Sean’s eyes narrowed. “You think this is connected to the murder?”
“I don’t know.” I shrugged. “None of this would have happened if we hadn’t decided to do this exhibit and then asked Mrs. Cartwright to appear at the library. Eagleton and the others might never have come to Athena.”
“You had no way of knowing a woman would be killed.” Sean gazed sternly at me. I knew it bothered him when I went into hair-shirt mode.
“I know, but I can’t help a feeling of responsibility.” Sean started to speak but I held up a hand. “Let’s just leave it at that, okay?”
His expression told me he didn’t like it, but he didn’t press the point.
“Tell me, did Eagleton venture any theories as to how the manuscripts got in his suite and under his mattress?”
“He kept insisting that Eugene Marter had to be behind it.” Sean shook his head. “Though he couldn’t explain exactly why Marter would do it. Or when and how Marter got access to his hotel room.”
I considered that for a moment. “What if someone is trying to get him out of the way?”
“Out of the way of what?” Sean got up to pour himself more coffee.
“Good question. Perhaps somebody is working for another publisher.” I mulled that over for a moment. “No, that seems far-fetched.”
“Maybe.” Sean sipped his coffee. “It seems even more far-fetched as an attempt to link Eagleton to the murder.”
“It doesn’t make much sense. Let’s look at it from another angle. What if Eagleton really did steal the manuscripts? How could he possibly have hoped to get away with it? If he published them, he’d be putting the evidence right out there.”
“He didn’t strike me as a stupid man, although he might be desperate for money,” Sean said. “He had to know—if he did take them—that he was bound to be found out.” He shook his head. “No, it won’t wash. Frankly, that’s why I’m inclined to believe he didn’t steal them. It would be a completely asinine thing to do.”
“Could it be what Eagleton claimed then? Eugene Marter playing a practical joke?” I frowned. “But if Marter is truly leery of tangling with the law, he’d know Kanesha would take a dim view of such an idiotic stunt.”
“Who else had access to the manuscripts?” Sean asked. He continued before I could respond. “Obviously Mrs. Cartwright and Mrs. Marter did. Anyone else?”
“The agent might have,” I said. “She’s unaccounted for, but why would a reputable agent do something like that? It doesn’t make any sense.”
“Unless the person who did it wasn’t bright enough to consider all the angles.” Sean laughed. “That’s why a lot of criminals get caught. They’re not all that smart to begin with, and they do dumb things all the time.”
“The whole thing looks pretty silly to me.”
Sean’s cell phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen. “Kanesha. I’ll put it on speaker.” He punched a button.
Kanesha didn’t wait for the customary greeting. “So what’s this about a missing agent?”
“My father is with me,” Sean said. “I’m going to let him tell you what he knows.” He pushed the phone to the middle of the table between us.
I gave the deputy a rundown of the few facts that I knew.
“What is her name again?” Kanesha asked.
“Yancy Thigpen,” I said. “She works in New York City.”
“My client said he expected Ms. Thigpen to be present at the meeting he had with Mrs. Cartwright and Mrs. Marter earlier today. He was puzzled by her absence, and after talking with my father, I have to agree. It is odd that she wasn’t there.”
“She might be stuck out on a country road somewhere, lost and out of gas.” Kanesha sounded weary. “Cell phone reception isn’t always that good in those areas either.” She paused. “Or she could be in a hotel room in Memphis. I’ll put out the word to be on the lookout for her. I’m sure she’ll turn up before long.”
“I sincerely hope so.” Maybe my imagination was going into overdrive, but I felt uneasy about this situation. I couldn’t help thinking there was a sinister aspect to the young woman’s nonappearance.
“In the meantime, if you hear anything further, let me know.” Kanesha ended the call.
“Nothing more we can do at the moment.” Sean yawned and stuck his cell phone in his pocket. “I don’t know about you, Dad, but I’m ready for bed. I’ve got a long day ahead of me tomorrow, thanks to my new client.” He pushed back his chair and stood.
