My response was lighthearted. “I’ve never figured out how calling someone my little cabbage ever came to be an endearment, but it certainly sounds charming in French.”
Helen Louise laughed. “French is, after all, the language of romance.”
“Guess I’d better start brushing up on it, then.” I did remember how to flirt, it seemed.
“There will be plenty of time to learn, I hope,” she said. I could hear the smile in her voice.
“The sooner you hire some help, the better.”
“If only the Athena Daily Register comes through the way I hope it will. Otherwise I might have to put an ad in the Memphis paper.”
“Good idea,” I said. I decided not to mention the fire or Damitra Vane’s murder. I didn’t want to spoil the mood. We made tentative plans for dinner over the weekend and chatted for a few moments longer, then she had to end the call to attend to customers.
I probably had a big, goofy grin on my face as I put my cell phone away. I glanced at my watch, surprised to note that it was 6:25. Time to get up and start warming up dinner.
I put the papers back on the desk, turned out the lights, and headed for the kitchen. Thinking back over my conversation with Helen Louise, I decided I might give her ad in the Daily Register a boost. I would talk to Melba Gilley, my friend at the library. She would be a good source for a potential employee, because she knew practically everyone in Athena, too.
Then I pulled up short. Athena Daily Register. Of course.
THIRTY-THREE
I hurried back into the den and turned the lamps on again. Then I scrambled through the short stack of notes until I found the one I wanted—the page headed “ADR,” with the strings of numbers.
ADR. Athena Daily Register. Why hadn’t I cottoned to it sooner?
I scanned the page.
MCA. Memphis Commercial Appeal.
The name of the paper was The Commercial Appeal, but locals often added the Memphis.
The strings of digits most likely signified page numbers with dates. For example, ADR 1-84321 might mean the first page of the March 21, 1984, paper. As I scanned down the page again, I noticed that 84 was part of all the strings of digits.
What had happened in 1984 that so interested Connor Lawton? Interested him enough to make notes of newspaper dates and pages?
Back issues of the Register earlier than 1998 hadn’t been digitized yet, and that meant I couldn’t access them over the Internet. I would have to check on the Commercial Appeal. Offhand, I didn’t know the status of its archives. Even if it were not available online back to 1984, I knew our public library had it on microfilm. Just like the Register.
The public library closed at six, so I would have to wait until tomorrow to check out my theory. Then I remembered that the last time I saw Lawton at the library, he wanted to look at old issues of the local paper. I had left him in the microfilm room that afternoon.
I felt increasingly certain about my theory. The library opened at nine tomorrow morning, and I planned to be there.
Time to head back to the kitchen to get dinner started—or at least heated up, I corrected myself as I replaced the page and turned off the lights.
In the kitchen I found Justin and Sean already at work on our evening meal. Sean stood at the stove, stirring the pot of green beans, while Justin set the table.
“Hi, Mr. Charlie.” Justin looked up from his task with a shy smile. “How’s it going?”
“Fine,” I said. “Thanks for setting the table.” I nodded in Sean’s direction. “And for taking care of the food.”
“Justin is starving, as usual, and I’m pretty hungry myself.” Sean grinned when Justin made a face at him. Sean treated my boarder like a kid brother, and I had detected signs of hero worship in Justin. He had even mentioned law school a couple of times recently, and I knew Sean had been talking to him about his experiences as a law student and then as a corporate attorney in a big Houston law firm.
I didn’t know if Sean had told Justin the reason he left his job in Houston and moved to Athena. I knew Sean still felt embarrassed over the situation, and we hadn’t discussed it again since the time he confessed it to me several months ago.
“You feel like going to tell Laura dinner’s about ready?” Sean gave the beans another stir, then replaced the lid on the pot. “If not, I’ll go, and you can fix the tea.”
“I’ll go.” I grinned. “The stairs will do me good.”
“Can’t argue with that.” Sean favored me with a sly grin, and Justin laughed.
“Just wait till you hit fifty,” I told them. “Then talk to me.”
“Fifty,” Justin said, his eyes widening. “Gosh, I’m not sure I can count that high.”
Sean guffawed, and I shook my head at them. “Careful, or I’ll send you both to bed without any dinner.”
With that I turned and headed out of the kitchen, not waiting for a reaction. Their laughter followed me.
I trod up the stairs, pretending not to feel slightly winded by the time I reached the second-floor landing. I really needed to get more exercise. Or cut down on my food intake. Or both.
Sighing, I turned down the hall toward Laura’s room. The door was closed, and I knocked a couple of times and waited for an invitation to enter.
I heard a muffled “Come in.” When I opened the door and stepped into the room, I found Laura in the window seat with her laptop—just barely in the seat, because of course Diesel had scrunched himself into the small space with her. The window seat was only about three feet wide and eighteen inches deep, and Diesel could easily fill the space on his own. Laura didn’t appear at all uncomfortable, however.
“Dinner’s about ready,” I said. “Feeling any better?”
Diesel meowed at me and unfolded himself from the window seat. Once on the floor he stretched and yawned before he padded over to me for a greeting.
As I rubbed his head, Laura responded to my question. “Not a lot. I’m still really upset about Damitra. There really isn’t even anyone to mourn her. I don’t think she had any family left, at least not any that had anything to do with her.” She sighed as she closed her laptop and set it on the floor. “It’s just so sad.”
I moved to the window seat and slid in beside her. She rested her head on my shoulder while I slipped an arm around her. She snuggled closer. We sat that way for a moment. Diesel stretched out on the floor in front of us, his head on his front paws like a dog. His eyes focused on us.
“Yes, it is, sweetie,” I said, my voice soft. “I wish I had the words to comfort you, but when something senseless like this happens, solace can be hard to find.”
“It’s all such a waste, Dad.” Laura sat up, pulling away from my embrace. She turned to me, her face three inches from my own. The pain in her expression hurt me, and I wanted so badly to make that pain go away. That sense of loss would remain with her, I knew, and only the distance of time could make it bearable.
I kissed her forehead, then stood. I held out my hand, and she clasped it. “Whenever you need to talk, I’ll be here for you.”
“I know.” Laura smiled as she got up from the window seat, her hand still in mine. Diesel pushed himself up, chirped at us, then turned and trotted out the door.
“I think he’s telling us it’s time to eat.” Laura laughed softly. “I’m actually a bit hungry.”
“Then let me escort you downstairs.” I tucked her hand into the crook of my arm, and off we went.
Thanks to the interrupted sleep of last night, I was ready for bed by eight-thirty. With my stomach full of Azalea’s fine meal, I soon began to feel logy and knew that my bed was calling out to me. Diesel and I settled in, and I read for a few minutes. When I dropped the book the second time, I knew it was time to turn out the lights and go to sleep.