Miranda James - Murder Past Due

I kept quiet while she dredged through her memory banks. She had amazing recall—one reason she was such a terrific reference librarian. If there were something to find, she’d find it.

“It has to be at least twenty years ago now,” Teresa said. “Godfrey Priest hasn’t spoken at this library in at least that long. He did participate in a fund-raiser we had about seven years ago, spoke at a Friends of the Library dinner, but that was it.”

“What about twenty years ago?” I said, prompting her gently when she fell silent again.

“There was a group that met here occasionally back then,” Teresa said. “Seven or eight people, I think. They weren’t together that long, or at least they didn’t ask to use our meeting room for long. They could have continued meeting somewhere else.”

“Do you recall who was in the group?” I kept my fingers crossed.

“I can do better than that,” Teresa said with a smile. “I can show you a picture of them.” She scratched Diesel’s head. “But you’re going to have to let me up.” Diesel sat up, butted his head against her chin, and jumped to the floor at her gentle urging.

“A picture would be great,” I said as Diesel came around the desk to sit by my chair.

Teresa got up from her desk. “I’ll be back in a minute. What I want is in one of the filing cabinets behind the reference desk.”

Diesel and I waited quietly for her return. She was gone less than five minutes.

When she returned she handed me a folder. I examined the label: “Library Annual Reports.”

“I put the relevant one on top,” Teresa said as she resumed her seat behind the desk.

I extracted it from the folder and laid the rest aside on top of her desk. The report consisted of only a few pages, and it was on page four that I found the photograph Teresa wanted me to see. It was rather small, and the caption only said, “Writers’ Group Meets with Local Novelist.”

In the center of a group of six people was Godfrey Priest—looking much younger and much less successful than he did when I saw him a few days ago. That was only natural. This picture was taken before he hit it big.

I examined the faces of the others in the group. I recognized two of them right away, and I was stunned as I put the names to the faces.

Julia Wardlaw and Rick Tackett stood on either side of Godfrey, both smiling into the camera.

TWENTY-EIGHT

“You look shocked,” Teresa said. “Is anything wrong?”

“I’m just really surprised,” I said. “I see two people in this group I never expected to see. Two people I had no idea were interested in writing.”

I examined the other faces in the group. Two of them looked vaguely familiar, but I couldn’t quite place them. If only the caption to the picture had included their names.

I was about to hand the report back to Teresa to ask whether she knew who they all were when I spotted something odd in the picture. I held it closer and squinted. The resolution wasn’t great, but I thought I saw the top of another head peeking out from behind Julia’s shoulder, the one next to Godfrey.

“Looks like there’s another person here in the background,” I said. I held the report across the desk to Teresa. “See what you think. Also, do you know who all the people are?”

Teresa examined the picture for a moment before laying the report aside. She opened one of her desk drawers and rummaged through it. “Ah, here it is,” she said. She brandished a magnifying glass. She picked up the report again and examined the picture with the aid of the glass.

“I think you’re right,” she said after a moment. “That does look like someone’s head. It’s odd, though. Why wouldn’t whoever it was want to be visible in the picture?”

“Beats me,” I said. My heartbeat picked up though, because I wondered if the mystery person behind Julia was X. Based on the letters I had read, X shunned the spotlight, and it could be that he or she avoided having photos taken.

Teresa laid the glass aside and looked at the picture again. “I recognize all of them,” she said. She named them, and in addition to Julia and Rick, I recognized the names of a couple of professors at Athena, one from the history department and the other from English.

“Would you mind writing those down for me?” I said. “And do all of them still live in the area?”

“One of them passed away a few years go,” she said. “I’ll put an X next to her name. But the others—except Mr. Priest, of course—are still around.”

“Thanks,” I said. “I really appreciate your help with this. I can’t tell you how, or why, but this may be the key to Godfrey’s murder.”

“That’s definitely intriguing,” Teresa said. She finished writing and handed a piece of paper across the desk to me. “I’m sure it would help if we knew who the other person was lurking in the background. I’ve been mulling it over, and I seem to remember that there were a couple of people who met with the group a few times, but the six you see here were the core. They met together for four or five years, I think.”

“I know one of the people in the group pretty well,” I said. “And I work with another one.”

“That’s right, Rick Tackett works at the college library,” Teresa said. “He’s a nice man, pretty quiet. Reads a lot. I hope he’s not involved in this.”

“I hope so, too,” I said. “I agree he’s a nice guy. But I think one of the people here may very well be the one Deputy Berry is looking for.”

“That’s unsettling, to say the least,” Teresa said with a frown. “I hope she manages to figure it out soon. If one of them comes in the library before she does, I think I’ll be a bit nervous.”

“No need to be, I’m sure,” I said. “There’s no reason for anyone to think you’re involved in any way.”

“Other than assisting the official inquiry, you mean.” Teresa’s smile was impish. “And the unofficial one.”

“Yes,” I said, hoping that my face wasn’t turning pink. “I appreciate your help, but I think Diesel and I ought to head home now.” I stood, and Teresa came around the desk to shake my hand. “I’ll see you next Friday, of course.”

“We always look forward to it,” Teresa said as she escorted Diesel and me out of the office. “Our volunteers are a huge help, and we definitely appreciate what you do for us.” She bent to rub Diesel’s head. “And you too, big guy.”

Diesel chirped at her, and I smiled as I led him away. We managed to make it out the door after only a few minutes’ delay for more attention to Diesel. He loved every second of it, the ham.

Back in the car I examined the list of names for a moment while Diesel settled down on the passenger seat beside me. I might as well start with Julia, I reckoned. Seeing her in the picture had really knocked me for a loop. Her connections to this case were so strong, and though I was sure she had to be innocent of Godfrey’s murder, I knew her having been part of the writers’ group might make Kanesha Berry focus more intently on her.

Rick Tackett seemed like a stronger possibility in many ways. He was Godfrey’s half brother, for one thing, and as the library’s custodian, he had easy access to my office and to the archive storeroom. No one would have thought twice about it if he had been spotted upstairs near the storeroom on the evening when someone had obviously entered my office and examined the boxes.

I had to hope that whoever it was hadn’t destroyed the contracts. If Kanesha could find those in his—or her, I added, to be completely fair—possession, that would be an important link to the murder.

Surely, however, there were other copies of the contracts. Godfrey’s agent had to have copies. I brightened at that thought. The agent would be at Godfrey’s memorial service tomorrow. By then she would already have talked with Kanesha, and perhaps I could slip in a few questions without objection.