File M for Murder

by Miranda James

  Someone spoke in an undertone, and I turned to see Frank Salisbury, his head near Laura’s. She laughed, and the buzz of conversation resumed.

  Connor Lawton uttered an obscenity in a loud voice and jumped up from the sofa. He glared at Laura and Frank for a moment, but they appeared not to notice him. Connor’s face reddened, and he took two steps toward Laura’s group.

  Connor looked furious. I thought I might have to intervene before the situation got out of hand. Instead, the playwright turned and brushed past me into the hall. Moments later the front door slammed.

  Personally, I hoped he didn’t come back. I’d had about as much of Connor Lawton as I could take for one night. The party would be much less tense without his brooding presence.

  FIVE

  The women Connor abandoned drifted away from the sofa, all except the heavyset woman in the caftan. She sat down and gazed about her. Something seemed familiar about her face. She caught my eye and beckoned me with a smile.

  She patted the sofa beside her. “Please join me.” She waited until I was seated to continue. “I recognize you, but you probably don’t remember me.” She gazed expectantly into my eyes.

  She wore her gray hair in a bob cut an inch below her ears, and her hazel eyes focused intently on me. Her face was bare of makeup, with frown lines etched deep in her forehead and a mole high on her right cheek. From this close vantage point I saw that her caftan was decorated with elaborate designs. Hundreds of beads and sequins winked at me, lit by the glow of a nearby lamp. Long earrings in the shape of a peacock’s tail, inlaid with iridescent stones, dangled from her earlobes and brushed her shoulders when she moved her head. I detected the subtle hint of lavender and another fragrance, and the scents triggered an elusive memory.

  “Sorry, you seem so familiar, but I’m afraid I can’t remember your name. How are you connected with the Theater Department?” Maybe I had seen her around campus.

  She laughed. “You’re Charlie Harris, and I used to babysit you when you were five or six years old.” She cocked her head like an inquisitive parrot. “I heard you’d moved back home.”

  I wracked my brain as I examined her face. Then a name popped into my head. “Sarabeth. Now I remember. You used to sing to me, didn’t you?”

  “That’s right. I’m Sarabeth Conley. I was Sarabeth Norris back then.” She chuckled. “Your two favorite songs were ‘My Favorite Things’ and ‘Bibbidi-Bobbidi-Boo’ as I recall.”

  I blushed. When she babysat me Sarabeth was a pretty young girl, maybe fifteen, and I loved sitting next to her in my dad’s old armchair while she sang.

  Now Sarabeth was sixtyish, and I’d describe her plump face as more handsome than pretty. The odor of lavender seemed stronger now, and I recalled snuggling close to Sarabeth as she read to me, her perfume a light but pleasant presence in my nose.

  “I’m the department administrator,” Sarabeth said. “Have been for the past twenty-five years. You work in the library, don’t you?”

  I nodded. “I’m the archivist and rare book cataloger. Part-time, and I volunteer at the public library several days a month.” As I conversed with Sarabeth I darted quick glances at the doorway. I hoped Connor Lawton wouldn’t come back.

  “I visited the public library all the time when I was a girl.” Her tone sounded wistful. “These days I don’t ever have time to read like I did back then.”

  “That’s too bad,” I said. “I’m lucky, I guess, to have a fair amount of time to read. I love mysteries especially.” I paused. “When you have time, what do you like to read?”

  A faint tinge of red brightened her cheeks. “Romances, Regencies in particular. Mostly I end up rereading my Georgette Heyer novels.” Her fingers moved restlessly in her lap.

  “Heyer is wonderful, isn’t she?” I chuckled. “I have to confess, I love a good historical romance novel occasionally myself, and there’s nobody better than Heyer. I like to reread her, too.”

  Sarabeth perked up at my response, and I figured she was embarrassed—as some readers are—to admit to reading romance novels. A good book is a good book, I’ve always thought, whatever the genre. I had no patience for snobbery when it came to fiction reading.

  I made a casual sweep of the room and began to breathe easier. Still no sign of Connor Lawton.

