Part 10 (1/2)
Daniel rubbed the back of his neck. ”It went strangely.”
”What do you mean?” She indicated the table closest to them and pulled out a chair. It sounded like she might need to get comfortable for this.
He settled into a chair and propped one ankle over the opposite knee. ”Just that. Strange. Kenneth said they were all down here, playing checkers and quilting, when Gregory returned wielding his fire poker.”
Julie eyed the poker that now lay across the chair to her right.
”According to Kenneth,” Daniel continued, ”Gregory accused him of cheating. Gregory also claimed to have seen him Friday night.”
Julie nodded. ”Gregory told me he saw Kenneth and Alice talking Friday before dinner.”
”Kenneth swears up and down it's a lie, and that he never set eyes on Alice before that night.”
”Did Kenneth say this in front of his wife?” Julie asked.
Daniel's gaze jerked to hers. ”Are you suggesting ...?”
Julie could only shrug. ”Who can say? Obviously one of them is lying.”
”And the only person who can tell us which story is true is dead,” Daniel said.
”You got it.”
At seven o'clock, Hannah announced that it was time to eat. The menu consisted of roasted lamb with red wineandgarlic gravy, savory three-cheese potatoes, and asparagus tips. It was as extraordinary as ever. If Hannah kept cooking like this, they might have to start serving dinner to the general public.
Julie shook her head at the thought. That was just what she needed, more people to deal with. She had enough on her hands. She took a bite of lamb and surveyed her guests.
Kenneth had eaten every bit of his meal and was finis.h.i.+ng up what was left of Susan's while Sadie and Joyce were gus.h.i.+ng over the tenderness of the lamb.
Gregory, she noticed, ate everything he was given, soaking up the remainder of his gravy with the yeast rolls Hannah had baked. At least with his mouth full, he wasn't complaining.
Besides Joyce and Sadie, no one was making eye contact or even talking, but at least they weren't arguing and shouting.
”Julie.” Hannah appeared at her side, the inn's phone in her hand. ”There's a call for you. He asked for you by name.”
”It's a he?” s.h.i.+rley asked with a wink.
Julie waved away her insinuation and accepted the receiver from Hannah. Giving a nod to the others to excuse herself from the table, she walked out into the main lobby. ”This is Julie.”
”Julie Ellis?”
”Yes.”
”My name is Aston Cooper. I'm the museum curator for the National Museum in Chicago.”
Chicago? ”What can I do for you, Mr. Cooper?”
”Aston, please.” His voice was deep and confident. ”I understand you have a Civil War journal in your possession.”
”How do you know that?”
”Word gets around, Miss Ellis.”
”Julie,” she automatically corrected, meandering toward the front desk.
”I was hoping that I could schedule a time to look at the book. That is, if it's still for sale,” Aston said.
”Unfortunately, I can't answer that. I'm waiting on word from the owner to see if it's OK to add it to the school auction.”
”Would you mind if I take a look at it before then?” His voice carried an urgent edge.
”No, but I've already contacted a book expert and was told that it's worth no more than three hundred dollars. It might be a wasted trip for you.”
”I would like to see for myself.”
Is this some sort of hoax? Julie couldn't help but wonder. Aston Cooper didn't sound like any museum curator she'd ever talked to, and in her former life, she'd talked to many. This man sounded more like a radio host or an announcer for a car commercial than a lover of all things old.
”May I ask the name of the book expert you contacted?” he continued.
”Eric Rutherford.”
Aston groaned.
”I take it you don't think very highly of him?” Julie asked.
”Yes. Let's leave it at that.”
A crash sounded from the breakfast-now-dinner area. Julie turned her attention to the doorway and glanced in at her guests, half expecting to see Gregory wielding some new weapon while Sadie held him at knifepoint. But it appeared that Carrie had only knocked her water goblet to the floor.
”So, may I view the book? Miss Ellis?”
”Uh, sure,” Julie said. ”I suppose that would be fine.”
”Excellent. One more thing,” Aston said. ”Would you be willing to scan a few of the pages into your computer and email them to me?”
”I have a couple of pictures digitized already. Will that be sufficient?”
”I'd love to see them. But what I'm most interested in is the copyright page, the t.i.tle page and any back matter. Here's my email address.” He rattled off the address, and Julie jotted it down on a piece of sc.r.a.p paper.
”I won't be able to do this until first thing in the morning,” she warned.
”That'll be fine. As long as you promise not to sell it to anyone else before I can see it.”
”It's a deal,” Julie said, wondering why now all of a sudden everyone seemed so interested in the book. Yesterday it hadn't been worth more than a couple hundred dollars. Now she had a curator calling from Chicago?
Word gets around. That's what he'd said. Though she wasn't exactly sure what he meant by that.