Classified As Murder

THIRTY-ONE

“Do you think it’s still somewhere in this house?” Sean sounded incredulous. “Surely it’s long gone by now.”

“I don’t think so.” Kanesha leaned against the back of a heavy, overstuffed armchair. “Mr. Delacorte only brought it home with him last week. He flew to New York to pick it up and got back on Wednesday. That’s only a week ago. I don’t think there’s been time to do anything with it.”

“That makes sense,” I said. “It would take some time to find a buyer. Unless, of course, the thief already had one in mind.”

“The only member of the family who’s left town since Mr. Delacorte returned from New York is Stewart Delacorte.” Kanesha stood away from the chair. “He went to Memphis on Sunday to visit a friend. I’ve already talked to the Memphis police about the friend, and he’s clean. Runs a highly successful florist’s shop. I don’t really think he’s involved in the theft, or Stewart either.”

“Do you know who it is?” I asked.

“I’m pretty sure I do.” Kanesha looked smug. “But proving it will take some time. We’ve got to find that missing Poe book.”

“Can’t you search the house again?” Sean asked. “Get another warrant. Surely you have probable cause now.”

“Gosh, I never would have thought of that.” Kanesha didn’t try to tone down the sarcasm, and Sean flushed—whether in embarrassment or irritation, or both, I wasn’t sure.

“I’m working on it,” Kanesha said. “In the meantime, keep your eyes open. For all I know it could be hidden in the library. I have a gut feeling it’s in this house somewhere.”

“Come on, Sean.” I headed for the library with Sean and Diesel on my heels. Deputy Bates was back on guard duty in the library. He greeted us and unlocked the doors.

Sean turned on the lights while I released Diesel from his harness and put it aside. The cat stretched and yawned before he ambled off to the spot under the work table that he seemed to favor.

Sean strode over to the shelf we had been working on last night and turned to me. “I’m ready.”

“Right.” I handed him a pair of cotton gloves before I picked up the inventory book to find the place where we stopped. “Here we go.”

As we worked through the inventory, we found each book listed. Most were in the correct place on the shelf. Four were among those we found earlier and stored on the work table until we came to them in the list.

Only half my thoughts were engaged in the job at hand. The other half were devoted to the conversation with Kanesha. Her reminder that Stewart was the only family member to leave town after Mr. Delacorte brought the copy of Tamerlane home from New York rattled me. After becoming further acquainted with Stewart, I didn’t want to think of him as a thief. I had to wonder, however, whether Kanesha was overlooking the obvious because she was so convinced by her gut feeling. Stewart was bright enough to know the value of the stolen books, and with his connections in academia, he could surely find the contacts he needed to sell the books privately.

If the Tamerlane were still in the house, however, where could it be? The Poe hadn’t turned up during the search. I considered the possibility that the searchers overlooked it because the hiding place was clever. The more I thought about it, however, the more I believed that the Tamerlane wasn’t in the house. If the thief had an accomplice outside the house, the accomplice could have had it all along.

I read out the next title to Sean, a first edition of Edith Wharton’s Pulitzer Prize–winning novel, The Age of Innocence . As I recalled, Wharton was the first woman to win the prize for fiction. This was another favorite I would love to own, but I would have to be content with my facsimile edition.

While Sean checked the shelves for the Wharton, I thought again about the idea of an accomplice. In my mind there was only one candidate, Anita Milhaus. She was known to be having an affair with Hubert Morris, and Hubert seemed the obvious choice for the role of thief. I was convinced Eloise had found the missing inventory among his things. We would never know for sure, now that poor Eloise was dead.

I liked the idea of Anita as accomplice. My personal distaste for her might be coloring my thinking, but even so, I figured I could make a pretty good case against her. She was intelligent, I had to admit that, and more than capable of assisting Hubert in his thievery.

A memory surfaced, and I was so surprised I almost dropped the inventory book on my foot. The diamond bracelet Anita was sporting on Friday—I had forgotten that until now. What had she said? Something about her “gentleman friend” giving it to her. The bracelet looked very expensive to me. How much of the proceeds from the sale of the missing Faulkners had gone toward its purchase?

I needed to tell Kanesha about the bracelet because it could prove to be an important lead in the case. If she could trace its purchase, she might find evidence against Hubert. From everything I had heard, I doubted he ordinarily had that kind of money at his disposal.

I was about to suggest to Sean that we take a brief break, but a knock at the door forestalled me.

Deputy Bates opened the door and blocked entry into the room with his body. “Yes, ma’am, what can I do for you?”

“Good morning, Deputy. I’m Alexandra Pendergrast. My father and I represent the late Mr. Delacorte’s estate. I have Deputy Berry’s okay to enter the library.”

“Yes, ma’am. You’re on my list.” Bates stepped back, and Alexandra strode into the room. Today she wore a plum-colored suit with an ivory blouse, and the colors complemented her hair and complexion. She was a striking young woman, one I couldn’t help admire.

