The Pawful Truth

by Miranda James

  FOURTEEN

  Melba’s words startled me. “What have I done?” I asked, puzzled. Helen Louise shot an inquiring look at me, and I shrugged.

  “You sent Kanesha Berry over here and didn’t give me a heads-up,” Melba said. “She’s on her way now. I just happened to be at home when she called. Said she wants to talk to me about things you said I could tell her about stuff on campus.”

  “You’ve talked to her before about things you’ve heard on campus,” I pointed out reasonably. “Why are you so riled up now?”

  “I know I’ve told her things before,” she said, “and I don’t mind telling her this time. I only wish you’d let me know she was going to call me. She said you said she should. Call me, that is.” She snorted. “So the least you could have done was to call me and tell me that.”

  “I’m sorry I didn’t call you,” I said in the most placatory tone I could muster, although I was slightly dazed by all the you saids and she saids. “I’ve been busy with company here at the house. Both babies are here, along with Helen Louise. Laura ran an errand, but she ought to be back soon for Charlie. I guess I didn’t think about it.”

  “Well, I guess that’s okay then,” she said, sounding less peeved. “Spending time with those precious babies is more important. I’ll forgive you. This time.”

  “Thank you,” I said.

  “There goes the doorbell,” Melba said. “Talk to you later.” She ended the call.

  “What was all that about?” Helen Louise asked.

  I explained, and Helen Louise laughed. “She likes to know everything the moment it happens.”

  “I probably should have called her, but I honestly didn’t think about it,” I said.

  “I wouldn’t worry about it too much,” Helen Louise said after a sip of coffee. “She adores you like a brother, and she can’t ever stay mad at you for long.”

  “I adore her, too,” I said. “Like a sister. But an aggravating sister.” I grinned and took a sip from my mug. “Delicious.”

  “What time are we supposed to meet her at the bookstore?” Helen Louise asked.

  “A quarter past six,” I said. “The event starts at six thirty. That should give us enough time to find seats before it starts.”

  “Do you think there’ll be a large crowd?”

  “I doubt it will be standing room only,” I said, “even though I know Lucy Dunne is a popular writer. This was arranged without much time for advance notice, so I’m sure that will affect people who otherwise might have come. Not everyone can change their plans on short notice.”

  “I’m glad I’m free tonight,” Helen Louise said. “This sounds like it could be interesting. The subject definitely is.”

  Helen Louise, like me, was a Jane Austen fan. She also loved Georgette Heyer, along with the Regency mysteries of the late Kate Ross, as well as those of current writers like Tracy Grant and C. S. Harris.

  “I’ve read Dan Bellamy’s book on the period,” I said. “I think having the two of them in conversation is an excellent idea. Having both the historian’s take on the period and the novelist’s should be interesting.”

  Loud meows coming from the living room alerted us once again that Charlie was awake and no doubt attempting to climb out of his crib. I set my mug on the table and went to answer the summons. I wanted to intercept my grandson before he woke up Rosie.

  As expected, Charlie had pulled himself up by the crib rail and stood looking down at Diesel. The moment he saw me, the baby lifted his arms and chanted the word I couldn’t understand. I picked him up, but this time when he started wriggling, I resisted and carried him into the kitchen after a quick glance at Rosie.

  When we reached the kitchen I found Laura had just returned. I put Charlie down, and he started crawling around. Laura watched him, smiling and shaking her head. Diesel kept up with the baby, apparently intent on seeing that Charlie didn’t get into trouble.

  “You see what I mean?” she said. “I swear that child could crawl to Memphis and back and still have energy left over.” She looked at me. “Was he trying to get out of the crib?”

  “He was,” I said. “He may start walking early, if he can pull himself up this easily now.”

  “I’d better get him home and into his playpen,” she said. “He can crawl around in that, and the sides are too high for him to climb over. At least for now.” She sighed.

