“And if they’re here, that person in Spice Grove couldn’t see them at all.”
“Correct, save for the pictures on the covers of their books.”
Chandra finished her cocoa. “I still don’t understand why all three had to come from the same place. Have you figured that out, too?”
“I don’t think it was necessary, just that it was probable. As I understand it, a professor is not granted a sabbatical until he has gotten tenure. Getting tenure generally takes ten years or more. That means your father probably taught in Spice Grove for at least ten years before he came here with your mother. Libraries don’t buy writers like me—or like Millie or Rose, for that matter—unless there is a good deal of interest at their libraries in those writers. Reclones are costly, but if they are checked out a lot, there will be no problem with the Board.”
Chandra nodded.
“When I spoke to your mother, she told me that she used to be a great reader. Since she asked the library for the help of a mystery writer, myself, she has presumably read a great many mysteries. She may have read some books of other kinds as well, but she almost certainly read a round dozen mysteries every year. Quite possibly more.”
“She talks about them sometimes.”
“I imagine so. We all talk, at least occasionally, about the things we read. No doubt she bought a few mysteries to read, and she may well have been given some; but it’s almost certain that a great many came from the Mystery section in the Polly’s Cove Public Library. Millie told me once that they had more of her books in Cooking than all the other authors combined.”
“You think my father’s learning to cook.” Chandra sounded dubious.
I shook my head. “I think he learned about Mrs. Heuse. Are there any other servants in this household?”
“Only Mrs. Snow. She’s the housekeeper.”
“Then he may have learned about it from her, or from Mrs. Heuse herself, or from one of the librarians. Now, when he wants a good cook who will be powerless to resign, he has decided to do the same thing.” I shrugged. “It’s even possible that he learned about someone whose name we have never heard doing what he wanted to do. If he did, he may have mentioned it to your mother one day over kafe, unintentionally planting the idea.”
Slowly Chandra said, “I see.…”
“Or he may have thought of it for himself.”
6
FROM LIBRARY CUSTODY
Aunt Laura turned out to be a whole lot harder than I had expected. She was not at home—or if she was, she wasn’t answering her screen. Tenaciously questioned by Chandra, the Spice Grove Public Library supplied the title of the Greater Spice Grove Area Almanac Atlas & Directory, a surprisingly useful reference “book” that (deep sigh!) did not actually exist on paper.
“Books,” I told Chandra, “ought to exist. They ought to be actual physical objects you can pick up and put down. We should not have to engage a medium and hold a séance.”
She gave me a you-sure-are-weird look.
“You don’t see why.”
“No, I don’t!” (Spoken with heavy emphasis on the final word.) “It would take a ton of paper.”
“You’re absolutely right. Still, it might mean that only books worth reading would achieve wide circulation.”
“If you say so.”
She sounded dubious; and now that I’ve had time to think about it, I know she was right.
A screen search of this phantom Area Almanac gave us Laura Fevre’s address, and much later and only grudgingly the names and addresses of several residents of apartments and houses in the area. The screens Chandra made to a dozen of them got us only negative information. Not one of Aunt Laura’s neighbors knew where she had gone or whether she might return to her home later today. One helpful lady suggested half a dozen probable destinations however, and another, about twenty minutes later, gave us Aunt Laura’s eephone number, a detail none of her other neighbors had admitted to knowing. This time I screened, feeling that I would have to fine-tune my later questions to Aunt Laura Fevre’s first replies. After a deep breath and a brave smile I began my call by politely hoping that I was not interfering with her shopping.
“Oh, I’m not shopping, Mr. Smithe. I’m at work.” Aunt Laura looked and sounded younger than I had expected. “What can I do for you?”
“First let me explain that I’m trying to help out your brother’s wife, Adah Fevre. I’m sure you know that your brother is married; I’m told that you took care of little Chandra for your brother and his wife some years ago.”
“I did. Barry and his wife are separated, though; and his wife has custody of their daughter. Is this something about Chandra?”
“Only indirectly. It’s urgent that Adah get in touch with Barry, however. Do you know where he is?”
“Yes, he’s on sabbatical.”
I nodded. Seven years since they had chartered the Three Sisters; I ought to have thought of that. “Where he is physically. Chandra and I need to talk to him.”
“Really, I have no idea.” Aunt Laura paused, looking thoughtful. “Couldn’t he be off where he gets all those cadavers for his classes? I know he goes there and comes back with cadavers. I believe it’s some island or other.”
I took a deep breath. “I suppose he could. Do you know where it is?”
“Why, I haven’t the foggiest idea. It sounds like a perfectly awful place, though. Have you talked to Peggy?”
I glanced at Chandra, who looked as puzzled as I felt, then back to the screen. “I’m afraid not. Who is she?”
“She’s Dr. Fevre’s assistant. His intern, or whatever they call them at the university. He’s mentioned her, Peggy something. She might know.”
“I’m sure you’re right. Can you give us a number for her?”
“No. I have no idea, but she must have one. Everybody does.”
There was nothing for it but to screen the university and ask for Dr. Fevre.
A pleasant female voice said, “Anatomy.” The face on the screen was quite pretty, youthful and framed in dark curls.
I tried to sound both pleasant and important. “May I speak to Dr. Fevre?”
“He’s not here, and I can’t say when he’ll be back.” When I didn’t speak, Peggy something added, “Shall I put you on his message board?”
“That shouldn’t be necessary. Do you have his eephone number?”
“It’s off, I’m sure. He often turns it off when he’s busy.”
“I’d like the number, even so. If it’s off, I’ll screen him again later.”
The pretty crimson mouth tried not to smile; Peggy was enjoying this. “I’m afraid I can’t give that out, sir. May I ask who’s screening?”
I would have tried to look less like a reclone if only I had known how. I didn’t think she had made me yet, but I couldn’t be sure. “My name is Smithe, Doctor-ah…?”
“Pepper. I’m Professor Margaret Pepper.”
I gave her the most charming smile I could manage. “My name is Ern A. Smithe, Professor Pepper. That’s Smith with a final E. I’m looking for Dr. Fevre on behalf of Adah Fevre, Dr. Fevre’s wife. She’s bedridden. No doubt you know.”