“That’s it for now,” Kanesha said. “When I need to talk to you or your daughter again, I’ll let you know.”
The dial tone buzzed in my ear, and I hung up the phone. I sat there for a moment, feeling another headache coming on. I decided I needed water, because my throat felt parched. I headed into the bathroom.
Ten minutes later I was downstairs making coffee. The house was quiet around me, and were it not for the smell of smoke that lingered, the events of last night might have been only a bad dream. I decided to wait until I’d had at least one cup of coffee before I went out back to assess the damage. I needed caffeine in my system before I could deal with that level of reality.
While I waited for the coffee to finish, I thought about our predicament. Laura wouldn’t be safe until Lawton’s killer was in custody. I didn’t doubt Kanesha’s ability to catch the guy, at least in the long run. I didn’t, however, see any reason not to help the investigation along in any way I could. Kanesha would consider it interference, as she had before, but I wasn’t going to let that stop me. I knew I could count on Sean as well.
I grinned. If I fancied myself as Holmes, Sean certainly made a more than capable Watson. More like Nero and Archie, I thought a bit ruefully, as I patted my stomach. I wasn’t anywhere near a seventh of a ton like Nero, but that was only because of concerted effort on my part. Azalea’s cooking, though distinctly different from that of Fritz Brenner, was every bit as calorie-laden and mouthwatering.
The coffeemaker beeped to let me know it had finished. As I poured myself a cup, I glanced at the clock. Nearly eight now. And speaking of Azalea, here she was coming through the back door.
“Morning, Mr. Charlie.” She set her capacious bag down on the counter and rummaged inside it for her apron.
“Morning, Azalea. How are you?” I was glad I’d remembered to put on my robe this morning. Considering how sleep-deprived I felt, I could easily have been caught in my pj’s, and Azalea would have been highly affronted by that.
“Doing right fine.” Azalea paused in tying the apron behind her back and sniffed. “Why’s there smoke in the air?” She frowned. “You ain’t been using the fireplace, surely, this time of year.” She finished with her apron and stood glaring at me.
“No, not the fireplace.” I explained what happened, and her eyes grew round with outrage.
“Thank the Lord y’all wasn’t hurt.” She closed her eyes, and I could tell she was offering a silent prayer. Then her eyes opened again, and I could almost feel the sparks jumping out of them. “What Miss Dottie would think, well, I thank the Lord she be resting safe in His arms. She sure loved this house.”
For a brief moment I felt guilty—as if it were my fault the house had been damaged. I doubted that was Azalea’s intent, but I knew how close she and my late aunt had been. Azalea took the care of this house seriously, considering it her duty to Aunt Dottie. Sometimes I felt I was here only on sufferance and that if Azalea thought I should go, I’d have to.
“What you need is a good breakfast.” With that announcement Azalea headed to the refrigerator. “I’m gone whip up some pancakes. You want bacon or sausage with ’em?”
“Bacon, please.” I could never resist Azalea’s bacon, fried to crisp perfection every time.
Plaintive meows sounded nearby, and I turned to see Diesel trot into the kitchen. He came to me and put his front paws on my leg, then butted his head against my side as if determined to make me notice him.
“Good morning, boy,” I said as I scratched between his ears. “Did you take good care of Laura last night?”
As Diesel chirped in response, I heard a snort from Azalea’s direction. I grinned. “Diesel, you tell Azalea you understand every word I say and that you’re a good watch-cat.”
Diesel chirped a few times more, and I watched Azalea’s back as she stood at the counter, mixing pancake batter. Her head shook back and forth three times, and I could imagine her expression. I thought she secretly found Diesel entertaining, but she would never admit it.
“I think I’ll go get the paper.” I stood as I made my announcement. Diesel, instead of following me to the front door, ambled toward the utility room and his litter box.
The sun was bright, and the day already hot when I opened the front door. The paper lay a few feet down the walk, and as I headed for it I saw the police car parked on the street in front of my house. After I retrieved the paper, I stood for a moment and watched the car. The officer inside saw me and inclined his head. I nodded back, then turned and headed inside again.
Reassured by the police presence outside, I felt a little lighter of heart as I returned to the kitchen. I informed Azalea that our police guard was on duty, and she nodded to acknowledge that she heard me.
I opened the paper—the Commercial Appeal from Memphis—and began reading. Diesel returned and made himself comfortable by my chair. He knew pancakes were in the offing and hoped to score a few bites. I really had become lax about letting him have human food, although I consoled myself with the knowledge that, with his size and appetite, he ate far more of his own food than he did treats from the table. He had regular checkups with his vet, and Dr. Romano was always pleased with his general state of health. She did remind me, though, to keep the treats to a minimum.
By the time Diesel and I finished our pancakes and Azalea started on the laundry in the utility room, none of the other occupants of the house had yet appeared. I went upstairs to dress and brush my teeth, then grabbed my cell phone before Diesel and I went out back to inspect the damage to the house.
Diesel hunted in the flowerbeds while I stood in the hot morning sun and began to sweat. I shaded my eyes with my hand and started my examination.
The porch ran the whole length of the back of the house, and the fire had started to the left of it on the west side. The white paint had blackened and bubbled in a mostly circular patch about four feet wide. Thanks to Sean’s quick response, the fire hadn’t had time to gain hold. From what I could see, it hadn’t managed to burn through the wood into the interior.
Feeling vastly relieved, I stepped back and for the first time noticed the state of the flowerbeds. The firemen had trampled several azaleas, and the plants would have to be replaced. Thankful the loss wasn’t much worse, I retreated to the shade of the porch to cool off and call my insurance agent and then the college library to let them know I wouldn’t be in today. I was lucky with the latter call, because my friend Melba, assistant to the library director, was out of the office, and I reached her voice mail instead. I simply told her I wasn’t feeling very well and was staying home. She’d hear the truth soon enough. Right now I didn’t want to spend an hour on the phone with her while she pumped me for every little detail.
By lunchtime the insurance agent had come and gone, plus one of my high school classmates, a contractor, responded to my call and came to give an estimate on the time and cost for the repairs. My contractor friend said he could have the work done within two weeks, and that sounded fine.
I lunched alone, except for Diesel. Laura had a class to teach this morning, and Sean went along as her bodyguard. Stewart and Justin both had classes as well, and Dante went with Stewart. He was now accustomed to accompanying Stewart on campus, and Stewart claimed the dog was much better behaved than any of his students.
While I enjoyed Azalea’s chicken salad, an alternate recipe that included sliced grapes and walnuts, Diesel sat by me and meowed occasionally for a bit of chicken. With the mundane matters of insurance and repair fairly well settled, I was able to concentrate on the ongoing threat to Laura.
I was tempted to go to the sheriff’s department and insist on seeing Kanesha. I was impatient to discover whether she had read Lawton’s vicious letter about Ralph Johnston’s play. There was also the matter of Lawton’s affair with Magda Johnston. Kanesha had to know about that by now.