File M For Murder

ELEVEN

Laura was still trembling with anger, her eyes focused in the direction of Lawton’s exit, when I reached her moments later. Diesel followed me onto the stage and meowed loudly as he butted his head against my right leg. I extended a hand to rub him while I examined my daughter with concern.

“I’m okay, Dad.” Laura flashed a brief smile, but I could see the strain on her face.

I squeezed her shoulder lightly, then dropped my hand. “That was pretty intense. Are you sure you’re all right?”

Laura nodded. Her eyes met mine for a moment then shifted away. “Par for the course with Connor whenever he’s working on a new play. I went through part of this process once before with him.” She gave a shaky laugh. “I should have been more prepared, I suppose.”

“I don’t see how anyone can work with him if he’s like this on every project.” I kept my hand on Diesel because the cat still seemed restless. As I glanced down he butted his head against Laura’s thigh and meowed.

Laura squatted and threw her arms around Diesel. She pulled his head next to hers and stroked his back. “You are such a sweetie, you know that?” Diesel warbled as if he were agreeing, and Laura laughed. She stroked him a moment longer, then released him to stand. “It’s amazing how much better he can make you feel.”

“I know.” I smiled fondly at my cat. I checked her face and was relieved to see that her expression had lightened. “Will you go on with the rehearsal now?”

The student actors were clustered stage left, and I indicated them with a tilt of my head. Laura glanced their way and motioned for them to join her onstage. “Might as well.”

The students surged forward but halted a few feet away.

“Laura, my dear, I must speak with you.” Ralph Johnston approached from stage right, and Laura and I turned to him. He nodded in my direction but addressed my daughter. “After that outburst we just witnessed, I have even graver doubts about this production. Lawton seems completely unstable to me, and I’m afraid he will turn violent. He seems particularly fixated on you.”

I agreed with the department head and waited to hear Laura’s response. I wasn’t keen on her having to deal with Lawton any further, but I knew how stubborn my daughter could be.

Laura sounded weary when she spoke. “I understand how you feel, and I’ve decided that the best thing is for me to remove myself from direct participation in this production. Connor is volatile, but if I’m not present during rehearsals, perhaps he’ll be less keyed up.”

There were mutters of protest from the students, and Laura flashed them a grateful smile. “I will continue to teach my students, of course, but away from the theater.”

Johnston mulled that over for a moment, then nodded. “Very well. That sounds like a sensible workaround to me. But if Lawton doesn’t start behaving in a more mature, professional fashion, I will take drastic steps.”

“Yes, sir.” Laura nodded. She waved to indicate the cast. “Let’s get on with our reading. I doubt Connor will be back this afternoon.”

“Good, good.” Johnston bobbed his head back and forth. “Sensible. If you need me, call Sarabeth and she’ll know where to find me.” He strode off down the steps and up the aisle.

Toby, the student actor reading the part of old Mr. Ferris, moved forward. “Laura, we’d all rather work with you. Why don’t you direct the play?”

Laura smiled at the earnest young man. Though she was only about five years older than he, her poise and assurance made her seem even more mature. “Thank you, Toby. I appreciate the vote of confidence. But I don’t have any experience directing.” She paused to smile at the cast. “I’ll stick to coaching. You will all do just fine. When Connor gets crazy like he did today, try to stay out of his way and let him carry on till he gets it out of his system. He’ll get better as the play progresses, I promise you.”

Toby exchanged glances with several other cast members. I could see they weren’t completely convinced, despite the assured tone with which Laura spoke. I couldn’t blame them.

I spoke in an undertone to Laura. “Are you sure about this?”

“I am.” Laura met my gaze and didn’t look away. “I appreciate your concern, but I can handle this. I’ll stay out of Connor’s way. End of problem.”

“He seems fairly determined to stay in your way. What about his assertion that you’re his muse?” I wasn’t convinced by Laura’s words and manner.

Laura frowned. “Trust me on this, Dad. I wasn’t kidding when I said bourbon is his muse. He’ll be so absorbed with the play, he won’t have time for me. He’ll be busy drinking, writing, and smoking too much instead.”

There didn’t seem to be any point in further argument right now. I still had reservations, but I would keep them to myself for the time being. “Then I guess Diesel and I will head back to the archive. Will we see you at dinner tonight?”

