File M for Murder (6 page)

I muttered, “Damn,” and turned to see Lawton gesturing imperiously to me. “Wanna talk to you a minute,” he said.

I was tempted to ignore him, but too many generations of well-bred Southern ancestors wouldn’t let me. I ambled toward him and stopped a few paces away.

“Can I help you?” My tone could freeze water.

Lawton appeared impervious. He waved toward the house he’d been peering at and said, “Who lives here?” From his left hand dangled a three-quarters-empty bottle of Jack Daniels.

“I’m afraid I don’t know,” I said. “But if you go to the library tomorrow one of the staff can help you find out.”

“Right.” Connor nodded. “Should’ve thought of that.” He gazed at the house again. “Probably further back, too.” He swigged some bourbon.

“Yes, or you can go to the county courthouse a few blocks away and check the records.” By now I burned with curiosity. Was he interested in buying the house?

I waited a moment, but Lawton’s focus on the house didn’t waver. “Well, if that’s all,” I said and turned away.

Lawton came out of his reverie. “No, hang on.” His gaze burned into mine. “You’re Laura’s dad, aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

Lawton nodded. “Figured. I didn’t put it together before, but when I saw her tonight, and now you, the resemblance hit me. Plus the library thing. She told me her dad’s a librarian.”

“Yes, I am,” I said. “If that’s all, I’ll be on my way.”

Lawton grabbed my arm before I could move away. “That’s
not
all.” He let go when I shook my arm and scowled at him. “Tell Laura I said she can hang around with that freaking fairy set designer all she wants, but she’ll end up back with me. Count on it.”

I struggled to keep my tone cool. “That’s really up to Laura. She told me she’s not interested in you anymore, and I’d advise you to take that to heart. Find someone else.”

Lawton’s face reddened, and I felt the anger radiating from him.

“That’s crap.” He spit on the ground. “She belongs to me, and I’ll beat the hell out of anyone who tries to keep me away from her.”

Good thing I didn’t have a blunt weapon in my hands, or Connor Lawton’s head would have several dents in it. Ordinarily I’m not a violent man, but the belligerent playwright brought out the worst in me.

I was so angry I couldn’t speak. Words tangled together in my brain. I took a couple of deep breaths before responding. “Back off, buster. You leave my daughter alone. Same goes for anyone she chooses to date. You cross the line, and I’ll have you in jail so fast you’ll think tomorrow is yesterday.” I loomed over him, and evidently what he read in my expression made him uneasy enough to step back.

“You don’t scare me, old man.” He sneered, but I could tell he wasn’t as confident as his words made him sound. “You’re the one who should back off.”

I pulled out my cell phone and punched in a number I knew all too well. When the dispatcher answered, I said, “I’d like to speak to Chief Deputy Berry, please. Tell her it’s Charlie Harris.”

I twisted the phone away from my mouth. “She’s a close personal friend, and she owes me a few favors. Like clapping your sorry behind in jail for a few days.”

In my ear the dispatcher said, “I’m sorry, sir, but the chief deputy ain’t available right now. Can someone else help you?”

That
wasn’t in the plan. What should I do now?

Then I saw I didn’t have to do anything. Connor Lawton tucked tail and almost ran away from me.

With grim satisfaction I thanked the deputy and ended the call. I watched as Lawton hopped into a car half a block away and peeled out. I stuck my phone back in my pocket and headed to my car.

When I reached home some minutes later and entered the kitchen, I announced in a loud voice that I was home, but no one responded. Usually Diesel was waiting, but not tonight. In the hallway I hung my jacket and tie over the banister, then rolled up my sleeves as I walked to the screened-in back porch.

I detected the aroma of Sean’s cigar when I opened the door, and before I took two steps, Diesel greeted me with a loud warble of complaint. I rubbed his head. “Sorry, boy, but I couldn’t take you. You’d have had a ball, I’m sure.” He enjoyed meeting new people and going places, unlike any other cat I’ve known.

