File M For Murder

For a moment I felt like I needed to throw up, but I focused on deep, centering breaths, and the feeling passed.

I pulled out my cell phone. I hesitated briefly but then speed-dialed the sheriff’s department. Kanesha would probably chew me up one side and down the other for calling her, but I had to be certain she read this, and soon.

I waited for the receptionist to put me through to Kanesha. Canned music played in my ear for almost four minutes before the chief deputy answered.

“What can I do for you, Mr. Harris? I’m extremely busy right now.”

Judging from her tone I was at the bottom of her list of favorite people right now, but I didn’t let that intimidate me.

“Have you had time to read any of Lawton’s files yet?”

Kanesha countered with “We know someone copied the contents of that drive before Miss Harris turned it over to me. I’m frankly surprised it took you this long to talk to me about it.”

There was no point to feeling chagrin, I decided. “I’m surprised, Deputy, that you didn’t threaten us with some kind of charge, when we talked earlier today.”

“I still might bring charges, Mr. Harris. The investigation is ongoing.”

The cool amusement in her tone deflated me a bit, although I should have expected her to say that. She had the upper hand and was enjoying it.

“Back to my question.” I tried not to sound impatient or irritated. “Have you read any of the files?”

“Yes, I’ve read some of them. What is it you want to direct my attention to?”

“His play, the work in progress that the students were workshopping.”

“What about it?” She still sounded amused.

Was she deliberately trying to make me lose my temper with her? After brief reflection I decided she probably was, but I wasn’t going to give her the satisfaction.

“Laura told us that, during the last conversation she had with Lawton, he muttered something. A quotation from Shakespeare, actually: ‘The play’s the thing.’ It’s from Hamlet, and the full quotation is: ‘The play’s the thing / Wherein I’ll catch the conscience of the King.’ “

“I’ve read Hamlet, Mr. Harris. In senior English class at Athena High School.”

“Then surely you see the significance. That play has to be important. It’s a clear motive for murder.” My temper was beginning to fray, despite my best intentions.

“I’m well aware of what that quote might mean. Matter of fact, I’ve read a few pages of the play, and I’m already considering how it fits into my investigation. Now, is there anything else you wanted to tell me?”

“No, that was it.” Score one for Team Berry, I decided. That’s me, firmly put in my place. “Thanks for your time.”

“The department is always happy to hear from the public.” The phone clicked in my ear as she ended the call.

I stuck my cell phone back in my pocket and glanced over at Diesel. Head raised, eyes blinking, he meowed at me.

“I’m an idiot, boy; you might as well realize that now. I never know when to leave well enough alone.” I sighed as I stroked the cat’s side. He meowed again and went into languorous stretch mode, shifting until he was on his back, head twisted at what looked to me like a painful angle. I decided it was the librarian in me, the part that always wanted to help people find the information they needed. I wasn’t a busybody, surely.

No point in going any further with that train of thought. I contemplated going to the kitchen for a snack, but when I considered the idea further, I knew I wasn’t really hungry. It was simply a response to stress.

I picked up the pages and read further. I had to suppress more than one yawn. The dull part of the play threatened to put me to sleep. I read through the bit I had seen onstage only two days ago and marveled at the sheer banality of it. I found it hard to reconcile the staggering difference in quality between the Rafe/Maggie part and the Ferris family saga.

The plot of the Ferris story centered around rage against the patriarch for his refusal to help his younger daughter Sadie out of trouble. The older daughter, Lisbeth, I discovered, was almost old enough to be her sister’s mother. She became so angry at her father that she actually began plotting his death. She discussed different methods with Sadie, who seemed to nurse a savage hatred of her father. There was another character, whose purpose I couldn’t fathom, a young child named Connie who flitted in and out. The Ferris section of the play ended before either Lisbeth or Sadie acted on one of their plans to murder old Mr. Ferris.

I laid the final piece of paper aside and leaned back on the sofa. My eyes were a bit tired from the reading, and I realized I was thirsty as well. At the moment, though, I couldn’t muster the energy to get up. My lack of sufficient sleep was catching up with me. I’d sit here for a few minutes and relax, then I would take care of my thirst before I tackled the rest of Lawton’s files.