The Silence of the Library (9 page)

While Melba and I stared at the phone, the voice mail program directed Melba to punch various numbers, depending on what she wanted to do with the messages. Though her hands shook, Melba picked up the phone and made a selection—to save the message, I presumed. She set the phone back on the table. We both stared at it.

“That had to be the person who killed her.” Melba’s voice came out barely above a whisper. Her eyes filled with tears, and she pulled her hanky out of her pocket and scrubbed her face.

I felt pretty shaken myself. Diesel quickly picked up on our mutual distress and meowed anxiously. He came to me and rubbed his head against my thigh, seeking reassurance. I scratched his head as I tried to collect my thoughts. Diesel quieted under my ministrations.

Melba continued to sniffle, and I felt helpless in the face of her grief and horror. I would not soon forget the sound of Carrie Taylor’s voice as she left that final message for her best friend. I took a deep breath to steady my own nerves before going around the table to bend over my friend and give her a hug.

Melba clung to me, and I muttered, “It’s okay, honey, I’m here,” over and over. Slowly she calmed, and I felt her relax in my arms. I released her gently, and she gave me a tremulous smile. I patted her shoulder before I went back to my chair opposite her.

“Thank you, Charlie. I don’t know what I’d have done if I had been alone when I heard that.” Melba sighed. “I’ll have nightmares about that phone call. If only I’d been awake and able to talk to her, she might have told me who was at the door.”

I felt a deep chill all of a sudden as a terrifying thought struck me. Had the man at the door seen Carrie Taylor on the phone? If he had, would he try to track down the person she had been talking to? Melba could be in grave danger if the killer thought Carrie had identified him to someone.

Did I dare share that thought with Melba right now? She was upset enough, and I had no idea how she’d react if I told her she could be a target for the killer as well. I needed to talk to Kanesha. This was a job for the professionals.

Melba apparently had not noticed my brief lapse of attention. She pushed back her chair. “Excuse me a minute. I’m going to wash my face. Lord only knows what I must look like by now. I’m ashamed to let you see me like this.” She scurried out of the room before I could voice a disclaimer.

Diesel warbled at me, seeking more reassurance, and I rubbed his head and told him what a sweet boy he was for being so good to his friend Melba.

The doorbell interrupted our little chat, and Melba called out, asking me to see who it was, if I didn’t mind.

My pulse raced as I headed for the front door. My fears for Melba’s safety dominated my thoughts. What if the killer had come to call?

I quickly dismissed that notion, because what killer would be stupid enough to call on someone in broad daylight, when there was a car in the driveway?

Nevertheless, I paused in front of the door. I couldn’t believe Melba had no peephole. That wasn’t a good idea for a woman living alone. I took a deep breath and opened the door.

“Thank the Lord,” I said when I saw Kanesha Berry standing there.

She did not look happy to see me, however, as I stood aside and waved her in. Diesel greeted her with a loud meow, and she muttered “Hello, cat” before she focused her attention on me again.

“What are you doing here, Mr. Harris?” Kanesha glared at me.

“Who is it, Charlie?” Melba called from her bedroom. “Tell them I’ll be out in a minute.”

“It’s Kanesha Berry.” I had to raise my voice to make sure Melba heard me clearly. “We’ll be in the kitchen when you’re ready.”

I motioned for Kanesha to precede Diesel and me down the hall. Her laser stare became even more intense, but after a moment’s hesitation, she headed for the kitchen.

“To answer your question,” I said as we stepped into the sunny room, “Melba called me about forty minutes ago. She had just heard about Carrie Taylor’s death, and she was terribly upset. She asked me if I would come over, and I couldn’t say no to her. She’s one of my oldest friends.”

Kanesha’s eyes closed as she dropped into a chair. If anything, she looked even more exhausted than she had when I saw her earlier that morning. I could understand her frustration with me, but I hadn’t deliberately sought Melba out in order to interfere in the investigation.

The chief deputy’s eyes popped open. “There’s nothing I can do about it now. I’ll have to deal with the situation like I always do.” She frowned at me. “I hope I don’t have to warn you again about sticking your nose into things you shouldn’t.”

Diesel sat on the floor in front of her and stared at her. She pretended not to notice, but I could tell she was slightly unnerved by the attention. Her eyes flicked down to him every so often though she mostly focused intently on me.

“I have no intention of getting involved in your investigation.” I kept my tone even, although I was worried and irritated. “It’s not something I deliberately do because I can’t think of any other way to occupy my time. These things just happen, and somehow I end up in the middle of them.”

