Classified As Murder

FIFTEEN

Sean cocked his head to one side as he regarded me. “Mind if I sit in on this? In case you need legal advice.”

“I’d be relieved if you would. This whole thing seems like a bizarre dream.” I poured myself a glass of cold tea. “I can’t imagine it’s anything bad, but you never know. I figure this meeting must be connected to his rare book collection.”

“Could be. Maybe he left you a million or two. Or maybe he took a shine to Diesel. You could have a very wealthy cat on your hands.”

I’d read about such cases, when rich people left their money tied up for the care of the pets that survived them. Mr. Delacorte was a self-professed cat lover. When Diesel had warbled for him, Mr. Delacorte smiled, a rare full smile that softened his features and made him look much less reserved. “He probably saw him with me at the library, but Saturday and today were the only times he ever got close enough to really meet Diesel.”

I glanced at the clock—not much time before the lawyers arrived. “I think it would be better if Diesel and Dante aren’t present for this meeting. Will you put them in your room?”

“Sure.” Sean headed for the door. “Come on, boys, come with me.”

Dante followed happily. Diesel hesitated and stared at me for a moment. “Go ahead. It won’t be for long.” I made my tone as encouraging as possible.

Diesel meowed once as if he agreed—with reservations—before loping after Sean and Dante.

Sean came back down the stairs right as the doorbell rang, promptly at six o’clock. I walked into the living room while Sean admitted our visitors. I heard him introduce himself, both as my son and my lawyer.

My first close look at Quinton Curtis Pendergrast III and his daughter surprised me. I knew Mr. Pendergrast was over seventy because I’d read about him in the local paper. He was every inch the Southern patrician. Tall, angular, sporting thick white hair, he exuded success in a dark suit and expensive-looking cowboy boots.

His daughter, however, was far younger than I expected. She was roughly the same age as Sean, from what I could tell. No more than thirty, surely. I’d thought she would be closer to my age. She stood as tall as her father, her hair a rich auburn, expertly styled to frame a lovely, intelligent face. Her tailored suit emphasized an attractive figure. Sean, I was quick to note, appeared mesmerized by the sight of Alexandra Pendergrast.

I accepted Mr. Pendergrast’s extended hand, and he shook my hand with vigor and authority. “Good evening, Mr. Harris. I do appreciate you taking the time to meet with us. The matter before us is of some urgency.” His voice had a deep, rich timbre, and he spoke with a Mississippi drawl that reminded me of my paternal grandfather.

“I’m happy to help.” I turned to his daughter. “And it’s a pleasure to meet you too, Ms. Pendergrast.”

Sean sat beside me on the couch, and the Pendergrasts took the chairs I indicated across from us. Alexandra opened her briefcase and extracted a file. She turned to her father, obviously waiting for him to speak.

“As my daughter explained to you, I represent James Delacorte’s estate.” Mr. Pendergrast regarded me with an assessing gaze, and for a moment I felt like a schoolboy called into the principal’s office. “You made an impression on my client. He seems to have regarded you highly.”

“I appreciate your saying that, Mr. Pendergrast. He was unfailingly courteous and grateful for the help I was able to give him.” I smiled. “Not everyone is as appreciative of a librarian’s efforts as he was. He seemed to be a gentleman in the truest sense of the word.”

“He was that.” Pendergrast grinned. “And he could be a complete bastard if you crossed him. He didn’t suffer fools gladly, which is one reason he and I got along so well. Many’s the tale I could tell you.”

“Dad.” Alexandra uttered that one word as a reprimand, and her father responded with an amused glance.

“I occasionally embarrass my associate here with my plain speaking, but I’m far too old to change.”

Alexandra colored slightly, and her lips settled into a thin, reproving line.

“But we should focus on the matter at hand.” Pendergrast nodded in my direction. “The situation is very simple, Mr. Harris. My client named you as one of the two executors of his estate. I am the other one.”

Stunned, I stared at Pendergrast. Why would a man I barely knew want me to be his executor?

Sean spoke, expressing my thoughts. “Was there a particular reason your client named my father an executor? This seems highly unusual, sir, given that my father was merely an acquaintance and only started working for him today.”

“That is true, young man. But James Delacorte never did anything without careful thought. He was impressed by your father, and he took the trouble to find out more about him.”

“Let me explain.” Alexandra leaned forward, grabbing the file folder as it started to slide from her lap. “Mr. Delacorte wanted to ensure that his collection would be properly assessed and maintained after his death. I believe he named you as an executor because of your expertise.”

I found my voice again. “I suppose that makes sense.”

“Will you be willing to serve?”

“I’ll be happy to,” I said. “But I must tell you that my expertise may not be quite as extensive as Mr. Delacorte thought. I do catalog rare books for the Athena College collections, but I don’t have a particularly deep nor broad knowledge of the kind of volumes Mr. Delacorte owned.”

“You are, are you not, a librarian?” Alexandra had a manner very like her father’s. Her imperious tone was certainly a match for his.

“Yes, I am.”

“And librarians know how to do research when necessary?”

