Миранда Джеймс - No Cats Allowed

I forgot to ask Sean and Alex whether they would be taking a honeymoon. Probably not until Alex’s father returned, I reckoned.

When I turned the corner onto my street, I spotted a familiar car parked in front of my house. What was Melba doing here? I hoped nothing was wrong.

I pulled the car into the garage and let Diesel out. We walked out into the driveway to meet Melba. She had a fierce expression as she approached us.

“Where the heck have you been?” she demanded. “I’ve been calling your house and your cell phone for the past hour.”

I started to explain, but she rushed on before I could get out more than three words.

“You’re not going to believe this.” She looked as angry as I had ever seen her. “The president didn’t fire Reilly, or even put him back in the financial affairs office. Instead, he’s reassigning me. To the philosophy and religious studies department. I’m about ready to wring somebody’s neck.” She paused for a quick breath, then delivered another bombshell. “Reilly’s planning to sell off the rare book collection and get rid of the archives, too.”

THIRTEEN

I could hardly take in what Melba had said. I had been so sure that the president would decide Reilly wasn’t working out. I shook my head.

“Yes, it’s true,” Melba said.

“I believe you,” I replied. “Look, let’s go inside and talk about this. I don’t know about you, but I need to sit down and try to absorb it.”

Diesel had been trying to gain Melba’s attention. I knew he was alarmed by her obvious distress, but at the moment she was too agitated to notice him.

“Come on, boy, in the house.” I led the way into the garage and unlocked the door to the kitchen. I ushered Melba in, along with the cat, and closed the door after hitting the switch to shut the garage door.

Melba had finally realized that Diesel was beside her. She dropped into a chair by the table and leaned over to hug him. She muttered a few words that I couldn’t catch, and Diesel meowed in response. I took my usual spot at the table and waited for Melba to finish communing with Diesel.

When at last she let go of the cat and turned to look at me, I saw that her face was streaked with tears.

“Can I get you a drink?” I thought for a moment. “Sean probably has a few beers in the fridge, and I think there’s a bottle of scotch left over from last Christmas.”

“Actually, I wouldn’t mind some hot coffee,” Melba said. “If that’s not too much trouble.”

“Sounds good to me, too.” I got up to make the coffee. “Why don’t you tell me how you found out about your being transferred, and Reilly’s plans to sell the rare book collection.”

“In an e-mail.” Melba sounded outraged again. “One that I wasn’t even supposed to see, but that idiot Reilly wasn’t paying attention when he addressed it. It was supposed to go to a Melissa Gibson, as far as I can tell.”

“He probably typed in the first two or three letters of your name and didn’t bother to check,” I said. “Who is Melissa Gibson, do you know?”

“I searched the college directory, and she works in the financial affairs office,” Melba replied. “I don’t know her, but I’d be willing to bet she’s young, blond, and stacked. That’s probably what Reilly wants in the office with him, and not someone who actually knows the job.”

I wasn’t going to argue with her. For one thing, I figured she was probably right. But mainly I knew she needed to vent, and she was safe with me.

“He was being really indiscreet, if he revealed all these plans to his new administrative assistant.”

“Oh, his message to her was just about reporting to the library administration office tomorrow morning.”

“Then how did you find out about the plans to sell the rare book collection?” I leaned against the counter while I waited for the coffeemaker to finish its task.

Melba glanced down at Diesel, still sitting beside her chair. She rubbed his head for a moment, and I wondered why she was stalling.

She had a sheepish expression when she looked at me again.

“I was snooping around his desk—that was before I got the e-mail—and I happened to find a folder with some very interesting information in it.”

“Like what?” I asked.

“Like the truth about why Peter Vanderkeller quit his job all of a sudden.”

I retrieved a couple of mugs from the cabinet and set them by the machine. The coffee should be ready in about two more minutes, I judged. “Why did he quit?” I had wanted to know the answer to that question from the moment I heard Peter had left.

“Because he overcommitted the library budget by almost half a million dollars,” Melba said. “I thought he was smarter than that, but I guess the man couldn’t balance a checkbook.”

“What on earth did he spend the money on?” I asked, stunned.

“I can’t remember all the details,” Melba said, “because honestly I didn’t know what some of it was. But I guess it was electronic stuff for the library. You know, like e-books and databases, that kind of stuff.”

I hadn’t heard a word about any serious budget issues, and overspending by half a million dollars was definitely serious. I had wondered, like so many others in the library, why the president put a man experienced in finance in charge of the library. Now that decision made more sense.

“Does that mean Reilly was going to try to sell the rare books to make up the deficit?” That was better, I supposed, than wholesale layoffs of library staff. I always hated to see people lose their jobs, but at times harsh measures had to be taken.

“Partly,” Melba said. “They’re making up some of it with a couple of vacant positions, and taking money from other parts of the budget. Like travel and so on. Cutting part-time student workers, too, and making salaried people fill in.” She grimaced. “And moving me to another department, so I can be a drain on their budget instead of the library’s.”

I didn’t know what Melba’s salary was, but given the length of time she had worked at the college, she was probably making considerably more than Reilly’s friend in the finance office.

“They’re probably taking some money from the library’s endowment.” I poured the coffee and set the mugs on the table. Melba took hers black, but I liked milk and sugar in mine. “Thanks to people like Miss An’gel and Miss Dickce Ducote, the endowment is healthy and can probably stand a hit for a hundred thousand, at least.”

“I hadn’t thought of that,” Melba said, looking slightly relieved. “And speaking of the sisters, can you imagine what they’ll have to say if Reilly tries to go through with selling off the rare books and getting rid of the archives?”

I laughed as I stirred the sugar and milk into my coffee. “Yes, I just about can. They won’t be happy, and I’ll bet Reilly’s plan gets canceled.” I took a sip of coffee. “I’m not going back there until he’s out of the way.”

“Why don’t you call Miss An’gel and tell her what’s going on?” Melba shot me a wicked grin. “That would spice things up real good.”

I shook my head. “Tempting, but I am not going to get mixed up any more in this. Miss An’gel and Miss Dickce will find out about it soon enough, and if they come to me with questions, I’ll be more than happy to answer them.”

“I guess you’re right,” Melba said. “Sure would love to be there, though, when they talk to you. Miss An’gel is pretty fierce when she gets riled up.”

“She is that.” I had to grin. “What I’d love to see is Reilly facing both sisters. Now that would be something. Poor, ignorant Yankee would never know what hit him.”

Melba hooted. “Nothing deadlier than polite demolition by a Southern steel magnolia. You got that right.”