  “I’ll help you get him and his things to the car.” Helen Louise rose and picked up Charlie. He burbled at her, and his hands clutched at her hair. She winced when one hand managed to grab and pull it. “You are certainly energetic, mon petit.” She gently disengaged his hand.

  “I’ve tried to discourage that,” Laura said, “but he’s stubborn.” She picked up his diaper bag. “Let’s get him in the car seat before he manages to pull again.” She came over to give me a kiss. “Bye, Dad.” She turned to the cat. “Come on, Diesel, you’re going with us.”

  “Thanks for looking after him,” I said. “We’ll drop by after the bookstore event to pick him up.”

  “My pleasure,” Laura said. “He can help me keep an eye on Charlie.”

  “Good-bye, sweetheart. Give my best to Frank.”

  Laura flashed me a smile as she opened the back door for Helen Louise and Diesel. The women disappeared into the garage, Diesel on their heels, and Laura pulled the door shut behind her.

  I resumed my seat at the table, listening for sounds coming from the living room. Rosie remained quiet, and I sipped more of my coffee. It had cooled by now. I got up to add more to the cup, along with a bit more sugar and cream, and when I tasted it, I found it more satisfying. I didn’t care that much for cold coffee.

  Helen Louise returned soon. “All safe and secure, but wiggling the whole time. He doesn’t care for being strapped in.” She laughed. “I hope Laura and Frank have the energy to keep up with your namesake. He’s going to be a busy little bee when he starts walking.” She picked up her mug and went to pour herself more coffee.

  Until Sean and Alex returned to pick Rosie up, only a few minutes past the appointed time, Helen Louise and I took turns holding the baby when she woke and changing her diaper. Helen Louise fed her when she wailed to let us know she was hungry.

  Once Sean, Alex, and Rosie departed, Helen Louise headed home to change for the evening’s event. I needed to change as well, and I climbed the stairs slowly, thinking how odd it was not to have Diesel and Ramses with me.

  At the appointed time, Helen Louise and I met Melba at the Athenaeum, where a crowd of about twenty-five had gathered. We made our way up the stairs to the second-floor gallery where Jordan Thompson hosted author events. The space held sixty-five chairs, Jordan had once told me, and only about ten of them were occupied. We chose three seats together four rows back from the front. I took the outside seat, and Helen Louise sat between me and Melba. I set my bag of books on the floor between Helen Louise and me. The crowd from the first floor began to trickle upward, and soon about forty seats were occupied.

  A small platform, wide and deep enough to hold several chairs, stood at the back of the gallery. Currently it held two chairs, and as we watched, two people in costume emerged from a door to one side. Helen Louise and I exchanged smiles. Irene Warriner, in her Lucy Dunne persona, had chosen to wear Regency dress, and Dan Bellamy had done likewise.

  They each cut an impressive figure. Helen Louise informed me in a whisper that Dan’s trousers and coat looked molded to his physique and that said physique was quite muscular. I retorted that Lucy Dunne’s gown was ravishing, and she looked like a diamond of the first water, using a phrase often encountered in Heyer’s novels to signify a particularly beautiful woman.

  We grinned at each other as Jordan Thompson approached the platform. Once satisfied that her guests had seated themselves, she turned to address the audience. She welcomed everyone to the event before giving both spea
kers a short but plaudit-laden introduction. After an announcement that books were available for sale downstairs and that both speakers would be happy to sign books and answer questions after their talk, she stepped aside and indicated that the speakers should begin.

  Lucy Dunne spoke first. “Thank you all for turning out tonight for this presentation. Both Professor Bellamy and I appreciate it greatly, and we hope you will enjoy yourselves. As Ms. Thompson told you, Professor Bellamy, whom I shall henceforth refer to as Dan, is an expert in the history of this period. He’s going to tell you a little about it.”

