No Cats Allowed

TWENTY-FIVE

My blood pressure went through the roof, and it was a wonder I didn’t stroke out on the spot. Once the cloud of fury began to dissipate from my brain, I realized Diesel was trilling anxiously. I needed to calm down for his sake as well as my own. I drew a couple of deep breaths and rubbed the cat’s head and along his spine. Diesel quieted, and my heart rate slowed to a more normal pace.

Was the shattered windshield a sign from the murderer? Or had someone with a grudge done it for spite? And by someone with a grudge, I meant Cassandra Brownley.

I pulled out my cell phone and punched in the number for the campus police. I explained the situation tersely and requested that Chief Ford come if at all possible. I couldn’t stop staring at my car. The unnecessary expense of repairing it annoyed me, but the intent behind it both enraged and frightened me.

Was this a sign that I was the killer’s next target?

I stumbled back to the rear stoop and sat down. Diesel climbed up beside me and regarded me with concern. I put an arm around him and snuggled him close. I was suddenly afraid for him as well, because he could easily be a target in a campaign against me.

What was behind it? My brain kept circling back to that one question, but I could find no clear answer.

A campus police car pulled into the lot and parked near me. Chief Ford climbed out along with another officer. The subordinate went to look at my car while Ford came up to me and Diesel.

“Are you all right?” he asked. “Your face is a bit red. Should I call emergency services?”

“No, I’ll be okay. My face is red because I’m furious.” I set Diesel gently aside and stood. “I’m trying to figure out what’s behind this.” I quickly related the morning’s events, including my confrontation with Cassandra. “Something I did or said must have made whoever did this angry, or perhaps afraid.”

“I apologize,” Ford said. “I should have put an officer on duty here, and I will now. Too late to stop this.” He waved a hand toward my car.

“You couldn’t have known,” I said. “I certainly wasn’t expecting anything like this.” Diesel meowed in agreement.

Ford smiled briefly at the cat. “Excuse me a moment while I go have a look at the damage.”

I resumed my seat on the stoop, and Diesel hunched up against me. I concentrated on keeping him calm and felt my blood pressure dropping to normal levels. I began to review the morning’s events, trying to find a hint to the motive for the damage.

I hoped it would turn out to be nothing more than a fit of pique on Cassandra’s part, taking out on my poor car what she couldn’t take out on me directly. That would be a pain to deal with, but it was better than knowing that it was a warning from the killer.

My stomach rumbled, and I realized how hungry I was. Stress often had this effect on me. I glanced at the sky. The clouds had receded somewhat, and the sun was trying to break through. Perhaps we could walk home and then back again without getting wet.

Ford returned to where I waited. “There’s a big rock in the driver’s seat,” he said. “Looks like it came from one of the flower beds around the main library building. We’ll get it tested for trace evidence, and if we’re lucky, we’ll find something to identify the prankster with.”

“Do you think that’s all it was?” I asked. “And not a warning?”

Ford shrugged. “Hard to say, but I’d advise you to be on your guard until the murder investigation is complete. Do you have an alarm system at home?”

“Yes,” I said, “but I don’t use it unless I’m going to be gone overnight and the house will be empty. Most of the time there is someone in the house even when I’m not.”

“Better use it even when you’re at home for now,” he said. “I will check on the whereabouts of the senior members of the library staff you mentioned.” He pulled out a notebook and repeated their names as he jotted them down.

As he did so, I remembered there was another potential suspect, one I had forgotten about till now. “What about Brent Tucker? He could have done it for Lisa’s sake, or at her request because I advised her to come clean with you about everything.”

Ford shook his head. “I don’t think he’s guilty of this, at least. Last I heard, he was sitting in the DeSoto County jail for DUI and attempting to assault an officer. He might have made bail and be out by now. I’ll check on that.”

“Do you need me any longer?” I rose from the stoop. “Diesel and I were headed home for lunch when I discovered the broken windshield. While I’m there, I can arrange for repairs.”

“Sure,” Ford said. “We’ll be finished with it in a few minutes, and I’ll have an officer on duty. You go on home and get something to eat.”

“Thanks,” I said. “Come on, Diesel. Let’s go home.” I picked up the leash, and the cat set off in the correct direction. He knew exactly where we were headed.

I tried to keep my mind blank on the walk home. If I thought too much about the situation, I would get angry all over again. I needed to remain calm, not only for my health, but in order to figure this out. I did make a couple of decisions while we walked, though.

One was to inform Azalea of the potential danger and to suggest that she not come to the house until the case was done. I’d never forgive myself if anything happened to her, and I knew Aunt Dottie would haunt me without mercy the rest of my life if anything did. Whether Azalea would agree with me was a matter beyond my control. I knew who had the upper hand.

The second decision was to call Sean. I knew he would be alarmed and would probably try to talk me into resigning from my temporary position. Laura would do the same, no doubt. I didn’t want to cause either of them to worry, not when they both had their families to think about. Besides, that stubborn part of me that I couldn’t ignore wouldn’t allow me to tuck tail and run.

Azalea greeted us at the front door. “I was expecting y’all earlier,” she said. “I put your food in the oven to warm.” She bustled off to the kitchen while I removed Diesel’s leash. I left the harness on because we wouldn’t be here that long. He scampered off toward the utility room while I hung the leash on the hall tree.

