No Cats Allowed

TWENTY-TWO

My hand tightened on the phone. The casual way in which Kanesha informed me of this second murder was unsettling. “Not something I would have expected,” I said.

“Puts an interesting twist on the case, that’s for sure.” She paused. “I’d give a lot to know exactly why he came to town looking for Reilly. It’s got to have something to do with both killings.”

“Wish I could help you on that,” I said.

“Until we can solve this case, you’d better keep your head down and your nose to yourself.”

“Have you been talking to my son?” I said half-jestingly. “I don’t go out of my way looking for these situations, you know.”

“Uh-huh,” she replied. “Gotta go, but I may have more questions for you later.” She ended the call.

I hadn’t had a chance to tell her about my temporary promotion. She would find out soon enough.

I called Melba again. She had to hear the latest.

“Hey, Charlie, what’s up?”

“I’ve got news. That was Kanesha calling me, and she told me that Porter Stanley is dead. Murdered.”

Melba gasped. “Lord have mercy, what is going on?” She paused. “You know what this means, don’t you?”

“Unfortunately,” I said. “One of our coworkers is a murderer.”

“Yeah, and right now I’m not all that anxious to get back to work. I don’t like the idea of being in that office by myself when you’re gone to meetings. Which you will be doing a lot of, by the way.”

“The joys of management,” I said. “Meetings, and meetings about meetings. I’m going to call Forrest Wyatt and tell him I think we need a security guard on duty in the building until this case is solved. The main library has security, and we should, too.”

“Good,” Melba said, “otherwise I’ll be bringing my own security to work with me.”

I didn’t relish the idea of Melba’s bringing her gun to work, but I doubted she would listen if I tried to talk her out of it.

“I’m hoping it won’t come to that,” I said. “I’m sure Forrest will agree that we need a person on duty. I’m going to call him right now.”

“Okay, let me know how it goes.”

Before I could call Forrest, however, I had to look up the number. I loved the fact that I didn’t have to go searching for a campus directory. I could call one up, right on my phone, in only a few seconds.

Once I found it, I clicked on it, and moments later, the phone started ringing. Forrest’s assistant answered quickly. I identified myself, and she said she would put me through.

“Afternoon, Charlie, lucky you caught me. I was about to head to a meeting with the deans. What can I do for you?”

I might get in trouble with Kanesha later for doing it, but I told Forrest about the second murder. He uttered a couple of curse words when I’d finished.

“They need to wrap this up quickly,” he said. “The whole campus will be in an uproar, and we’ll have parents here demanding answers and taking their kids home.”

“The situation is tricky,” I said. “Additional security might reassure everyone.”

“I’ll talk to Marty Ford. He’ll arrange it, and I’m sure the board of trustees will okay the added expense.”

“Great,” I said. “I would appreciate it if I could have one of those added security officers in the library admin building. There’s just Melba Gilley and me there, you know, and I’ll probably be out of the building frequently. Melba doesn’t like the idea of being there by herself.”

“No, of course not,” Forrest said. “Marty will take care of it. Thanks for letting me know what’s going on, Charlie. I’d better run now, the deans are waiting.”

I thanked him and ended the call. I wondered whether it had occurred to him yet, now that Reilly’s former brother-in-law was dead and obviously no longer a suspect, that one of his employees was a murderer.

Insistent meows recalled my attention to the feline at my feet. I patted his head. “We don’t have to keep watch anymore,” I told him. “That big scary man isn’t going to bother us now.” He chirped happily in response.

I stood and put the chair back in its usual spot. “Come on, boy, let’s go see what Azalea left for dinner.”

What Azalea left was a roast with potatoes and carrots. No roast for Diesel, though, because there were onions and probably garlic in it. I put the roast in the oven to warm and made a salad to go with my meal. I found a small container of boiled chicken in the fridge with Mr. Cat written on the lid with an indelible marker. I warmed the chicken in the microwave and doled it out while I ate my own meal.

Diesel purred happily over his chicken and let me enjoy my own dinner mostly in peace. While we ate, I thought about the new job. I was not eager for it, but I would do my best for the library and its staff while I was at the helm.

I realized that one benefit of the temporary position was that I could go around the library and ask questions under the guise of familiarizing myself with its day-to-day operations. I would have the opportunity to observe my coworkers and watch for any suspicious behavior. The library held the key to the murders, I had decided.

Instead of reading that evening, I spent time on the phone, first bringing Sean up to date on the new developments in the case, and then making notes and writing down questions for my first few days on the job. By the time I’d finished, my shoulders ached, as did my head. I went upstairs, took a painkiller, and got ready for bed. After a chat with Helen Louise, filling her in on the latest news, I turned out the light and promptly fell asleep.

Only to be awakened a few hours later by the ringing of my phone. I grabbed the phone and checked the screen. I was too befuddled to recognize the number, though it seemed vaguely familiar.

