Arsenic and Old Books by Miranda James Page A

right angle to the register, I had a better look at the young man and what seemed to be his entourage. I recognized the handsome features of Beck Long.
    Was this a campaign stop? I wondered. Or was he here simply to have lunch?
    I scanned the room. As expected, at lunchtime, the bakery was nearly full. To my surprise, I spotted Kelly Grimes in the far corner. Her gaze seemed riveted on the cash register area. I glanced at Beck Long again and saw that he now had one arm draped around the shoulder of a beautiful blonde. He looked down at her and smiled.
    When I turned back toward Kelly Grimes, I could see she did not appear at all happy with her secret fiancé and his closeness to another woman.

EIGHT
    The writer’s gaze shifted for a moment in my direction, and I caught a slight start as she recognized me. She inclined her head to acknowledge me, but her attention moved right back to Beck Long and the young woman beside him.
    There was enough bustle and buzz of conversation in the bakery that I couldn’t make out what Beck Long and Helen Louise were talking about. He didn’t appear to be ordering anything, so I wondered whether this was a stop on his campaign trail after all.
    I hated the last couple of months before an election. The media bombarded us with political ads, almost all of which consisted of mud being flung in every direction. The choice often came down to voting for the least objectionable candidate, rather than for the truly outstanding one. I hadn’t yet made up my mind about Beck Long or his opponent, Jasper Singletary, but I had to admit their campaigns seemed to be running cleaner than most. A little dignity in politics went a long way these days, sad to say.
    I heard the bell on the door jingle to signal a new arrival, and at the same time, the buzz of conversation grew louder. I turned to see who had entered and spotted a group of five men making their way toward the counter. After a moment I recognized the tallest among them, Jasper Singletary.
    This ought to prove interesting
, I thought.
The two candidates—both hometown boys—crossing paths in a local business
.
    Diesel tapped my thigh with one paw, and I looked down at him. He chirped a couple of times, and I interpreted the sounds as a question:
Where’s my chicken that Helen Louise always gives me?
    â€œIn a minute, boy,” I said in an undertone. “She’s busy right now. We’ll both have to wait.”
    The cat stared at me for a long moment before he resumed his position at my feet beneath the table. I found it uncanny sometimes the way he seemed to understand what I told him.
    When I focused my attention again on the two politicos and their opposing camps, I saw Singletary making his way toward Beck Long. Beck didn’t appear to have noticed Singletary yet, but then the latter spoke.
    â€œGood morning, Beck. Glad-handing the voters, I see.” Singletary’s tone was jocular, yet I thought I heard a sharp edge to it.
    The noise of conversation in the bakery suddenly dropped to a low hum as most people tuned in to the chat between the two young men.
    I regarded the pair for a moment. They definitely formed a study in contrast. Beck Long was the proverbial golden boy—tall, blond, blue-eyed, with the body of a trained athlete. Top of his class in law school, partner in a successful practice in Athena, he seemed to achieve anything he wanted with ease. Jasper Singletary had the dark good looks of the Black Irish, as my late aunt would have said. Not quite as tall, chunkier like a heavyweight boxer, he also had a pugnacious attitude—or so I had gathered from reading about some of his encounters with the press.
    â€œHey, Jasper.” Long turned with a smile and an outstretched hand. “Yeah, you know the drill. Have to get out into the community and talk to everyone.” The two shook hands. “Have you met the owner of this fine bakery, Helen Louise Brady?”
    Singletary