Before she could respond to that, I hurried on. “Listen, I’m worried that Melba could be in danger. She had a voice mail from Carrie Taylor that ended with Mrs. Taylor answering her door. She didn’t say who it was, but it was a man. It might have been the killer. I haven’t said anything to Melba because I didn’t want her to get any more upset than she already is, but something needs to be done about it.”

Kanesha rubbed a hand wearily across her eyes. “Let me talk to Mrs. Gilley and hear this message for myself. Then I’ll decide what to do.” She expelled a sharp breath. “I’m not about to let anything happen to her if I can help it, but first I have to determine whether there’s a legitimate threat. Understood?”

I nodded. “Certainly. Do you want me to leave now so that you can talk to her alone?”

Kanesha hesitated, obviously torn. I figured she would love to tell me to go home and mind my own business, but she might also have been thinking that Melba would find it easier to talk with me there.

“No, you can stay if Mrs. Gilley wants you to.” Kanesha shook her head. “Even if you didn’t, I’m sure she’d be on the phone to you the minute I walked out the door.”

“Good morning, Deputy.” Melba sounded more like her usual self when she entered the kitchen. She also looked more like her usual self. She had dressed in jeans and a sweater, combed her hair, and applied a little makeup. “Would you like some coffee? I think there’s still some in the pot, or I could make some fresh.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Gilley, but I’m fine. Mr. Harris told me earlier this morning that you were a close friend of Mrs. Taylor’s, and I wanted to talk to you about her. First, though, let me tell you how sorry I am about the death of your friend.” Kanesha’s sympathy sounded sincere, not the rote words of a stranger observing the social niceties.

“Thank you.” Melba resumed her place at the table, and I chose the chair to her left. Diesel gave up his close observation of the deputy and stretched out on the floor between Melba and me. “I’m glad you came by. There’s something I want you to hear.”

Melba picked up the cell phone and played the eerie voice mail message for Kanesha. I found it even more affecting than I did the first time I heard it. If anything, my fears for Melba’s well-being increased.

Kanesha sat stony-faced until the message ended. “Can you forward that message to me, Mrs. Gilley?” She pulled a business card from her pocket. “Here’s my number at the sheriff’s department.”

“Certainly,” Melba said as she picked up the phone. “I’ll do it right now.”

Kanesha and I waited until the task was complete and Melba set the phone aside once more. In the meantime the deputy had pulled out her notebook and pen and jotted something down in it.

“Was that the only contact you had with Mrs. Taylor yesterday?” Kanesha asked.

“Yes,” Melba said. She went on to explain the reason why she hadn’t taken the call. “I did talk to her the day before, but offhand I can’t think of anything she said to me that could have any bearing on this.”

“Please think carefully about the conversations you had with her recently, and if there’s any odd detail you remember that could be connected, let me know.” Kanesha flipped back a couple of pages in her notebook. “Mrs. Taylor mentioned having people over last night. Her neighbor Mrs. Crocker told us she saw a couple of people going in the front door around eight last night. She couldn’t see them clearly but thought they might have been two women. Any idea who they could have been?”

Melba frowned as she considered the question. “It could have been some of the ladies from church, I guess. Carrie was real involved in church work the past couple years. You might check with Althea Sprayberry. She and Carrie worked together lately on raising money for foreign missions.”

Kanesha wrote in her notebook. I hesitated to interrupt, but I had a suggestion as to the identity of the two female visitors. “Deputy, I have an idea you might also want to follow up.”

Kanesha glanced at me and nodded, so I continued. “It’s possible that the visitors were Marcella Marter and her mother, Mrs. Electra Barnes Cartwright.” I described the meeting at the library yesterday. “Perhaps Mrs. Cartwright wanted to talk to Mrs. Taylor about the newsletter she put out, or maybe her collection of material related to Mrs. Cartwright.”

“Mrs. Cartwright and her books were some of Carrie’s main interests,” Melba said. “I can imagine how thrilled she was to meet her favorite author.” She paused. “I wonder why she didn’t mention her in the message, though. I’d have thought she’d be chattering all about it.”

“We’ll follow up on both those leads.” Kanesha tapped the notebook with her pen.

My cell phone rang, startling me. “Sorry,” I muttered as I pulled it from my pocket. Teresa Farmer was calling. “Excuse me. I need to take this.” I wondered whether she had heard the news yet about Carrie Taylor.

Kanesha and Melba nodded as I stepped out of the kitchen and walked a few feet down the hallway. I answered the call.

“Charlie, sorry to bother you,” Teresa said. “But I thought I should let you know that Winston Eagleton would like to get in touch with you. He asked me for your cell phone number, but of course I couldn’t give it to him without your permission.”

“Thanks,” I said. “Did he say why he wanted to talk to me?”