  Sarabeth and I discussed some mutual favorites for a few minutes—Barbara Metzger, Mary Jo Putney, Meredith Duran, Roberta Gellis, among others—and then the conversation veered away from fiction entirely.

  “Your daughter is causing a stir.” Sarabeth laughed and gestured toward the other sofa. “Like ducks on a june bug, the men here tonight. And not just the straight ones. She’s a knockout.”

  “Thank you,” I said. “She’s quite an accomplished actress. I’m proud of her.”

  “I read her résumé.” Sarabeth nodded. “All her theater work is great for our program, and her exposure on television is advantageous, too. We’re delighted to have her for the semester.”

  “I am, too.” I laughed. “But it was quite a surprise. I didn’t find out about it until yesterday.”

  “I’m sure you’re glad to have her home for a few months.” Sarabeth glanced away. “It’s hard not being able to see them when you want.”

  I detected a note of pain in her voice, and when I spoke my tone was gentle. “Do you have children?”

  “No, not really.” Sarabeth’s gaze remained fixed away from me. “A much-younger brother who is more like a son, but that’s all.” Some private sorrow seemed to engulf her.

  I wasn’t quite sure how to respond to that, so I picked up on an earlier remark. “Laura living in California is tough,” I said. “I’m sure she’ll enjoy the semester here, but then she’ll be off to Hollywood again.” Where Connor Lawton would return eventually, and that thought unsettled me.

  Sarabeth faced me again. “How well does she know Connor Lawton?”

  I was taken aback by the question. For a moment I thought she’d read my mind. “They’re friends,” I said in a cautious tone. I wasn’t about to discuss my daughter’s private life with a relative stranger. “They’ve worked together in Los Angeles.”

  Sarabeth cocked an eyebrow. “Judging from his behavior, Connor wants to be more than friends. He acted downright jealous.”

  I shifted uncomfortably on the couch. I’d thought much the same thing. “He’ll have to deal with it. Laura’s not interested.” I figured that was safe enough as a response to her blatant curiosity.

  “He’s an intense young man,” Sarabeth said. “That comes through in his plays.”

  With her long tenure in the department, she probably knew far more about modern playwrights—Connor included—than I did. “I’m not familiar with his work.”

  “He’s gifted.” Her tone turned sour as she continued. “But he has all the tact and personality of a buzz saw, and that may do him in. At some point he’ll meet somebody he can’t run over.” She glanced at her watch. “You’ll have to pardon me, Charlie. It’s been nice chatting with you, but I have something I need to take care of.” She rose stiffly from the sofa.

  I stood and earned a faint smile from Sarabeth for my old-fashioned courtesy. “I look forward to seeing you again.” She nodded before she turned and walked away.

  I surveyed the room. I spotted a couple of slightly familiar faces in the crowd, but there was no one I had a burning desire to corner for a conversation. Instead I ambled over to check out the food on the dining table.

  The spread consisted of the usual cocktail shrimp, cheese and crackers, and fruit and raw vegetables with spinach dip. I picked up one of the small plates and helped myself to a snack. I returned to the sofa to munch and finish my wine.

  I emptied my plate within minutes and contemplated heading back for more. I could easily fill up on cheese and crackers—the reincarnated mouse in me—but I figured Stewart would be making dinner, as he often did. Whatever he cooked, I wanted to be sure I had room for it.

  I deposited my empty
plate and wineglass on a tray near the table. As I turned back Laura was approaching, her new conquest, Frank, in tow.

  “Dad, would you mind if I went to dinner with Frank?” She smiled, and I detected a tinge of guilt in her tone.

  I was disappointed. I’d hoped to spend more time with her tonight. But I also found it difficult to deny my daughter the chance to have fun with someone her age. I felt heartily thankful Connor Lawton wasn’t on her arm. Frank Salisbury looked like a far better prospect to me, even on such limited acquaintance.

  “No, honey, y’all go on and have a good time. Did you bring your key with you?” I could always stay up until she came home and let her in myself, but I knew how well that would go over.

  “It’s in my bag.” She leaned forward and kissed my cheek. She whispered in my ear, “Thanks. You’re the best. And don’t worry.”

  “Thank you, sir.” Frank Salisbury regarded me with a serious expression. “I promise to bring her home safe and sound.”

