I suggested that they take seats on the sofa that stood at a right angle to the chair I’d been occupying. They made themselves comfortable, and I resumed my seat. Diesel, happy with more attention, sat on the floor at their feet and meowed at them while they told him how handsome he was, and so on.
After a couple of minutes of attention to the cat, though, both women focused their attention on me.
“We’ve been hearing some interesting stories about you, Mr. Harris.” Cathleen Matera smiled. “Apparently you’re quite the amateur detective.”
Nancy Dunlap nodded. “We heard about what happened recently at Athena, with the murder in the library.”
I winced inwardly. I really didn’t like talking with people I barely knew about the murders that I’d had the misfortune to encounter. I had to be polite, however. “Call me Charlie, please. And, yes, I suppose I’ve had more experience with murder than most people. Not something I like to talk about much, frankly.”
Nancy Dunlap laughed. “No, I imagine not. Don’t worry, we’re not going to press you for the lurid details. I prefer my murders to be fictional. Are you a mystery reader?”
“Yes, since childhood,” I said. “What about you, Cathleen?”
She shook her head. “Occasionally I’ll read one, but most of the time I like fantasy and science fiction.”
We chatted for a few minutes about favorite authors, and I discovered that Nancy and I had similar tastes. She was a big fan of two Mississippi writers, Carolyn Haines and Charlaine Harris. Cathleen agreed that she loved Charlaine’s work as well. When I mentioned a couple of historical mystery writers I particularly enjoyed, Nancy dove into her purse, pulled out a small notepad and a pen, and started jotting down names.
All the while we discussed books, I wondered how I could introduce the subject of Gavin and do a bit of discreet probing. Finally, I figured out a way, taking a lead from Cathleen’s mention of two of her favorite writers. Nancy and I had hardly given her time to talk before.
“Their work does sound interesting,” I said. “I discovered that one of the librarians at the conference writes science fiction. Mitch Handler, that’s his name, but I think he uses a different name for his novels.”
“Berger Mitchell,” Cathleen said promptly. “I’ve read a couple of his novels. He’s really good, and he writes women characters who are real women, not like the caricatures you find in some male writers’ books.”
“I’ll have to give him a try,” I said. “I do occasionally read science fiction. I think somebody told me he once worked with Gavin, too. Have either of you ever worked with him?”
Nancy and Cathleen exchanged a glance, then Nancy spoke. “With Mitch, you mean?” At my nod Nancy continued. “No, I’ve not worked with him, and I don’t believe Cathleen has, either.”
Cathleen shook her head.
Nancy smiled briefly. “Look, Charlie, I know you’re wanting to ask us something about Mitch and Gavin, so why not come right out with it?”
I could all too easily imagine my sheepish expression when I responded. “You’re right. Okay, here it is. Gavin had a habit of doing nasty things to people he worked with when they tried to move on to other jobs. Does that ring any bells?”
Both women were obviously startled. “How do you know about that?” Cathleen asked, then immediately appeared to regret it.
“Two friends who worked with Gavin before told me,” I said. “One of them said she’d heard Gavin had done something nasty to Handler, but she couldn’t remember.”
Nancy’s eyes widened as she seemed to be looking over my shoulder. She opened her mouth to speak, but she was interrupted before she could say anything. At the same time Cathleen shrank back and stared down at her wineglass.
A deep voice spoke from somewhere near my shoulder. “I can tell you myself. Although why it’s any business of yours, I don’t have any idea.”
Startled, I turned in my chair to see Mitch Handler frowning down at me.
THIRTY
That’s what you get for sitting with your back to the door, you nitwit. The snide voice in my head made me want to squirm. What an idiot I was sometimes.
Repressing a sigh, I stood, being careful not to trod on Diesel. “I’m truly sorry, Mr. Handler. My curiosity gets the better of me sometimes.”
Handler’s response to that was a stony gaze. Behind me, I heard Nancy and Cathleen getting to their feet.
“Nice talking to you, Charlie,” Nancy said, and Cathleen nodded. “See you later, Mitch.”
I envied them their quick escape. At the moment I wished I could crawl under the sofa. I looked back at Handler with what I hoped was a suitably hangdog expression.
The stony gaze softened a minute amount.
“Why don’t you sit back down?” Handler moved past me to the sofa and seated himself.
I resumed my former place and waited for Handler to speak. For the moment, he seemed more interested in Diesel than in continuing to chastise me. Diesel, after first trying to hide between my legs and the chair, soon responded to the soft chirps Handler made. He moved close enough to sniff at the stranger’s extended fingers for a moment. He evidently decided Handler was okay, because he allowed the man to rub his head.
Handler appeared calm when he spoke to me again. “I’ve heard about you and your cat, Mr. Harris. Your penchant for getting involved in murders had gotten around this weekend. Frankly, I’m surprised that local law enforcement hasn’t done something about that.”
Despite my earlier embarrassment over being caught gossiping about this man behind his back, I was starting to feel irritated at his patronizing tone. I wasn’t about to explain myself to him or share with him the unusual relationship I had with Kanesha Berry. I let his remark go without response.
Handler shrugged after a silence of several seconds and evidently decided his bait had missed its mark. “You are trying to find out what happened between Gavin and me, I presume because you plan to share it with your law enforcement contact. Deputy Berry, right?”
I nodded. At the moment I didn’t trust myself to speak.
“As I’ve already told the deputy my story, I might as well tell you, I suppose. No doubt she will tell you herself eventually. You seem to be in the loop on everything, from what I’ve heard.”
Now I had to speak, and I did my best to restrain my anger with him. I wanted to wipe that smug expression away. “I don’t appreciate your sarcasm, Mr. Handler. Yes, I am nosy, and yes, I’ve been involved in a few murder investigations. But let me set you straight on one thing. Kanesha Berry is a principled, ethical investigator. She shares with me only the things that have direct bearing on an investigation when I have provided the basic information that has helped her. I don’t see autopsy reports, the results of forensic tests, or witness statements, ever.”
Handler had the grace to look slightly abashed by the time I concluded my mini-rant. “Okay, sorry, I went too far. These murders have me on edge, like they do everyone. I didn’t care for Gavin Fong any more than anyone who’d ever worked with him.” Suddenly he grinned. “Evidently you and I have one thing in common, according to a story I heard from one of your old library school friends. I punched him out like you did, and for the same reason.”
“He was harassing your wife?” I didn’t like the fact that one of my library school friends had gossiped about me, but I couldn’t get on a high horse over that. That horse had no legs in this instance.
“Girlfriend at the time,” Handler replied. “Now my wife. He was slime when it came to women, and I caught him with his hands all over her and her trying to get away from him. He never made that mistake again.”