Arsenic and Old Books

by Miranda James

  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.

  THIRTY-SEVEN

  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 the
se 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?”

  THIRTY-EIGHT

  What was Kanesha’s strategy here? I couldn’t figure out where she was headed with this particular gambit.

  The mayor evidently found it strange. She handed me the volume she was holding and turned to face the deputy.

  “What does that have to do with Marie vandalizing Rachel Long’s diaries?” the mayor asked. “If you must know, I only read a bit of the first one. The handwriting gave me a headache, and I didn’t have time to read further. What I did read seemed interesting enough to be of potential historical value. That’s why my husband and I decided to donate them to the archive.”

  “I see,” Kanesha said. “And the fifth volume? The one you found in a false bottom of the trunk. Did you read any of it?”

  “I fail to see what you expect to accomplish with these questions,” the mayor said, her tone increasingly frosty. “I don’t have time for this.”

  “Could you please answer my question, Mrs. Long?” Kanesha said.

  The mayor stared hard at the deputy, but then Mrs. Long’s glance fell away. “Well, I might have looked at a couple of pages, but the handwriting was too small and cramped, as I’ve said. I was as surprised as everyone else when Mr. Harris told me about that slave woman getting involved with a Singletary.”

  Mrs. Long seemed uneasy to me, and I was surprised. She was an experienced politician, and I would have expected her to maintain a calm, poker-like demeanor. Perhaps she didn’t handle guilt well, I thought.

  The mayor pointed to the volume I now held. “Have you found the missing pages? If you know Marie took the diaries, surely you know what she did with them.”

  “We do have them,” Kanesha said. “Because they’re evidence, though, they will remain in the custody of the sheriff’s department until it’s determined whether they will be needed for the trial.”

  “Yes, I understand,” Mrs. Long said. She turned to me. “Did Marie remove pages from any other volume?”

  “No, the others are all intact,” I said.

  “I would like to see the other two to reassure myself of that,” the mayor said.

  “I’m afraid that won’t be possible,” Kanesha said. “I’ve sent the fifth book you found along with one of the others to the state crime lab for testing.”

  “Testing?” Mrs. Long said. I thought she suddenly looked a bit pale. “Whatever for?”

  “We suspect that the one you found in the bottom of the trunk is a forgery,” Kanesha said. “I want to know how recently it was done. Do you have any ideas about that?”

  The mayor laughed, a shaky sound. “Now, why would I know about such a thing? It can’t be a forgery.”

  Kanesha looked at me, and I realized this was a signal for me to talk.

  “I’m certain it is,” I said. “I asked one of the chemistry professors here to compare it to one of the original four.”

  “Why would you do that?” The mayor stared hard at me.

  “I began to suspect, because of the contents, that something wasn’t right with it,” I said. “The story about Rachel Long’s slave getting involved with the present Jasper Singletary’s ancestor didn’t hold water. I spoke to Mr. Singletary after he’d had a chance to read that volume, and he was puzzled by it. He thought it odd that, if Celeste truly was a slave, no one in the family knew about it.”

  The mayor laughed harshly. “It’s hardly the kind of thing one would pass down to one’s family. Apparently she was light enough to pass for white, and that’s how they fooled everyone.”

  “I don’t think they could have gotten away with it,” I said. “Celeste might not have interacted with the people in town, but the other slaves would certainly have known she was one of them. I don’t think they would have been quiet about her marrying a white man once she was free. It was illegal for blacks and whites to marry then.”

  “Well, I think you’re wrong,” the mayor said. “I think they did get away with it.”

  I glanced at Kanesha, and she nodded again.

  “There is other evidence,” I said. “I found a copy of Angeline McCarthy Long’s memoir of Rachel and read it.”

  The mayor did pale visibly this time. “How did . . . But Marie said . . .” She fell silent, obviously horror-stricken over what she let slip.

  “I’m sure Marie told you that she had taken care of the library’s copy of the memoir, and I imagine you visited Miss Eulalie Estes and borrowed her copy,” I said. “Someone found the copy Marie had hidden and brought it to me. I read it. Angeline Long states very clearly tha
t Celeste was white. She was the daughter of the white overseer on the Afton plantation in New Orleans. Rachel wouldn’t have written that Celeste was a slave when she clearly wasn’t. Therefore that volume of the diary is a forgery.”

  Mrs. Long sank into the chair behind her. She looked back and forth from me to Kanesha twice. I knew my expression was every bit as stony as the deputy’s.

  “Did Marie Steverton play a role in creating the forged diary?” Kanesha asked. “Before we go any further, Your Honor, I will read you your rights, unless you waive them.”

  The mayor stared down at the floor. Behind me I heard Diesel stirring, so I set down the book I was holding and reached behind me to pat him for reassurance. He stilled under my touch.

  “Well, Mrs. Long?” Kanesha said.

  “I’ll waive them, and Mr. Harris can be your witness.” The mayor sighed. “Marie did all the work, actually. At my request.”

  “What did you promise her?” I asked. “To make sure she got tenure?”

  Mrs. Long’s head jerked up. “Yes. How did you know?”

  “It was pretty common knowledge around campus that she was desperate to get it,” I said. “She had tried and failed at previous colleges, and this was her last shot before retirement.”

  “I see. It was mostly her idea,” the mayor said. “I found Rachel’s diaries several months ago and told her about them then. She kept pestering me to let her have them, but I refused to do it. I didn’t trust her with them.”

  “How did you hit upon the scheme to forge a volume of the diary?” Kanesha asked.

  “Jasper Singletary was gaining ground in the campaign against my son, and his campaign manager was worried that unless something drastic happened, Singletary would overtake Beck and win.” The mayor shook her head. “I love my son, but he is not a natural politician. He is handsome and charming, but he doesn’t have the oratorical gifts his opponent has; nor is he as quick on his feet. My husband refuses to see that, however, and is determined that Beck will be elected. He’s too proud to believe Beck isn’t going to win.