“Eventually. Goodness, how that man can ramble,” Teresa said. “He wants to invite us both to a dinner party this evening.”

“Dinner party?” Had I understood Teresa correctly? “Why on earth is he having a dinner party? Hasn’t he heard what happened?”

The moment I said the words, I realized I shouldn’t have. Teresa probably didn’t know about the murder, and here I went, blabbing it without Kanesha’s permission. Too late to retract what I’d said, though.

“What are you talking about, Charlie?” Teresa sounded puzzled.

I sighed heavily. I heard warbling and looked down to see Diesel staring up at me. If a cat could look concerned, he sure did right then. I rubbed his head as I replied to Teresa. “The news hasn’t spread yet, but Carrie Taylor was found dead in her home this morning. She was murdered.”

Teresa gasped. “How horrible. The poor woman. Who would do such a thing?”

“Yes, it’s hard to imagine why anybody would want to kill such a nice person.”

“Does she have any family?” Teresa asked. “I know she was a widow, and I never heard her mention any children.”

“I don’t know,” I said. “Right now I’m at Melba Gilley’s house, and Melba was apparently Mrs. Taylor’s best friend. She’ll know if there’s anyone. Actually, Kanesha is here talking to Melba. I can’t say anything more at the moment.”

“Of course. Let me know if there’s anything I can do. Poor Melba.” Teresa still sounded shocked. “I’m beginning to think this exhibit is cursed. Should we cancel it?”

I understood Teresa’s concerns. I had wondered the same thing myself, but I finally concluded we should go ahead with our plans. I had a hunch that the murder was connected to Mrs. Cartwright somehow, and if we canceled everything, the investigation might stall. I didn’t know how Kanesha might feel about that, but I certainly wasn’t going to ask her.

I realized Teresa was waiting for a response. “No, I don’t think so. I considered that, too, but I believe we should go ahead. For one thing, we can dedicate the events to Mrs. Taylor’s memory. It’s not much, but it’s something we can do for her sake.”

“I suppose you’re right.” Teresa didn’t sound completely convinced. “In the meantime, what about Mr. Eagleton? Surely he won’t want to hold a dinner party when he finds out about Mrs. Taylor.”

“That’ll be up to him, I guess.” I was curious to speak to the man, but before I did, I wanted to check with Kanesha. Eagleton could be a suspect, unlike Teresa, and I didn’t want to step on official toes. “If he calls you back, don’t say anything to him about Mrs. Taylor. You can give him my cell number, but in the meantime, if you have his, will you forward it to me? I’ll probably call him.”

“Sure, I can do that. I won’t tell anyone else about Mrs. Taylor’s death, either.”

We said good-bye, and I stuck my phone back in my pocket. Diesel had stopped talking to me, but he still looked a little anxious. I rubbed his head a few times and told him I was fine and not to worry. He padded after me as I rejoined Kanesha and Melba in the kitchen.

“I think we’re done for now,” Kanesha was saying as I sat down. “I appreciate your time, Ms. Gilley. If I have any other questions, I’ll let you know.”

“I’ll help any way I can.” Melba’s eyes flashed. “I want you to catch the bastard who did this to my friend.”

“We will,” Kanesha said. “In the meantime, y’all be careful, and stay out of trouble.” She looked straight at me as she offered that bit of advice—or was it a warning?

Kanesha headed down the hall. I told Melba I’d be right back. I had to talk to Kanesha before she left. I followed her out the front door.

“Deputy,” I said, “I need to talk to you a minute.”

Kanesha turned back and scowled at me. “I’m in a hurry, Mr. Harris. Can it wait?”

“No, it can’t.” I folded my arms over my chest. “I’m still worried as all get-out about Melba’s safety. Have you made a decision yet about protecting her?”

Kanesha rubbed the back of her neck. “I’ll talk to the police chief, see if he can have a patrol car keep an eye on her around the clock. Our department might be able to pitch in.”

“Thank you,” I said, feeling greatly relieved. “Do you think I should say anything to her? I don’t want to terrify her, but at the same time, she certainly ought to be on her guard.”

“You know her a lot better than I do,” Kanesha said. “How do you think she’ll react if you tell her?”

“Ordinarily I’d say she could handle it because she’s a tough nut, but she’s pretty shaken up over this.”

“Use your best judgment.” Kanesha shrugged. “We’ll do our part, but it might not be a bad idea if she stayed with someone instead of staying in the house alone.”

“I’ll talk to her.”

Kanesha nodded and turned to walk away, but I stopped her. “One more thing.”

She glowered at me when she turned back.

“Yes?”

“It’s about Winston Eagleton. The publisher? I think I told you about him this morning.”

She fairly barked out her response. “What about him?”

