Classified as Murder (16 page)

I accepted Mr. Pendergrast’s extended hand, and he shook my hand with vigor and authority. “Good evening, Mr. Harris. I do appreciate you taking the time to meet with us. The matter before us is of some urgency.” His voice had a deep, rich timbre, and he spoke with a Mississippi drawl that reminded me of my paternal grandfather.

“I’m happy to help.” I turned to his daughter. “And it’s a pleasure to meet you too, Ms. Pendergrast.”

Sean sat beside me on the couch, and the Pendergrasts took the chairs I indicated across from us. Alexandra opened her briefcase and extracted a file. She turned to her father, obviously waiting for him to speak.

“As my daughter explained to you, I represent James Delacorte’s estate.” Mr. Pendergrast regarded me with an assessing gaze, and for a moment I felt like a schoolboy called into the principal’s office. “You made an impression on my client. He seems to have regarded you highly.”

“I appreciate your saying that, Mr. Pendergrast. He was unfailingly courteous and grateful for the help I was able to give him.” I smiled. “Not everyone is as appreciative of a librarian’s efforts as he was. He seemed to be a gentleman in the truest sense of the word.”

“He was that.” Pendergrast grinned. “And he could be a complete bastard if you crossed him. He didn’t suffer fools gladly, which is one reason he and I got along so well. Many’s the tale I could tell you.”

“Dad.” Alexandra uttered that one word as a reprimand, and her father responded with an amused glance.

“I occasionally embarrass my associate here with my plain speaking, but I’m far too old to change.”

Alexandra colored slightly, and her lips settled into a thin, reproving line.

“But we should focus on the matter at hand.” Pendergrast nodded in my direction. “The situation is very simple, Mr. Harris. My client named you as one of the two executors of his estate. I am the other one.”

Stunned, I stared at Pendergrast. Why would a man I barely knew want me to be his executor?

Sean spoke, expressing my thoughts. “Was there a particular reason your client named my father an executor? This seems highly unusual, sir, given that my father was merely an acquaintance and only started working for him today.”

“That is true, young man. But James Delacorte never did anything without careful thought. He was impressed by your father, and he took the trouble to find out more about him.”

“Let me explain.” Alexandra leaned forward, grabbing the file folder as it started to slide from her lap. “Mr. Delacorte wanted to ensure that his collection would be properly assessed and maintained after his death. I believe he named you as an executor because of your expertise.”

I found my voice again. “I suppose that makes sense.”

“Will you be willing to serve?”

“I’ll be happy to,” I said. “But I must tell you that my expertise may not be quite as extensive as Mr. Delacorte thought. I do catalog rare books for the Athena College collections, but I don’t have a particularly deep nor broad knowledge of the kind of volumes Mr. Delacorte owned.”

“You are, are you not, a librarian?” Alexandra had a manner very like her father’s. Her imperious tone was certainly a match for his.

“Yes, I am.”

“And librarians know how to do research when necessary?”

I held up a hand. “I concede. You’ve made your point. I can research anything I’m not certain about, and if necessary I can find another expert.”

Alexandra smiled, her eyes sparkled, and her face glowed with warmth. She was a beautiful woman. I wondered how Sean was reacting to her.

Sean addressed both Pendergrasts. “What is my father expected to do besides complete the inventory? Did Mr. Delacorte leave instructions?”

“Excellent questions, young man.” Pendergrast nodded at Sean. “Yes, James left detailed instructions for the disposal of his collection. Alexandra has a copy for your perusal. But before we discuss that, I must ascertain your availability for the tasks required. First, I would like you to join me when I read the will to the heirs. Will you be available tomorrow morning at ten?”

That seemed sudden to me. A day after Mr. Delacorte died?

Pendergrast evidently sensed my puzzlement. “I know it’s fast, but this is what my late client wanted. You have met the family, I believe?”

I nodded.

“Then I think you can begin to understand why James wanted the family to know where they stand immediately. Now, are you available tomorrow morning?”

“Yes. I have the week off. I can be at your disposal except for the times that I volunteer at the public library.”

“That’s fine, Mr. Harris.” Pendergrast nodded. “Whatever you need to do beyond a week, I’m sure we can agree to a mutually satisfactory schedule.”

“There is one other thing.” Alexandra cut a sideways glance at her father. “Mr. Delacorte has also stipulated that you are to be paid a fee for your services to his estate. I’m sure you will find that fee more than generous.”

“He already offered me a fee for the inventory,” I said. “I’ve barely started it, however. The amount he quoted—three hundred dollars an hour—is more than sufficient.”

Alexandra nodded. “That is the fee stipulated in the will.”

“I have a condition of my own, however.” If the Pendergrasts were surprised by my statement, they hid it well. “I don’t mind working in the Delacorte house every day this week, but if I’m going to be working for eight or more hours a day, I want to bring my cat with me. Mr. Delacorte had no problem with that. In fact, he seemed to like Diesel very much.”

This could be a deal breaker, but I wasn’t about to leave Diesel for that length of time every day, even with Sean here to look after him. But I rather suspected that Sean would insist on going along with me.

Pendergrast laughed, surprising me. “I’ve heard about that cat of yours and how he goes everywhere with you. I don’t have a problem with it, as long as the family doesn’t object. And even if they do, maybe having the cat will keep them from pestering you while you work.”

“We will address the situation if, and when, it arises.” Alexandra eyed her father slightly askance. Then she turned to me, handing me the folder she’d held in her lap. “Here are Mr. Delacorte’s detailed instructions, Mr. Harris. I’m sure you’d like to read through them before tomorrow morning.”

“Thank you. We didn’t have as much time to talk about the job as I would have liked.” I accepted the folder and laid it on the couch beside me. “I’ll read through it this evening.”

