Berkley Prime Crime titles by Miranda James
Cat in the Stacks Mysteries
MURDER PAST DUE
CLASSIFIED AS MURDER
FILE M FOR MURDER
OUT OF CIRCULATION
THE SILENCE OF THE LIBRARY
ARSENIC AND OLD BOOKS
Southern Ladies Mysteries
BLESS HER DEAD LITTLE HEART
THE BERKLEY PUBLISHING GROUP
Published by the Penguin Group
Penguin Group (USA) LLC
375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014
USA • Canada • UK • Ireland • Australia • New Zealand • India • South Africa • China
A Penguin Random House Company
Copyright © 2015 by Dean James.
“When Charlie Met Diesel” by Miranda James copyright © 2015 by Dean James.
Penguin supports copyright. Copyright fuels creativity, encourages diverse voices, promotes free speech, and creates a vibrant culture. Thank you for buying an authorized edition of this book and for complying with copyright laws by not reproducing, scanning, or distributing any part of it in any form without permission. You are supporting writers and allowing Penguin to continue to publish books for every reader.
Berkley Prime Crime Books are published by The Berkley Publishing Group.
BERKLEY® PRIME CRIME and the PRIME CRIME logo are trademarks of Penguin Group (USA) LLC.
eBook ISBN: 978-0-698-14457-6
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
James, Miranda.
Arsenic and old books / Miranda James.—First edition.
pages cm.—(Cat in the stacks mystery ; 6)
ISBN 978-0-425-25729-6 (hardback)
1. Librarians—Fiction. I. Title.
PS3610.A43A88 2015
813'.6—dc23
2014037644
FIRST EDITION: February 2015
Cover illustration by Dan Craig.
Cover design by Lesley Worrell.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Version_1
This book is dedicated in loving memory of Ernestine Pendergrast James (1923–2014), one of the strongest women I’ve ever known.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
As with every book, I owe thanks to many for the support I receive during the process. My editor, Michelle Vega, never fails me with her unflagging support, encouragement, and excellent advice. The amazing and efficient team at Nancy Yost Literary, including their indefatigable eponymous leader, make the business parts of the process run smoothly.
The Wednesday night critique group—Bob, Julie, Kay F., Kay K., Laura, and Millie—share their opinions of the work-in-progress freely and constructively, and I appreciate their help. The Hairston-Soparkar family continues generously to offer their home for our meetings, and I am thankful to have such a pleasant place to work.
For technical information about archives, I thank my former colleagues M. J. Figard, MLS, and Philip Montgomery, MLIS, CA. Any mistakes in archival matters are my responsibility, not theirs. Lynda L. Crist, PhD, assisted with information about paper. Terry Farmer, PhD, and Joseph E. Figard, PhD, also generously shared their expertise in matters of chemistry. Again, any mistakes to do with chemistry are mine alone.
Finally, thanks as always to my two dear friends, Patricia Orr and Terry Farmer (double-billing this time), for cheering me on during the headlong rush of finishing each and every book.
CONTENTS
Berkley Prime Crime Titles by Miranda James
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Acknowledgments
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
CHAPTER THIRTY
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
CHAPTER FORTY
Bonus Story: When Charlie Met Diesel
ONE
I checked my watch, then glanced at the clock on my computer. They both told me that it was seven minutes after one p.m. I resisted the urge to get up and pace around the archive office. Instead I turned my chair and looked at the large feline dozing on the wide windowsill behind my desk.
Diesel, apparently sensing my gaze, yawned and stretched. He meowed and rolled onto his side, head twisted so that he was staring at me almost upside down. He warbled a couple of times, as if to ask, Why are you so restless, Charlie?
“The mayor said she’d be here at one, and she’s late. You know how that bugs me,” I told the cat. “I’m curious to find out about these family documents she wants to talk to me about. The Longs have already given so many collections of papers to the archive, I have to wonder what they’ve been holding on to.”
The cat calmly began washing his right front paw.
“You may not be curious, but I am,” I told him. “It’s not every day that I get consulted by such an august person as Lucinda Beckwith Long.”
I heard a cough, and it didn’t come from Diesel.
“I beg your pardon. Are you Mr. Harris?”
I swiveled my chair to face the office door, and I could feel the blush starting. The mayor stood in the doorway, her expression puzzled.
I rose from my desk and walked around to greet Mrs. Long. “Yes, I’m Charlie Harris, Your Honor. Please come in. I was . . . Well, I was chatting with my cat. It’s a habit I have, you see.”
Mrs. Long nodded as she extended her hand. “I quite understand. My husband and I have three poodles, and we talk to them all the time.”
“Won’t you be seated?” I indicated the chair in front of my desk. Mrs. Long, clutching a tote and a black leather handbag, moved forward. She set the latter on the floor beside her when she took her seat. Clad in a chic crimson suit with a white silk blouse and colorful scarf knotted loosely around her neck, she looked cool and crisp and ready to get down to business.
I had seen the mayor on several public occasions, but never this close. She was shorter than I expected, probably no more than five-three, when she wasn’t standing on the spike heels I had seen her wear. Though I knew her to be in her mid-sixties, she exuded an air of youthful energy, as if she could barely contain herself. Even now I could hear her toe tapping on the hardwood floor of my office. I figured a mayor’s life must be hectic, even that of the mayor of a small city like Athena, Mississippi.