  For a moment I felt like we had time-warped into the 1950s. Frank had a gravitas I seldom experienced with Laura’s dates, and I respected him for it.

  “I appreciate that,” I said with a stern smile.

  Laura winked before they turned away and headed for the door.

  I scanned the room for my host. With Laura gone, I didn’t see much point in staying. Ralph had disappeared. Perhaps he was ministering to his wife upstairs.

  No sign of him in the kitchen either. I’d done my best to behave like a proper guest, but with no host in sight, what else could I do?

  Outside, the humid August evening hit me, and I shrugged off my jacket. I took a few steps down the walk, and then the sight of a man standing on the sidewalk in front of the house next door stopped me.

  Why was Connor Lawton still hanging around? He swayed a little, seemingly transfixed by the neighboring house. Did he see something I couldn’t?

  I decided I wasn’t curious enough to accost him for answers. Instead I headed down the walk and turned away from Connor toward my car.

  “Hey! Hold on a minute.”

  I muttered, “Damn,” and turned to see Lawton gesturing imperiously to me. “Wanna talk to you a minute,” he said.

  I was tempted to ignore him, but too many generations of well-bred Southern ancestors wouldn’t let me. I ambled toward him and stopped a few paces away.

  “Can I help you?” My tone could freeze water.

  Lawton appeared impervious. He waved toward the house he’d been peering at and said, “Who lives here?” From his left hand dangled a three-quarters-empty bottle of Jack Daniels.

  “I’m afraid I don’t know,” I said. “But if you go to the library tomorrow one of the staff can help you find out.”

  “Right.” Connor nodded. “Should’ve thought of that.” He gazed at the house again. “Probably further back, too.” He swigged some bourbon.

  “Yes, or you can go to the county courthouse a few blocks away and check the records.” By now I burned with curiosity. Was he interested in buying the house?

  I waited a moment, but Lawton’s focus on the house didn’t waver. “Well, if that’s all,” I said and turned away.

  Lawton came out of his reverie. “No, hang on.” His gaze burned into mine. “You’re Laura’s dad, aren’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  Lawton nodded. “Figured. I didn’t put it together before, but when I saw her tonight, and now you, the resemblance hit me. Plus the library thing. She told me her dad’s a librarian.”

  “Yes, I am,” I said. “If that’s all, I’ll be on my way.”

  Lawton grabbed my arm before I could move away. “That’s not all.” He let go when I shook my arm and scowled at him. “Tell Laura I said she can hang around with that freaking fairy set designer all she wants, but she’ll end up back with me. Count on it.”

  I struggled to keep my tone cool. “That’s really up to Laura. She told me she’s not interested in you anymore, and I’d advise you to take that to heart. Find someone else.”

  Lawton’s face reddened, and I felt the anger radiating from him.

  “That’s crap.” He spit on the ground. “She belongs to me, and I’ll beat the hell out of anyone who tries to keep me away from her.”

  SIX

  Good thing I didn’t have a blunt weapon in my hands, or Connor Lawton’s head would have several dents in it. Ordinarily I’m not a violent man, but the belligerent playwright brought out the worst in me.

  I was so angry I couldn’t speak. Words tangled together in my brain. I took a couple of deep breaths before responding. “Back off, buster. You leave my daughter alone. Same goes for anyone she chooses to date. You cross the line, and I’ll have you in jail so fast you’ll think tomorrow is yesterday.” I loomed over him, and evidently what he read in my expression made him uneasy enough to step back.

  “You don’t scare me, old man.” He sneered, but I could tell he wasn’t as confident as his words made him sound. “You’re the one who should back off.”

  I pulled out my cell phone and punched in a number I knew all too well. When the dispatcher answered, I said, “I’d like to speak to Chief Deputy Berry, please. Tell her it’s Charlie Harris.”

  I twisted the phone away from my mouth. “She’s a close personal friend, and she owes me a few favors. Like clapping your sorry behind in jail for a few days.”

  In my ear the dispatcher said, “I’m sorry, sir, but the chief deputy ain’t available right now. Can someone else help you?”

  That wasn’t in the plan. What should I do now?

