File M for Murder

by Miranda James

  Before Laura could respond, my thirty-six-pound cat jumped into her lap, startling all of us.

  “Diesel. You rascal.” Laura hugged the cat as he warbled at her. Diesel adored my daughter, and the feeling was mutual. Last Christmas Laura threatened to catnap Diesel and take him back to California with her.

  After a minute or so of loving attention to the cat, Laura focused again on me and Sean. “I’m going to be filling in at the college for a professor on maternity leave this fall. The person who was originally hired to do it got a full-time job and backed out, and I’m the last-minute replacement.”

  “That’s wonderful,” I said. “So you’ll teach acting?”

  Laura nodded. “A couple of basic courses, plus I’ll be helping with the fall productions of the Theater Department. Should be fun.”

  A cell phone ring interrupted our conversation. Laura frowned as she pulled the phone from the pocket of her shirt. “Sorry about that.” She glanced at the display, then stuck the phone back in her pocket. “I am so not in the mood for him right now.” She grimaced.

  “Him who?” I had to ask. Was some guy bothering her?

  A guilty expression flashed across her face. “Oh, it’s just my former boyfriend. He’s always having some kind of crisis. But what can you expect from a playwright?” She wrinkled her nose and frowned.

  Playwright? Dismay hit me. No, surely not. Not him.

  TWO

  “I thought you dumped him,” Sean said. “For what, the third time now?” He quirked an eyebrow at his sister.

  Laura grimaced. “Second time. But I’ve got to put up with him this semester. He helped me get the gig, after all.”

  “Are you talking about Connor Lawton?” I tried to keep my distaste for the man from coloring my voice.

  Laura nodded. “Have you met him?”

  “Several times,” I said. “He’s been in the library every Friday that I’ve worked the past month.” I paused. “I don’t remember you mentioning him before, although it sounds like you told Sean about him. Have you known him long?”

  “Eight months, I guess.” Laura glanced down at Diesel, still lying across her lap. She stroked his head, and he purred in response. His tail flopped up and down across my legs. “I met him right after Christmas when I was cast in one of his plays. I told you about that. You know, the one where I played the waitress who thought Elvis had possessed her husband’s body?”

  Sean snorted with laughter, and I had to smile. Laura was a huge Elvis fan, and I imagined she had had great fun with the part.

  “I remember that much, but you neglected to tell me you were dating the playwright.” Or anything about him, I added to myself.

  “Sorry about that, Dad.” Laura shrugged. “The only reason Sean knew about him was because he spent a weekend in LA with me and saw the play back in February. I wasn’t dating Connor then, though he’d already asked me out a few times.”

  “He came to Laura’s dressing room after the play.” Sean met my gaze as I turned to look at him. “He seemed okay, though he sure has a healthy opinion of himself. He spent probably fifteen minutes quoting reviews of his plays.” Sean shook his head in obvious amusement.

  Laura snickered. “That’s Connor. Self-absorbed ought to be his middle name. I told him that once, and he took it as a compliment.”

  “Why would you date someone like that?” I asked, puzzled by what I was learning about my daughter. “I can’t see the attraction myself.” Not for someone as independent and strong-minded as you, I added silently.

  “He can be charming and sweet when he makes an effort. And he really is an awesome writer. His plays are amazing.” Laura ran a hand through her curls. Diesel warbled, and she rubbed his head again. “But he’s also exhausting. High maintenance could be his other middle name.”

  “Are you together now?” Sean asked.

  “No, just friends at the moment,” Laura said. “And that’s all we’ll ever be, trust me.”

  “I hope it stays that way,” I said. I didn’t fancy the idea of Connor Lawton as a potential son-in-law. “You can do a lot better, no matter how gifted he is.”

  “You don’t think anyone’s good enough for me.” Laura poked my arm with a finger. “Admit it.”

  “True,” I said, treating her to a mock-severe frown. Then I grinned. “Probably no one ever will be, though I’m willing to be convinced at some point.”

  “Maybe there’s a prince somewhere willing to marry a commoner.” Sean smirked. “Dad can recruit him for you, little sister.”

