Arsenic and Old Books (19 page)

I sounded none too cordial when I answered the phone. I could have screamed in frustration at the interruption.

“Catch you at a bad time?” Kanesha said coolly into my ear.

“Sort of,” I said. “Sorry if I sound grumpy, but I'm reading the pages that were missing, and I was just about to find out something important when you rang.”

“Sorry about that,” Kanesha said. “I haven't had a chance to get to them yet. I did, however, read your e-mail. I wanted to alert you to the fact that I'm sending Turnbull to your office to pick up that library book. I am also trying to track down Kelly Grimes. I think it's time I had another chat with her.”

“Did I sound like a rambling fool in the e-mail?” I asked a bit nervously. “I gave you more questions than facts, I think, but this is the screwiest case I've ever seen.”

“I was able to follow it,” Kanesha said. “It is a screwy case, but I'm beginning to see my way clear. As soon as you've finished reading those pages, call me.” She disconnected.

She was beginning to see her way clear, she'd said. I wanted to bang something on the desk. That meant she was pretty sure she knew who killed Marie Steverton. I knew I couldn't really expect her to confide in me before she was ready to make an arrest, but still, it was annoying.

I shrugged that off and went back to the computer. I scrolled down until the beginning of the next entry, dated three days later, was at the top of the screen.

I have been far too heartsick, and too worried about the state of Father Long's mind and general health, to sit and write. I have no one in whom I can confide, for we cannot allow anyone to know what has befallen us. Though my heart at first rejoiced to have my husband returned to me, and whole of body, if not of spirit, it soon thudded
painfully in my breast when my husband confessed his actions
.

My eyes went back to that phrase
whole of body
. According to Angeline Long, Major Andrew Long had been so grievously disfigured by his injuries he would allow no one to see him.

The explanation came in the next paragraph.

Andrew told us of the horrors of the battle that took place in early July near Gettysburg, which is in the Union state of Pennsylvania. The carnage, the bloodshed, the noise, the cries of the wounded and dying, he made them all seem much too real to us. I know Father Long was moved by this recital, and by Andrew's sobs. The horror of it clearly overwhelmed him, and that I could understand, for what he described to us was a veritable Hell upon earth. Andrew had his own horse shot out from under him, but he was able to roll free and thus not be pinned beneath the dying beast. Andrew said he does not really remember what happened next. At some point he found himself away from the battlefield. How he came to be there he cannot, or will not, say, but he turned his back on his men and General Lee and walked away
.

Poor Andrew, I thought. I could not imagine the horror of that battle. Simply reading descriptions of it made me sick to my stomach. Gettysburg was truly the stuff of nightmares. I was not surprised that Andrew had walked away from it, but of course I knew his family and his fellow soldiers would not see it that way. I understood Rachel's reaction, but my sympathy was with Andrew.

I resumed reading although I wasn't sure I wanted to know much more.

Andrew begged his father for forgiveness. “You cannot imagine the demons that live inside my head,” he said. “All I knew is that I must find my way home again, in hopes the demons would leave my dreams, my every waking thought.”

Father Long could not speak during Andrew's confession. When Andrew fell to his knees before him, Father Long turned away from him. “No true son of mine would dishonor his name in such a cowardly fashion.” He walked from the room, and Andrew turned to me. I wanted to comfort him, but I did not know how. I too was stunned by his betrayal of his country and of his family, though my tender woman's heart ached to see my beloved husband brought to such a state
.

Old Mr. Long's reaction to his son's desertion didn't surprise me but it certainly saddened me. Dereliction of duty was a serious thing, and I couldn't approve of desertion in wartime. I did, however, have compassion for Andrew. I understood the stress that drove him to walk away from the hell of war.

I read on. Rachel's entries after this one confided more of her distress over Andrew's state of mind and his desertion from the Confederate Army. Mr. Long remained obdurate and refused even to speak to his son. Rachel came up with the idea to tell people that Andrew had been seriously wounded and had come home to convalesce. She also told them he did not want to be seen until such time as he felt he could face his friends and neighbors with composure.

Rachel wrote several times of the nightmares that terrorized her husband and kept her from sleeping through the night. Andrew's mental state deteriorated, along with his physical condition. Finally, one night when Rachel was sleeping soundly, Andrew slipped out of their bedroom, found some rope, and hanged himself from the rails of the staircase. Mr. Long found him, and the shock caused the stroke that led to his own death only three days later. Rachel was devastated.

