Classified As Murder

“We’ll do our best,” I said. “But I don’t think there’s any way we can finish by this afternoon.”

“Do what you can,” Kanesha said, her face impassive. “Once the FBI agent is here, I don’t know whether he’ll want you to continue. In my experience they don’t always work well with the locals.”

“Duly noted, Deputy,” Sean said. “Come on, Dad, let’s get to work.”

I nodded at Kanesha and then started to follow Sean out the door.

“One more thing,” Kanesha said. We turned back. “I spoke to the rare book dealer in New York about Tamerlane.”

“Did Mr. Delacorte buy a copy?” I asked when she stopped and didn’t continue right away.

“He did,” Kanesha said. “And if we can find it, I think we’ll find the murderer.”

THIRTY-ONE

“Do you think it’s still somewhere in this house?” Sean sounded incredulous. “Surely it’s long gone by now.”

“I don’t think so.” Kanesha leaned against the back of a heavy, overstuffed armchair. “Mr. Delacorte only brought it home with him last week. He flew to New York to pick it up and got back on Wednesday. That’s only a week ago. I don’t think there’s been time to do anything with it.”

“That makes sense,” I said. “It would take some time to find a buyer. Unless, of course, the thief already had one in mind.”

“The only member of the family who’s left town since Mr. Delacorte returned from New York is Stewart Delacorte.” Kanesha stood away from the chair. “He went to Memphis on Sunday to visit a friend. I’ve already talked to the Memphis police about the friend, and he’s clean. Runs a highly successful florist’s shop. I don’t really think he’s involved in the theft, or Stewart either.”

“Do you know who it is?” I asked.

“I’m pretty sure I do.” Kanesha looked smug. “But proving it will take some time. We’ve got to find that missing Poe book.”

“Can’t you search the house again?” Sean asked. “Get another warrant. Surely you have probable cause now.”

“Gosh, I never would have thought of that.” Kanesha didn’t try to tone down the sarcasm, and Sean flushed—whether in embarrassment or irritation, or both, I wasn’t sure.

“I’m working on it,” Kanesha said. “In the meantime, keep your eyes open. For all I know it could be hidden in the library. I have a gut feeling it’s in this house somewhere.”

“Come on, Sean.” I headed for the library with Sean and Diesel on my heels. Deputy Bates was back on guard duty in the library. He greeted us and unlocked the doors.

Sean turned on the lights while I released Diesel from his harness and put it aside. The cat stretched and yawned before he ambled off to the spot under the work table that he seemed to favor.

Sean strode over to the shelf we had been working on last night and turned to me. “I’m ready.”

“Right.” I handed him a pair of cotton gloves before I picked up the inventory book to find the place where we stopped. “Here we go.”

As we worked through the inventory, we found each book listed. Most were in the correct place on the shelf. Four were among those we found earlier and stored on the work table until we came to them in the list.

Only half my thoughts were engaged in the job at hand. The other half were devoted to the conversation with Kanesha. Her reminder that Stewart was the only family member to leave town after Mr. Delacorte brought the copy of Tamerlane home from New York rattled me. After becoming further acquainted with Stewart, I didn’t want to think of him as a thief. I had to wonder, however, whether Kanesha was overlooking the obvious because she was so convinced by her gut feeling. Stewart was bright enough to know the value of the stolen books, and with his connections in academia, he could surely find the contacts he needed to sell the books privately.

If the Tamerlane were still in the house, however, where could it be? The Poe hadn’t turned up during the search. I considered the possibility that the searchers overlooked it because the hiding place was clever. The more I thought about it, however, the more I believed that the Tamerlane wasn’t in the house. If the thief had an accomplice outside the house, the accomplice could have had it all along.

I read out the next title to Sean, a first edition of Edith Wharton’s Pulitzer Prize–winning novel, The Age of Innocence . As I recalled, Wharton was the first woman to win the prize for fiction. This was another favorite I would love to own, but I would have to be content with my facsimile edition.

While Sean checked the shelves for the Wharton, I thought again about the idea of an accomplice. In my mind there was only one candidate, Anita Milhaus. She was known to be having an affair with Hubert Morris, and Hubert seemed the obvious choice for the role of thief. I was convinced Eloise had found the missing inventory among his things. We would never know for sure, now that poor Eloise was dead.