“Good morning, gentlemen.” Alexandra stopped a couple of feet in front of me. Diesel left his nap spot under the work table and came to greet her. He warbled at her, and she stared down at him with an odd expression. “He won’t bite, will he?”

From behind me Sean snorted loudly. “He’s not going to bite you. Give the cat some credit for good taste.” He came to stand beside me.

Alexandra flushed, and I shook my head at Sean. He was being rude for no good reason that I could see, except his self-professed antipathy to women lawyers. He would have to stop viewing them as surrogates for the unpleasant and predatory Lorelei.

“How would I know that he doesn’t bite?” Alexandra’s eyes flashed fire at Sean. “I’ve never been around cats much, and this one is big enough to be a dog. For all I know he eats small children for breakfast.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Sean guffawed. “Even you couldn’t really believe that.”

I decided to intervene before the situation became more ridiculously childish. “Diesel is a very sociable cat, Miss Pendergrast. He is simply greeting you, the way he greets anyone he finds interesting.”

“Oh.” Alexandra colored again. “I’m sorry if I’ve offended you, Mr. Harris.” She was pointed in directing the apology at me. “I suppose I’m a little nervous around cats. Dogs too, for that matter. My mother wouldn’t allow them in the house, so I never had the chance to get used to them.”

Those last words sounded wistful, and I felt a pang for a little girl who wasn’t allowed the joy of a kitten or puppy to play with and love.

“Give him a rub on the head.” I leaned forward and suited deed to words. “Like that. He won’t bite you.”

Alexandra hesitated but then did as I suggested. Her hand trembled as she stroked Diesel, but then she grew more confident and scratched him behind the ears. He rewarded her with a contented rumble.

“I guess that means he likes it.” Alexandra withdrew her hand and straightened her back. “He sounds like a car engine when he does that.”

Sean laughed. “That’s how he got his name—Diesel.”

Alexandra ignored him. “I had better press on with business. My father asked me to stop by and see how the inventory is going.”

Sean spoke before I could respond. “He sent you to check up on us. Well, you can tell him the work is going well and that we could even be finished by the end of the day.”

“Is that true?” Alexandra appeared determined not to acknowledge Sean directly. She looked straight at me when she spoke.

“We’re certainly going to try,” I said. “You might want to talk with Deputy Berry. Apparently, the FBI is sending an agent here to take over the investigation into the stolen items.” As I spoke those last words, I realized I might have put my foot in it. Were the Pendergrasts aware that Sean and I had discovered that the set of Faulkner novels had been replaced by inferior copies?

Alexandra nodded, and I felt relieved. “Deputy Berry has already communicated with our office. My father and I appreciate the work you’ve done so far. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve—”

Loud knocks interrupted her. She turned as Deputy Bates opened the door.

“Hello, officer. I’m looking for Charlie Harris.”

I winced as I recognized the strident tones of Anita Milhaus. What did the woman want with me?

Evidently, Anita tried to push her way past the deputy, because I could see the door wobble until Bates grasped it firmly and held it.

“I’m sorry, ma’am,” he said. “Only certain people are allowed to enter this room.”

“Oh, good grief, how ridiculous.” Anita’s voice came through all too loud and clear. “This beats all I’ve ever seen. I only want to talk to the man for a moment.”

I waited to see what Bates would do before I injected myself into the conversation. The deputy said in a polite but firm tone, “If you’ll wait in the hall, ma’am, I’ll get Mr. Harris for you.” He closed the door, and I could hear muffled muttering coming from the other side of it.

Bates turned toward me. “You want to talk to this lady?”

I started to say “Not really” but realized I couldn’t do that, not without sounding as childish as Sean and Alexandra had not so long before. I stepped forward and opened the door. I stood in the opening and glanced around for Anita.

She sat on the chair by the door, a large canvas tote bag in her lap.

“What can I do for you, Anita?”

She scowled at me. “I don’t see why I can’t come in there. It’s not civilized to talk out in the hall like this. I can tell you, in my family we certainly don’t treat people this way.”

“I’m sure you don’t,” I said. “If you don’t want to talk in the hall, then, why don’t you go to the parlor and wait for me there. I won’t be three minutes, I promise.”

Anita didn’t appear too happy with my suggestion, but she nodded. “And make sure it’s no more than three minutes. I’ve got things to do.” As she turned in the direction of the parlor, the bag over one shoulder, the light in the hallway caught her wrist. The diamond bracelet sparkled briefly before Anita walked away.

I walked back to where Alexandra and Sean waited in silence, not looking at each other.

“Who was that, Dad?” Sean kept his gaze averted from Alexandra.

“Anita Milhaus. You remember me telling you about her.”

Sean grimaced. “Her. What does she want?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “I’m about to find out.” I turned to Alexandra. “If you don’t have any more questions, I’ll just go and see what Anita wants.”

