I sat at the table and slowly sipped at the tea. Diesel disappeared and then reappeared to settle near my feet. He dozed while I continued to think about the various things I knew about Kelly Grimes and the events of the past few days. I began to piece together what I thought, in the end, was a plausible scenario for what happened.
The diaries were the catalyst. Marie Steverton wanted them for scholarly research and had agreed to forge a fifth volume in return for help getting tenure at the college. Kelly Grimes wanted them because she wanted to help her boyfriend find evidence that Rachel Long was a cold-blooded murderess.
I witnessed the unpleasant incident between the two women and their obvious dislike for each other. Neither one would be happy if the other got her hands on the diaries first. Marie insisted that Mrs. Long make sure she had exclusive access to them, but that apparently wasn’t good enough. Marie sneaked into my office while Melba and I were both out of the building for lunch and took them.
I was pretty sure Kelly Grimes was keeping an eye on Marie, and I speculated that she saw Marie with the diaries. Or she found out somehow that Marie had them. She decided to steal them from Marie so she could have access to them first. She didn’t have time to do it in the afternoon before she had to go with Singletary to the two fund-raisers in Charleston and Enid. Besides, doing it in the early hours of the morning when Marie would presumably be asleep would probably make it easier.
Okay, that all seemed plausible so far.
Next step. Kelly helped herself to her neighbor’s car and drove to Marie’s house. I figured she probably parked down the block. Then she made her way to Marie’s and let herself in, either by picking the lock or finding an open window. Given Marie’s inebriated state that evening, she might even have left a door unlocked.
Kelly got into the house and located the diaries. Marie would not have had them hidden away at the point, I figured, because the cops had come and gone without finding them and weren’t likely to search again. Kelly grabbed the diaries, stuffed them in the bag, and started to slip out. Something woke Marie, maybe Kelly stumbling against a piece of furniture or knocking something off onto the floor, and Marie saw what she thought was a burglar. Maybe she even recognized Kelly.
Marie went after Kelly to try to get the bag with the diaries back. Kelly ran for the car, Marie hot on her heels. Marie caught up with her and tried to snatch the bag. Somehow the diaries got dumped out of the bag. Kelly scooped them up, got in the car, started it, and tried to drive off. Marie stepped in the way, and Kelly hit her, knocking her to the ground and killing her. Then, perhaps terrified over what she had done—on purpose or accidentally, I wasn’t sure—she took the diaries to the archive instead of taking them home with her. Unaware the whole time that pages were missing from one volume.
Then Kelly went home, put her neighbor’s car where it belonged, and went to bed. The neighbor got up early for his trip, not noticing the damage to the blinker on the front passenger side, and off he went, destination unknown.
I thought about my scenario a little while longer. I finally concluded it was possible, but until Kanesha found evidence, it was only a theory.
FORTY
“That was pretty much the way it happened, as it turned out.” I paused to have a spoonful of the delicious lemon sorbet Helen Louise had brought for our Sunday dinner.
“Was the hit-and-run an accident?” Frank Salisbury, my son-in-law, asked.
“According to Kanesha, Kelly Grimes claimed it was. She panicked and drove off,” I replied.
“Do you believe her?” Laura asked.
“I’m willing to give her the benefit of the doubt,” I said. “When Kanesha confronted her with evidence linking her to her neighbor’s car, she went ahead and admitted it. Insisted that it was an accident, though.”
“Where was the neighbor during all this?” Helen Louise asked. “Did Kanesha tell you?”
“Oh, yes,” I said. “He was at Enid Lake, fishing with a couple of friends. One of them has a cabin nearby, and he finally turned up Friday evening. Had to be at work Saturday apparently.”
“So Kelly Grimes lied about when he left, obviously,” Sean said. My lawyer son always liked to nail down every detail.
“Yes, he got up at four and left half an hour later. He didn’t spot the damage to the blinker until he got home Friday. Of course, one of Kanesha’s deputies was waiting for him. They hadn’t been able to find him, but luckily he turned up sooner rather than later.”
“What’s going to happen to the diaries?” Stewart ladled more sorbet into his mouth and smiled. “Helen Louise, this is heaven on the tongue.”
“Thank you,” Helen Louise said. “I’ll give you the recipe if you like.”
“I like.” Stewart grinned. “Now, Charlie, about the diaries. I kept quiet like you asked me to, but I’m burning to find out the whole story.”
“I’m really not sure,” I said. “A lot will depend on how much of the content of them factors into the trial. Kelly Grimes has been charged with vehicular manslaughter and failure to stop and render aid. The contents of the diaries might not enter into the prosecution’s case.”
Since Beck Long and his campaign manager had been stopped before they used the false information about Jasper Singletary’s heritage, Singletary didn’t seem inclined to make an issue of it. He could change his mind, however, because the forged diary might figure into Kelly Grimes’s defense somehow. I couldn’t share any of this with my family, however, because none of it was public knowledge yet. I had promised the mayor I wouldn’t tell people about the forgery, and I would abide by my word.
“I wish you were able to tell us more about what’s in those diaries,” Alexandra Pendergrast, Sean’s girlfriend and law partner, said. “They must be pretty hot stuff to be the cause of so much activity.”
“There are a lot of interesting details in them,” I said. “If you’re really curious, you can read some of Rachel Long’s story in the memoir of her written by her granddaughter-in-law, Angeline McCarthy Long. The college library’s copy isn’t available at the moment, but Miss Eulalie Estes has graciously donated her copy of it to the archive. The only other copy known to exist is one belonging to the Long family.”
Miss Eulalie had colored slightly when she offered me her copy of the memoir on Friday afternoon. “It turns out I was mistaken, Charlie. I found my copy after a more thorough search at home, but now I think it belongs in the archive.”
I thanked her, well aware that both of us knew that Lucinda Long returned it after having stolen it in the first place. I wasn’t going to embarrass Miss Eulalie, and since I had promised the mayor my silence, I simply took the book and added it to the Long collection.
“Can’t you tell us some of the stories, Dad, without our having to read the book?” Laura asked with a big smile. “As much as I like to visit you in your office, I don’t have a lot of time this semester.”
Diesel, back beside my leg from one of his periodic treks around the table in search of handouts, warbled loudly. Everyone laughed because the cat always seemed to know just when to speak up.
“I suppose I can, especially since Diesel has asked, too,” I said. I thought about what to tell them, and I decided to recount the story of Rachel Long and the Singletarys. Though it was sad, it illustrated what a strong and charitable woman Rachel had been. I had since read more of her diaries—they were still in the archive, pending a decision by the Longs to ask for them back—and had come to admire her.
“Rachel was an admirable woman,” I said. “She, like everyone in Athena, had difficult times during the war. Food and other supplies became increasingly scarce, but she was willing to share what she had. One example from the first year of the war is the Singletary family.”