

What Mrs. Taylor had said about her own collection niggled at me. What if Betts had found out about the unique item or items she claimed to own? He might have tried to buy them, she refused, and then he killed her in a fit of rage and took what he wanted.

Nasty, but plausible, I decided, based on my interactions with Betts. He seemed to be short a card or two in his deck, as my mother would have said. Mrs. Taylor didn’t deserve what happened. Memories of her enthusiasm for Mrs. Cartwright’s books and her excitement over the planned public appearance made me determined to do what I could to identify her killer.

Time to track down Mr. Betts and ask him a few questions.

FOURTEEN

The Farrington House was the finest hotel in Athena, and I figured that must be where Gordon Betts was staying. I looked up the number and jotted it on a notepad. Before I could place the call, however, Laura breezed into the kitchen with Diesel trotting beside her.

“Morning, Dad.” She kissed my cheek and gave my arm a quick squeeze. “Seems like ages since I saw you.” She poured herself a cup of coffee. “What have you been up to?”

Both my children were avid mystery readers like me, and I knew Laura would be interested in hearing about the murder of Carrie Taylor. I wasn’t ready to talk about it with her, however—at least not right this minute. I was more interested in catching up with my daughter. Push the awfulness away for at least a little while , I thought.

“I’ll tell you all about it later,” I said. “Right now, why don’t you bring me up to date on the wedding plans? You haven’t asked for my checkbook for at least two weeks now.” I grinned to show her I was only teasing.

She had a sip of coffee before she spoke. “I’ve picked out my wedding dress. It’s an absolutely stunning Badgley Mischka.” She batted her eyes at me. “I’m sure you’ll love it.”

“What’s a Badgley Mischka? Sounds expensive.” I thought she might be teasing me, but with brides and their dresses, you never knew.

“Badgley and Mischka are designers who work together. And yes, their dresses can be expensive.” Laura giggled. “But don’t worry, I have a friend who got it for me wholesale through somebody she knows in Memphis. It really is gorgeous. I’ve got some fittings coming up, and then everything will be set.”

“You’ll look beautiful no matter what you wear. Your mother . . .” I felt my eyes sting suddenly as I envisioned escorting Laura down the aisle. How excited her mother would have been to see it, too.

Diesel, back from a visit to the utility room, meowed at me and rubbed against my legs. Laura came to me and gave me a hug. “I know, Dad. I’ve been thinking a lot about her lately. But I know she’ll be there with us.”

I slid my arm around her and held her close for a long moment. I cleared my throat. “Yes, I’m sure she will.”

Laura smiled at me as I released her. She picked up her coffee and moved over to the table. We sat across from each other. “All the arrangements are pretty much set now. The chapel at the college is reserved, and the chaplain is all set, too. My best friend, Dodie, will be my maid of honor, and Helen Louise offered to cater the reception. Now we just have to wait for June ninth to get here.” Laura leaned back in her chair, obviously pleased with her plans.

“I won’t have any trouble remembering your anniversary,” I said. June ninth was my maternal grandmother’s birthday. “Have you decided where you’re going on your honeymoon? Last I heard you were leaning toward New York.”

“We were at first. We thought about California, too,” Laura replied. “But I’ve had enough of Hollywood for now, and I’ve never been to London. Frank has been several times, and he wants to show me around.”

“London would be perfect—the West End and all the wonderful shows.” I drained the last of my coffee. “I’m sure you’ll want to experience the London theater scene.” Jackie and I could never afford to take our children abroad, but we did take them to New York and Hollywood, among other places.

“Absolutely. I can’t wait to see The Mousetrap .” Laura laughed. “I know it’s probably hokey, but as a mystery lover, I can’t pass up the chance.”