Миранда Джеймс - No Cats Allowed

Cassandra nodded, then opened her mouth to speak.

“I don’t believe there’s anything else I have to say at the moment, and I know you have work that needs attention, so I will let you get on with it. Have a good day.” With that, I turned and walked out of her office.

I realized I had forgotten to close her door behind me when I went in, and obviously some of the staff in nearby cubicles had overheard everything. I was aggravated with myself for the lapse, but also amused to see the miming of applause from several people as I walked by.

During the time it took for me to wend my way through the library and back to my office in the other building, I worked on cooling my temper down. I despised bullying in any form, and that’s what Cassandra was basically: a bully. She used her rudeness and blatant contempt for other people to bulldoze her way through things. When she didn’t get what she wanted, she had no idea why she didn’t get it. I had dealt with her kind before in the workplace, and they had all moved on. I could be unbelievably stubborn over some things, and this was one of them. She would not persist in this behavior. She would either learn to behave properly and professionally, or she could find a job elsewhere.

Back in the office, I found Melba filing and Diesel lolling on the carpet near her. “How’s it going?” I asked. There was no sign of Kanesha and her department. The campus policeman remained on duty near the front door, though.

Diesel chirped happily at the sight of me and got up to come rub against my legs. I scratched his head, and he meowed in pleasure.

“Not bad,” Melba said. “Fortunately the idiot got interrupted before he could dump all the files on the floor, only about a third of them.” She waved a hand to indicate the cleared floor. “I’ve got most of them sorted, and I’m filing them. I should be done by lunchtime.”

“Good,” I said. “I’m going to be working on the files in my office.”

“No need.” Melba smiled. “I started in there and got everything sorted and filed. I printed a copy of your schedule for today and next week, and it’s on your desk. The IT person has set things up so you can access all the files you need, and given you access to Peter’s and Reilly’s e-mail accounts.”

“I’ll be drowning in information,” I said wryly. “Speaking of which, I’d like to take a look at the personnel files we have on the department heads.” I told her about the meetings I wanted set up for next week.

“You’re in luck,” she said. “Those files were in the group that the idiot didn’t get to. I’ll pull them and bring them in to you in a minute. There’s fresh coffee, if you’d like some.”

“Thanks,” I said. “I could use some caffeine.” I set down my briefcase and was about to head to the kitchen for coffee when Melba stopped me.

“No, you go on and get to work. You’ve got a lot to do,” she said with a smile. “I’ll bring you some coffee.”

“That would be great. You really are the best.” I knew better than to argue with her. “Come on, Diesel, we’d better get to work.” I picked up the briefcase and, with the cat beside me, strode into my office.

Melba had indeed worked wonders while I was in the library staff meeting. The pile of papers I’d left on the desk was gone, filed expertly, and the bookshelves looked neat and more orderly than I’d left them. Diesel crawled under the desk and stretched out near my feet while I got comfortable at the computer and started looking through e-mail.

Melba came in a couple of minutes later with my coffee, and I decided I should tell her about my meeting with Cassandra. She chuckled when I finished recounting the one-sided conversation.

“Good for you,” she said. “It’s about dang time somebody told that witch off. Peter never would do anything about her.” She sniffed. “She should have been fired years ago, but nobody would stand up to her.”

“I don’t know whether it will do any good,” I said after a sip of coffee. “I told her I expected to see an appointment with her on my calendar by the end of the day. Let me know if she doesn’t comply. I’m not going to let up on her.”

“Will do,” Melba said. “I’ll be back in a minute with those files.”

I decided I had better e-mail Penny Sisson about the confrontation with Cassandra. Better to have it documented, because I wouldn’t put it past Cassandra to file a complaint with HR against me. I also wanted staff turnover information from HR, and I would compare that to what the department heads gave me.

I spent about ten minutes composing my message to Penny, during which time Melba came in and deposited three files on my desk. I nodded my thanks and kept working on the e-mail. I read it through a couple of times, tweaked it a little, and finally sent it.

A glance at the printed schedule Melba provided made me happy. No meetings the rest of the day today. On Monday morning, however, I was scheduled to meet with the president and the deans of the various schools for two hours. After that, I had a meeting with the vice president in charge of finance, no doubt to discuss the budget and the efforts to get it back on track. The rest of the afternoon was clear. There were a few meetings the rest of the week, but Wednesday was blank. No problem about meeting with the department heads in one-on-ones then.

In light of my Monday schedule I decided I had better spend the rest of the morning reviewing the budget. Dealing with budgets had never been anything I enjoyed, but they were a necessary evil.

By the time the lunch hour rolled around, I had a headache and blurry vision. Diesel had remained mostly quiet while I worked. Occasionally he went to Melba’s office but he spent a fair amount of time asleep under the desk by my feet.

When I told him we were going home for lunch, he perked up and meowed. “I agree,” I said. I left my briefcase. I had no plans to make this a working lunch.

I stopped to tell Melba we were headed out.

“I’ll be going in a few minutes myself,” she said. “I’ll make sure the offices are locked. See you in about an hour.”

Diesel and I headed down the hall to the back of the building. Though the skies outside remained gray and the wind had picked up a bit, there was no rain yet. Diesel ambled toward the car ahead of me, and I glanced at it and stopped as if stuck to the pavement.

The windshield was shattered.

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.