Ray Appleby, who continued to report on Hubert Norris’s death, wrote that there was to be an official investigation of the former mayor’s death. Normal procedure, I supposed, in a case of accidental death, particularly of a prominent citizen.
There were several short articles about the investigation, and one about the funeral. That event evidently attracted notables from surrounding counties, and even a former governor and several state legislators. Hubert Norris had been well known in political circles, though the highest office he ever held was the mayoralty of Athena.
The articles grew shorter and ceased by the end of June. There were sparse details of the investigation, but from what I gathered the police and the sheriff’s department were eventually satisfied with the verdict of accidental death.
Why had the investigation dragged on for three months, though? That seemed odd to me. Unless the two departments were bogged down in multiple other investigations, I couldn’t see this one taking three months to resolve.
So why had it? That was a question I would put to Ray Appleby for sure.
The articles mentioned little about the rest of the Norris family. The first one had listed Sarabeth under her maiden name, but subsequent ones identified her as “Sarabeth (Mrs. Jack) Conley.” The son, Levi, was apparently a teenager, and that meant there was quite a gap in age between him and Sarabeth. No age was given for the widow, but after quick calculations, based on Sarabeth’s probable age of thirty-two or so in 1984, I figured Mrs. Norris was a good fifteen to twenty years younger than her husband. Perhaps she was still alive—another fact I might check.
I made a note to check the obituaries in the Register. Not today, however. I’d had my limit of microfilm. Later I’d start with the digitized versions of the paper, and if that yielded no result, then I would tackle the microfilm again. Another of the joys of being over fifty, I had discovered to my dismay, was that my eyes tired more easily now.
Back to my notes—the final two articles from the Register dated from the late 1980s and concerned Levi Norris. One was simply a mention in the weekly arrest reports the paper published—much to the chagrin of the families of those arrested, I was sure. Levi had been arrested for burglary in 1988, but I couldn’t find any further details on that incident.
The second, short article denoted the arrest in 1991 of Levi Norris, then aged twenty-three, for assault and battery. A small, somewhat grainy photo of Norris accompanied the article. I stared at it. His face seemed familiar. Had I seen him somewhere recently?
It took me a moment, but I placed him. I’d seen him at the cocktail party and again at the theater. Laura and I had spoken to him there, and later I saw him talking with Sarabeth in the lobby. That settled, I returned to my research.
Lawton had apparently stopped with 1991 in his survey of the Register. Had he found all he needed, or had he meant to do more searching but didn’t have time? I pondered that while I loaded the first roll of microfilm of the Commercial Appeal. There were only a few references for this paper, and I soon read them. They revealed further details of Levi Norris’s brushes with the law. Mostly petty thievery or assault, including one incident in Memphis that sounded like attempted rape. There was no mention of Norris’s having served time for any of these offenses, and I wondered about that, too.
Levi Norris seemed to be an unsavory character. He appeared innocuous enough when I’d seen him recently, though definitely a bit seedy. Had he reformed completely? His history of assault made me uneasy. He might have been Laura’s attacker, and he also could be our would-be arsonist.
But why? How could he be connected with Connor Lawton and Damitra Vane? It didn’t make much sense. Ralph and Magda Johnston still seemed more likely suspects to me.
I turned off the reader and replaced the microfilm boxes in the cabinet. I could have left them in a basket provided for that purpose and one of the staff would refile them later, but I didn’t see the point in making extra work for anyone.
I found Diesel at the combined circulation/reference desk with Teresa and another of the staffers. We chatted for a few minutes, until other patrons approached the service points for assistance. Diesel and I bade our friends good-bye and headed home.
I nodded to the policeman on duty in a squad car parked in front of the house as I pulled into the driveway. I was grateful to know he was there. I had done my best not to let the arson attempt rattle me, but it was there at the back of my mind, ready to unnerve me the moment I let the thought surface.
The house was quiet when Diesel and I entered the kitchen, and for the first time in my life I felt slightly spooked by the silence. This was a big house, three stories plus an attic, with many places for an intruder to hide.
Diesel picked up on my unease. He pushed against my legs and meowed, and I realized how foolish I was being. The police had been watching the house, and they wouldn’t let someone sneak inside. I removed Diesel’s leash and harness and hung them on the rack by the back door, all the while talking to the cat to reassure him that everything was fine. A small worm of doubt kept niggling at me, however, but I did my best to ignore it.
Obeying an impulse I pulled out my cell phone and speed-dialed Sean. He answered quickly. “Hey, Dad. What’s up?”
“Just back from the library. How are you and Laura? Where are you?”
“We’re fine. We’re in her office. I’m reading, and she’s grading some papers. Want to talk to her?”
“No, that’s okay. I’m sure she’s got plenty to do. I thought I’d check on you, that’s all.” Stop being such an idiot, I told myself. Of course they’re fine.
“Are you sure you’re okay? You sound a little odd.”
“I’m fine, really.” I put as much conviction as I could muster into my voice, though truth be told I was still uneasy. “I’ll fill you in later on what I found out at the library.”
“See you around three or so,” Sean said. He ended the call.
I put my cell phone away, frowning. Why couldn’t I shake this feeling that something was wrong in the house?
I stood there for a moment, irresolute. Then I felt even more foolish. I couldn’t stand here in the kitchen like a spooked child until someone else came home. This was ridiculous.
Forcing my feet to move, I headed for the den. I wanted to sit down with Lawton’s play again, now that I knew more about the Norris family, to see what connections there were with the Ferris family in the play. I ignored the prickles at the back of my neck as I approached the den.
I paused on the threshold for a moment, willing myself to go in. I reached for the overhead light switch and flipped it on.
After glancing around the room, I reassured myself there was no intruder lurking in here.
I scooped up the stack of papers that contained the play and settled on the sofa. I had plenty of room, because Diesel hadn’t come with me. He was probably busy in the utility room and would be along soon.
Soon absorbed in Lawton’s play, I forgot about Diesel. It wasn’t until I became aware of loud meows coming from somewhere not far away that I realized at least ten minutes had passed and he still wasn’t with me.
I set the papers aside and called out his name. “I’m in here, boy. Come on.”
I waited, but the meowing didn’t abate. I frowned. This was unusual behavior for him. Now he started yowling, and that really spooked me. I jumped up from the sofa and hurried out into the hall.
I spotted the cat near the front door, sitting near a pile of mail. I hadn’t noticed it when I came through the hall earlier, but there was obviously something in the mail that concerned Diesel.