  “And maybe he’ll have a sister for my big brother,” Laura said in a sweet tone. “That is, if she’s willing to kiss a frog.” She stuck her tongue out at Sean.

  I laughed but decided to shift the conversation back to Connor Lawton. “Will it be awkward for you, having to be around him all semester?”

  Laura shrugged. “I’m going to be way too busy to think much about him. Besides, we get along fine as friends.”

  “The less you have to be around him, the better,” I said.

  Laura shook her head at me. “Dad, don’t worry. I’ve dealt with bigger pains than Connor, believe me.”

  I was probably better off not following up on that statement, I decided. I worried enough about Laura on her own in Hollywood as it was. “I’ll try. What say we go to the kitchen and figure out something for dinner?”

  “Sounds good to me,” Laura said. “I’m starving. All I had for lunch was a few pretzels on the plane.” Diesel hopped from her lap to the floor and rubbed his head against her leg.

  I smiled down at the cat. “Diesel is hoping you’ll drop him some tidbits like you did the last time you were here. Just don’t overdo it.”

  Laura and Diesel came with me to the kitchen. Sean disappeared upstairs, saying he’d be down later.

  In the kitchen I found a note stuck to the refrigerator door with a cat magnet. I recognized Stewart Delacorte’s handwriting. Stewart, a professor of chemistry at Athena College, moved in five months ago after his great-uncle was murdered in the Delacorte family home. His stay was supposed to last only until he found a permanent place to live. Somehow he didn’t seem to be able to find a place he liked, so he was still here, occupying a large bedroom on the third floor.

  The note informed me that Stewart had prepared a chicken and mushroom risotto and left it in the refrigerator. The note included instructions on heating it for supper. He concluded by stating that he would probably be late tonight and not to wait for him.

  “Looks like I don’t have to cook after all,” I said as I handed the note to Laura.

  She skimmed the contents and handed it back to me. “Sounds yummy. You told me he’s an awesome cook.”

  “He is,” I said. “Between him and Azalea, Sean and I have been eating better than ever.” I patted my waistline ruefully. “I need to be getting more exercise. I miss seeing my feet.”

  Laura laughed. “Oh, Dad, stop exaggerating.” She cocked her head to one side as she regarded me. “But if you want to get up and run with me in the morning, I’d love it.”

  “Thanks, honey,” I said. “I’ll stick to walking, if you don’t mind. Besides, Diesel likes to go with me, and he doesn’t get motivated to run unless there’s a squirrel involved.”

  At the sound of his name, Diesel chirped several times, and Laura reached over to scratch his head. “Yeah, big boy, I bet you’d run with me, wouldn’t you? We’d have fun.”

  I laughed at the expression on the cat’s face. I would have sworn he understood Laura and didn’t like the notion of running any better than I did. He moved away from Laura and closer to me.

  “I guess not,” Laura said with a wry grin.

  “I’ll make a salad to go with the risotto,” I said and opened the fridge door to find the salad makings.

  Laura set a large bowl on the counter by the sink and pulled a knife from the drawer. “Do you have any plans for tomorrow night, Dad?”

  I placed lettuce, onions, and red bell pepper
s in the sink. “Helen Louise and I talked about having dinner.” Helen Louise Brady, owner of a local Parisian-style bakery, was a good friend, and lately we’d been spending more time together. We’d known each other since childhood, and she had also been a friend of my late wife’s. “Was there something you wanted to do?”

  “I don’t want to interfere with your plans.” Laura began to tear the lettuce and drop it into the bowl. “There’s a cocktail party tomorrow night, kind of a reception for the faculty and the grad students in the Theater Department. I was hoping you’d go with me.”

  “I don’t think Helen Louise would mind skipping dinner when I explain,” I said. “I’ll invite her for Sunday dinner instead. She’d like to see you again.”

  “Thanks, Dad. I appreciate it.” Laura found the chopping board, then started cutting up the peppers. “Do you know any of the Theater Department faculty?”

  “Not well,” I said as I tried to remember names.

