File M for Murder (3 page)

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 peppers 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.

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.

“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.

“It’s okay, sweet boy, you go on up to bed. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Laura kissed his nose and scratched behind his ears. He jumped to the floor across the coffee table. Thanks to his size, he had little trouble leaping that far.

I bent to kiss Laura’s forehead, and she then kissed my cheek. “Good night, love,” I said. “See you in the morning.” I squeezed Sean’s shoulder and wished him good night.

As Diesel and I headed up the stairs, I heard Sean and Laura talking about having some coffee, and I knew they didn’t mean decaf. I shuddered. How could they drink regular coffee this late at night and then expect to sleep?
Ah, youth
, I told myself.

Before long Diesel and I were in bed, the cat with his head on his pillow, lying on his side facing me. I rubbed his head and down his side several times, and he rewarded me with chirps of contentment. He was soon asleep, and I drifted off not long after.

At some point during the night a barking dog woke me,
and I rolled over. The sounds came from the stairwell. That meant Stewart was home, and so was Dante, his poodle. Dante originally belonged to Sean, but once Stewart moved in and started fussing over him, the dog switched his adoration to my boarder. Sean seemed happy with this because, even though he was fond of the little fellow, he wasn’t that keen on having a dog. He had taken Dante to keep him from being sent to a shelter and brought him along when he moved to Athena back in the spring.