The Silence Of The Library

SEVENTEEN

“Dinner party?” Had I understood Teresa correctly? “Why on earth is he having a dinner party? Hasn’t he heard what happened?”

The moment I said the words, I realized I shouldn’t have. Teresa probably didn’t know about the murder, and here I went, blabbing it without Kanesha’s permission. Too late to retract what I’d said, though.

“What are you talking about, Charlie?” Teresa sounded puzzled.

I sighed heavily. I heard warbling and looked down to see Diesel staring up at me. If a cat could look concerned, he sure did right then. I rubbed his head as I replied to Teresa. “The news hasn’t spread yet, but Carrie Taylor was found dead in her home this morning. She was murdered.”

Teresa gasped. “How horrible. The poor woman. Who would do such a thing?”

“Yes, it’s hard to imagine why anybody would want to kill such a nice person.”

“Does she have any family?” Teresa asked. “I know she was a widow, and I never heard her mention any children.”

“I don’t know,” I said. “Right now I’m at Melba Gilley’s house, and Melba was apparently Mrs. Taylor’s best friend. She’ll know if there’s anyone. Actually, Kanesha is here talking to Melba. I can’t say anything more at the moment.”

“Of course. Let me know if there’s anything I can do. Poor Melba.” Teresa still sounded shocked. “I’m beginning to think this exhibit is cursed. Should we cancel it?”

I understood Teresa’s concerns. I had wondered the same thing myself, but I finally concluded we should go ahead with our plans. I had a hunch that the murder was connected to Mrs. Cartwright somehow, and if we canceled everything, the investigation might stall. I didn’t know how Kanesha might feel about that, but I certainly wasn’t going to ask her.

I realized Teresa was waiting for a response. “No, I don’t think so. I considered that, too, but I believe we should go ahead. For one thing, we can dedicate the events to Mrs. Taylor’s memory. It’s not much, but it’s something we can do for her sake.”

“I suppose you’re right.” Teresa didn’t sound completely convinced. “In the meantime, what about Mr. Eagleton? Surely he won’t want to hold a dinner party when he finds out about Mrs. Taylor.”

“That’ll be up to him, I guess.” I was curious to speak to the man, but before I did, I wanted to check with Kanesha. Eagleton could be a suspect, unlike Teresa, and I didn’t want to step on official toes. “If he calls you back, don’t say anything to him about Mrs. Taylor. You can give him my cell number, but in the meantime, if you have his, will you forward it to me? I’ll probably call him.”

“Sure, I can do that. I won’t tell anyone else about Mrs. Taylor’s death, either.”

We said good-bye, and I stuck my phone back in my pocket. Diesel had stopped talking to me, but he still looked a little anxious. I rubbed his head a few times and told him I was fine and not to worry. He padded after me as I rejoined Kanesha and Melba in the kitchen.

“I think we’re done for now,” Kanesha was saying as I sat down. “I appreciate your time, Ms. Gilley. If I have any other questions, I’ll let you know.”

“I’ll help any way I can.” Melba’s eyes flashed. “I want you to catch the bastard who did this to my friend.”

“We will,” Kanesha said. “In the meantime, y’all be careful, and stay out of trouble.” She looked straight at me as she offered that bit of advice—or was it a warning?

Kanesha headed down the hall. I told Melba I’d be right back. I had to talk to Kanesha before she left. I followed her out the front door.

“Deputy,” I said, “I need to talk to you a minute.”

Kanesha turned back and scowled at me. “I’m in a hurry, Mr. Harris. Can it wait?”

“No, it can’t.” I folded my arms over my chest. “I’m still worried as all get-out about Melba’s safety. Have you made a decision yet about protecting her?”

Kanesha rubbed the back of her neck. “I’ll talk to the police chief, see if he can have a patrol car keep an eye on her around the clock. Our department might be able to pitch in.”

“Thank you,” I said, feeling greatly relieved. “Do you think I should say anything to her? I don’t want to terrify her, but at the same time, she certainly ought to be on her guard.”

“You know her a lot better than I do,” Kanesha said. “How do you think she’ll react if you tell her?”

“Ordinarily I’d say she could handle it because she’s a tough nut, but she’s pretty shaken up over this.”

“Use your best judgment.” Kanesha shrugged. “We’ll do our part, but it might not be a bad idea if she stayed with someone instead of staying in the house alone.”

“I’ll talk to her.”

Kanesha nodded and turned to walk away, but I stopped her. “One more thing.”

She glowered at me when she turned back.

“Yes?”

“It’s about Winston Eagleton. The publisher? I think I told you about him this morning.”

She fairly barked out her response. “What about him?”

