Chief Ford grunted as he stood and put away his flashlight. “That lock should have been replaced twenty years ago.” He shook his head. “Way too easy to pick or force. Looks to me like it was picked recently. Maybe you’re off the hook for leaving it unlocked.”
“I’m glad of that,” I said, “though it disturbs the heck out of me that someone could pick the lock so easily. I’ll talk to the library director right away about installing a new lock. They put in a new one on the door to the storage area about four years ago. I don’t know why they didn’t upgrade this one at the same time.”
I realized I was babbling, so I shut up. The chief’s stern countenance and steely gaze made me feel guilty even if I hadn’t goofed and left the door unlocked.
“Any idea who might’ve done this?” The chief pulled out a notebook and pen.
“Yes, I do. There are two people who have been pretty determined to get access to the diaries. The first is a professor, Marie Steverton. Member of the history department. The other is a writer for the Register named Kelly Grimes. Ms. Grimes,” I added.
“Other than being real interested in these books, why would one of them break in here and steal them?” Again the intense stare.
I shrugged. “The whole thing sounds nuts to me, frankly. The mayor, who’s an old college friend of Dr. Steverton, arranged for her to have exclusive access to the diaries for three weeks. Once I had them ready for use, that is. Ms. Grimes was the first to approach me about them.” I gave the chief a quick summary of the writer’s initial phone call. “Then she showed up here this morning, and she and Dr. Steverton had a bit of an altercation.”
The chief shook his head as if in amazement at such behavior. “And how old are these books?”
“They date back to before the Civil War,” I said. “I couldn’t put a monetary value on them, but they could be valuable as historical documents.”
“I’ll be talking to both those ladies about this,” the chief said. “Anybody else you can think of might want to get hold of the diaries?”
I hesitated. Should I tell Chief Ford what I suspected about the connection between Kelly Grimes and Jasper Singletary?
My poker face evidently failed me.
“You’ve thought of something,” the chief stated flatly.
“It’s hearsay, probably. Something I saw today and then a short snatch of conversation I overhead.”
“I’m listening,” the chief said.
I wondered briefly whether Chief Ford had heard about my previous experiences with the murder cases I’d been involved in, and what he might think about me as a result. With Kanesha Berry, chief deputy in the sheriff’s department, I was on a surer footing. She knew me pretty well, but Chief Ford and I were barely acquainted. I decided that, if necessary, I’d refer him to Kanesha to check my bona fides.
“Okay, here’s what happened.” I launched into a description of the events at the bakery and the epilogue at the bookstore.
“Sounds like you have a knack for being in the right place at just the right time,” the chief commented when I finished. His expression gave me no clue as to whether he was making a joke.
He didn’t wait for a response. “Does sound to me like there’s a connection to the diaries. Pretty logical, based on everything you’ve told me. Looks like I’m going to need to work with either Athena PD or the sheriff’s department on this, though.”
Here was my chance. “If you work with the sheriff’s department, I’m sure Chief Deputy Berry will vouch for me, in case you need any reassurance.”
The chief nodded. “Anything else missing?”
“I haven’t really looked yet,” I said. “I figured I should wait until you arrived. Shall I go ahead now?”
“Yes,” the chief said. “Touch as little as possible, because we’re probably going to check your desk for fingerprints and trace evidence. The diaries were on your desk, right, when you left for lunch?”
I confirmed that they were before I checked around my desk. Without inventorying the shelves in my office I couldn’t say for sure whether anything else had been taken, but I didn’t get the feeling that anything was missing from the shelves. Everything looked as it should.
“I don’t think the thief took anything else,” I said finally.
“Okay,” the chief said. “How about you go wait downstairs in Ms. Gilley’s office? I’ll be down soon to talk to her. Meantime, I’m going to get a couple of my officers over here, and I’m going to contact the locals and see how they want to proceed. I can question Dr. Steverton, but they’ll probably have to track down Ms. Grimes.” He whipped out a cell phone without waiting for a response.
“I’ll be down there if you need me,” I said. I didn’t think he heard me, so I headed downstairs. Melba would be bouncing with excitement when I told her what happened.
Mayor Long, on the other hand, would probably be angry, and I wasn’t looking forward to that conversation.
THIRTEEN
By the time I got home that evening, I felt like I’d been dragged backward through the briar patch. That’s what my late mother used to say anytime she was exhausted. Occasionally she’d say she was “plumb wore out.” No matter how I described it, I was beat.
Poor Diesel was fatigued, too. All the noise, with law enforcement personnel going up and down the stairs outside Melba’s office, and the tension he picked up from me, wore him plumb out. We were both glad to get home to the quiet and peace of an empty house.
Or so I thought. Sean came noisily down the stairs about five minutes after Diesel and I walked into the kitchen. I was seated at the table, and the cat was stretched out beneath it after a visit to the utility room.
“Hey, Dad,” he said as he headed for the fridge. “How was your day?” He pulled out a beer and popped the cap off with his thumb. The cap hit the floor, but Diesel couldn’t be bothered. Usually he would bat it around until I took it away from him to stop the noise.
“I’ve had better.” I leaned back in my chair.
Sean put his beer on the table and sat across from me. “You look out of it,” he said. “And when Diesel doesn’t want to play with a bottle cap, I know he’s out of it as well. What happened?”
I realized I hadn’t seen my son for at least a couple of days; thus I had a lot to tell him. “Tell you what. Pour your poor exhausted old dad a glass of iced tea, and I’ll fill you in.”
“Deal.” Sean got up and went to the cabinet for a glass. “I’m not buying the poor old dad bit, though. You’re not quite ready for the old folks’ home. Next year maybe, but not now.” He grinned broadly as he set the full glass in front of me.
I clinked my glass with his bottle once he resumed his seat. I drained half the tea before I started talking. “This will take a few minutes.”
“I’ve got the time.” Sean leaned back in his chair and sipped his beer.
The cold tea and the caffeine revived me a bit, though by the time I finished my recital of the events of the past two days, I was ready to go up to bed and forget about dinner.
Sean’s first question surprised me.
“What did the mayor say when she found out about the theft?”
I shrugged. “Luckily for me, the college police chief called her. I didn’t talk to her until after she’d had time to cool down. She wasn’t happy, but she did say at least twice she didn’t hold me responsible.”
“You took reasonable precautions for the safety of the diaries.” Sean sounded like the lawyer he was now, rather than just my son.
“I locked the door to the office when I left for lunch,” I said. “It’s such a habit with me, I can’t believe I didn’t do it today. So, yes, I took reasonable precautions. I don’t have a safe to put things in.” I paused for a moment. “I suppose I could have put them in the storage room next door. It has a much better lock, one that’s not easily compromised.”