A Veiled Antiquity (Torie O'Shea Mysteries) by Rett MacPherson

like they were the originals. Right? I suppose in my paranoid head I just had this awful feeling that the copies would be destroyed by a spilled cup of coffee or something equally bizarre, and then my originals would burn in a fire and then I’d never know what they said. Is that not the working of a truly paranoid mind?
    “Of course,” I said. “I’ll pick them up, say tomorrow around three?”
    “That should give me plenty of time. I don’t really have much else to do. I will give them my full attention. And I’ll take good care of them.”
    “I know you will. Call me if you need anything.”
    *   *   *
    I kicked the soda machine that was located in the hall outside of my office, an hour after I had left Camille. A Dr Pepper costs fifty cents. So, for some reason, this machine will not give me a Dr Pepper unless I put in sixty cents or more. It’s like it forgets that I already gave it a dime. Sylvia got the proceeds from the machine, though. That should tell me something.
    I went back into my little claustrophobic office and found Eleanore Murdoch seated in the chair across from mine. She didn’t hide the fact that she was reading the documents on my desk. I suppose I shouldn’t get too angry with her for being as nosy as I am.
    She turned them back around once I came in the room and smiled at me.
    “What can I do for you, Eleanore?” It was difficult for me to be civil. I hoped she had come to tell me that she was going to print a retraction about Sylvia.
    “Oh, you know, I wanted to see if Rudy could help Oscar paint the porch on the inn next month.”
    “In November,” I said, deciding to temporarily forget about the retraction.
    “Yes.”
    “Isn’t there some rule about not painting when it’s cold or something?”
    She shrugged her shoulders. It was clear that was not why she was here. Then she pointed to the documents she had been peeking at. “I noticed the Dijon name on those papers.”
    “Yes.”
    I popped the lid on my can of Dr Pepper, taking solace in hearing the fizz of the carbonation. Eleanore evoked very unpleasant thoughts in me.
    “Is that what you’re supposed to be working on? I mean, doesn’t Sylvia have some tax or land records she wanted done last August that you still don’t have finished?” she asked.
    “Excuse me?” My blood pressure had just gone up a noticeable amount. My temples hurt.
    Her eyes got really big and darted around the room. She pressed her very red lips together, fingered her necklace, and acted innocent.
    “Eleanore … I’m not sure how you even know about the land records incident, but it’s none of your business what I’m working on and what I’m not. But, for the record, I will say that I was working on the history of New Kassel, right over there,” I said, and pointed to the computer in the corner. “These just happen to be on my desk because…”
    “Because?”
    “Because I was going over them earlier in the day. I’m not sure what it is that you want or what you’re driving at, Eleanore … but while you’re here there’s something I’d like to talk with you about—”
    “There was nothing that I wanted, Torie. I truly wanted to know if you thought Rudy would help Oscar with the porch. Oscar wanted to get a group of guys and have a cookout and paint the porch. Really, Torie. You are so sensitive these days.”
    With that she stood up and walked out of my office. I took a very long, much needed drink of my cold Dr Pepper. Then I took a deep breath and made myself go to the computer.
    I stopped just as my fingers reached the keys. She managed to get out of my office without me saying a word to her about the article she had written. My head hurt worse.

Seven
    Six hours later, my phone was ringing at the same time that my doorbell was buzzing. Mother answered the phone as I answered the door.
    The mayor of New Kassel, Bill Castlereagh, stood on my front porch.
    “Hello, Bill,” I said as cheerfully as I could. He looked