“I believe there is also a detailed inventory of the collection. You’ll need to be familiar with that.” Alexandra seemed determined that I realized the importance of the folder’s contents.

“My father is a professional, an expert in his field, as you are in yours, I would hope.” Sean’s tone was sharp, and Alexandra frowned at him.

“I beg your pardon.” Her tone was frosty. “I meant no criticism of your father’s abilities.”

“Good. He knows what he’s doing.”

Without you telling him how to do it
seemed to hang in the air unsaid as Alexandra replied. “Yes, I’m certain he does.”

Pendergrast cast a quelling glance at his daughter, who appeared about to speak again. “Then we’re all agreed?”

“We are,” I said.

Pendergrast stood and extended his hand, and I shook it. “If you’ll meet me tomorrow morning about a quarter to ten at the Delacorte home, we will endeavor to carry out my late client’s wishes.”

I escorted father and daughter to the front door and then went to the kitchen to start dinner. A few minutes later Sean entered with Diesel and Dante. Diesel came over immediately to complain about being locked upstairs. I petted him, and the meowing trailed off after a minute or so.

Sean pulled a beer from the fridge. “It’s a good thing old man Delacorte put it in the will about you getting paid three hundred dollars an hour. Though I’ll bet you it’s not anywhere near what Pendergrast and his snooty daughter make off the estate.”

“I wouldn’t know about that.” I regarded my son with a smile. “Speaking of Alexandra, I thought she was a very attractive young woman.”

“Yeah, if you like the type.” Sean’s sour expression amused me. He swigged his beer.

“And she had the most extraordinary blue eyes.” I watched him for his reaction.

“No, they were green.”

Sean grinned ruefully when he realized he’d stepped into the trap I’d set for him. He raised his beer bottle in my direction. “Touché, Dad. All right, she is beautiful. But like I said, she’s not my type.”

“And what type is that?”

“Female lawyer.” Sean snorted. He eyed me with a serious expression. “Dad, I was thinking about this job, continuing to work on this rare book collection. I’m not so sure it’s a good idea, even for the money involved.”

“How so?” I wondered how long it would take him to reach the same conclusion I already had.

“You’ll be working in the dead man’s house, with his family all around.” He shook his head. “I don’t like the idea of you stuck there with a murderer.”

“We don’t know that one of Mr. Delacorte’s family is the murderer.” I felt compelled to make that point, though I really didn’t believe it myself. “But I’ll agree that it’s more than likely.”

“I don’t think you should take the chance, then.” Sean’s mouth set in a stubborn line I knew all too well. “Someone who has killed once may not hesitate to kill again if he feels threatened.”

“I’m not disagreeing with you.” I had a sip of my tea. “I don’t see how I could be much of a threat to anyone, though, simply working with Mr. Delacorte’s book collection.”

“What if the collection was the reason he was murdered? He thought a member of the family was stealing from it, and that person might have killed him to stop the inventory.” Sean prowled restlessly back and forth. “But if you continue it, you could be putting yourself in danger. If you insist on doing it, however, I’m going to insist on going with you. I really don’t like the idea of you being in that house with that family. I can’t help but think about all the things your bakery friend told us about them. And Azalea. If half of what they said is true, you could be walking into a viper pit.”

“I haven’t forgotten what Helen Louise or Azalea told us. It’s fine with me if you want to go with me. I’ll probably need some help, and your back and legs are younger and stronger than mine.” I sipped more tea. “And I’ll split the money with you.”

“That’s not necessary. I’m not after the money.” Sean halted abruptly, his beer halfway to his mouth. He appeared worried. “Is that why you’re insisting on doing this? Do
you
need the money?”

“No, I don’t.” I appreciated his concern, but thanks to my inheritance from my dear aunt Dottie, my pension from Houston, and my modest salary from Athena College, I was very comfortably situated. “I’ll do the inventory because Mr. Delacorte wanted me to. From my limited acquaintance with him, I liked and respected him, and I’d like to carry through with his wishes.”

“I can understand that.” Sean pulled out a chair and sat down. “But surely you can understand why I’m worried about this.”

“I do. But you’ll be there with me, and with you watching over me, I’m sure I’ll be just fine.” I drained my glass and got up to refill it. “Will you bring Dante?”

Sean considered that for a moment. “I don’t see why not. If he’s alone in the house, he’ll get bored. He might tear something up.”

“True enough,” I said. I remembered the mess I’d found Saturday near the front door. “How about some dinner? I’m hungry.”

“Yeah, me, too.” Sean drained his beer and set the bottle on the table. “How about some pizza? Any decent delivery place here?”

“Yes. Pizza sounds good. What kind do you want?”

“Thick crust with lots of meat and cheese,” Sean said. He got up to dispose of his empty bottle. “That okay with you?”

“Sounds fine.”

“If you’ve got the number, I’ll call it in.” Sean walked over to the wall phone.

“It’s there on the pad by the phone,” I said, gesturing toward a notepad hung on the wall.

Sean called the order in. He pulled out his wallet and extracted several bills. “This ought to cover it. About twenty-five minutes, they said. While we’re waiting, I’d like to check my e-mail and look up a few things on the Internet.”

“Thanks for the pizza.”

“My pleasure.” He headed upstairs to retrieve his laptop. Both animals trailed along behind him. Diesel seemed determined to keep his new playmate in sight.

The pizza arrived thirty minutes later. I set it on the table and then went to let Sean know it was here. He and the two animals followed me into the kitchen.

Sean had ordered a large pizza, and I wondered whether he should have ordered a medium instead. When I saw him pile half the pizza on his plate, I didn’t wonder any longer.

“Mind if I eat out on the porch?” Sean grabbed some paper towels. “There’s some stuff I still need to finish up on with e-mail, and I might as well get it done.”