  Then I saw I didn’t have to do anything. Connor Lawton tucked tail and almost ran away from me.

  With grim satisfaction I thanked the deputy and ended the call. I watched as Lawton hopped into a car half a block away and peeled out. I stuck my phone back in my pocket and headed to my car.

  When I reached home some minutes later and entered the kitchen, I announced in a loud voice that I was home, but no one responded. Usually Diesel was waiting, but not tonight. In the hallway I hung my jacket and tie over the banister, then rolled up my sleeves as I walked to the screened-in back porch.

  I detected the aroma of Sean’s cigar when I opened the door, and before I took two steps, Diesel greeted me with a loud warble of complaint. I rubbed his head. “Sorry, boy, but I couldn’t take you. You’d have had a ball, I’m sure.” He enjoyed meeting new people and going places, unlike any other cat I’ve known.

  He kept scolding—it would take a few minutes before I’d be allowed back in his good graces. He stared up at me, and I smiled at him. Above us the whir of the ceiling fan stirred the warm air and made it bearable to be away from air conditioning.

  “That cat beats all. I’ve never heard one talk the way he does.” Sean laughed. “How was the party?” He occupied an old armchair near the end of the porch to my right, his favorite spot to relax with a cigar.

  I’d rather he didn’t smoke, but the aroma reminded me of my grandpa Harris. He’d enjoyed his cigars with a shot or two of bourbon well into his nineties, and I’d loved him dearly. Ever since his death over twenty years ago, the smell of a good stogie—health risks aside—triggered pleasant memories.

  “The party was okay, nothing special.” I sat on the weather-beaten sofa near him, and Diesel jumped up beside me. He deigned to put one paw on my leg. I scratched his back and his head, and he purred in contentment. “Laura played the belle of the ball, such as it was. She went out to dinner with someone she met from the Theater Department named Frank Salisbury. Seems like a nice young man.”

  Sean shook his head as he emitted more smoke. We both watched as it whirled toward the ceiling fan over his head. “She sure doesn’t waste any time.”

  “Neither did he.”

  Sean flashed a grin at my dry tone.

  “Connor Lawton reacted like a jerk at seeing Laura with another man.” I described the scene in the house. “Then, when I left the party, I found him outside staring at the house next d
oor.” Again I wondered about that, but now wasn’t the time to indulge in speculation. “He accosted me and threatened violence to anyone who stood between him and Laura.”

  “What?” Sean sat bolt upright. “Tell me exactly what he said.”

  I repeated the conversation as best I could remember, and Sean scowled the entire time.

  “Somebody should teach that jackass a lesson.”

  “I agree,” I said. “But I don’t want you getting into a fight with him. I’ll speak to Kanesha Berry about it and see if she’ll have a talk with him.”

  Sean laughed. “If she can’t scare the crap out of him, nobody can. She sure as heck intimidates me.” He drew on his cigar. “I doubt his verbal threat gives grounds for a restraining order, but the deputy can tell us.”

  “I hope it doesn’t come to that. Maybe Kanesha can calm him down. Laura seems so excited about teaching this semester. I don’t want anything to ruin that for her.”

  “We won’t let that happen.” Sean tapped ash into the ashtray and took another puff before he continued. “Lawton may have his hands full anyway. Damitra Vane will probably keep him too busy to think about Laura or any other woman.

  “You have to meet her, Dad. I thought Laura was exaggerating about her intelligence level. Ol’ Diesel there is like a Ph.D. compared to Ms. Vane.” He shook his head. “Talking to her exhausted me. She has the attention span of a goldfish. If that.”

  “How frustrating. Was she responsible for the offensive picture?” I didn’t care to meet her. I simply wanted her not to bother Laura.

  “Yes. And dumb as she is, she still has a kind of low cunning. Took me a few minutes, but I finally got her to admit to putting the photograph through the mail slot.” Sean drew on his cigar again.

  “What else did you say to her?”

  “I told her I was Laura’s lawyer and that Laura would sue her if she kept up the harassment. I had to explain what the big word meant, and once I did she looked frightened. Swore up and down she wouldn’t bother Laura anymore.”