This double loss is almost beyond bearing, but I will trust my faith to see me through. I must remain strong for the sake of my son who is, I pray, still too young and innocent to understand the magnitude of his father's actions and to feel the shame of them. I pray that Andrew is at peace with Our Lord, despite his taking of his own life, and that the demons that beset him are finally banished. Henceforth we shall put these tragic events behind us, never to be mentioned or recalled as long as I draw breath
.

With that entry I reached the end of the torn-out pages and had to consult the book to complete the final sentence. I closed the computer file and turned away from the screen.

I stared at the diary on the desk in front of me. At the moment I did not have the mental energy to read further. Nor the emotional energy, I realized. Rachel's recounting of the family's shameful secret and its tragic consequences affected me deeply, even though the events occurred a century and a half ago.

Once my head cleared a bit from the pathos of what I had just read, I found one thought going round and round in my brain.

Lucinda Long obviously hadn't read these diaries, or she would never have put them in my hands. The family wouldn't want this made public. The fact that Major Andrew Long had deserted and come home only to commit suicide would constitute a huge embarrassment for a family that for generations had prided itself on its public service and attention to duty.

If either candidate lost the election based on the contents of Rachel's diary, it would be Beck Long, not Jasper Singletary.

Why wouldn't the mayor have read the diaries before she allowed someone outside the family to see them? The fact that she hadn't done so baffled me. I couldn't understand, then, why she went to the trouble of creating the forgery and making copies of Angeline Long's memoir unavailable.

Maybe Mrs. Long read the memoir and assumed that the story Rachel told Angeline was the truth, that Andrew had died of his severe wounds. Not a particularly intelligent assumption, but given the pride in their ancestry exhibited by the Longs, the mayor probably never dreamed that the truth was so radically different.

She was a busy woman and didn't have time to read through the whole diary. It would have been slow going for her, I imagined, to read Rachel's handwriting straight out of the diaries. I was able to read it more easily because I could increase the size of it on the computer. Also I had more experience reading documents like the diaries and quickly adapted to the cramped nature of Rachel's penmanship.

Could the answer be that simple?

Maybe.

My thoughts turned to Marie. Had she suspected that the diary held secrets that could embarrass the Long family? She had torn out the pages that revealed Andrew's desertion. What had she intended to do with them?

The obvious answer was blackmail. She could have threatened to make them public, knowing she had the mayor over a dangerous barrel. The Longs were reputedly worth millions, and Marie could have named a high price.

There was something else she wanted badly, I realized. Tenure, and the respect that came with it.

Professor Howell Newkirk, a power in the history department, was a great friend of the Longs. If Lucinda asked him to support Marie's bid for tenure and told him it was vital that he do so, he might have done it. Marie would then have had the status she had desperately sought all throughout her academic career.

I knew that would sound ridiculous to anyone outside the halls of academia. I thought, however, that Marie would have wanted both tenure at Athena as well as a nice sum of money from Lucinda Long.

Another memory surfaced. Marie told me, in our first conversation about the diaries, that the mayor would do what she wanted and make sure Marie had exclusive access. She implied that the mayor didn't dare say no. Why? I wondered.

Perhaps because she already knew about the forgery. I had come up with that thought earlier, but now it seemed more likely to be the truth, or close to it.

Or, I thought, Marie could have taunted the mayor with the story of Andrew Long's desertion.

I was going in circles. There were too many holes in my scenarios.

One thing was clear, however. Lucinda Long had the strongest motive for killing Marie Steverton.

I hated to think of our mayor as a murderer, but this wouldn't be the first time a politician had gone off the rails and done something criminal and downright stupid. Was it truly that important to the Longs and their identity as a respected family to get Beck Long elected to office, no matter the cost?

Time to call Kanesha back, I decided. I had done everything I could, and it was her job now to sort through it all and make a case against the killer.

She answered right away.

“I've finished reading the pages,” I said. “Have you had a chance to look at them yet?”

“No,” Kanesha said. “I've been following up a promising lead on the car that struck down Dr. Steverton. What have you got for me?”