  “Thank you, Lucy,” Dan said. “Thanks to the work of Jane Austen and its undying popularity, the Regency period has captured the imagination not only of readers but of movie and television fans for many years. Some of these productions are more accurate than others, but they have all, for the most part, been entertaining. In my experience, each person has a favorite actor in the major roles, such as Jennifer Ehle and Colin Firth as Elizabeth and Darcy, or Alan Rickman as Colonel Brandon. What lies behind these characters, of course, is a real historical period, and I will tell you a bit about it now.”

  For the next five minutes, Dan gave the audience interesting and entertaining facts about the Regency. Already familiar with all this, thanks to his excellent book, I let my attention wander. I cast my glance over the attendees as discreetly as possible. I spotted Carey Warriner a few rows behind us at the other side of the room. An attractive woman occupied the chair next to him. Was this Barbara Lamont? I speculated that it could well be, though after the incident yesterday, I marveled that he would bring her to his wife’s event.

  Lucy Dunne reclaimed my attention. Dan Bellamy had finished his spiel, and she began to talk about her own interest in the period and what drew her to it for her fiction, rather than her own area of literary specialty, Anglo-Saxon and early medieval English literature. Primary among these reasons was reader interest, she admitted, and that was a consideration every writer had to address. But the main reason she enjoyed writing about the period was her love of Austen and Heyer.

  I noticed many approving nods from attendees, primarily women, although a few men indicated agreement as well.

  Lucy finished this part, and Dan began to ask her questions. She answered them with ease and fluency, and he occasionally joined in, his manner pleasant and conversational. They obviously felt comfortable with each other and respected each other’s knowledge. The audience appeared rapt, and that was a tribute to the presenters.

  Questions from the audience followed for about ten minutes. To one slightly indignant woman, unhappy that a character in her favorite Dunne novel had not inherited a dukedom, Lucy patiently explained that, as a second son, he could not inherit, as long as the heir or the heir’s sons were alive to inherit. Despite the fact that the heir in this case was a despicable character, Lucy said, she could not change the laws of inheritance to reward her hero. He would have to be happy with his beautiful wife and her inheritance from her grandfather.

  “Well, that stinks,” the woman said, not sounding mollified by historical fact.

  Lucy answered a few more questions, while Dan answered two others. Jordan came forward to bring the program to an end. She announced that the authors would be happy to sign books and that there were plenty of copies for purchase downstairs where the authors would sign.

  “If you all would please remain seated until the authors have a chance to get to the stairs first, I’d really appreciate it. This will give them time to get to the signing table. Thank you.”

  Everyone complied with this request while Lucy and Dan stepped off the platform and moved to the stairs. Then, at a signal from Jordan, members of the audience stood and began to follow the authors. I noticed that Carey Warriner hurried to get to the stairs and pushed his way through the crowd to get to the front. The woman who had been sitting beside him did not accompany him, so perhaps they were not together, I thought.

  Helen Louise, Melba, and I chatted for a moment while we waited for the group at the head of the stairs to thin out. Then we proceeded to follow the rest of the group down the stairs. I realized I had forgotten my bag of books and turned back to retrieve them. I told Helen Louise that I would join them in a moment.

  I strode back to where we had been sitting, picked up the cloth book bag, and turned to rejoin my companions. I heard a piercing scream and sounds of an altercation suddenly coming from downstairs. I hurried to the rails to look down from the gallery to see what was going on.

  FIFTEEN

  At first, in the confusion of people milling about downstairs, I couldn’t see anything. A clump of people stood by a range of shelves that ran perpendicular to the edge of the gallery near the front of the store. Whatever was going on seemed to be happening there, but because of the angle from where I stood and the tall shelves, I couldn’t see anything.

  I hurried to the stairs to find that Melba and Helen Louise had reached the bottom of the flight. I went down as quickly as I could to join them.

  “What’s going on?” I asked in an undertone.

  “I’m not completely sure,” Helen Louise said. “It started before we reached the bottom of the stairs, and we can’t see anything.”

