Delbert Winston, on the other hand, was exactly the kind of bland, nondescript man who could be overlooked. Average height, an ordinary face, neither handsome nor homely, bland coloring, bland clothing, and so on. Until I had known the man for a couple of years, I had trouble remembering who he was when I saw him around the library.
I couldn’t remember if there was a security camera in the basement. There ought to be, of course, but that didn’t mean one existed. All the sports facilities and the scientific laboratories on campus had them, but the library was rather farther down the priority list when it came to expenses like security cameras and monitoring systems.
I ought to mention that to Miss An’gel and Miss Dickce. They were avid supporters of academic programs at the college, and I knew the welfare and security of students, staff, and faculty were important to them. Yes, I really should talk to them about it.
Now was as good a time as any, I decided, and picked up my phone.
Miss An’gel answered after three rings. “Charlie, what on earth is going on at the college? Dickce and I have been sitting here talking about it. Do you know any of the details?”
Diesel’s keen ears detected the voice of one of his pals, and he warbled loudly. He wanted to say hello to Miss An’gel. I told her that before I attempted to answer her question.
“Tell him I said hello back. And tell him Endora and Peanut are looking forward to seeing him again soon.”
Diesel had accompanied me a couple of times to Riverhill, the sisters’ magnificent antebellum home, and he had made friends with the Abyssinian cat, Endora, and energetic Labradoodle, Peanut, the sisters adopted several months ago. He also adored the sisters’ young ward, Benjy Stephens, now a freshman at Athena.
“He would love to come see you all, I know,” I told her. “Now, back to your question.” I filled her in on what I knew and, after a moment’s hesitation, told her about Melba as well. She knew Melba and had a high regard for her, and I knew she would be concerned for her.
“Dickce, you’ll never believe this,” she said when I finished. I heard her sharing some of the details with her younger sister. Then she spoke into the phone again. “How gruesome. He must have been a terrible person for someone to hate him that much.”
“I suppose so,” I said. “I didn’t care for him, I can tell you that much.” I might as well tell her about Reilly’s plans for the library. I gave her a quick rundown, and as I expected, she was outraged.
“I don’t know what Forrest was thinking,” she said. “I’ve got a good mind to call him up and tell him if he goes through with any such thing, he can count on never seeing another dollar from me and Sister.”
“Don’t be hasty, Miss An’gel,” I said, though I had to admit this was exactly the reaction I had hoped for. “Now that Reilly’s gone, I’m sure the president will rethink his plans for the archive. The publicity around all this isn’t going to be good for the college.”
“No, it isn’t,” she agreed. “I think a meeting of the board of trustees is in order, and I’m going to call Forrest right away. Dickce happens to be president of the board this year. Did you know that?”
“No, I didn’t,” I said. “That’s excellent news.”
“Don’t you worry about the archive, or your job there,” Miss An’gel said. “The board will sort out the issues with the budget. Now, you tell Melba that Sister and I will be praying for her, and if she needs anything, anything at all, she should let us know.”
By that, I knew Miss An’gel meant that she and her sister would happily give Melba the money, if she needed it, to pay any legal fees.
“I’ll thank you on her behalf,” I said. “I know she will appreciate your kindness.”
“You call me the minute you hear anything more,” Miss An’gel said, and I promised I would before we said good-bye.
I put the phone aside, feeling rather smug. “It’s good to know people who can get things done,” I told Diesel. He meowed as if he agreed.
I also felt a bit callous, but there was nothing I could do for the dead man. Kanesha would see justice done on his behalf. The living were more important, and the library and its staff needed help to recover, not only from the ghastly murder, but from the budget crisis also.
The doorbell rang, and Diesel climbed down from the sofa and scampered out the door. He loved visitors and usually reached the door before either Azalea or I could.
As I stepped into the hall, I saw Azalea at the door, the cat right by her side. She opened the door and remained in front of it. I couldn’t see who the visitor was until I reached them.
Lisa Krause, her face blotchy from crying, stood on the doorstep. Azalea urged her to come in, but Lisa didn’t respond until she saw me.
“Charlie, I’m so worried,” she said. “I’m sorry to keep showing up on your doorstep like this, but I didn’t know who else to turn to.”
“You come right on in here, child.” Azalea gently took Lisa’s arm and pulled her in. “Come on into the kitchen, and I’ll make you something to drink. Coffee? Or hot tea?”
“Thank you, ma’am,” Lisa said. “Hot tea would be great.”
Azalea led the young woman into the kitchen and got her seated at the table, then busied herself filling the kettle with water and putting it on to boil.
I took a seat across from Lisa. She looked pitiful. I had never seen her upset like this, but she was obviously distressed.
“I’m happy to do what I can to help you,” I told her. Diesel had gone to sit by her, and I knew he would be rubbing his head against her leg in an attempt to comfort her. “Tell me what’s wrong.”
Lisa’s glance flicked to Azalea and back to me.
“It’s okay,” I said. “Azalea will help, too.”
“Thank you,” Lisa replied. “I’m so scared, Charlie, I don’t know what to do.” She choked back a sob. “I’ve been terrified ever since I heard the news about the murder.”
“What has terrified you?” I asked. “I can’t believe you killed the man. Did you?”
“No,” Lisa said, obviously fighting hard to retain some composure. “But I may be the reason he’s dead.”
EIGHTEEN
“Here you go now.” Azalea set a mug of hot tea in front of Lisa. “You want anything to go in it?”
“Thank you,” Lisa said. “If you have milk or cream, and a little sugar, that would be great.”
Azalea nodded and retrieved a carton of heavy cream from the fridge, and I found the sugar bowl and a spoon for her. I waited until Lisa had prepared her tea to her liking and had a couple of sips before I questioned her about her dramatic claim.
“How could you be the reason that Reilly was murdered?” I asked gently. “I really don’t understand.”
Lisa stared into her tea. “I’ve been dating one of the assistant football coaches, Brent Tucker. They call him Tuck.” She smiled briefly. “Tuck the Truck, because of the way he used to barrel down the field, knocking other players out of the way.”
I did indeed know Tuck the Truck, although not personally. He had played collegiate ball at Athena, then gone on to a brief stint in the NFL before serious injuries ended his career. As I recalled, he was about six foot five and weighed nearly three hundred pounds. Not as massive as Porter Stanley, but still a big guy.
“Yes, I know who he is,” I said. “Are you afraid your boyfriend is responsible? What did he have against Reilly?”
“Brent is really protective of me, you see,” Lisa replied.
When she failed to continue, I prompted her. “And?”
Lisa paled, and her hands tightened around her mug. “I told you how Reilly accused me of lying. Well, that wasn’t the whole story.” She paused for a sip of tea. “He, well, he touched me and said he was sure everything would be okay if I cooperated with him.”