“The fact that Andrew Long—Rachel's husband—wasn't the war hero everyone thought he was,” I said. “He deserted at the Battle of Gettysburg and came home. He committed suicide, and Rachel covered it up. Everywhere except in her diary, that is.”

“I wonder why she didn't destroy her diaries at some point,” Kanesha said. “Surely she wouldn't want to risk having someone read them after she died.”

“Good question,” I said. I should have thought of that myself, but I was too caught up in the tragedy to consider it. “Perhaps she meant to and put them away and then forgot about them.”

“Possible, I suppose,” Kanesha said.

“Are you ready to make an arrest?” I asked.

“Not until I get the details on the car,” she replied. “Then I'll move forward.”

“Do you know who the killer is?” I asked. I didn't figure she'd tell me, but I decided to ask anyway.

She surprised me. “No, not yet. I'm still trying to sort out a few details, but what you've told me about Rachel Long's husband helps.”

That was the most I'd get from her at this point. “I see. I don't have the mental energy to read any more of Rachel's diary today. Besides, I think we've found the part that's pertinent to this case.”

“I agree,” Kanesha said. “Why don't you go home and relax? I appreciate all you've done so far, but I think it's time for you to bow out.”

“Gladly,” I said. “But my curiosity is going to be rampant until I found out whom you've arrested.”

That got me a rare chuckle. “I'll keep that in mind.” She ended the call.

“Okay, boy,” I said to Diesel. “Let's go home. I've had enough of this office for today.” I restored the one diary volume to its new archival box, then transferred all three to the storage room where they would be safe until I was ready to go back to reading.

A few minutes later we stopped downstairs to say good-bye to Melba. I was happy to see she was on the phone, because that meant Diesel and I could get away without an extended conversation. I waved, and she waved back. Then Diesel and I made for the front door.

The afternoon heat made me uncomfortable, and I was thankful that the walk home was a short one. I knew Diesel would be ready to get back inside with air-conditioning, too. We had gone only two blocks, however, when a car pulled up to the sidewalk a few feet ahead of us. Mrs. Long stepped out of the car on the driver's side.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Harris,” she said. “I was on my way to see you. Could we go back to your office and talk?” She was already getting back in the car before I had a chance to respond.

“I guess so,” I called after the car as it headed up the street to the library. I did not want to have to talk to her right now, but I really had no choice.

I pulled out my cell phone, though, and speed-dialed Kanesha. The call went straight to voice mail, and I wanted to shout in frustration. Instead I left a terse message. “The mayor is here to talk to me. Please get to my office as soon as possible.”

I ended the call and stuck the phone back in my pocket. “Come on, boy,” I said to Diesel. I knew that my turning around and going back toward the office confused him. “Let's get this over with.”

I hoped like anything I could get away from the mayor without giving away what I knew about the forged diary and the family secret. I also hoped Kanesha would arrive quickly, or at least send one of her deputies. I no longer trusted the mayor, and I didn't want to be alone with her.

I walked at a slow pace back to the building. For one thing, it was blasted hot outside, and I didn't feel like hurrying. I also wanted to delay this meeting as much as I could.

Mrs. Long frowned when Diesel and I met her at the head of the stairs near my office. “I began to think you ignored me and walked home, Mr. Harris.”

I flashed her a smile. “Oh, no, it's so hot outside I had to take it slow so Diesel didn't get overheated.” As if on cue, the cat meowed. “With all his hair this weather can be hard on him. If the walk home weren't so short, I'd use the car to get to work.” I fumbled a bit with the lock. A covert glance at the mayor's face told me she was not happy with the delays. “Please come in,” I said as I unlocked the door and opened it.

Mrs. Long strode in while I turned on the lights. She made for the chair in front of my desk and sat. Diesel and I walked at a normal pace to my desk. I removed his leash, and he climbed onto the windowsill. I sat and faced Mrs. Long. “What can I do for you, Your Honor?”

“I want to know why you refused to let my son and his aide take the pictures they wanted earlier today,” she said, her tone becoming more heated with each word. “I know perfectly well the binding of that diary was just fine, and the pictures Mr. Kittredge wanted to take would not have damaged the book in any way.”

“That was my decision to make, Your Honor,” I said, hoping to stonewall her until Kanesha or a deputy arrived. “When you signed the deed of gift and handed over the diaries, you basically gave the right to make decisions about their care to me.”