“I’m done,” Alexandra said with a warm smile. She didn’t look in Sean’s direction. “I’ll walk out with you.”

“I’ll be back in a few minutes, Sean. It shouldn’t take long.”

Sean nodded and turned away. Diesel, however, decided to accompany me. That surprised me, because he didn’t care much for Anita. When he found her in the parlor waiting for me, he would wish he had stayed with Sean.

“Do you work with Anita?” Alexandra posed the question as we stepped into the hall.

“I volunteer at the public library and work with her there on occasion,” I said. “Do you know her well?”

“More than I’d like,” Alexandra said with a little laugh. “I have to put up with her niece at the office, and the two of them are always chatting on the phone. It’s rather annoying.”

I lowered my voice as we neared the parlor. “I’m surprised you put up with that kind of behavior in an employee. Is she a secretary?”

“No, she’s a paralegal. She works mostly with my dad, thank goodness, and she’s pretty good at her work, so he ignores her bad habits.”

By now we had reached the door of the parlor. “If you should need anything, Mr. Harris, please feel free to call me.” Alexandra extended a hand for me to shake.

“Thank you. I sure will, if the need arises.” Her clasp was warm and firm. Diesel warbled again for her, and she stroked his head a couple of times before she left.

I paused in front of the parlor door, steeling myself to deal with Anita. If I could come up with some gambit to worm information out of her, I would have even more to report to Kanesha. With that in mind, I opened the door and entered, Diesel at my heels.

Anita was wandering around the room, picking up small objects and putting them back down. She was so intent on what she was doing, I was able to observe her for a minute without her realizing I was in the room. When she did catch sight of me and my cat, she started and almost dropped the small figurine she had picked up. She set it down quickly and moved around a table and a couple of chairs to approach me.

“There you are,” she said with a frown. “I was just about to leave. I really can’t dillydally around here, Charlie. I’ve got to get to Memphis to catch a plane.”

“Sorry to hold you up,” I said, “but I had to finish talking with someone else who had come by to see me. I believe you know her: Alexandra Pendergrast.”

“Miss Lah-di-dah, of course I know her.” Anita’s mouth twisted in what I took to be disdain. “My niece works for her father, and the stories I could tell you. My niece tells me what goes on there, and if people only knew.” She broke off. “You’re making me forget what I wanted to talk to you about.”

From the corner of my eye I saw Diesel sniffing around the large canvas bag Anita had been carrying. It was on the floor by one of the sofas, and evidently something in it intrigued my cat. I didn’t think he’d do any harm by sticking his head in the bag, so I didn’t say anything.

“Oh, yes,” I said. “What can I do for you?”

“I need you to work for me at the library the next couple of days while I make a quick trip.” Anita offered me a coy smile. “If this wasn’t urgent, I wouldn’t think of imposing on you, but I really do need a favor.”

Unlike the previous several times she had imposed on me, with exactly the same excuse. I suppressed a sigh.

“I’m not sure if I can,” I said. “I’m working on something here, and I don’t know whether I’ll be done in time to work for you tomorrow or Friday.”

“Oh, yes, I heard about what you’re doing. Inventorying that collection of musty old books.” Anita laughed. “So how’s it going? Found any surprises?”

While Anita spoke, I had been covertly glancing at Diesel. He had her bag on its side, and his head and shoulders were inside it. I really should reprimand him, and if the bag had belonged to anyone else, I probably would have.

Anita drew my attention back to her with that second question. “Surprises? What kind of surprises?” Would she admit to knowing that Mr. Delacorte suspected items from the collection were missing?

“Oh, I don’t know,” she said, her tone nonchalant. “I never got to see the collection, so who knows what’s in it.”

I was no longer paying attention to her, because my cat had pulled a wad of clothing and other objects out of Anita’s bag and was now digging among them. “Diesel, stop that, right now.”

The cat froze for a moment at the sound of my command, but then he resumed his search. Whatever was in there was something he obviously wanted in the worst way. Normally he was good about obeying me.

I started forward, and when Anita realized what was going on, she started screeching and pushed me out of the way to get to Diesel.

Diesel froze again, but this time he had something in his mouth. I kept up with Anita because I was afraid she might strike the cat, and I wasn’t going to let that happen, even if I had to push her out of the way.

Diesel had found a Baggie of cheese chunks in Anita’s tote, and he scrambled under the sofa with it. As Anita squatted to retrieve her things, I got down beside her to peer under the sofa. I had to stop my errant feline before he got into that cheese. He could tolerate small amounts of cheese, but too much would make him sick.

Without meaning to, I had put my knee on some of Anita’s things. Her loud screech in my ear startled me, and I moved my knee. Anita snatched up the sweater I had knelt on, and underneath it was a clear archival folder like the ones I used to protect valuable documents for the college library.

Anita grabbed at it, but her fingers slipped. When she reached for it again, I latched on to her hand.

I had seen what was in that folder.

Tamerlane.