Miranda James - The Silence of the Library

He punched in a number. “Voice mail.” He waited a moment, then left the deputy a message with a brief summary of the potential issue.

He set the phone on the table when he’d finished. “I have to say, Dad, with all that you’ve told me, I have a feeling there’s something hinky going on here. The missing agent could be connected, too. How, I don’t know.”

“It’s all strange.” I thought for a moment. “You said earlier that Kanesha found the manuscripts. Did she have a search warrant?”

“She did, but I doubt she would have needed one. Eagleton told me he was convinced the whole thing was a practical joke on Eugene Marter’s part. He thought Marter was simply jerking the sheriff’s department around and was happy to cooperate.”

“But Marter wasn’t, as it turned out,” I said. “Do you know where exactly Kanesha found the manuscripts?”

“In between Eagleton’s mattress and box spring. Not an imaginative hiding place.”

I agreed. “What do you think? Did he take them?”

“He’s hard to read.” Sean gave a short laugh. “He was really wound up. You weren’t kidding about the seven words when one would do, except I’d say it was more like seven teen . He was highly indignant that such aspersions had been cast upon his character.” Sean grimaced. “Now I’m starting to sound like him.”

“That last bit did have the ring of a direct quotation.” I smiled. “He is loquacious, almost beyond endurance, but is he a thief? And a murderer?”

Sean’s eyes narrowed. “You think this is connected to the murder?”

“I don’t know.” I shrugged. “None of this would have happened if we hadn’t decided to do this exhibit and then asked Mrs. Cartwright to appear at the library. Eagleton and the others might never have come to Athena.”

“You had no way of knowing a woman would be killed.” Sean gazed sternly at me. I knew it bothered him when I went into hair-shirt mode.

“I know, but I can’t help a feeling of responsibility.” Sean started to speak but I held up a hand. “Let’s just leave it at that, okay?”

His expression told me he didn’t like it, but he didn’t press the point.

“Tell me, did Eagleton venture any theories as to how the manuscripts got in his suite and under his mattress?”

“He kept insisting that Eugene Marter had to be behind it.” Sean shook his head. “Though he couldn’t explain exactly why Marter would do it. Or when and how Marter got access to his hotel room.”

I considered that for a moment. “What if someone is trying to get him out of the way?”

“Out of the way of what?” Sean got up to pour himself more coffee.

“Good question. Perhaps somebody is working for another publisher.” I mulled that over for a moment. “No, that seems far-fetched.”

“Maybe.” Sean sipped his coffee. “It seems even more far-fetched as an attempt to link Eagleton to the murder.”

“It doesn’t make much sense. Let’s look at it from another angle. What if Eagleton really did steal the manuscripts? How could he possibly have hoped to get away with it? If he published them, he’d be putting the evidence right out there.”

“He didn’t strike me as a stupid man, although he might be desperate for money,” Sean said. “He had to know—if he did take them—that he was bound to be found out.” He shook his head. “No, it won’t wash. Frankly, that’s why I’m inclined to believe he didn’t steal them. It would be a completely asinine thing to do.”

“Could it be what Eagleton claimed then? Eugene Marter playing a practical joke?” I frowned. “But if Marter is truly leery of tangling with the law, he’d know Kanesha would take a dim view of such an idiotic stunt.”

“Who else had access to the manuscripts?” Sean asked. He continued before I could respond. “Obviously Mrs. Cartwright and Mrs. Marter did. Anyone else?”

“The agent might have,” I said. “She’s unaccounted for, but why would a reputable agent do something like that? It doesn’t make any sense.”

“Unless the person who did it wasn’t bright enough to consider all the angles.” Sean laughed. “That’s why a lot of criminals get caught. They’re not all that smart to begin with, and they do dumb things all the time.”

“The whole thing looks pretty silly to me.”

Sean’s cell phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen. “Kanesha. I’ll put it on speaker.” He punched a button.

Kanesha didn’t wait for the customary greeting. “So what’s this about a missing agent?”

“My father is with me,” Sean said. “I’m going to let him tell you what he knows.” He pushed the phone to the middle of the table between us.

I gave the deputy a rundown of the few facts that I knew.

“What is her name again?” Kanesha asked.

“Yancy Thigpen,” I said. “She works in New York City.”

“My client said he expected Ms. Thigpen to be present at the meeting he had with Mrs. Cartwright and Mrs. Marter earlier today. He was puzzled by her absence, and after talking with my father, I have to agree. It is odd that she wasn’t there.”

“She might be stuck out on a country road somewhere, lost and out of gas.” Kanesha sounded weary. “Cell phone reception isn’t always that good in those areas either.” She paused. “Or she could be in a hotel room in Memphis. I’ll put out the word to be on the lookout for her. I’m sure she’ll turn up before long.”

“I sincerely hope so.” Maybe my imagination was going into overdrive, but I felt uneasy about this situation. I couldn’t help thinking there was a sinister aspect to the young woman’s nonappearance.

“In the meantime, if you hear anything further, let me know.” Kanesha ended the call.

“Nothing more we can do at the moment.” Sean yawned and stuck his cell phone in his pocket. “I don’t know about you, Dad, but I’m ready for bed. I’ve got a long day ahead of me tomorrow, thanks to my new client.” He pushed back his chair and stood.

“You go on up,” I said. “I’m going back to bed as soon as I double-check that the doors are locked.”

The back door in the kitchen was secure, as was the front door. I headed down the hall to the back porch door. On impulse I went out on to the porch and looked out at the backyard. The illumination from the streetlights penetrated only dimly here, and clouds obscured the stars. I stood for a few minutes, listening to the quiet of the neighborhood around me.

I sent up a brief but fervent prayer on behalf of Yancy Thigpen, hoping that she would soon be found, safe and unharmed.

My mood somber, I locked the porch door and walked slowly up to my bed.

TWENTY-NINE

I had a distinct sense of déjà vu the next morning when the phone rang a few minutes after seven and Kanesha was on the other end.

“Good morning, Deputy. What can I do for you?”

Kanesha sounded tired when she answered. “Sorry to bother you again so early, but I need to talk to you. All right if I drop by?”

“I’m up and dressed, so come on by as soon as you like.” I still had a nearly full pot of coffee, too, and I figured she could use some.

“Be there in less than ten.” She ended the call.

“We’ve got company coming.” I looked down at Diesel. The cat chirped at me and then went back to washing his left front leg.

I fetched a clean mug from the cabinet for Kanesha and set it by the coffeepot. Before I could pick up my own cup for a sip, my cell phone interrupted me.

“Good morning, Melba,” I said, feeling a bit guilty that I hadn’t called her yesterday afternoon to check on her. “How are you doing?”

“As well as could be expected,” she said. “Look, is it okay if I come on over? I know you’re usually up early, even on a Sunday morning, and I’d like to talk to you about Carrie.”