Arsenic And Old Books

TWO

I continued to puzzle over the mayor’s odd remarks while I worked on the four volumes of Rachel Long’s diaries. Perhaps Rachel had performed some heroic act during the Civil War that the mayor thought should be better known. Even if that were the case, I wondered how it would help Beck Long politically. I eventually decided that the mind of a politician worked differently from mine and put aside the question for later.

All four volumes were in very good condition, their mustiness aside. The most obvious problem for each was its binding. On all of them the leather had dried and cracked, and for the moment the best thing I could do was construct an archival box for each. I set the boxes on a nearby shelf. Until I finished with them, they would remain in the office with me. Then I would place them in the room next door where the bulk of the archive’s documents resided.

I now had less than a quarter hour left before it was time to head home. Diesel abandoned his perch and prowled around the office, a sure sign that he knew the time. He was as ready to go home as I was. The intense concentration of my task had left me with neck strain and a headache, and I quickly discovered I had no aspirin or ibuprofen in the office.

I needed to do one more job before we could leave, however. I wanted to add the diaries to the inventory of the Long family collection and update the record in the library’s online catalog. Later on I would catalog the diaries separately, but for now a note on the master record would suffice.

That task completed, I shut down my computer. Diesel waited by the office door. A few minutes later we headed down the sidewalk toward home. By the time we reached the house we both had wilted from the September heat and humidity. I was ready for a cold drink, and Diesel made a beeline for the utility room the moment I opened the front door.

In the kitchen I shed my jacket and briefcase and went to the fridge for the water pitcher. Two glasses later I felt cooler and no longer parched. Diesel came chirping out of the utility room to sit at my feet. He stared up at me and meowed loudly. I knew that meow. Either his bowls needed refilling, or the cat box needed cleaning. He wouldn’t stop talking to me until I took care of the problem.

Once I had accomplished these duties to the cat’s satisfaction, I poured myself another glass of water and sat at the kitchen table to relax for a few minutes.

The house felt empty. My daughter, Laura, now a married woman, had moved out after her June wedding and into the house owned by her husband, Frank Salisbury. Their wedding was a beautiful occasion, full of laughter and occasional tears. Throughout the ceremony I could feel my late wife, Jackie, by my side. Both Laura and Frank taught in the theater department at Athena College, and their teaching schedules kept them fully occupied. I saw them occasionally on campus, and they came for dinner once a week. Frank was a good man, and I was happy for my daughter. I missed her presence in the house terribly, though, and I knew Diesel did as well. I think Laura was his second favorite human after me.

The ring of the kitchen phone broke the silence. I wasn’t eager to answer it because family and friends usually called my cell phone. I thought about letting it go to voice mail, but in case it was important, I decided to answer.

I identified myself to the caller.

“Mr. Harris, my name is Kelly Grimes, and I’m at Athena College working on a project on the Long family. I’m looking at the library’s online catalog right now, and I see that the archive has evidently acquired several volumes of a diary by Rachel Afton Long.” She paused for a breath. “I believe they could be crucial to my research, and I was wondering if I could look at them this evening.”

“The archive is closed for the day, Ms. Grimes.” I had learned early on to stick to the stated hours. Otherwise, students would want access to the archives outside scheduled times. “The diaries were only added to the collection this afternoon, and they aren’t ready for public use. I need time to examine them more thoroughly to be sure they are in good enough condition to allow any such use.”

“That’s really inconvenient. How long do you think it will be before I can look at them?”

I could tell by her tone that Ms. Grimes was not happy with my response to her request. I considered the matter carefully for a moment before I responded.

“The archive is generally open three days a week: Monday, Wednesday, and Thursday. I won’t be there to work on them again until day after tomorrow. I’ll need at least two days with them before I can make a final decision.”

“So you’re saying I have to wait a week, until next Monday, in fact, before I’ll know if I can even look at them?” She didn’t wait for an answer. “That really sucks. I’m on a tight deadline, and this is really screwing things up.”

Her petulant tone did not advance her cause. She hadn’t even known the diaries existed before today, and I couldn’t understand why she was so adamant about them. I was generally sympathetic to students’ needs, and I understood the pressure of academic deadlines. This woman’s manner annoyed me, however, and that made me less tractable as a result. Still, I wanted to be reasonable.

