Daisy was dying to know what Thomas gave Trudy that Christmas back in 1865, but before she could read any further the phone rang. Annoyed, Daisy picked up the receiver.
“Hello?”
“Hello, Daisy? This is Brian. Brian Comstock. How are you?”
“Oh,” Daisy said, surprised. “I’m fine, Brian. Can I help you with something?” She was wary, given the circumstances of her last encounter with Brian.
“I’m wondering if you know whether Mark John has read the diary I sent him last week. The one from the mid-eighteen hundreds Nebraska. I was thinking about it tonight and I can’t seem to get in touch with him.”
Daisy knew Mark John was supposed to be reading the diary, but she couldn’t lie to Brian. “Actually, I’m reading it myself right now. I asked Mark John if I could read it first and he said that would be okay. Is it all right with you?”
“Oh, yes. Of course it’s all right. Are you enjoying it?”
“Yes, very much. I read a little of it each night before bed. Do you mind if I ask where you got it? I’d like to include some of the material in an article I’m writing for the journal, but before I can use it I need to know where it came from.”
“Uh, well, I don’t know exactly. I found it.”
“Can you tell me where you found it?”
“In a box.”
“Where was the box?”
“In my garage.”
“Where was it before you found it in the garage?”
“Um, I’m not precisely sure.”
This was getting ridiculous. Was there some reason Brian couldn’t divulge where the diary had come from?
Daisy suppressed a sigh of frustration. “Tell you what, Brian. If you’re able to remember where the diary came from, could you let me know? I’d appreciate it.”
“Yes. Sure thing.”
“While I have you on the phone, I was wondering if you could tell me a little bit about Melody Beecham.”
There was silence on the other end of the line.
“Brian?” Daisy thought maybe they had been disconnected.
“I’m here. Why do you want to know about Melody?”
“I’m just wondering. She’s lost a husband, you know, and I was wondering how she’s been handling it.”
“I’m sure you know that Walt and my sister were having an affair before they died,” Brian said.
“Yes.”
“I begged Fiona not to do it,” Brian said. His voice sounded anguished. “Our parents are deceased, but they would have been so disappointed.” This wasn’t about Melody, but Daisy figured she should listen carefully. It sounded like Walt needed to talk and besides, she might learn something interesting.
“Did you ask her why she was drawn to Walt?” Daisy asked.
“Of course. She always said the same thing--Mark John never paid any attention to her.”
“And Walt did?”
“Walt was completely besotted. He told me he had found his soulmate.” Brian sneered the last word.
“Wow,” Daisy said, unsure of what to say next.
“Marriage is sacred,” Brian continued, a touch of scorn creeping into his voice. “You can’t just pretend your marriage vows don’t exist because you’re not receiving enough attention.”
“Did you ever mention this to Mark John?”
“No. I didn’t want to embarrass the man. I’m sure he didn’t want me knowing about all his marital troubles. But I did try to hint around to him sometimes, you know. For example, I would tell him about things going on in the community and suggest that he and Fiona go. Things like that.”
“He didn’t follow up on your suggestions?”
“Not that I know of.”
“So, getting back to Melody,” Daisy said, “how is she doing?”
“She’s a mess. First she finds out her husband is sleeping with another woman, then he’s murdered. The poor woman doesn’t know how she’s going to explain this to her children when they get older.”
“I’m sure she’s devastated,” Daisy murmured.
“And the police won’t leave her alone,” Brian added.
“Why not?”
“Because she looks guilty, of course. The jilted wife, couldn’t take it, that sort of thing.”
“Do you think there could be any truth to that?”
“If you’re suggesting what I think you’re suggesting, Daisy, it’s highly inappropriate of either of us to make any such accusation.”
Uh-oh. The last thing I want to do is antagonize Brian, thought Daisy. He’s one of the few people who can help figure out this mess.
“Oh, no, no. I wasn’t making an accusation. What I meant was, do you think Melody could have been so upset she didn’t know what she was doing?” Daisy asked.
