Chapter 7
Maxwell rubbed the back of his third finger against his upper lip, deep in thought. He rose and closed the door before returning to his seat.
Speaking softly, he said, “Florrie, I am very sorry to say there is a good likelihood that I will be arrested.”
I sucked in a deep breath of air. “Surely not,” I said, knowing full well that he was probably right.
“In that event, you will be solely in charge of Color Me Read. I have asked my attorney to draft the appropriate documentation so that you can step into my shoes, so to speak, and handle any matters that should arise. I have total confidence and trust in your judgment.”
“But . . . even if they arrest you, won’t you be out on bail?”
“Possibly. But my attorney informs me that bail may be denied because of my escapades, as she calls them, around the world. They may fear that I could disappear into the wilds of Borneo or the Amazon River Basin, never to be seen again.”
I gazed into his eyes, as sincere and kind as ever. “I promise to take good care of the bookstore. Don’t worry about that.”
“I know you will, Florrie. You are a rock in my turbulent world.”
Professor Maxwell winced and massaged his mustache. “You can imagine that I feel enormous guilt.”
What? Was he about to confess? No!
“Don’t look so horrified, Florrie. I didn’t murder Delbert or anyone else.” He leaned forward and patted my shoulder in a gesture meant to be reassuring. “Delbert was born with every advantage in life. He never missed a meal, never wanted for anything, attended the best schools. Yet he turned out to be an immoral, unprincipled degenerate. Clearly, his parents and I failed him somewhere along the way. Delbert had the intellectual capacity to be anything he liked. But he had the character to be devious and manipulative. He used his brain, not for good, but to prey on others to his own advantage. My guilt arises from the conflict of relief that I no longer have to worry about his next scam, and the intensely deep sorrow I feel at the loss of my nephew.” He looked straight at me. “Because I do feel a loss. I’m not sure how to reconcile those two emotions.”
I didn’t know, either. I searched for something sage, or at least comforting, to say. “Isn’t that how love of family is supposed to work? We care about them, no matter what they do.”
Maxwell smiled at me. “When you entered this room, I was contemplating the great thinkers and their philosophies, but you, my little artiste, put it all in simple perspective. You’re quite right, Florrie. We have to take them as they are, don’t we?”
Sergeant Jonquille knocked on the door as he swung it open. “Florrie, may I have a word?”
I jumped to my feet and joined him in the hallway.
“Who has a key to the bookstore?” asked Jonquille.
“The professor, Bob, Helen, and I. There are a couple of other people who work here but they don’t have keys.”
“Thank you, Florrie. You’re free to go.”
“Sergeant? I have worked for the professor for five years. He’s a very fine man. He couldn’t have murdered Delbert.”
Jonquille smiled. “I’ve heard that about a lot of convicted murderers.”
Oh! How annoying of him. “I’m sure you have,” I said sweetly, “but I don’t think you understand. Professor Maxwell uses his brain. He’s all about the power of the mind. If he were going to kill someone, it would be better thought out. It would be sneaky and look like an accident. He would never be so crass as to stab someone, nor so stupid as to do it in his own store with an implement that belonged to him.”
Sergeant Jonquille stared at me for a long moment. “I go by facts, Florrie. Facts are undeniable.”
I hated that he made sense. I would have said the same sort of thing if I didn’t know the professor so well. I walked down the stairs, noting that Delbert’s body had finally been removed.
Because of the long days of summer, it was still light outside when I left the building and heard a cop lock the door behind me. I texted my parents, who texted back that they were having dinner with my sister in a nearby restaurant.
I sucked in a deep breath and took a few minutes to call Helen and the other employees to let them know Color Me Read would be closed on Monday. Every single one of them asked how long it would stay closed. I had no idea.
Fifteen minutes later, I joined my family in a world that seemed far removed from the reality of my day. Mom and Dad made such a fuss that I could feel my face flaming red. I thought they were going overboard, but Veronica actually called them on it, announcing that I would forevermore be the favorite child simply because they thought I might be dead. Our parents were not amused but they must have gotten the message because they toned it down after that. Over tender crab cakes, my family pumped me for information.
Dad stabbed a French fry with his fork. “Was there any sign that someone broke in?”
His question surprised me. I hadn’t given it much thought. “Not that I know of. I didn’t notice broken windows or anything like that.”
“Did you open the store?” asked Mom.
“Yes. Nothing appeared out of the ordinary.” I told them who else had keys.
Dad stopped eating, sat back, and mused, “It seems to me that the list of potential suspects is severely limited to those who have the key to the building. We can eliminate you, which means only three suspects.”
I hated to admit that he was right. “Bob wouldn’t have done it and had no reason to. I don’t know if Helen even knew Delbert.”
“It’s all going to fall on the shoulders of the professor, then.” Veronica finished the last drop of her wine.
Mom leaned toward us and whispered, “What about Mr. DuBois? He’s the one who feared being murdered in his bed, and I bet he has easy access to the professor’s keys.”
It was an interesting observation and a definite possibility. Mr. DuBois had certainly appeared to be more dramatic and emotional than the professor.
Dad waived his hand. “In any event, I’ll be glad when you’re out of that carriage house. I resent Maxwell involving you in this.”
“But,” I sputtered, “now that Delbert is dead, I have nothing to fear there.”
“Only Maxwell,” said Mom.
“Why would he harm me? I had nothing to do with this. It’s not like he’s a deranged killer running around randomly hacking people up. Besides, he needs me to take care of the bookstore.”
“Honey!” Mom was aghast. “You can’t stay there.”
“Once he’s in jail, he’ll lose the bookstore and the house. His sister will kick you out on the street.” Veronica spoke without emotion, as though she were stating fact.
I did not like where this was going. “You’ve all convicted him! Granted, you don’t know him as well as I do, but there’s no way he killed Delbert. It’s simply impossible.”
“I believe you mean inconceivable, not impossible,” Dad said dryly. “Not only was it possible, it happened.”
“There has to be some other explanation,” I insisted.
Mom’s hand crept over mine. She gave it a squeeze. “Florrie, you have always been the champion of lost causes. I love that about you. But this is murder, not a sick kitten or a wilted, leafless plant.”
“And everything points to the professor.” Veronica poured part of Dad’s bourbon into her empty glass.
“Listen to your sister, Florrie. What kind of evil person would use a spear to kill someone?” Mom shuddered.
“Exactly,” I said with satisfaction. “Not the professor.”
When Dad paid the check, Mom started a campaign for me to sleep at their house. I declined as kindly as I could, and after a round of hugs, I walked home.
It was the kind of peaceful Sunday evening when families were out for a walk. Children licked ice cream cones and adults window-shopped.
I rounded the corner and everything changed. Ahead of me, three police cars were parked on the left side of the street. A lump formed in my throat, and I started an anxious jog. As I feared, they were in front of the Maxwell mansion.
Just as I reached the house, the front door opened and a uniformed officer escorted a handcuffed Professor Maxwell down the front steps.