Could the answer be that simple?
Maybe.
My thoughts turned to Marie. Had she suspected that the diary held secrets that could embarrass the Long family? She had torn out the pages that revealed Andrew’s desertion. What had she intended to do with them?
The obvious answer was blackmail. She could have threatened to make them public, knowing she had the mayor over a dangerous barrel. The Longs were reputedly worth millions, and Marie could have named a high price.
There was something else she wanted badly, I realized. Tenure, and the respect that came with it.
Professor Howell Newkirk, a power in the history department, was a great friend of the Longs. If Lucinda asked him to support Marie’s bid for tenure and told him it was vital that he do so, he might have done it. Marie would then have had the status she had desperately sought all throughout her academic career.
I knew that would sound ridiculous to anyone outside the halls of academia. I thought, however, that Marie would have wanted both tenure at Athena as well as a nice sum of money from Lucinda Long.
Another memory surfaced. Marie told me, in our first conversation about the diaries, that the mayor would do what she wanted and make sure Marie had exclusive access. She implied that the mayor didn’t dare say no. Why? I wondered.
Perhaps because she already knew about the forgery. I had come up with that thought earlier, but now it seemed more likely to be the truth, or close to it.
Or, I thought, Marie could have taunted the mayor with the story of Andrew Long’s desertion.
I was going in circles. There were too many holes in my scenarios.
One thing was clear, however. Lucinda Long had the strongest motive for killing Marie Steverton.
THIRTY-SEVEN
I hated to think of our mayor as a murderer, but this wouldn’t be the first time a politician had gone off the rails and done something criminal and downright stupid. Was it truly that important to the Longs and their identity as a respected family to get Beck Long elected to office, no matter the cost?
Time to call Kanesha back, I decided. I had done everything I could, and it was her job now to sort through it all and make a case against the killer.
She answered right away.
“I’ve finished reading the pages,” I said. “Have you had a chance to look at them yet?”
“No,” Kanesha said. “I’ve been following up a promising lead on the car that struck down Dr. Steverton. What have you got for me?”
“The fact that Andrew Long—Rachel’s husband—wasn’t the war hero everyone thought he was,” I said. “He deserted at the Battle of Gettysburg and came home. He committed suicide, and Rachel covered it up. Everywhere except in her diary, that is.”
“I wonder why she didn’t destroy her diaries at some point,” Kanesha said. “Surely she wouldn’t want to risk having someone read them after she died.”
“Good question,” I said. I should have thought of that myself, but I was too caught up in the tragedy to consider it. “Perhaps she meant to and put them away and then forgot about them.”
“Possible, I suppose,” Kanesha said.
“Are you ready to make an arrest?” I asked.
“Not until I get the details on the car,” she replied. “Then I’ll move forward.”
“Do you know who the killer is?” I asked. I didn’t figure she’d tell me, but I decided to ask anyway.
She surprised me. “No, not yet. I’m still trying to sort out a few details, but what you’ve told me about Rachel Long’s husband helps.”
That was the most I’d get from her at this point. “I see. I don’t have the mental energy to read any more of Rachel’s diary today. Besides, I think we’ve found the part that’s pertinent to this case.”
“I agree,” Kanesha said. “Why don’t you go home and relax? I appreciate all you’ve done so far, but I think it’s time for you to bow out.”
“Gladly,” I said. “But my curiosity is going to be rampant until I found out whom you’ve arrested.”
That got me a rare chuckle. “I’ll keep that in mind.” She ended the call.
“Okay, boy,” I said to Diesel. “Let’s go home. I’ve had enough of this office for today.” I restored the one diary volume to its new archival box, then transferred all three to the storage room where they would be safe until I was ready to go back to reading.
A few minutes later we stopped downstairs to say good-bye to Melba. I was happy to see she was on the phone, because that meant Diesel and I could get away without an extended conversation. I waved, and she waved back. Then Diesel and I made for the front door.
The afternoon heat made me uncomfortable, and I was thankful that the walk home was a short one. I knew Diesel would be ready to get back inside with air-conditioning, too. We had gone only two blocks, however, when a car pulled up to the sidewalk a few feet ahead of us. Mrs. Long stepped out of the car on the driver’s side.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Harris,” she said. “I was on my way to see you. Could we go back to your office and talk?” She was already getting back in the car before I had a chance to respond.
“I guess so,” I called after the car as it headed up the street to the library. I did not want to have to talk to her right now, but I really had no choice.
I pulled out my cell phone, though, and speed-dialed Kanesha. The call went straight to voice mail, and I wanted to shout in frustration. Instead I left a terse message. “The mayor is here to talk to me. Please get to my office as soon as possible.”
I ended the call and stuck the phone back in my pocket. “Come on, boy,” I said to Diesel. I knew that my turning around and going back toward the office confused him. “Let’s get this over with.”
I hoped like anything I could get away from the mayor without giving away what I knew about the forged diary and the family secret. I also hoped Kanesha would arrive quickly, or at least send one of her deputies. I no longer trusted the mayor, and I didn’t want to be alone with her.
I walked at a slow pace back to the building. For one thing, it was blasted hot outside, and I didn’t feel like hurrying. I also wanted to delay this meeting as much as I could.
Mrs. Long frowned when Diesel and I met her at the head of the stairs near my office. “I began to think you ignored me and walked home, Mr. Harris.”
I flashed her a smile. “Oh, no, it’s so hot outside I had to take it slow so Diesel didn’t get overheated.” As if on cue, the cat meowed. “With all his hair this weather can be hard on him. If the walk home weren’t so short, I’d use the car to get to work.” I fumbled a bit with the lock. A covert glance at the mayor’s face told me she was not happy with the delays. “Please come in,” I said as I unlocked the door and opened it.
Mrs. Long strode in while I turned on the lights. She made for the chair in front of my desk and sat. Diesel and I walked at a normal pace to my desk. I removed his leash, and he climbed onto the windowsill. I sat and faced Mrs. Long. “What can I do for you, Your Honor?”
“I want to know why you refused to let my son and his aide take the pictures they wanted earlier today,” she said, her tone becoming more heated with each word. “I know perfectly well the binding of that diary was just fine, and the pictures Mr. Kittredge wanted to take would not have damaged the book in any way.”
“That was my decision to make, Your Honor,” I said, hoping to stonewall her until Kanesha or a deputy arrived. “When you signed the deed of gift and handed over the diaries, you basically gave the right to make decisions about their care to me.”
“That deed of gift can be revoked,” Mrs. Long said sharply, “as can any future donations to this college. I don’t appreciate your interference, Mr. Harris.”