“Oh, I doubt that. Anything is possible, I suppose, but Melody has a wiser head on her shoulders than that.”
“I’m sure you’re right,” Daisy said in a soothing voice. “What a relief.”
“I’ve got to get going, Daisy.”
“Sure. Oh, one more thing, Brian. Where did you get my number?”
“I found it online. It was surprisingly easy.”
In the days that followed Daisy was busy with assignments for Global Human Rights. She went to work every morning still tired from the day before, and she went to bed each night exhausted from a long day. She didn’t even have a chance to pick up Trudy’s diary. She didn’t see Grover or Helena again until two weekends later, when the three of them gathered for an early lunch before Grover had to get to work for an evening garden party. Daisy finally had a day to herself without any deadline hanging over her head.
Helena was telling them a story about her new boyfriend, Bennett, when Daisy’s phone rang. It was Mark John. Daisy excused herself from the table and took the call on the sidewalk outside the restaurant.
“What’s up?” she asked.
“What are you doing right now?”
“Having lunch with some friends. Why?”
“I just talked to Brian and he’s obsessed about that diary he gave me. He says you have it. Do you?”
“Yes. You asked me to read it and you told me to let you know if there’s anything interesting in it so you could discuss it with him if he asked about it.”
She could tell Mark John was thinking back, trying to recall the incident. Finally he said, “So you’re still reading it?”
“I’ve been too busy for over a week now to even look at it. Do you want it back?”
He sighed. “Not really. Is there anything in it I should know about?”
“I don’t think so. It’s just a young woman from Nebraska and what seems like a courtship between her and a man with two children. I haven’t read enough to know for sure. Nothing you’d be interested in.”
“All right. Keep it for now. I may have to ask for it if he doesn’t get off my case.”
“No problem. Is that all you wanted?”
“I suppose. Which friends are these that you’re having lunch with?”
“Helena and Grover. You’ve probably heard me talk about them.”
“Ah, yes. I guess I have. Well, enjoy.”
Daisy shook her head as she ended the call. He’s so nosy, she thought.
She returned to the table just as Helena was telling Grover about a man she had met recently. Daisy sat down and Helena turned to her excitedly. “I was just telling Grover about Dave, a guy I met last week. He’s not my type, but I think he would be perfect for you, Daisy.”
Daisy replied without hesitation. “Not interested.”
“Why not?” Helena whined. “We could double-date. Come on, it would be fun!”
“Nope,” Daisy said. “I’m not looking for a date or a boyfriend or anything like that. I’m too busy.”
“I’ll get a picture of him. You’ll change your mind.”
“Want to bet?” Daisy asked with a smirk. Grover watched the exchange with interest.
“Why don’t you want to, Daisy?” he asked.
“I just explained why. I’m not looking for anyone. I don’t have time.”
He looked at her thoughtfully. “You work too hard.”
“Stop it. Now who wants to go to the Natural History Museum? My treat.” Daisy grinned. None of the Smithsonian museums charged an admission fee.
“I’ll go,” said Helena.
“Can’t,” Grover said, signaling the waiter. “Got to get to work.”
Back at the office on Monday morning, Daisy decided to return to the Library of Congress to do more research for the articles she was working on for Mark John. She went straight to the Rare Book Reading Room and found the librarian who had helped her on her last visit. The librarian remembered Daisy and offered to get her the books she needed. Daisy spent the day doing the things she loved most—reading and writing. She took notes, worked on her outline for the articles, and pored over old documents and primary sources. She was tired when she went home that evening, but in a good way. She wished she could spend more time trying to help Grover and Jude, but if she was honest with herself, she didn’t know where to look for answers. What could she learn that the police couldn’t find out? And her job had to come first--without it, she’d be no help to anyone.
That night she ate a quick dinner and sat down to read Trudy’s diary. She had been looking forward to it for a couple weeks, since the last time she set it aside. As she recalled, it had been Christmas Eve, 1865, and Trudy had received a Christmas gift from Thomas.