He kept scolding—it would take a few minutes before I’d be allowed back in his good graces. He stared up at me, and I smiled at him. Above us the whir of the ceiling fan stirred the warm air and made it bearable to be away from air conditioning.

“That cat beats all. I’ve never heard one talk the way he does.” Sean laughed. “How was the party?” He occupied an old armchair near the end of the porch to my right, his favorite spot to relax with a cigar.

I’d rather he didn’t smoke, but the aroma reminded me of my grandpa Harris. He’d enjoyed his cigars with a shot or two of bourbon well into his nineties, and I’d loved him dearly. Ever since his death over twenty years ago, the smell of a good stogie—health risks aside—triggered pleasant memories.

“The party was okay, nothing special.” I sat on the weather-beaten sofa near him, and Diesel jumped up beside me. He deigned to put one paw on my leg. I scratched his back and his head, and he purred in contentment. “Laura played the belle of the ball, such as it was. She went out to dinner with someone she met from the Theater Department named Frank Salisbury. Seems like a nice young man.”

Sean shook his head as he emitted more smoke. We both watched as it whirled toward the ceiling fan over his head. “She sure doesn’t waste any time.”

“Neither did he.”

Sean flashed a grin at my dry tone.

“Connor Lawton reacted like a jerk at seeing Laura with another man.” I described the scene in the house. “Then, when I left the party, I found him outside staring at the house next door.” Again I wondered about that, but now wasn’t the time to indulge in speculation. “He accosted me and threatened violence to anyone who stood between him and Laura.”

“What?” Sean sat bolt upright. “Tell me exactly what he said.”

I repeated the conversation as best I could remember, and Sean scowled the entire time.

“Somebody should teach that jackass a lesson.”

“I agree,” I said. “But I don’t want you getting into a fight with him. I’ll speak to Kanesha Berry about it and see if she’ll have a talk with him.”

Sean laughed. “If she can’t scare the crap out of him,
nobody can. She sure as heck intimidates me.” He drew on his cigar. “I doubt his verbal threat gives grounds for a restraining order, but the deputy can tell us.”

“I hope it doesn’t come to that. Maybe Kanesha can calm him down. Laura seems so excited about teaching this semester. I don’t want anything to ruin that for her.”

“We won’t let that happen.” Sean tapped ash into the ashtray and took another puff before he continued. “Lawton may have his hands full anyway. Damitra Vane will probably keep him too busy to think about Laura or any other woman.

“You have to meet her, Dad. I thought Laura was exaggerating about her intelligence level. Ol’ Diesel there is like a Ph.D. compared to Ms. Vane.” He shook his head. “Talking to her exhausted me. She has the attention span of a goldfish. If that.”

“How frustrating. Was she responsible for the offensive picture?” I didn’t care to meet her. I simply wanted her not to bother Laura.

“Yes. And dumb as she is, she still has a kind of low cunning. Took me a few minutes, but I finally got her to admit to putting the photograph through the mail slot.” Sean drew on his cigar again.

“What else did you say to her?”

“I told her I was Laura’s lawyer and that Laura would sue her if she kept up the harassment. I had to explain what the big word meant, and once I did she looked frightened. Swore up and down she wouldn’t bother Laura anymore.”

“Did you also tell her Laura has no interest in Connor romantically? That they’re just friends, according to Laura?” I wanted every detail of that conversation.

“I’m not fresh out of law school. I knew what to tell her, and I handled it.” Sean’s tone had an edge to it, and I realized I had offended him.

Diesel meowed, alert as ever to changes in the emotional temperature. I stroked his head, and he settled back down.

“I’m sorry, son, I didn’t mean to question your abilities.” Even after five months of working on strengthening our relationship, I still managed to annoy my son on occasion. “Put it down to overprotectiveness.”

“It’s okay, Dad. I overreacted.” Sean had the grace to appear abashed.

I smiled to indicate I understood. “Did Ms. Vane make threats against Lawton?”