“You go on up,” I said. “I’m going back to bed as soon as I double-check that the doors are locked.”
The back door in the kitchen was secure, as was the front door. I headed down the hall to the back porch door. On impulse I went out on to the porch and looked out at the backyard. The illumination from the streetlights penetrated only dimly here, and clouds obscured the stars. I stood for a few minutes, listening to the quiet of the neighborhood around me.
I sent up a brief but fervent prayer on behalf of Yancy Thigpen, hoping that she would soon be found, safe and unharmed.
My mood somber, I locked the porch door and walked slowly up to my bed.
TWENTY-NINE
I had a distinct sense of déjà vu the next morning when the phone rang a few minutes after seven and Kanesha was on the other end.
“Good morning, Deputy. What can I do for you?”
Kanesha sounded tired when she answered. “Sorry to bother you again so early, but I need to talk to you. All right if I drop by?”
“I’m up and dressed, so come on by as soon as you like.” I still had a nearly full pot of coffee, too, and I figured she could use some.
“Be there in less than ten.” She ended the call.
“We’ve got company coming.” I looked down at Diesel. The cat chirped at me and then went back to washing his left front leg.
I fetched a clean mug from the cabinet for Kanesha and set it by the coffeepot. Before I could pick up my own cup for a sip, my cell phone interrupted me.
“Good morning, Melba,” I said, feeling a bit guilty that I hadn’t called her yesterday afternoon to check on her. “How are you doing?”
“As well as could be expected,” she said. “Look, is it okay if I come on over? I know you’re usually up early, even on a Sunday morning, and I’d like to talk to you about Carrie.”
“Sure, you know you’re always welcome. But Kanesha called just before you did, and she’s on her way here, too.”
“That’s fine,” Melba said. “I need to talk to her anyway. I’ll be there in about ten minutes.”
“Sounds good.” I put my cell phone away. “Diesel, guess who’s coming now? Your buddy Melba.”
He recognized the name, and he warbled several times. He stopped washing himself and wandered out of the kitchen. He was headed for the front door to wait for Melba, but Kanesha would arrive first.
Hard upon that thought came the sound of the doorbell. I hurried to the front door to admit Kanesha, first telling the cat that this wouldn’t be his buddy. Diesel meowed and moved aside.
“Morning,” Kanesha said as she stepped inside.
“Come on out to the kitchen. I have fresh coffee waiting.”
“Wonderful, thanks.”
I could hear the tiredness in only those few words. I wondered if she’d had any chance to rest in the past twenty-four hours. I debated asking her, but she could be so prickly at times. Instead I poured the coffee and handed her the mug. She sank into a chair and rested her elbows on the table while she sipped.
“Rough night?” I asked, figuring that was safe enough as a conversation starter. I took a chair across from her.
“Crazy night,” Kanesha muttered. She drew a deep breath and rubbed a hand across her eyes. “Managed about three hours’ sleep, I think.”
“That’s not good,” I said. I figured I’d bette
r let her know Melba was on the way, and I broke the news.
“Good.” Kanesha downed the rest of her coffee and held out the mug. “Could I have a refill?”
“Of course.”
“Thanks,” she said. “As tired as I am, caffeine’s the only thing keeping me moving and barely upright.”
I handed her the full mug. Since she appeared to have let her usual defenses down, I decided to probe a little. “Can’t you take some time to go home and get a few more hours of sleep? Are things happening that fast that you can’t?”
“Not exactly fast,” Kanesha said, “just hard-down crazy. But I might as well wait till Ms. Gilley gets here so I don’t have to repeat anything.” She covered her mouth as she yawned, and I could feel the waves of exhaustion emanating from her.
Less than a minute later the doorbell rang, and I could hear Diesel’s happy chirping as I headed for the front door. He knew it would be Melba this time, and he was scratching at the knob when I got there. If he ever figured out how to operate the deadbolt on the front door, we were in trouble. “Let me,” I told him.