I held up a hand. “I concede. You’ve made your point. I can research anything I’m not certain about, and if necessary I can find another expert.”

Alexandra smiled, her eyes sparkled, and her face glowed with warmth. She was a beautiful woman. I wondered how Sean was reacting to her.

Sean addressed both Pendergrasts. “What is my father expected to do besides complete the inventory? Did Mr. Delacorte leave instructions?”

“Excellent questions, young man.” Pendergrast nodded at Sean. “Yes, James left detailed instructions for the disposal of his collection. Alexandra has a copy for your perusal. But before we discuss that, I must ascertain your availability for the tasks required. First, I would like you to join me when I read the will to the heirs. Will you be available tomorrow morning at ten?”

That seemed sudden to me. A day after Mr. Delacorte died?

Pendergrast evidently sensed my puzzlement. “I know it’s fast, but this is what my late client wanted. You have met the family, I believe?”

I nodded.

“Then I think you can begin to understand why James wanted the family to know where they stand immediately. Now, are you available tomorrow morning?”

“Yes. I have the week off. I can be at your disposal except for the times that I volunteer at the public library.”

“That’s fine, Mr. Harris.” Pendergrast nodded. “Whatever you need to do beyond a week, I’m sure we can agree to a mutually satisfactory schedule.”

“There is one other thing.” Alexandra cut a sideways glance at her father. “Mr. Delacorte has also stipulated that you are to be paid a fee for your services to his estate. I’m sure you will find that fee more than generous.”

“He already offered me a fee for the inventory,” I said. “I’ve barely started it, however. The amount he quoted—three hundred dollars an hour—is more than sufficient.”

Alexandra nodded. “That is the fee stipulated in the will.”

“I have a condition of my own, however.” If the Pendergrasts were surprised by my statement, they hid it well. “I don’t mind working in the Delacorte house every day this week, but if I’m going to be working for eight or more hours a day, I want to bring my cat with me. Mr. Delacorte had no problem with that. In fact, he seemed to like Diesel very much.”

This could be a deal breaker, but I wasn’t about to leave Diesel for that length of time every day, even with Sean here to look after him. But I rather suspected that Sean would insist on going along with me.

Pendergrast laughed, surprising me. “I’ve heard about that cat of yours and how he goes everywhere with you. I don’t have a problem with it, as long as the family doesn’t object. And even if they do, maybe having the cat will keep them from pestering you while you work.”

“We will address the situation if, and when, it arises.” Alexandra eyed her father slightly askance. Then she turned to me, handing me the folder she’d held in her lap. “Here are Mr. Delacorte’s detailed instructions, Mr. Harris. I’m sure you’d like to read through them before tomorrow morning.”

“Thank you. We didn’t have as much time to talk about the job as I would have liked.” I accepted the folder and laid it on the couch beside me. “I’ll read through it this evening.”

“I believe there is also a detailed inventory of the collection. You’ll need to be familiar with that.” Alexandra seemed determined that I realized the importance of the folder’s contents.

“My father is a professional, an expert in his field, as you are in yours, I would hope.” Sean’s tone was sharp, and Alexandra frowned at him.

“I beg your pardon.” Her tone was frosty. “I meant no criticism of your father’s abilities.”

“Good. He knows what he’s doing.”

Without you telling him how to do it seemed to hang in the air unsaid as Alexandra replied. “Yes, I’m certain he does.”

Pendergrast cast a quelling glance at his daughter, who appeared about to speak again. “Then we’re all agreed?”

“We are,” I said.

Pendergrast stood and extended his hand, and I shook it. “If you’ll meet me tomorrow morning about a quarter to ten at the Delacorte home, we will endeavor to carry out my late client’s wishes.”

I escorted father and daughter to the front door and then went to the kitchen to start dinner. A few minutes later Sean entered with Diesel and Dante. Diesel came over immediately to complain about being locked upstairs. I petted him, and the meowing trailed off after a minute or so.

Sean pulled a beer from the fridge. “It’s a good thing old man Delacorte put it in the will about you getting paid three hundred dollars an hour. Though I’ll bet you it’s not anywhere near what Pendergrast and his snooty daughter make off the estate.”

“I wouldn’t know about that.” I regarded my son with a smile. “Speaking of Alexandra, I thought she was a very attractive young woman.”

“Yeah, if you like the type.” Sean’s sour expression amused me. He swigged his beer.

“And she had the most extraordinary blue eyes.” I watched him for his reaction.

“No, they were green.”

Sean grinned ruefully when he realized he’d stepped into the trap I’d set for him. He raised his beer bottle in my direction. “Touché, Dad. All right, she is beautiful. But like I said, she’s not my type.”

“And what type is that?”

“Female lawyer.” Sean snorted. He eyed me with a serious expression. “Dad, I was thinking about this job, continuing to work on this rare book collection. I’m not so sure it’s a good idea, even for the money involved.”

“How so?” I wondered how long it would take him to reach the same conclusion I already had.

“You’ll be working in the dead man’s house, with his family all around.” He shook his head. “I don’t like the idea of you stuck there with a murderer.”