  Suddenly a voice rang out over the hubbub. “Stop it this minute, Carey. Right now.” That voice, I decided, belonged to Irene Warriner.

  All the chatter ceased, and now I could hear the sounds of a scuffle. “I’m going to kill the bastard,” a voice cried out. Carey Warriner, I thought. Whom had he attacked? Dan Bellamy?

  Then I heard Jordan Thompson’s voice telling them to stop. Jordan had a healthy set of lungs and knew how to use them. She emitted an earsplitting shriek, and suddenly all sounds of scuffle ceased. Jordan spoke again. “The police are on the way, and I’m going to press charges against both of you for disturbing the peace. I’ve never seen such a ridiculous demonstration of male stupidity in my life.”

  Frustrated that I still couldn’t see the combatants, I tried to edge through the crowd but to no avail. People were pressed too tightly together. I heard a siren, and a police car pulled up in front of the bookstore. Two officers I recognized entered the front doors and quickly found Jordan.

  To the surprise of everyone, music flooded the store through the speaker system. I dimly recognized the tune as that of a reel, and I figured Jordan must have planned this to play during the signing part of the event. The music served to mask the sounds of the police dealing with Carey Warriner and his opponent, whoever he might be.

  As we watched, fascinated, Irene Warriner and Dan Bellamy, their clothing apparently undisturbed, emerged from the area behind the shelf range. Irene looked pale but determined, and Dan had a firm hold on her arm. They headed for the signing area at the back of the ground floor, and some of the crowd began to follow them. One of Jordan’s staff members was urging people to follow the authors, and several people did so.

  I was surprised that Irene Warriner did not seem bothered by the fact that her husband was about to be arrested for disturbing the peace. Then, on reflection, I thought maybe she was tired of his behavior and hoped that this might force him to consider curbing his temper in future. Tough love, I supposed.

  “The poor woman,” Helen Louise whispered to me. “How horribly embarrassing for her.”

  Melba overheard this. “If I were her, I’d kick his can to the curb. Imagine a grown man—a professor—acting like this, attacking someone in a store full of people.”

  “He definitely has a problem,” I said. I wondered privately, however, if his jealousy had just cause or whether it was all in his imagination. If he were a philanderer, as it appeared he might be, then his behavior toward his wife was all the more ironic.

  “I’m going to buy some books,” Melba announced. “I think she needs to hear how much people like her writing.” She moved through the crowd to find books for sale.

  “Good for he
r,” I said. “I’m going to get in line to have my books signed. Do you want to come with me?”

  “What?” Helen Louise appeared distracted. “No, you go ahead. I see someone I want to talk to. Catch up with you after you’re done.” She moved away, and I wondered whom she had spotted. I made my way to the line that had formed in front of the signing table and waited my turn.

  I listened to the people ahead of me in the line. I hoped no one would be gauche enough to talk to Irene Warriner about the altercation. I realized, however, that many of those attending the event might not know that the man involved was her husband. I hoped for her sake that they didn’t. How embarrassing for her.

  The line moved slowly, because everyone seemed to have things to say to her and to Dan. He signed only a few books, while Irene/Lucy stayed busy scribbling in tome after tome. Dan appeared not to be bothered by this. I did notice that he had attracted the attention of two pretty young women who lingered at the table to chat with him. They were still with him when I reached the front of the line, so I didn’t greet him as I normally would have.

  “I thoroughly enjoyed your presentation,” I told Irene. “I’m happy to have the opportunity to have copies of your books signed.” I began handing them to one of Jordan’s staff members, who opened them to the title page for signature.

  “Thank you so much,” Irene said. “I appreciate your support and encouragement.”

  She sounded perfectly sincere, but I could sense that she was a bit distracted. Perhaps she was wondering what was happening with her husband. I also thought I detected signs of strain in her expression, and no wonder. She must have been worn out by now.

  “Thank you,” I said when she had signed the last of my books. “I look forward to the next one.”