The Silence Of The Library

THIRTY-ONE

I stared back at Kanesha. Was this some kind of joke she was trying to pull?

Melba laughed. “I know Charlie is on the snoopy side, but I’d be surprised if he was going through anybody’s room unless he had a powerful good reason.”

I started to protest, but I recalled my actions last night in a particular guest’s room.

“I did take a look at the books Gordon Betts had out on the table in his suite.” I paused because I hated to admit the next bit. “I picked up one of the books and handled it.”

“Which one?” Kanesha asked, frowning.

“A copy of The Mystery at Spellwood Mansion. Turns out it was one of the rare ones that I told you about.” I shrugged. “No way to tell, though, when Betts acquired it. Or how.”

Kanesha pulled out her notebook and jotted a few words in it. She glanced back at me. “Anything else?”

“No, that was the only book I touched. I did go in his bathroom, though.” I related to them how I had attended to Betts in his drunken state. “I did not, however, go through any of his personal things in the bathroom or the bedroom. I swear to it.”

Kanesha nodded. “Were you in any other rooms last night? Besides Mr. Eagleton’s and Mr. Betts’s?”

“No, I wasn’t,” I said. “What are you getting at? Has someone actually accused me of breaking into their room and going through their things?”

“Well, I never.” Melba was clearly annoyed. “Sounds to me like some jerk is just trying to make trouble for Charlie.”

“Not you specifically,” Kanesha said, addressing me and appearing to ignore Melba’s interjections. “But two of the guests complained to me that their things had been gone through. They were pretty adamant about it, and they both gave me believable explanations of why they were sure it happened.”

“Who were they?” I asked. “Like Melba said, it sounds like someone’s trying to make trouble for me.”

“Not you specifically,” Kanesha repeated. “Your name came up as a possibility, and I’ll have to admit I did wonder about it. I know you have a tendency to get pretty involved in these things, and sometimes it’s easy to let your curiosity get the better of your judgment.”

“I guess I can be a little on the snoopy side, like Melba said.” I smiled at my childhood friend. “But I do have my limits. Now, who was claiming their rooms were searched?”

“Gordon Betts and Della Duffy,” Kanesha answered. “Frankly, I didn’t really think you had done it. I reckoned you might have looked through the books they had lying around in their rooms, but I can’t see any harm in that. Or any violation of privacy since they were out for anybody to see. I also didn’t think you would have entered their rooms without their knowledge or consent.”

“Didn’t happen,” I said. “I helped Gordon Betts to his room, but I don’t even know what room Ms. Duffy is staying in. Or even if she has a room at the Farrington House.”

“She does,” Kanesha said. “Down the hall from Gordon Betts. Now here’s the thing. Whoever got into those rooms knew how to get around those keycard locks they have. Or else a member of the hotel staff helped.”

“What if it was a member of the hotel staff looking for something to steal?” Melba frowned. “But you did say nothing was taken, right?”

“Right.” Kanesha nodded. “Neither Ms. Duffy nor Mr. Betts had anything stolen. That was what was so odd. What was the snoop looking for?”

I pointed out one obvious flaw I spotted. “First you have to assume that both the complainants were telling the truth about nothing being taken from them. If something linking either of them to the murder of Carrie Taylor got taken, would they admit that to you?”

“I already thought of that.” Kanesha sounded testy. “I questioned both of them thoroughly, and my reading is that they were telling the truth. I can’t prove it, but that is what my instincts led me to conclude.”

I had known Kanesha long enough now to respect her instincts. If neither Gordon Betts nor Della Duffy was lying about an intruder in their rooms, what was the point of the snooping if nothing was taken?

“If you ask me,” Melba said, “the whole thing sounds pointless to me.”

“Button, button, who’s got the button,” I said.

Kanesha and Melba stared at me as if I had lost my wits.

“Nobody said anything about buttons.” Melba looked confused. Perhaps she had never heard that phrase before nor recognized the game to which it referred.

I quickly explained. “That came to mind because I had this notion there was a point to the search. The intruder was seeking something he knows exists, he simply isn’t sure who has it.”

“We’re back to the beginning then.” Kanesha sounded depressed. “What was he looking for? And how is it connected—if it is connected at all—to the murder?”

I had the beginnings of a headache. All this circular speculation was frustrating. Had we accomplished anything? I put the question to Kanesha.

“We know one thing. Files that were important to Mrs. Taylor are missing. There had to be an important item, or several items, the killer wanted. It might be worth money to him, or maybe the value isn’t money, but something else entirely.” Kanesha paused and thought for a moment. “Actually we knew some of that already. The key thing is, now we know where the valuable item, evidently worth killing for, was located. How are we going to figure out what it was?”