  “The host of the party is the chair of the department,” Laura said. “His name is Montana Johnston.”

  I snickered. “His real name is Ralph. I do know him. He decided a few years ago when he started writing a play that he needed a more artistic-sounding name, and he came up with Montana.”

  “I thought it sounded odd.” Laura dropped slices of pepper into the bowl.

  “Pretentious is more like it,” I said. Unpleasant memories of the man’s play came back to me. “I actually went to a performance of his play, and it was dreadful. The man just isn’t the best writer.”

  “Then he’d better not ever ask Connor to read anything of his,” Laura said. “Connor is brutal to less-talented writers.”

  “Like water off a duck’s back with ol’ Montana,” I said as I shredded the last of the lettuce. I picked up the onion and started to peel it. “Ralph has the thickest skin of any person I’ve ever known. He’s as convinced of his own worth as your friend Connor. It might be interesting to see the two of them trying to dent each other’s hides.”

  “Count me out,” Laura said with an exaggerated shudder. “That’s the kind of drama I don’t need, thankyouverymuch.”

  “Dad, can you come here a minute?” Sean’s voice came from out in the hall.

  “As soon as I finish with this onion,” I called out in response.

  “Could you come now?” Sean’s tone sounded more urgent.

  “Okay.” I handed the onion to Laura and wiped my hands on a dishcloth before I went out to the hallway.

  Sean stood there, a puzzled expression on his face, as he stared at a large piece of paper he held gingerly by two corners. As I moved closer to him, he glanced at me.

  “I found this on the floor by the front door,” Sean said. “Someone must have slipped it through the mail slot. It’s offensive.” He turned the sheet so I could see it clearly.

  The paper was a photograph, a publicity shot of Laura. I had one like it framed on my bedside table.

  But my copy of the photo didn’t have a red A painted on Laura’s forehead.

  THREE

  Sean shifted position so we could examine the photograph together. “You think Lawton is responsible for this?”

  “Why would he do such a thing?” My anger was building over this insult to my daughter.

  Then a chilling thought struck me. Was it a threat of some kind instead?

  Diesel rubbed against my legs and muttered. He always picked up on my emotions, and he didn’t like it when I was upset or angry. I rubbed his head to reassure him.

  “Other than you and me, who else in Athena knows her? Or even knows she’s here?” Sean continued to stare at the photograph.

  “Good point, although I can’t imagine why he’d do something like this.” I locked gazes with Sean. “I don’t want her to see this.”

  “See what?”

  I was so intent on the photograph that I failed to hear Laura come up behind Sean and me in the hall. I nudged Sean, hoping he would hide the photograph, but he didn’t move.

  “I think she should see it,” Sean said. “I wanted you to see it first, Dad.”

  “What are you hiding from me?” Laura stood in front of me, right hand on her hip, head cocked in the same direction. She wrinkled her nose and frowned, sure signs of irritation from her.

  “This.” Sean turned the photograph toward her.

  Laura’s eyes widened, and then she laughed. “So Damitra’s in town. I didn’t figure it would take her long, once she heard I’d be spending several months here.”

  “Who is Damitra, pray tell? And why do you think she’s responsible for this?” I was surprised that Laura appeared to take it so lightly.

  “Damitra Vane.” Laura rolled her eyes. “She’s this nutcase Connor dated before me. Basically harmless, but she’s crazy jealous. Calls herself an actress, but she’s terrible. The only reason she ever gets cast in anything is her open-leg policy with casting directors.” She flashed a wicked grin at me. “Oh, and her giant boobs.”

  Sean burst out laughing. I could feel my lips twitch, but I wasn’t ready to dismiss the incident. The altered photograph set off an unpleasant tingle in my gut, and I feared Laura might be dismissing this too quickly.

  “How would she know you’re here?” Sean asked.

  “We have mutual friends in LA, and one of them probably told her I was coming to Athena.” Laura shrugged. “Plus I’m sure she’s heard me talk about my father and remembered Dad’s name. Then all she had to do was look up the address in the phone book.”

  “She sounds like a stalker to me,” I said.

