“Absolutely.” It sounded weird to me, too, but the mind is a strange and wonderful thing. “Evidently she chatters about her adventures in solving mysteries, and Lucy and Artie are as real to her now as they were when she first wrote the books.”

“I guess she’s happy anyway. Who’s going to look after her?”

“For the time being, Yancy Thigpen. Kanesha told me she thought Marcella might get off with probation. She didn’t know Eugene had murdered Carrie Taylor, and given the circumstances with Mrs. Cartwright’s age and so on, Kanesha thinks the judge will be lenient.”

“Eugene, on the other hand . . .” Helen Louise sighed.

I knew exactly what she was thinking. Eugene faced years in prison, if not the death penalty.

“One good thing, though,” I said. “Those manuscripts turned out to be real. Mrs. Cartwright wrote them years ago. Winston Eagleton is working with Yancy Thigpen on a deal to publish them, along with the rest of the series. Gordon Betts and Della Duffy are going to put up the money. I don’t know exactly how that’s all going to work, with Mrs. Cartwright thinking she’s Veronica Thane, but I think her agency will work it out.”

“That would be wonderful. Money for Mrs. Cartwright, and for poor Marcella.”

“Mrs. Cartwright could live for several years more,” I said. “Like I said, she’s supposed to be in pretty good shape physically, for her age. She’s not able to do the event at the library, obviously, so we’ve cancelled that. The exhibit of juvenile mysteries will go on as planned, though.”

“I’m glad it’s all over, and no one else got hurt. I am so sad about Carrie Taylor, though.”

“Me, too.” I sighed heavily. “She had that same picture in her files—the one with Marietta Dubois and Mrs. Cartwright—along with other photos and a few letters signed by Mrs. Cartwright. Eugene was terrified Carrie Taylor would figure it out, and he killed her to get the files. He went in as Eugene and came out as Mrs. Cartwright. Eugene trying to be clever.”

“In the end, though, you were smarter.” Helen Louise leaned over and kissed my cheek.

“I suppose,” I said. “But Veronica Thane helped. If I hadn’t been rereading the book, I might not have cottoned on to the deception.”

Helen Louise covered her mouth as she yawned. “I don’t know about you, but I’m ready for bed.” She held Diesel as she shifted out from under him, then moved him off my lap onto the sofa beside me.

I stood and drew her to me for a kiss. “Me, too. You go on. I’ll be there in a minute.”

She grinned and blew me a kiss before she left the room.

I looked down at Diesel, stretched lazily out on the sofa. “You have to stay here, boy.”