“Research. I’m going to dig into Electra Barnes Cartwright’s history as deeply and broadly as I can. Since the contents of those files focused on her and her life and career, then the answer has to be there. If it’s on the Internet or in a reference book, then I can find it.”

“Because that’s what librarians do.” Melba grinned at me. She had heard me on this particular soapbox before.

“It would save me time and brainpower I don’t have to spare at the moment,” Kanesha said. “I can’t stay here and watch over your shoulder while you do it, but the minute you find anything significant, call me.”

“I will.” We had played out this scene between us more than once in the recent past. I was pleased that, though often still wary, she appeared now to trust me to produce results and to share them. To let her take the credit and not to try to put myself in the limelight as the clever amateur who constantly showed up the police. Or in this case, the sheriff’s department. I didn’t want that kind of notoriety. I was perfectly happy to do my civic duty and give her the credit for the final result.

“Then I believe I’m going to head home and try to catch a couple hours’ sleep.” Hands on the table, Kanesha pushed herself upright. She nodded at Melba. “Let me know when you’re done with that list.”

“I will,” Melba said. “You go on and get to bed. You look like you’re about to fall over any second now.”

I hated to delay Kanesha any further, but a question popped into my head that I had to ask. “Have you had any luck tracing Yancy Thigpen?”

Melba looked confused, but she didn’t interrupt to ask who this person was. Kanesha shook her head. “We know she picked up a rental car at the Memphis Airport. After that, nothing. The sheriff’s departments between here and Memphis have been alerted to keep a lookout for her and her car. That’s about all we can do for now.”

“Thanks,” I said.

“I’ll see myself out.” She nodded good-bye and headed for the front door.

Melba waited until Kanesha was out of earshot. “So who is this Yancy Thigpen? What does he have to do with all this?”

“She is Mrs. Cartwright’s agent,” I explained. “She was supposed to arrive at Mrs. Cartwright’s house sometime yesterday for a meeting between her client and Winston Eagleton, a publisher who wants to reprint the Veronica Thane books. According to Mrs. Cartwright and her daughter, Ms. Thigpen never turned up.”

“You obviously think there’s something sinister about that.” Melba frowned. “Sounds that way to me, too, the more I think about it.”

“I’m afraid it is connected to Carrie Taylor’s murder, and I am praying that Ms. Thigpen is found alive and unharmed.”

Diesel as usual picked up on the sudden tension and started meowing for attention. He came to me for reassurance, and I rubbed and scratched his head and back while Melba watched.

“It’s amazing to me how he picks up on things.” She spoke softly.

“He’s very intuitive, that’s for sure.” I gave my boy an indulgent smile, and he chirped at me. Finally, having had enough attention—for the moment, that is—he wandered toward the utility room. No doubt by now he was starving again.

“Help yourself to more coffee. Of if you’d prefer something cold, there are canned drinks in the fridge. I’m going to get my laptop and sit here with you while I search.”

“I’m fine for now.” Melba smiled and picked up her pen.

Out of nowhere I suddenly remembered Carrie Taylor’s dog. “What did you do with the dog?”

“Zippy, you mean?” Melba laughed. “I thought Thelma, Carrie’s neighbor, hated dogs, but now that Carrie’s gone, Thelma decided she wants to take him. Says he gets into her yard all the time anyway, so he might as well stay with her because it’s familiar. Don’t that beat all?”

“As long as she’ll provide a good home for him,” I said, “it’s probably the best thing. Dogs are a lot of responsibility. Cats, too, for that matter.”

“I was relieved, actually.” Melba waved a hand at me. “Go get your laptop and let me concentrate.”

A few minutes later I was seated at the table again, laptop up and running. Diesel had come back and stretched out by Melba’s chair. She was engrossed in her task.

As soon as the computer was ready, I opened a browser and prepared to search. I realized I really should think about my strategy rather than start searching with no plan.

What should I search first?

Yancy Thigpen seemed stuck in my head at the moment, so I decided to search her. I might find out something pertinent to her apparent disappearance.

There was actually more than one Yancy Thigpen out there, I discovered. I honed in on the one I wanted quickly because one of the results included a thumbnail of a young woman. I clicked on that and examined the photo.

I frowned. She looked oddly familiar. I was sure I hadn’t met her, but she resembled someone I knew. Who was it?

Suddenly I had it.

Teresa Farmer. She could be Teresa’s cousin, if not her sister.