“Have you talked to him yet?”

“Not yet. He’s on my list. Why do you ask?” She looked suspicious.

“He’s apparently been trying to get in touch with me to ask me to a dinner party he’s planning for tonight.” I shrugged. “At some point I’ll have to talk to him, but once he knows about Mrs. Taylor, he may reconsider his plans. I didn’t want to give anything away by talking to him before you did.”

“Thank you.” She glanced at her watch. “I’ll track him down soon. He’s staying at the Farrington House. Give me at least an hour before you get in touch with him, all right?”

“Sure thing.”

Kanesha raised a hand in farewell before she trudged down the walk toward her car. After she drove away, I went back in the house. She had better get some rest soon. She looked about done in.

Melba was feeding Diesel what looked like chicken. The cat scarfed it down happily. Melba grinned at me. “Don’t you ever feed this poor boy?”

“Con artist,” I said to the cat. He ignored me. Then I addressed Melba. “Does he look like he’s starving?” I had to grin back.

“Not exactly.” Melba dropped the last piece of meat and went to wash her hands at the sink. I was wondering how to broach the subject of her potential danger when she addressed the issue herself.

“If you’re worried about me staying here on my own, Charlie, don’t be,” she said, her expression calm but determined. “I’ll blow the jerk’s head off if he tries to get in here. I’m going over to see Thelma Crockett right now and take Zippy off her hands. He’s a loudmouthed little cuss, and he’ll raise a ruckus if anybody tries to break in here. So don’t you worry about me.”

I went over and gave her a hug. “The main thing is, I want you to be safe. And if at any time you don’t feel safe here, you pack a bag, put Zippy in the car, and come on over. We have plenty of room in the madhouse for you and the dog. You know that.”

She hugged me back briefly, then pushed me away. “You’re a good man, and a good friend. If I need to, I’ll come. But that jerk isn’t going to run me out of my own house. You can bet on that.”

Diesel meowed as if he agreed, and Melba and I laughed. “Come on, boy, let’s get going.” I pecked Melba on the cheek, Diesel warbled at her, and the cat and I headed for the front door.

Once we were in the car, I decided we might as well go visit Helen Louise at the bakery. I informed the cat of our destination, and he meowed in approval from the backseat.

“No more chicken for you, though,” I said, glancing into the mirror. He started muttering. “You’ve had enough this morning, thanks to Melba.” He moved over to the passenger-side window and gazed out, ignoring me.

I had a quiet chuckle as we headed for the town square. After I found a parking spot, I called Diesel into the front seat with me so I could put on the spare harness and leash I kept in the car. I wasn’t worried about his darting out into traffic, because he was far too smart for that. If people saw him walking around loose in town, there were bound to be complaints, however. So into the harness he went.

The bell on the door chimed as we walked in. Both the cat and I sniffed happily at the wonderful aromas that suffused the air in the bakery. I thought longingly of the marvelous
gâteau au chocolat
that was one of my sweetheart’s specialties. She never failed to have it on offer, and I knew there was always an extra one hidden away in case I dropped by unexpectedly. I needed to watch my calories, though, and I would do my best to resist the temptation to indulge.

Midmorning Saturday was generally a busy time at the bakery. Customers dropped by to pick up special treats for the weekend, and Helen Louise and her assistant, Debbie, filled a seemingly constant stream of orders from behind the counter. Helen Louise stood at the cash register when we entered. She glanced briefly at the door, and when she recognized us, she smiled.

I waved and smiled back, and Diesel started chirping, although I doubted Helen Louise could hear him over the chatter in the bakery. A few heads turned, and several people nodded in greeting as Diesel and I made our way to our usual table in the corner near the register. On occasion, a customer made the mistake of objecting to the cat’s presence in the bakery, but Helen Louise quickly apprised that person of his or her error in judgment. By now the regulars were so accustomed to seeing me and my big kitty that they probably thought nothing of it.

There was a line of five people at the register, so it would be a few minutes before Helen Louise could get away to talk. If many more people joined the queue at the register, I would get in line myself. But for now Diesel and I got comfortable, I in my chair and he at my feet, and waited.

The line was down to one person when my cell phone rang. I pulled it out and glanced at the number. Not one I recognized, and there was no name on the caller ID. I debated whether to answer it, but then remembered it could be Winston Eagleton. “Hello, this is Charlie Harris.”

A high tenor voice with a heavy drawl I didn’t recognize replied. “Hi, there, Mr. Harris. This here is Eugene Marter. We ain’t met yet, but I was kinda hoping to remedy that situation this morning. I’m running errands in town here and wondered if you got a few minutes to talk about Grandma and her big do at the liberry.”