“Oh, Charlie, just awful,” Melba wailed into the phone. “I’m so upset about Carrie, I can’t tell you.” She paused for a sobbing breath. “I’ve got to talk to someone. Carrie told me all about helping you with the exhibit at the library. I know that’s what got her killed.”

FIFTEEN

“Melba, honey, where are you?” If I didn’t get her to calm down, she’d be in hysterics in three seconds flat. “I promise I’ll help you, but you’ve got to try to settle down.”

I heard her draw a deep, albeit shaky, breath. “Thanks, Charlie. I’m at home. Can you come over right away? I’ve really got to talk to you.”

“I’ll be there as quickly as I can. Diesel and I will look after you.”

Melba thanked me again, and I ended the call. After a quick explanation to Laura, I grabbed my keys and headed for the garage. Diesel didn’t need an invitation. Whenever he saw me pick up keys, he was ready to go.

The drive took almost ten minutes, since Melba lived across town in a section of Athena about fifty years newer than the neighborhood where my house stood. Diesel warbled from the backseat, and I told him we were going to see his buddy Melba. He probably thought we were headed to the college library, since that’s where he normally saw her—she was the administrative assistant to the director—but we usually walked the few blocks to campus. When I stopped the car in Melba’s driveway, he looked out the window, then turned his head toward me and meowed. Did he remember coming here with me a couple of times? I had no idea.

Melba, dressed in a shabby orange bathrobe and matching fuzzy slippers, swung the front door open before I could raise my hand to ring the bell. Her tearstained face and unkempt appearance startled me. I had never seen her like this. She always dressed so neatly, her hair and makeup immaculate. My heart went out to her.

She motioned us in and shut the door. Then she sat on the floor and gathered Diesel in her arms. The cat started warbling and chirping for her, doing his best to cheer her as she rocked back and forth with him. After a moment I knelt by them and touched Melba lightly on the shoulder. She looked up at me, tears streaming from her eyes. She pulled a sodden handkerchief from her pocket and wiped her face.

I stood and held out a hand to her. “Come on, Melba,” I said gently. “Let’s get you into the kitchen and make you some coffee or maybe some hot tea. You’ve had a terrible shock.”