“Probably.” Laura pecked me on the cheek before bending to give Diesel one on his nose. “See you men later.” She turned to face her students.

Diesel and I exited the stage and walked up the aisle. When we entered the foyer, I spotted Sarabeth Conley in conversation with the man who’d spoken to Laura and me earlier.

“…to worry about. He doesn’t know anything.” Sarabeth saw me and fell silent. The man turned and glanced at Diesel and me.

I waved a greeting. The man nodded before turning back. Sarabeth nodded as well but did not speak. Now that I saw the two of them together I noticed a definite resemblance. Her brother, perhaps? As a child I had known only Sarabeth, and I knew nothing about her family. He looked young enough to be her son, maybe in his mid-forties, but Sarabeth told me at the party she had no children. Then I recalled her remark about a much younger brother.

Next time I ran into her, I’d ask her about him. With that thought, I pushed the door open, and Diesel and I stepped outside into the afternoon heat.

We were both happy to reach the cool, dim interior of the archive building a quarter of an hour later. I filled Diesel’s water bowl in my office, and he lapped at it thirstily. Then he hopped onto the windowsill and settled down for a nap.

While I checked e-mail, I revisited the events of the afternoon. I didn’t like Lawton, and I worried that his interest in Laura could cause a serious problem before the semester ended. Despite my daughter’s repeated assurances that she could handle the playwright, like any father concerned with a child’s welfare, I felt I should be able to do something more to ensure her safety and well-being.

But what? Short of working Lawton over with a baseball bat—definitely not my usual style—I felt at a loss. If I played the heavy-handed, interfering father, I risked alienating my daughter. That was the last thing I wanted. After damaging my relationship with my son—though it was thankfully now on the mend—I wanted things with Laura to remain healthy and happy.

I stewed over the issue with little result for two hours before I decided I was accomplishing nothing. My attention to my work was sporadic at best, and my mental gyrations over Laura only exhausted my brain.

“Come on, boy. Let’s go.” I powered down my computer and reached for the cat’s harness and leash.

Diesel chirped as he stretched. Then he hopped to the floor and stood still while I fitted him into the harness.

Soon we headed down the sidewalk toward home. Though it was a few minutes past six, the sun still bore down mercilessly. Trees shaded us much of the way, for which I was thankful. I worried every summer about the hot cement of the sidewalk possibly blistering Diesel’s pads, but so far that hadn’t happened.

In the kitchen we found Justin Wardlaw, my younger boarder, staring into the refrigerator. When Diesel made a beeline for him and warbled, Justin shut the door and dropped to his knees to hug the cat. “Hey, Mr. Charlie, how’s it going?”

“Fine.” I removed the cat’s leash. “How are your classes?”

Justin glanced up at me as he removed Diesel’s harness. After a difficult first semester at Athena College, he had settled down and performed well. The trials he faced that first semester had matured him. He’d undergone physical change as well, working out and putting on some weight, cutting his dark hair and growing a beard. No longer a gangly, awkward boy, he looked and acted like the man he’d become.

“They’re all good, thanks.” Justin hung the harness on its knob near the back door. Diesel followed him, and Justin scratched behind the cat’s ears. With a thank-you chirp Diesel disappeared into the utility room, home to his litter box.

“And the work-study job?” I went to the refrigerator for the pitcher of chilled water.

“Pretty cool so far.” Justin worked ten hours a week in the History Department. “Dr. Biles asked me to take her notes for her western civ class and put them on the computer.” He laughed. “The pages are all tattered, and the print’s fading. They must be twenty-five years old. But at least I’m getting a good refresher while I work. I’m planning to take her upper-level medieval history class in the spring if I get permission.”

I poured glasses of water for both myself and Justin when he retrieved another glass from the cupboard. “You’ve excelled in your history classes. I’m sure they’ll decide you’re ready to tackle a more advanced course.”

“Thanks.” Justin smiled shyly. “I’m thinking about graduate school in history.”

“Good for you.” Before I could continue, my cell phone rang. “Excuse me.” I set my glass on the counter, pulled the phone out of my pocket, and glanced at the number. It was Laura.

“Hello, sweetheart. What’s up?” I picked up my glass for another sip of water.

“It’s Connor, Dad.” The near panic in Laura’s voice alerted me. “He’s dead.”