Arsenic and Old Books by Miranda James Page A

asked.
    Sean shook his head. “No, sorry. I’m about to head upstairs for a shower and a change of clothes. Alex and I are going to a Chamber of Commerce dinner tonight. Three hours of rubber chicken and listening to speeches. The mayor has some new plan for attracting more tourists to Athena.”
    I loved my hometown, but I would be hard-pressed to name enough local sights or activities that would interest many tourists. We did have a number of historic homes from the antebellum era, and a few were open to the public. Nothing like the spring pilgrimages, as they were called, held every year in Natchez and Holly Springs, though.
    â€œI’m sure local business owners would love that,” I said. “I’ll be curious to hear about the mayor’s plan.”
    â€œI’ll tell you all about it tomorrow.” Sean got up to drop his two beer bottles in the recycling bin. “Gotta get a move on, Dad. See you later.” As he walked past, he gave my shoulder a quick squeeze.
    As the sound of my son’s footsteps faded away, I let the quiet of the kitchen settle around me. I could hear Diesel purring and the ticking of the wall clock, but otherwise there was blessed calm. I sat and enjoyed the peace for several minutes. Then I decided it was time to eat.
    I still had half the casserole from last night and a bit of salad that would be fine for my dinner. There was some more of the boiled chicken for Diesel. While the two of us enjoyed our meal, Sean popped back through the kitchen on his way to meet Alexandra. He looked distinguished and handsome in his black suit, white shirt, and dark red tie, I thought. Every inch the successful young professional. I was proud of my accomplished son, but I didn’t tell him. I knew he would only squirm with embarrassment, so I simply smiled and bade him good night.
    Diesel and I were halfway up the stairs when the doorbell rang. I had an uneasy feeling that if I went down and opened the door, it wouldn’t be to good news. I was tempted to ignore it and take refuge in my bedroom, but the adult in me prevailed.
    I turned and clumped back down the stairs. I peered out the peephole. There was still enough daylight left that I could see who stood on the doorstep.
    I felt my blood pressure start to rise as I opened the door.

FOURTEEN
    â€œEvening, Marie.” I stood in the doorway and glared down at her upturned face. “What do you want?”
    From the wild gleam in the woman’s eyes, I knew I was in trouble. She put her head down and butted me in the stomach. Hard.
    I stumbled back and almost tripped over Diesel. I managed to step around him. He darted up the stairs while I turned to face my attacker.
    â€œWhy did you do that, woman? Are you insane?” I rubbed the spot where her head had connected with my midriff. “I have a good mind to call the police and charge you with assault.”
    â€œYou already set the police on me.” Her pitch rose with every syllable. “I could kill you for what you’ve done to me. Why do you hate me? What have I ever done to
you
?”
    To my dismay she broke into wild sobs. Tears rolled down her face. She stood there, arms hanging down listlessly, and continued to cry. Despite my anger at her attack, I felt a sneaking sympathy for her distress. I stepped around her to close the door, then came back to where she could see me.
    â€œWhat happened?” I asked in a gentle tone.
    Her chest heaved as she struggled to regain enough composure to respond to me. “The police showed up at my house this afternoon and accused me of theft. That’s what happened. Then they tore my house apart looking for the diaries. You were responsible for it—I know you were—so don’t try to deny it.” Suddenly she collapsed in a seated heap on the floor and started sobbing again.
    I knelt by her. I was afraid to touch her because the good Lord only knew how she would react.
    â€œMarie,