“Charlie, sorry to disturb you at this hour. Martin Ford here.”

Why was the chief of campus police calling me at—I peered at the bedside clock—two fourteen in the morning?

I asked him that.

“There’s been a break-in at the library administration building. One of my men saw a light in the office and went to check it out. By the time he got inside, though, whoever it was had gone. There’s damage to the director’s office and Melba’s as well.”

Had I been a cursing man, I would have let loose with a few choice epithets right then. As it was, I did express the hope—mentally—that whoever broke in developed a painful rash in the tenderest parts of his or her anatomy.

“Do you need me to come there?” I asked. Behind me, Diesel stirred and emitted a sleepy, interrogatory meow or two.

“I hate to drag you out in the middle of the night like this,” Ford replied, “but I think you’d better come. How soon can you be here?”

“Give me about fifteen minutes,” I said. “I’ll have Diesel with me.” I didn’t give him time to respond to that. I ended the call.

“Come on, boy, we’re going to the office.” I rubbed his head, yawned, and started pulling off my pajama shorts and T-shirt.

Seventeen minutes later Diesel and I pulled up in front of the library administration building. A couple of campus patrol cars were parked nearby, and I saw an officer waiting at the door for us.

I greeted the officer, who nodded and opened the door. Diesel followed me in, and we went straight to Melba’s office. Marty Ford waited there, along with another officer.

Ford extended his hand, and I shook it. He again apologized for dragging me out of bed, but I waved that away. I stared, appalled, at the mess in the office.

The intruder had gone through her desk, no doubt after forcing the lock, and pulled out the entire contents of every drawer. At least, that’s what it looked like. Papers, folders, pens, boxes of paper clips and rubber bands, staples and a stapler, and other office supplies lay scattered on the top of the desk and on the floor.

The filing cabinets—four of them—had also been emptied. Melba would have a fit. It would take hours, if not days, to refile it all.

“Have any idea what the guy was looking for?” Ford asked after a few moments.

I shook my head. “No idea whatsoever. Is the director’s office in the same condition?”

“Pretty much,” Ford said. “Come have a look.”

We stepped around papers and other items on the floor after I put Diesel in a chair near the window and told him to stay there. I stood inside the other office and surveyed the same chaos I’d seen in Melba’s space, with the addition of empty shelves and books strewn on the floor. I hoped vaguely none of them had been damaged. None was particularly valuable, as far as I knew, but I hated to see good books ruined.

“Can you tell whether anything is missing?” Ford asked.

“No, sorry,” I said. “I was in this office frequently while Peter Vanderkeller was director, but not so much recently. Perhaps once I’ve had time to put everything back, I might see that something is missing. But for now, no.”

“All right,” Ford said. “I’d appreciate it, if you come across anything odd, that you let me know.”

“Certainly,” I said. “Is someone going to look for fingerprints? Although surely the intruder was smart enough to wear gloves.”

“Probably was,” Ford replied. “We’ll check, or rather the sheriff’s department will. I haven’t called them. I wanted to talk to you first.” He turned to the officer with him, who so far hadn’t uttered a word. “Call them now.” The man nodded and stepped into the other room, pulling out a cell phone as he did so.

“How did the intruder get in?” I asked, somewhat belatedly.

“With a key,” Ford replied. “There are no signs of a break-in anywhere. Do you know who has keys to this building?”

I thought about that moment. “The director has a key, of course. I suppose the killer could have Reilly’s key. Other than the custodial staff, there’s just me and Melba.”

“I’ll check with the sheriff’s department on Reilly’s key,” Ford said. “You or Melba haven’t lost yours recently, by any chance?”

“I haven’t, and Melba hasn’t said anything to me if she did,” I replied. “So the killer probably has Reilly’s key. Assuming that the intruder and the killer are one and the same.”

“Have to be,” Ford said.

“Probably. Do you need me to stay?”

Ford considered that for a moment. “No, I can tell the deputies who respond what you’ve told me. You will probably get a visit from Chief Deputy Berry in the morning anyway.”

“I’m sure I will,” I said. “I’d better remember to call Melba first thing in the morning.” I laughed. “Later this morning, that is, and warn her. She’d have a heart attack if she walked in on this unaware.”

“Thanks for coming over,” Ford said, and I took that as my cue to collect the cat and go home.

In the car on the short ride back to the house, I told Diesel we would have a lot of work to do getting the office back in order. He meowed in response, as if to say he’d be glad to help.

Back in bed, the lights off, I thought about the chaos I’d seen. What on earth had the intruder been looking for? Whatever it was, it was important to the solution of the murders, I felt sure. Otherwise, why take the risk of getting caught?

I didn’t like the idea of the killer having a key to get into the building. Perhaps I should ask to have the locks changed immediately. Maybe Ford would see to that without my even asking. He probably would, I decided, and closed my eyes. Sleep came more easily than expected, and when the alarm went off at six thirty, I was deep in dreamland.