“That deed of gift can be revoked,” Mrs. Long said sharply, “as can any future donations to this college. I don't appreciate your interference, Mr. Harris.”

“I regret that, Mrs. Long,” I said. “I don't see why Mr. Kittredge and your son can't use the scans of the pages instead.” The moment I said it, I had the guilty feeling I had forgotten to e-mail the file to Mr. Kittredge. “The scan isn't any different from a digital photograph. In fact, it might be better, depending on the camera's resolution.”

“You neglected to send the file to Mr. Kittredge,” the mayor snapped. “Really, I don't understand this obstructive attitude of yours.”

“I apologize for forgetting to send the file,” I said, “but I have been busy today. I simply got distracted and forgot. I'll send it right now, if you like.”

She glowered at me. “Yes.”

I turned to the computer and switched it on. “This will take a couple of minutes.”

She did not reply, but I could feel the heat of her gaze on me. While I waited for the computer to boot up, I found the card Mr. Kittredge had given me earlier. As soon as I could open the e-mail program, I prepared the message, attached the file, and sent it. I swiveled my chair to face the mayor. “There, it's done.” I longed to tell her that if her son and his campaign staff made use of the contents of that diary, they would only be embarrassed, if not sued. But I couldn't.

“Good,” the mayor said. “Now I want to see that diary. I want to assure myself that it wasn't damaged after I turned it over to you. You might as well show me the others as well. My husband and I expect these diaries and anything else given to the archive to be handled with the utmost care.”

The more she said, the harder I found it to hold on to my own temper. If I wasn't careful, I'd let something slip in anger, and Kanesha would have my hide if I did that. If only Kanesha would walk through that door. I was trying to think of a way to stall the mayor, but I wasn't sure I could keep lying and doing it convincingly enough.

“Good afternoon, Your Honor, Mr. Harris.” Kanesha spoke from the doorway and almost made me jump out of my chair. Thank goodness the cavalry arrived in time.

Mrs. Long twisted in her chair. “Deputy Berry, I didn't expect to see you here, but it's just as well that you've come. Mr. Harris is not cooperating with me, but perhaps you can persuade him, if I can't.”

Kanesha regarded the mayor coolly. “Not cooperating? In what way?” She advanced farther into the room.

“I asked him to show me the diaries that my husband and I donated to the archive, and so far he is refusing to do so.” The mayor shot me an angry look.

I didn't try to defend myself. Instead I waited to see what Kanesha would say.

“Mr. Harris, I really think you should let the mayor see the diaries,” Kanesha said in a gently chiding tone. When the mayor turned to give me a smirk, I saw Kanesha wink.

“As you wish,” I said.

Diesel had remained quiet so far, and that didn't surprise me. The tension in the room was palpable, and I knew he was uneasy. Before I left the room to retrieve the three diary volumes from the storage room, I rubbed his head and told him everything was okay.

Mrs. Long and Kanesha waited in silence while I went next door. When I came back, diaries in hand, they didn't appear to have moved. I set the archival boxes on my desk and carefully began to extract each book. When they were all on the desk in view of the mayor, she got up from her chair and moved closer to them.

“Please, if you intend to handle them,” I said, “wear these.” I pulled a pair of cotton gloves from the drawer and handed them to her. I took a pair for myself as well.

“Very well,” she said as she accepted them. She frowned. “There are only three volumes here. Where are the other two?”

“We can get to those in a moment,” Kanesha said smoothly. She joined the mayor in front of my desk. “Why don't you go ahead and check these three first?”

The mayor looked puzzled, but she did as the deputy suggested once she had her gloves on. I had placed them so that she would be able to open them properly, and she opened the one in the middle first. That happened to be the one with the missing pages, and I wondered how long it would take her to notice the gap.

I glanced at Kanesha. She had her eyes on the mayor.

Mrs. Long carefully flipped pages until she reached the gap. “What is this?” She glared at me. “Someone took pages out. How could this have happened?”

“It happened when they were taken from this office,” Kanesha said. “I'm pretty sure that Dr. Steverton is the one who stole the diaries and then cut out those pages.”

The mayor shook her head. “Why would Marie do such a thing? She was so excited to work on them. I can't believe she would deliberately damage them.”

“She might if the stakes were high enough,” Kanesha said. “Tell me, Mrs. Long, did you ever read the diaries? All five volumes?”