Melba entered to joyous warbling from the cat, and I moved aside to let the two greet each other. Melba bent so that her face and the cat’s were close and rubbed noses with him. She scratched his head and talked to him for a moment before she straightened and looked up at me.
She didn’t appear quite as exhausted as Kanesha, but I could tell she hadn’t had enough rest. She was impeccably groomed and dressed like she was ready to go to the office, and that was reassuring. That was Melba in control.
“We’re in the kitchen.” I gave her a brief hug, and she and the cat preceded me.
Melba and Kanesha greeted each other while I poured coffee for the new arrival. Melba took my spot, so I sat at the end of the table between them. Diesel wasn’t about to let Melba get more than two inches away from him and crowded against her chair, his head on her thigh.
“Deputy Bates is mighty helpful, I want you to know,” Melba said, looking at Kanesha. “I know he must have been worn out, but he never said a word or tried to hurry me up at all.”
“He knows his job,” Kanesha replied. She glanced at me. “I asked Ms. Gilley to have a look through Mrs. Taylor’s house, see if she thought anything was missing. Bates was there to assist.”
“And to make sure I didn’t take anything myself.” Melba smiled. “Far as I could tell, none of Carrie’s jewelry or valuables was missing. She didn’t believe in having a lot of knickknacks around anyway, and that made things a lot easier. She didn’t have much jewelry that was valuable, either, and the two pieces she did have are probably in her safety-deposit box in the bank.”
“Then I suppose you can rule out robbery as a motive,” I said to Kanesha.
“There was something missing,” Melba said before Kanesha could respond to my statement. “I doubt anybody else would consider it valuable, but I know to Carrie it surely was.”
Was it one of her books? I wondered.
“What was it then?” Kanesha asked.
“I thought I better have a look through Carrie’s files,” Melba said. “I wasn’t as interested in those kids’ books as she was, even though I read some of them when I was a kid myself. But I knew how important all that stuff was to Carrie. Anyway, I had heard her talk often enough about that Mrs. Cartwright. Carrie sure did an awful lot of research on that woman.” She paused to sip at her coffee and stare into space for a moment.
Sometimes Melba took a long time to get to the point, and this was obviously going to be one of those times. I was ready to poke her, and I’m sure Kanesha felt as impatient as I did, waiting for Melba to say what she had to say. I suspected she did it on purpose, but she would never admit it.
“Does that mean some of Mrs. Taylor’s files are missing?” Kanesha asked, a slight edge to her tone.
Melba nodded. “Yes, ma’am, they sure are. She had just about a whole file drawer on Mrs. Cartwright. I should know, because she showed it to me often enough.” There was a catch in her voice, and for a moment I thought she might break down. Funny how those little quirks of a friend’s personality could hit you when they were gone, things that annoyed you when they were alive, but now didn’t seem all that bad. I knew how Melba probably felt right then.
Kanesha must have sensed it, too, because she didn’t press Melba to continue.
After a heavy sigh and another sip of coffee, Melba went on. “When I checked that drawer, it was about one-third empty. There was no sign of that stuff anywhere else in the house, so whoever killed her took it.”
THIRTY
“Was there something really valuable in those files?” Kanesha asked.
Melba frowned. “I’m not sure if there was anything worth money. I don’t understand all the stuff that goes on with collecting books the way Carrie did. She did tell me a lot of her books were worth a bunch because of their condition. I guess she meant they were in real good shape. She talked about dust jackets sometimes.”
I recalled Carrie Taylor’s parting words the final time I saw her. She claimed she had items in her collection that Gordon Betts didn’t. I wondered now whether she meant documents in her files rather than specific copies of Electra Cartwright’s books. Maybe a rare copy of The Mystery at Spellwood Mansion didn’t enter into the motive for murder at all.
“Do you have any idea what kind of documents Mrs. Taylor had in her files?” Kanesha asked. “Did she ever show you what was in them?”
