Arsenic and Old Books by Miranda James

sounded like the lawyer he was now, rather than just my son.
    â€œI locked the door to the office when I left for lunch,” I said. “It’s such a habit with me, I can’t believe I didn’t do it today. So, yes, I took reasonable precautions. I don’t have a safe to put things in.” I paused for a moment. “I suppose I could have put them in the storage room next door. It has a much better lock, one that’s not easily compromised.”
    â€œYou could have,” Sean said. “But did you have any reason to suspect that the diaries were vulnerable to theft?”
    I shook my head. “No, but I knew there were two parties anxious to get hold of them.”
    â€œDo you think the professor or the writer stole them?”
    â€œSurely it must be one of them,” I said. “At least, I
hope
it was one of them, because I don’t think either of them would destroy the diaries. My biggest fear is that the thief might do that for some unknown reason.”
    â€œLet’s hope the cops find them before the thief has a chance to do anything drastic to them,” Sean said. “Right now I’d give a lot to know what’s in those diaries to stir up this kind of kerfuffle.” He shook his head. “By now I’m pretty much used to weird things happening around you, but this is even more bizarre than usual.”
    â€œThanks for that,” I said sourly. “Are you sure you weren’t serious about putting me in a home?”
    Sean laughed. “I wouldn’t dare. For one thing, Helen Louise would extract my liver and then feed it to me. As would Laura, and probably Azalea as well.” He got up for another beer, and I motioned that he should refill my glass, too.
    â€œSeriously, Dad, how do you keep getting involved in these things?” Sean frowned as he set my refilled glass in front of me.
    â€œMust be karma,” I said, half joking. “Maybe in my last existence I went around whining about being bored all the time, and this is the payback.”
    Sean rolled his eyes. “People are going to stop letting you come near them at this rate.”
    â€œIt’s not my fault,” I protested. I was beginning to get a little annoyed with my son. “I don’t go out of my way to find dead bodies or get involved in thefts. They just happen, and there I am.”
    My son burst out laughing. “You are
way
too easy, Dad.”
    For a moment I contemplated throwing the contents of my glass across the table at him, but then I started laughing, too. I could feel the tension drain away. Diesel joined in with a few chirps. Even if he didn’t understand the words, he understood the mood.
    Time for a change of subject, I decided. “How is Alexandra?”
    â€œFine,” Sean said. “And before you ask, no, I haven’t asked her to marry me yet.”
    â€œI wasn’t going to ask,” I said. I knew better. Sean had never liked being hounded—as he called it—about anything. “The last time I saw her she was having trouble with her allergies. I hope she’s feeling better.”
    Sean looked mollified. “She is. Whatever was blooming seems to have stopped, so she’s not sneezing and getting watery eyes like she was a few days ago.”
    â€œStaying busy at the office?” I asked. Sean had recently become a partner in the law firm established by Alexandra’s father, the legendary Q. C. Pendergrast.
    â€œPlenty of work,” Sean said. “Q. C.’s starting to take it easier, so Alex and I are taking on more of his work.”
    â€œThat’s good.” A few months ago Sean and his prospective father-in-law were locked in a battle of wills. Q. C. wanted to make Sean a partner as a wedding gift, but my stubborn son wanted to pay his own way and buy into the firm. They finally came to an agreement over the summer. I kept out of it.
    â€œAre you in for dinner?” I