Miranda James - The Silence of the Library

Marcella’s gaze darted from Eugene to me over and over again. Her uneasiness was beginning to unnerve me slightly. I had better get things going. Eugene looked from Teresa to me expectantly. Without the sunglasses he had worn in the past, I found it easier to see the heavy makeup he wore to feminize his features. He had paid particular attention to his eyes, even adding false lashes and thick, bright eye shadow.

“As Teresa said, we really appreciate your coming out early this morning and on such short notice, but I think you’ll be happy with the news I have.” I glanced toward the door, and right on cue, Bronwyn stepped in.

“Excuse me,” she said. “Mrs. Marter, there’s a call for you at the desk. A young lady insists on talking to you.”

Marcella stared at Bronwyn. “Wh-who is it?”

Bronwyn shrugged. “I’m sorry, she didn’t say. She did say it was urgent, though. If you’ll come with me, I’ll take you to the phone.”

Marcella cast an uncertain glance at her son, and he frowned. I caught the hint of a nod from him, though, and Marcella stood. “Very well,” she said. “I’m sure it can’t be anything important.” She followed Bronwyn out of the room.

I quickly turned to Eugene. “Before I share the good news with you, Mrs. Cartwright, there’s something I want to show you.” I put my briefcase on the table, opened it, and withdrew Aunt Dottie’s scrapbook. “My late aunt was a huge fan of yours—I inherited her wonderful collection of your books, by the way—and while I was looking for things to use for our exhibit, I came across this.” I patted the scrapbook.

Eugene eyed it nervously. He licked his lips. “Really, how interesting.”

I beamed at him, and Teresa gazed at me blandly, though I knew she was as curious as Eugene to see what I was going to do.

“Yes, it’s very interesting. My aunt cut out articles from newspapers and film magazines, lots of pictures, too, and put them in her scrapbook. I just couldn’t resist bringing it to show you.”

Eugene tittered. “That’s all very nice, Mr. Harris, but I don’t really need to see all those old things. I lived it all, remember. I’d rather focus on the present.”

“Of course you would. But there is one picture I would love for you to sign, if you wouldn’t mind.” I opened the scrapbook and flipped the pages to the photo of Marietta Dubois and Mrs. Cartwright. “It’s such a shame that the movie never got made, I think. Veronica would have been even more famous.”

Eugene scowled. “Can we get on with this? I’m not having one of my good days, and I don’t have the time or energy to sit around here listening to such foolishness. Tell me about the offer of money.”

“I’ll get to that. Please, won’t you look at this picture?” I shoved the scrapbook in front of him, and he glanced down at it. “That actress surely was tall, wasn’t she? You look short standing next to her.”

Eugene glared at me, his eyes narrowing. I could feel the fear and anger emanating from him.

“You can find out all kinds of things on the Internet,” I continued in a chatty tone. “For example, there’s a site you can go to and find out how tall famous people are. Marietta Dubois wasn’t all that famous, but I did find out her height.” I paused and glanced at Teresa. Her eyes were wide with shock. I reckoned she had figured out where I was headed with this. “Turns out Miss Dubois was only five foot six. Judging by that picture, you must be a good four inches shorter than her.”

Two things happened at once. Kanesha and Bates stepped out of the supply closet, and Eugene pushed his chair back so hard it toppled over. He grabbed his cane and headed for the door. Bates surged past Kanesha to grab him, but Teresa was up and out of her chair and stepped in his way. Eugene made it out the door. Kanesha ran past Batesand Teresa, who disentangled themselves quickly. Bates shot after Kanesha and Eugene, with Teresa and me trotting after them.

Eugene was racing for the door, Bates only inches behind. That was when Diesel darted in front of Eugene. The cane went flying, Diesel got out of the way, and Eugene hit the floor. Hard. Bates fell right on top of him.

FORTY

“Bronwyn had just tossed one of those jingle ball toys, and Diesel darted after it.” Helen Louise and I were relaxing on the sofa in her living room with some postprandial brandy on Wednesday evening. Diesel sprawled across our laps. He opened one eye and emitted a lazy chirp. “I’ve warned her about doing that, but for once I was glad she did.”

“Don’t you think Bates would have caught him?” Helen Louise grinned. “I’ve seen the man in shorts and a tank top before, and he’s in mighty good shape.” She stroked the cat’s head. “Not that I want to take any credit away from this clever boy.”

I gazed at her in mock indignation. “You’re going around ogling buff lawmen behind my back? I am shocked, I tell you, shocked.”

Helen Louise laughed. “Darling, if I tried anything with Bates, his boyfriend would scratch my eyes out.”

“Boyfriend?” That was news to me. I took a moment to digest this interesting bit of information.

“You mean Stewart hasn’t told you?” Helen Louise looked thoughtful. “I guess I shouldn’t have said anything. I thought surely you knew.”

I laughed. “Stewart has been pretty cagey about it, although I could tell he was involved with someone. He’s been happier than I’ve ever seen him lately. Well, good for them. I hope things work out.”

“Me, too,” Helen Louise said. “They will have to be discreet, but I’m sure Stewart can be when he needs to.”

We sipped at our brandy for a moment. The quiet of Helen Louise’s house, the one she and two generations of Bradys before her had grown up in, settled around us.

“I sidetracked you.” Helen Louise leaned over the cat in her lap to set her brandy snifter on the coffee table. “Tell me what happened after Bates landed on top of Eugene Marter.”

“They both had the breath knocked out of them, but Eugene got the worst of it. Bates fell right on top of him, and he’s a big guy. The minute Eugene got his breath back, though, he started cursing. Funny how his voice suddenly dropped about an octave.” I recalled that moment at our first meeting when Eugene forgot and let his voice deepen briefly. That was my first clue, though I didn’t realize it until later. “The wig came loose in all the hullabaloo, but he didn’t realize that. He was still trying to make us believe he was his hundred-year-old grandmother.”

“He’s not all that bright, is he?” Helen Louise laughed, and I did, too.

“He has a certain kind of low cunning,” I said after the merriment subsided. “He just can’t seem to think things through clearly and consider the consequences. Otherwise he wouldn’t have done some of the lamebrained things he did. Searching Gordon Betts’s and Della Duffy’s rooms at the hotel was pretty stupid, though of course he tried to lay that off on Eagleton later. I still don’t know what he expected to find.” I paused as another memory surfaced. “He also tried to con me into thinking he was worried Eagleton’s demands would cause his poor granny to have a heart attack and die.”

“One mistake after another, like planting those manuscripts in poor Mr. Eagleton’s hotel room.”

“Exactly. He wanted to confuse things—and he did—but it was a dumb way to do it. It was obvious to Sean and Kanesha that Eagleton wouldn’t have done such an asinine thing.” I drank the rest of my brandy and put the snifter on the end table beside me. “Eagleton was grateful to Sean for his help, but he hasn’t coughed up the fee yet. Sean will probably end up writing it off.”