“Have you talked to him yet?”

“Not yet. He’s on my list. Why do you ask?” She looked suspicious.

“He’s apparently been trying to get in touch with me to ask me to a dinner party he’s planning for tonight.” I shrugged. “At some point I’ll have to talk to him, but once he knows about Mrs. Taylor, he may reconsider his plans. I didn’t want to give anything away by talking to him before you did.”

“Thank you.” She glanced at her watch. “I’ll track him down soon. He’s staying at the Farrington House. Give me at least an hour before you get in touch with him, all right?”

“Sure thing.”

Kanesha raised a hand in farewell before she trudged down the walk toward her car. After she drove away, I went back in the house. She had better get some rest soon. She looked about done in.

Melba was feeding Diesel what looked like chicken. The cat scarfed it down happily. Melba grinned at me. “Don’t you ever feed this poor boy?”

“Con artist,” I said to the cat. He ignored me. Then I addressed Melba. “Does he look like he’s starving?” I had to grin back.

“Not exactly.” Melba dropped the last piece of meat and went to wash her hands at the sink. I was wondering how to broach the subject of her potential danger when she addressed the issue herself.

“If you’re worried about me staying here on my own, Charlie, don’t be,” she said, her expression calm but determined. “I’ll blow the jerk’s head off if he tries to get in here. I’m going over to see Thelma Crockett right now and take Zippy off her hands. He’s a loudmouthed little cuss, and he’ll raise a ruckus if anybody tries to break in here. So don’t you worry about me.”

I went over and gave her a hug. “The main thing is, I want you to be safe. And if at any time you don’t feel safe here, you pack a bag, put Zippy in the car, and come on over. We have plenty of room in the madhouse for you and the dog. You know that.”

She hugged me back briefly, then pushed me away. “You’re a good man, and a good friend. If I need to, I’ll come. But that jerk isn’t going to run me out of my own house. You can bet on that.”

Diesel meowed as if he agreed, and Melba and I laughed. “Come on, boy, let’s get going.” I pecked Melba on the cheek, Diesel warbled at her, and the cat and I headed for the front door.

Once we were in the car, I decided we might as well go visit Helen Louise at the bakery. I informed the cat of our destination, and he meowed in approval from the backseat.

“No more chicken for you, though,” I said, glancing into the mirror. He started muttering. “You’ve had enough this morning, thanks to Melba.” He moved over to the passenger-side window and gazed out, ignoring me.

I had a quiet chuckle as we headed for the town square. After I found a parking spot, I called Diesel into the front seat with me so I could put on the spare harness and leash I kept in the car. I wasn’t worried about his darting out into traffic, because he was far too smart for that. If people saw him walking around loose in town, there were bound to be complaints, however. So into the harness he went.

The bell on the door chimed as we walked in. Both the cat and I sniffed happily at the wonderful aromas that suffused the air in the bakery. I thought longingly of the marvelous gâteau au chocolat that was one of my sweetheart’s specialties. She never failed to have it on offer, and I knew there was always an extra one hidden away in case I dropped by unexpectedly. I needed to watch my calories, though, and I would do my best to resist the temptation to indulge.

Midmorning Saturday was generally a busy time at the bakery. Customers dropped by to pick up special treats for the weekend, and Helen Louise and her assistant, Debbie, filled a seemingly constant stream of orders from behind the counter. Helen Louise stood at the cash register when we entered. She glanced briefly at the door, and when she recognized us, she smiled.

I waved and smiled back, and Diesel started chirping, although I doubted Helen Louise could hear him over the chatter in the bakery. A few heads turned, and several people nodded in greeting as Diesel and I made our way to our usual table in the corner near the register. On occasion, a customer made the mistake of objecting to the cat’s presence in the bakery, but Helen Louise quickly apprised that person of his or her error in judgment. By now the regulars were so accustomed to seeing me and my big kitty that they probably thought nothing of it.

There was a line of five people at the register, so it would be a few minutes before Helen Louise could get away to talk. If many more people joined the queue at the register, I would get in line myself. But for now Diesel and I got comfortable, I in my chair and he at my feet, and waited.

The line was down to one person when my cell phone rang. I pulled it out and glanced at the number. Not one I recognized, and there was no name on the caller ID. I debated whether to answer it, but then remembered it could be Winston Eagleton. “Hello, this is Charlie Harris.”

A high tenor voice with a heavy drawl I didn’t recognize replied. “Hi, there, Mr. Harris. This here is Eugene Marter. We ain’t met yet, but I was kinda hoping to remedy that situation this morning. I’m running errands in town here and wondered if you got a few minutes to talk about Grandma and her big do at the liberry.”