Arsenic and Old Books Read Free Page B

three other colleges. A significant monograph would bolster her application, but she was her own worst enemy. From what I had heard she had the same combative attitude with her students, and her evaluations evidenced it. She had no understanding of the words
tact
and
diplomacy
. Her peer in the English department was the exact opposite, one of the most highly regarded women on campus and one of the most popular teachers. She had to turn away students every semester; otherwise her classes would be too large for the college’s guidelines on student-teacher ratios. Marie never had that problem. Her courses, other than the obligatory surveys, usually had the bare minimum.
    â€œNo, I could not, even if I wanted to. Only the Long family could grant access like that. You’ll have to talk to Mayor Long, but I doubt she would allow it.”
    â€œWe’ll see about that.” Marie sounded triumphant. “Mayor Long will do what I want, and I’ll have the pleasure of making you eat crow.” She pushed past me, jerked open the door, and left it open as she scurried down the sidewalk as fast as her stubby legs could carry her.
    I closed the door and resisted the urge to utter a number of uncomplimentary—albeit well-deserved—words about my departed guest.
    Diesel warbled and then commenced muttering. I had to grin. He had no such reservations about cursing Marie as only a cat could do.
    â€œI agree with everything you’re saying,” I told the cat as the muttering ceased. “She is the rudest, most high-handed person I’ve had the misfortune to meet.”
    I headed back to the kitchen to put the casserole in the oven to heat up. Diesel preceded me, no doubt hopeful that tidbits of chicken would be forthcoming.
    â€œNot for a while yet, boy,” I told him as I adjusted the oven temperature. Diesel turned and walked out of the kitchen, muttering as he went.
    I followed and climbed the stairs to my second-floor bedroom. Time to change out of work clothes into lounging-around duds—sweatpants, T-shirt, and bare feet. While I changed I recalled Marie Steverton’s odd remark about the mayor as she stomped her way down the sidewalk.
    How could she be so certain Mayor Long would grant her request so quickly? What kind of influence could a non-tenured junior professor wield? The idea sounded nuts to me. Based on my own conversation with Mrs. Long earlier today, I doubted she and her family would want access to the diaries restricted to one person. That would be counterproductive, I thought. My take on the situation was that the Longs wanted everyone to know about the diaries for their own obscure reasons.
    I padded back down the stairs. Diesel stayed on my bed. He hadn’t had a nap in nearly forty minutes, so he was overdue. I knew he would be downstairs right after I pulled the casserole out of the oven.
    I couldn’t get Marie’s threat—weak as it seemed—out of my mind. What kind of connection could she have to the mayor? She had moved to Athena only six years ago. If there was any kind of dirt, though, I knew the person to ask—my old friend and coworker, Melba.
    Melba Gilley and I, along with my late wife, Jackie, grew up in Athena together, and since my return home several years ago, Melba and I had reestablished our friendship. She was executive assistant to the college library director, and I saw her at least three days a week since we worked in the same building. Melba knew practically everyone in town, and if there was anything to connect Mrs. Long and Marie Steverton, she would know—or find out as quickly as possible.
    I hit speed dial on my cell phone to call Melba at home. She answered after three rings.
    She listened patiently as I explained the events of the afternoon and the encounter with Marie. “What kind of connection could there be between them?”
    Melba laughed. “That’s easy, Charlie. They were at Sweet Briar