“She pulled them out a few times and leafed through them with me.” Melba shrugged. “Carrie was a dear friend, but I wasn’t all that crazy about Mrs. Cartwright and her books the way Carrie was. I would listen to her talk about all that stuff, because sometimes you have to let your friends go on and on about things you’re not really interested in, right?”
I nodded. Kanesha remained impassive.
Melba still hadn’t answered the critical question. I decided to risk asking it again, hoping that she would finally get to the point.
“What kind of documents did she have in those files?”
Kanesha flashed me a sour look but turned quickly back to stare at Melba.
This time Melba evidently understood the urgency of the question. “She had folders of newspaper clippings, I remember. She showed some of them to me. One that I recollect in particular was when Mrs. Cartwright went to Hollywood. There was talk about making a movie out of her Veronica Thane character, but I don’t think anything came of it.” Melba paused as if trying to recall more. “Carrie said they ended up making movies of Nancy Drew instead, and so Veronica didn’t make it to the big screen. There were articles, though, with photos of Mrs. Cartwright meeting with a producer. I think there was even one with an actress that they were lining up to play the lead.”
This was all news to me. I had no idea that Veronica Thane had ever been considered for the movies. I had seen the four movies Bonita Granville made, playing Nancy Drew. While they were entertaining, the Nancy of the films was not my Nancy. I wondered what producers would have made of Veronica’s character.
“Do you remember who the actress was?” I asked.
Kanesha glared at me, and I realized I could be leading Melba away from the point again.
“It doesn’t matter,” I said hastily. “I’ll look it up later. What else was in the files besides newspaper clippings?”
“Actually the files were mostly newspaper articles with some magazine ones, too,” Melba said. “There was a real small file folder with a few letters, and two of them were Carrie’s prize possessions.”
“Why were they so important?” Kanesha asked when Melba failed to continue.
Melba didn’t answer right away. She stared at her mug, but when I offered more coffee, she shook her head. “I’m gathering my thoughts, is all. What I’m going to tell you may sound real pathetic to you, but it’s the truth about Carrie and who she wa
s and how she felt.” For a moment I thought she was going to cry, but she took a deep breath and looked at each of us in turn.
“Go on, honey,” I said softly. “Just tell us.”
Melba nodded. “When she was around ten or eleven, Carrie said, all she could think about was Veronica Thane. She started reading those books about then, and she said when she read the first one, it felt like she had found a sister. I know that probably sounds weird, but it was how she felt. See, Carrie was an orphan like Veronica, and I guess she kind of identified with the girl in the books because of that.”
Kanesha nodded. “It’s understandable.”
Looking slightly relieved, Melba continued. “The thing was, Veronica had this rich old lady who took her in, and she had all the nice clothes she could wear, had her own car, and lived in a mansion with servants. Carrie got adopted by a couple who were doing okay when she first went to them, but not long after, her dad went bust somehow, and they were pretty poor. Veronica lived the kind of happy fancy life that Carrie wanted, and so she latched on to that character and just never outgrew her.”
The poignancy of Carrie Taylor’s story touched me, and I could tell that it affected Kanesha as well. She presented a hard shell to the world, but I knew there was a compassionate person underneath it. Melba’s words affected us both.
Diesel sensed this, too. After sitting contentedly by Melba all this time, he reacted to the emotional temperature change and warbled a few times. Even Kanesha smiled. Melba scratched the cat’s head, and after a moment Diesel moved around to me. I had to give him attention and assure him that I was okay. He was still a bit shy of Kanesha, however.
“Carrie loved the books so much,” Melba went on, “that she was determined to meet the woman who wrote them. Carrie was adopted when she was about six months old, and she had no idea who her real parents were. If her adopted mama and daddy knew, they never told her, and she was never able to find any records.” She paused for a breath. “Carrie said she got it in her head that Mrs. Cartwright was her long-lost mother. She was too young to understand, of course, or even think about the fact that those books were being published twenty years before she was born. You know how kids can be when they want something to be true hard enough, they don’t always think logically about it.”
The Silence of the Library Page 17
