James, Miranda - Out of Circulation (CAT IN THE STACKS MYSTERY)

Then there was Azalea, and potentially her sister Lily. Both of them despised Vera because of what had happened to Lily’s son, Johnny. But Lily wasn’t at River Hill last night, so far as I knew, and Azalea couldn’t have pushed Vera down the stairs.

That let Azalea out, but I couldn’t forget my feeling that she’d seen more than she’d been willing to admit to me this morning.

Kanesha. I needed to talk to Kanesha, let her know what her mother had told me and share with her the photograph and phone message from Vera.

I found the card with her private cell number and called it. Voice mail. I left a hasty message, stressing that it was urgent she call me back.

Within two minutes my phone rang—Kanesha returning my call.

“Are you where you can talk?” I asked.

“No. Where are you? I can meet you.” She sounded angry—not at me, I hoped.

“The archives. Come as soon as you can.”

“Right.” She ended the call.

I tried to settle down to work while I waited for her, but to no avail. My brain simply couldn’t focus on regular tasks. I kept hearing Vera’s voice in my head, and that wasn’t pleasant. The sooner I told Kanesha about this, the better. Maybe then Vera’s voice would go away.

Either Kanesha broke the speed limit or she wasn’t far away when she called me back, because she walked in my office door within ten minutes.

“Shut the door,” I said. “I don’t want to be overheard.”

Diesel sat up and warbled a greeting at her, but she was so focused on me she didn’t appear to notice. Diesel resumed his nap, no doubt affronted at the slight.

“You talked to my mother,” she said as she slid into a chair.

“Yes, I did.” I launched into a full summary of Azalea’s story, and Kanesha did not speak until I finished. While I talked I tried to read her expression, but it was no use. She had the consummate poker face.

“Did she tell the sheriff everything she told you?”

I felt like an idiot. “I don’t know. I didn’t think to ask.”

Kanesha’s lips tightened. “You’ve got to ask her that. I tried to get a look at the statements they took last night, but the sheriff is making sure I can’t.”

“I will. That aside, what is your impression of her story?”

“It all sounds like the way she’d behave in those situations. Overhearing the argument, then getting stuck in the dark at the bottom of those stairs.” She paused. “One thing at least. I’m more convinced than ever that Mama didn’t kill Mrs. Cassity.”

“I don’t see how she could have, unless, like Sean said earlier, she’s an Olympic-level gymnast.”

Kanesha ignored that. “The sheriff ought to be focusing on Morty Cassity. Surely Mama told Tidwell about the argument she overheard.” Her eyes flashed. “But of course he could always say she was making that up to divert suspicion from herself.”

“He can’t keep this up for long, surely.”

“He’d better not,” Kanesha said. “And for all I know he’s grilled Morty Cassity about all this. I can’t get any real info on what’s going on. Even Bates can’t find out, because no one will talk to him, either. He’s actually gotten to where he likes me, and right now that’s not a good thing in the department.”

I couldn’t blame Kanesha for feeling frustrated. The whole thing was petty and stupid, but it was all too human and believable.

“There’s one thing I haven’t told you about your mother’s story.” I paused for a breath, and Kanesha’s eyes narrowed. “I think Azalea might have seen something that she didn’t tell me. I may be totally off base on this, because it was simply an impression I had that she hesitated the tiniest fraction of a second before she answered my question. About whether she saw anyone or anything at the top of the stairs after Vera fell.”

“Why would she do that?” Kanesha didn’t sound angry, and that relieved me.

“I don’t know. Like I said, I could have imagined it, because Azalea is always such a straight shooter.”

“Yeah, right between the eyes.” Kanesha shrugged. “You could be right. If Mama saw something and she’s not talking about it, she has her reasons. They might not make sense to anybody else, but they will to her. Getting her to tell you, well, I don’t know.”

“I’ll try talking to her again when I go home for lunch,” I said. I glanced at the clock, surprised to see that it was nearly eleven. “There’s more I need to tell you.”

Kanesha leaned back in her chair and nodded. I handed her Vera’s letter and explained who the woman in the photograph was.

“What has her mother got to do with anything?” Kanesha stared down at Essie Mae Hobson.

“I don’t have a clue. Wait, though, I want to play you a message from Vera that came in yesterday. I don’t work here on Tuesdays, so I didn’t hear this until a little while ago.” I skipped to Vera’s message on my voice mail and played it for her.

When it ended I saved it and waited for Kanesha to comment.

“What did she mean about looking in the Ducote papers?”

“Sorry, I should have explained that. Vera came in here last week and demanded access to the Ducote archives, and I had to tell her she couldn’t have it. The papers are sealed, and no one can look at them without permission from the family or their legal representatives.” I paused. “She even threatened me because I denied her.” I shared the threats with Kanesha, but I did not mention what Vera had tried to do to Helen Louise. I didn’t see any point in bringing Helen Louise into this.

Kanesha handed back the photograph. “Are you allowed to look through the papers?”

I nodded. “As archivist, I can, basically to conserve and catalog them.”

“I think you should.”

“Why? How could Vera’s mother be connected to any of this?”

“I don’t know,” Kanesha said. “There’s something about that woman’s face. I get the feeling that there’s an interesting story there. Could be a false lead, but I don’t want to take a chance on missing anything important.” She stood. “Anything else to tell me?”

“That’s it for now.”

She headed for the door but paused before she opened it. She glanced back at me. “Thank you.” Then she was gone.

I felt a paw on my shoulder and turned to see Diesel yawning and stretching. “Looks like I’m going to be pretty busy, boy. I can count on you to help, can’t I?”

Diesel warbled, as if to say, “Of course,” and I grinned. The paw retracted, and Diesel stretched some more before settling down again.

I picked up the photograph and studied it. Kanesha was right. There was something about Essie Mae’s face. If only I could find a better picture of her I could figure out what was haunting me.

Then another thought struck me. What if this was the only photograph Vera had of her mother?

TWENTY-ONE

I managed to focus on regular work long enough to put in about forty-five minutes, but by then my stomach started rumbling. Time for lunch. I shut down the computer and roused Diesel from his nap.

On the walk home I thought more about Azalea’s story. Surely she must have told the sheriff what she’d told me. Otherwise why was the sheriff treating Vera’s death as murder? Without Azalea’s evidence of a third person in that stairwell, it could easily be considered an accident.

As Kanesha said earlier, though, the sheriff seemed to be using the case for his own personal and political ends.

My head ached from all the ideas bouncing around in my brain. I needed time to let the bouncing ideas subside. A good lunch would help.

There was no sign of Azalea when Diesel and I walked into the kitchen. I found a note on the table that informed me she had gone to the grocery store. My lunch was in the fridge.