By the time I reached the kitchen, Azalea had my food on the table. Today’s lunch consisted of a baked chicken breast, mashed potatoes and brown gravy, green beans, and two rolls—homemade, naturally—to be washed down with Azalea’s wonderful sweet tea.

I knew that eating and enjoying my meal would help keep Azalea in a slightly more tractable mood, so I delayed telling her about what happened to my car until I was nearly done. She sneaked Diesel some bits of chicken while I ate.

Azalea’s eyes narrowed as I talked, and when I’d finished, she said, “So wicked. Why some people have to go around destroying what good people like you work for I surely don’t know. The Lord have mercy on their soul.”

I nodded. “The problem is, you see, I’m not sure exactly why I was targeted like this. It could be simply spite because I had a run-in with one of the library staff today. Or it could be something a lot worse. The killer could be warning me to back off.”

“I see,” she said. “Then I guess in that case you’re gonna want me not to come to work until my daughter lays hands on the murderer.”

Feeling relieved that she understood, I said, “Yes. There’s no telling what the killer might do, or who he might target.”

Azalea snorted. “Not going to send me running to hide under my bed. I got a shotgun at home, belonged to my husband, and I know how to use it. Anybody tries to harm me or anything in Miss Dottie’s house is gonna end up talking to Saint Peter quicker than he ever thought about.”

I should have known she would react this way, and I also knew there was not a thing I could do or say to dissuade her. As always, I was touched by her loyalty to my late aunt and her home. But I worried nevertheless.

“Promise me you’ll be careful,” I said. “I’m going to show you again how to set the alarm for the outside doors and the windows, and I want you to keep the alarm on whenever you’re here. Especially when you’re here alone.”

For a moment I thought she would protest, but then she nodded. We spent a few minutes going over the workings of the alarm, and then I dug out the phone book to look up the number for the nearest glass company.

Ten minutes later I had completed arrangements to have my windshield replaced. I didn’t bother to call my insurance agent because the amount quoted for replacement and installation was under my deductible.

Finally, I called Sean. At the last minute, I wavered on telling him what had happened over the phone. “Would you have time to drop by my office sometime this afternoon? I have a few things I’d like to discuss with you.”

“Let me see,” he said. “Yeah, I can come by around four, if that’s okay. I should be done here at the office by then.”

“That’s fine,” I said. “See you then.” I ended the call and stuck the phone in my pocket. “Okay, Diesel, time to go back to work. Thanks for the delicious lunch, Azalea. I was starving.”

After reminding her to set the alarm once we left, Diesel and I headed back to the office.

The windshield repairman was due by two, and it was a few minutes after one thirty now. I cast an anxious glance at the sky. The clouds looked threatening again. Perhaps I should try to find plastic or a tarp to cover the breakage with. I didn’t want the inside of the car soaked.

I picked up the pace, and Diesel trotted along with me. We both could use the exercise, though I didn’t want to push either of us too hard. We arrived at the library administration building in record time, but instead of going in the front, we continued along the sidewalk to the back parking lot.

As promised, Chief Ford had an officer on duty, an obvious presence in the police car parked in the lot close to the street. I approached my car and was surprised and gratified to see the windshield already covered with a tarp. Either Ford or perhaps Melba must have arranged it.

I acknowledged the officer in the patrol car, and Diesel and I entered the building through the back door. A new officer was on duty by the front door. We stopped to say hello, then heeded Melba’s summons to come into her office.

“Chief Ford told me what happened to your car,” she said. “I’ll tell you right now, if it weren’t for the campus police on guard duty here and outside, I’d be home locked up like Fort Knox.”

“I can’t blame you,” I said. “Chief Ford advised me to use my alarm system at home, and I’m going to. Can’t take any chances until this thing is settled.”

“No, we can’t.” Melba shivered. “I got a guy I know in physical facilities to cover your windshield. It was looking like rain, and I didn’t know when you would get it repaired.”

I told her the arrangements I had made earlier. I handed her my car keys. “If the repairman needs them, would you mind giving them to him? When he’s done, I’ll write him a check.”

“I’ll take care of it,” she said. “You go on. I know you’re anxious to get back to work.”

“Thanks.” I looked down at the cat, standing next to Melba and rubbing against her legs. “I think he may want to stay with you for a while.”

“That’s fine with me.” She patted his head. “He can be my extra guard-kitty.” Diesel meowed, and we both smiled.

In my office I shed my jacket and went to work at the computer. I found the master budget spreadsheets for the current and past three fiscal years and began going through them, looking for anything suspicious or unusual.

The only time during the next three hours that I wasn’t going through budgets was the few minutes I spent writing a check to the glass company. I thanked the repairman, stretched my shoulders, arms, and neck for a moment, and was soon back at the computer.

Finally, I had to quit. My shoulders and my head ached, and my eyes felt like I had sprung the socket muscles. I leaned back in the chair and closed my eyes. Cells of numbers danced in my tired brain.

After all that intense concentration, I hadn’t found anything that stood out as questionable. Every line item looked okay—other than the overages okayed by Peter Vanderkeller, that is. I didn’t see how Peter’s mistakes in judgment were connected to this, other than the fact that his abrupt resignation and disappearance had made it necessary for another person to take over. That person being the first murder victim was only tangentially related, surely.

I would go through it all again, though, before I was completely satisfied. Still, I was reluctantly coming to the conclusion that the motive for Reilly’s murder had nothing to do with the library’s finances.