  My daughter put her arm around my waist. “Come on now, Dad, don’t start worrying. I promise you Damitra is harmless. To me, anyway. Connor’s the one who should be looking over his shoulder. She follows him everywhere.”

  “Has she ever done anything physically aggressive toward you?” I wasn’t ready to drop the matter.

  “No, she hasn’t. Just stupid little tricks like this.” Laura stepped back and crossed her arms over her stomach. Her nose wrinkled. “You don’t need to get all protective, either of you.” She glared at her brother. “I’m perfectly capable of handling this myself.”

  Diesel rubbed against Laura, obviously bothered by her heightened emotions. “See, you’re upsetting Diesel, and that’s not good.” She crouched by the cat and cooed softly to him as she scratched his head.

  I was still concerned, but I could see there was no point in discussing this further. I’d have a quiet word with Sean later, ask him to nose around and find out whether this Damitra Vane was in Athena. In the meantime I intended to keep an eye on Laura—as much as I could without riling her. “Let’s get back to preparing dinner,” I said. “You finish the salad, and I’ll reheat the risotto. Sean, you set the table.”

  My children and my cat followed me into the kitchen. Laura applied herself to the salad and, once her back was turned, Sean and I exchanged glances. He gave a quick nod, and I knew he understood what I wanted.

  “Will Justin be here for dinner?” Sean asked, his tone nonchalant as he pulled plates from the cabinet.

  “No, he’s with his dad this weekend,” I said. “He’ll be back Sunday evening.”

  Justin Wardlaw, a sophomore at Athena College, was my other boarder besides Stewart. When I inherited this large house from my late aunt Dottie, I kept up her tradition of renting rooms to students attending Athena. Justin boarded with me last year, and now he was almost family.

  “How is he doing?” Laura asked. “He seemed like such a sweet kid when I was here for the holidays. I felt bad for him, after all he went through.”

  “He’s doing fine.” I popped the dish of risotto into the oven and set the temperature and the timer. “He occasionally has some rough moments, but he’s handling everything well, considering.” Last fall Justin had been a suspect in a murder case and had suffered some serious personal losses. With his father and me, he had a strong support system, and Diesel, who adored him, was a huge help as well.

&nb
sp; “The risotto will need about fifteen minutes to reheat,” I said. “In the meantime, shall we start on the salad?”

  “Ta-dah.” Laura presented the bowl of leafy greens, peppers, and onion in a sweeping gesture and set it on the table.

  After we each chose a drink for the meal, we sat down, and Laura dished out the salad. While we ate Laura regaled us with some amusing anecdotes from her recent auditions, and I listened for the buzzer on the oven.

  Sean talked about a couple of the cases he’d worked on over the summer as we enjoyed the risotto. While he studied for the Mississippi bar exam, Sean was doing investigative work for Athena’s best-known lawyer, Q. C. Pendergrast and his associate, his daughter Alexandra. Sean and I met the legendary Pendergrast and Alexandra a few months ago when I was hired to inventory the rare book collection of one of the lawyer’s late clients, James Delacorte. Though Sean and Alexandra didn’t hit it off at first, they now worked well together, and I was beginning to suspect that Alexandra could very well be my daughter-in-law one of these days.

  When we finished our meal, Sean insisted he would clean the kitchen and sent Laura and me off. We made ourselves comfortable on the couch in the living room. The cat sprawled between us, his head and upper torso in Laura’s lap, his back legs and tail against my leg. He was one blissful kitty. His purr rumbled, making the origin of his name obvious.

  Laura wanted to hear more about the Delacorte murder case, and I obliged with a summary of the details. Laura loved mysteries as much as I did, and soon the conversation turned to books. Sean joined us then, and we talked for nearly three hours. Diesel remained between Laura and me the entire time, thoroughly content.

  Around ten o’clock I yawned and declared that I was ready for bed. “You stay up as long as you like,” I said. Both my children were night owls, but I wasn’t. “Ready for bed, Diesel?”

  The cat lifted his head from Laura’s lap and yawned at me. He rolled over and stretched as I stood up from the couch, and he meowed three times at Laura.