“My first responsibility is to the documents,” I said, trying to keep my tone even. “I have to make sure they are properly maintained, or they won’t be of use to anyone. Still, I understand that you are obviously eager to see them. Why don’t you call me at the archive office on Thursday, say midmorning, and I’ll see if I can show them to you then.”

“I guess that will have to do. Thank you, Mr. Harris. Till Thursday, then.”

The phone clicked in my ear as her peevish words echoed in my head. “So much for graciousness.”

Diesel warbled and tapped my thigh with a large paw. I scratched his head. He could always tell when I was annoyed by something—or someone.

“Nothing to worry about, boy,” I told him. He watched me for a moment before he started grooming his right front paw, evidently satisfied that I was okay.

I rooted around in the freezer to select a casserole for dinner. My housekeeper, Azalea Berry, kept the freezer stocked for the occasions when I—or another member of the household—didn’t feel up to the challenge of preparing dinner. I would be on my own tonight. My son, Sean, planned to dine with his law partner and girlfriend, Alexandra Pendergrast, and I doubted I would see him until breakfast tomorrow, if then. He spent more and more nights lately at Alexandra’s house, and I expected that I would soon hear news of their engagement.

I was happy for Sean, because Alexandra was a wonderful woman, and I knew she adored my son. I had become used to having my children in the house with me, however, and I would miss the daily contact. I still had my two boarders, at least. Justin Wardlaw was a junior at Athena College now and doing exceptionally well. I was as proud of him as if he were my own son, and I wasn’t looking forward to the day he graduated. He, too, would be out of the house, and I would miss him.

My other boarder, Stewart Delacorte, showed no signs of leaving anytime soon. He had become a part of the family. Not exactly a son—perhaps like the younger brother I never had. His new relationship with the taciturn Deputy Bates appeared to be a happy one, though I didn’t often see them together. Stewart had said nothing so far about their sharing a home, and I suspected that was because Bates was reluctant to be open about his sexuality. That was none of my business, of course, but I hoped the two of them would be happy with each other, even if they didn’t live in the same house.

Thinking of all these relationships reminded me I hadn’t spoken to Helen Louise Brady, my significant other. That term felt awkward, but so did the word girlfriend. I was over fifty, and the thought of having a girlfriend at my age seemed a bit juvenile. Still, I loved Helen Louise with all my heart, and she loved me. We hadn’t talked of marriage yet, but it was on the horizon. Sean and Laura both adored her, and somehow I knew my late wife, Jackie, would approve. She, Helen Louise, and I had grown up together here in Athena, and we had all been good friends from childhood.

I realized I was standing and staring blankly into the freezer, cold air flowing out around my head. I focused on the stacked casserole dishes on one side. I knew the oldest would be on top—Azalea had her system—so I simply pulled that one out and set it on the counter to defrost a bit.

Diesel reared on his hind legs and batted a paw at the casserole dish. When I told him not to do it, he glared at me for a moment before he stalked away, tail in the air. I didn’t know whether he could detect the presence of chicken in the frozen dish, but he was always interested in what I ate. I really never should have started letting him have tidbits of human food, but it was too late to stop now.

The ringing of the doorbell startled me. I checked my watch. Who would be calling at five thirty? I wasn’t expecting anyone.

I peered out the peephole, and when I saw who stood waiting I briefly contemplated ignoring the doorbell, which was ringing again. Manners prevailed, however, and I opened the door.

“Good evening, Marie,” I said. “This is an unexpected pleasure.” Like finding a rattlesnake on the doorstep, that is.

Marie Steverton was a professor in the history department at the college, and her specialty was women’s history. She used her feminist beliefs as a bludgeon, and she had won few adherents with her rude tactics. I believed firmly in equality for women, but I thought Marie did more harm than good on campus.

Marie rolled her eyes as she stepped past me—uninvited—into the front hall. Typical behavior for her, and not unexpected. I shut the door behind her.

“What can I do for you, Marie?” I asked.

“For starters, you can keep that hairy behemoth away from me.” Marie waved at Diesel, who had backed away the moment he recognized her. He didn’t like Marie—but then, few creatures, two- or four-legged, ever did, I suspected.

“Diesel won’t bother you, as I have told you before.” I crossed my arms over my chest and repeated my question as I regarded her.

Marie stared up at me. “I want access to the Rachel Long diaries. Exclusive access, and I won’t take no for an answer.”