Sean laughed. “Not exactly. She said she’d be watching to make sure no other woman got her claws into him. He belongs to her, and her alone, and no other woman—except she used a more colorful and vulgar word—stands a chance. She expects Connor to come to his senses eventually and realize she’s the only one for him.”

“Good luck to her, I guess.” I shrugged. “As long as she leaves your sister alone, that’s all I care about. The same goes for Lawton.”

“Even so,” Sean said, his tone more serious, “Laura needs to steer clear of both of them.”

“I’ll talk with her,” I said. “And with Kanesha Berry. Now, change of subject. How about dinner?”

Sean expelled smoke and pulled the cigar from his mouth. “I’m good. I had a couple sandwiches before I came out here.” He tapped his cigar on the ashtray. “I figured you’d eat at the party.”

“I did.” I sighed. “Not a lot, but probably enough. I don’t really need anything else.” I rose from the sofa. “But I could use something to drink. Can I bring you anything?”

“No, thanks.” Sean pointed to a bottle of beer on the table by his chair. “Still got a ways to go with this.”

“Then I’ll leave you to it. I’ll call Kanesha and then probably head upstairs.”

“Good night, Dad.”

“Night, son.” I headed for the door with Diesel at my side. I used the kitchen phone to call the sheriff’s department and left a message for Kanesha. I didn’t hear from her that evening. I planned to give her until the following evening to get in touch with me, then I’d start calling until I got through to her.

After a quiet Sunday, on Monday morning I headed to work at the college library at a quarter to nine. Diesel wore his harness, and we strolled the few blocks to campus in the warm, thick morning air. We met several people along the way, and we had to stop to let Diesel greet his admiring public. Even after three years, the sight of a gigantic cat on a leash still attracted attention.

Our stroll was so routine, I was able to think about other things as we walked. Kanesha hadn’t returned my call yesterday, and I’d left another message before I left for work. Where the heck was she? I should have asked Azalea about that this morning, but I didn’t want to cause irritation between mother and daughter. If Azalea knew Kanesha failed to return my calls, she’d probably chastise her daughter severely for bad manners. I’d try again later.

Inside the antebellum home that housed the library’s administrative offices, archives, and rare book room, I removed Diesel’s leash. He scampered upstairs on his own. I followed in a more leisurely fashion, and he greeted me with a few chirps when I reached my office door.

Diesel preceded me inside. He waited for me to remove his harness, then walked to the window behind my desk and climbed onto the large cushion I keep there for him. This was his special perch, and he loved it. An ancient oak tree right outside often lured birds, and the morning sun
warmed him. He yawned and stretched while I booted my computer.

I managed to read three e-mail messages before Melba Gilley, administrative assistant to the library director, Peter Vanderkeller, popped in for her morning visit. Melba and I had known each other since elementary school, and we’d always been friends. She was a knockout in high school, and at fifty-one she retained her figure and her fashion sense.

“Morning, Diesel honey.” Melba adored my cat, and Diesel returned the feeling. He sat up and warbled for her, and she blew him a kiss as she slid into the chair by my desk. “And good morning to you, Charlie. What’s this I hear about your daughter working in the Theater Department?”

I suppressed a smile. If the campus grapevine could be likened to a computer network, then Melba could be called the hub. I widened my eyes innocently. “Melba, you let me down on this one. How come you didn’t know about this last week?”

Melba scowled at me. “Because my usual source didn’t tell me about it until after church yesterday, dang her hide.” She picked at an invisible piece of lint on her sleeve. “And before you go asking, I’ll tell you. It was Sarabeth Conley.” She grinned. “She said she used to babysit you when you were a sprout. Said you were a little dickens, too. The only way she could get you to sit still was to sing.”

I reddened, and Melba chuckled.

“You were a little dickens in grade school too, as I recall. Always in trouble for talking in class. Until Mrs. Tenney broke you of the habit.”

“And as I recall,” I said in a wry tone, “I wasn’t the only one who got in trouble for talking in class. I remember a holy terror in pigtails who gave about as good as she got.”

We both smiled.