Миранда Джеймс - No Cats Allowed

“It’s kind of moot now, but I did send Penny the articles I found about Reilly.” I said. “Unless a victim from his past came here after him. Other than his ex-brother-in-law, that is.”

“Gives you a headache, doesn’t it? Thinking about all this and trying to make sense of the mess he caused.”

“That it does. Hang on, I’m getting another call.” The beeping in my ear startled me.

“No problem. I’ll see you in the morning. Don’t be late.” She clicked off.

“Hello,” I said.

“You have time to talk?” Kanesha Berry asked.

“I sure do. Can you come by? Or do you mean on the phone?”

“Phone,” she replied. “Porter Stanley showed up at your house earlier, I understand.”

I told my story yet again.

“Any idea what he’s after?” she asked.

“Not a clue,” I said. “I only met the man once, and all he seemed interested in was Reilly. If he’s the killer, why is he still in town? I thought that, with Reilly out of the picture, he’d be long gone.”

“Exactly what I wanted to ask him,” she said. “Among other things. He was hanging around town because there was something here he wanted, and he was willing to risk arrest to get it.”

Her choice of words puzzled me. “You kept saying was . Why?”

“Because he’s dead. I’m at the motel where he was staying. We got the call about ten minutes ago.”

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.