Миранда Джеймс: No Cats Allowed

Berkley Prime Crime titles by Miranda James

Cat in the Stacks Mysteries

MURDER PAST DUE

CLASSIFIED AS MURDER

FILE M FOR MURDER

OUT OF CIRCULATION

THE SILENCE OF THE LIBRARY

ARSENIC AND OLD BOOKS

NO CATS ALLOWED

Southern Ladies Mysteries

BLESS HER DEAD LITTLE HEART

DEAD WITH THE WIND

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375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014

This book is an original publication of Penguin Random House LLC.

Copyright © 2016 by Dean James.

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eBook ISBN: 978-0-698-18197-7

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

James, Miranda.

No cats allowed : a cat in the stacks mystery / Miranda James.—First edition.

pages ; cm.—(Cat in the stacks mystery ; 7)

ISBN 978-0-425-27774-4 (hardcover)

1. Librarians—Mississippi—Fiction. 2. Libraries—Mississippi—Fiction. 3. Library cats—Fiction. 4. Murder—Investigation—Fiction. I. Title.

PS3610.A43N6 2016

813'.6—dc23

2015036662

FIRST EDITION: February 2016

Cover illustration by Dan Craig.

Cover design by Lesley Worrell.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Version_1

This book is dedicated with great affection, admiration, and respect to Natalee Rosenstein, who opened the door—and kept it open.

I can never thank her enough.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

As always, many thanks to my long-suffering, ever-supportive editor, Michelle Vega. Blessed was the day you became my editor; another reason to thank Natalee. My agent, Nancy Yost, and her staff, Sarah, Adrienne, and Natanya, work hard on my behalf, and they are much appreciated. Thanks also to Bethany Blair, Michelle’s hardworking assistant, and my publicist, Danielle Dill, for all that they do.

My fellow critique group members only got to look at a small portion of this one, but they deserve thanks for their encouragement and support. Thanks to Amy, Bob, Kay F., Kay K., Julie, and Laura, as ever. And to Susie and Charlie for all they do to provide a happy place to meet (even when I’m viewing it through a computer screen). My cohorts in the Femmes Fatales keep me entertained with their lively wit and humor on a daily basis. Thanks to Donna Andrews, Dana Cameron, Charlaine Harris, Toni L.P. Kelner, Catriona McPherson, Kris Neri, Hank Philippi Ryan, Mary Saums, Marcia Talley, and Elaine Viets, for inviting me to join in the fun.

I needed answers to a few questions, and I’d like to thank several people for their help. They can’t be held accountable for any mistakes I’ve made. Thanks to Linda Burciaga, Christina Torbert, Julianna Davis, and Scott D. Deleve, for answering my questions, odd though they might have been.

My new coworkers at the Rowland Medical Library, University of Mississippi Medical Center, welcomed the stranger into their midst and made me feel like one of the family right away. I cannot thank them enough for providing a rewarding, interesting, and collaborative work environment.

Finally, I come to my two first readers, Patricia Orr and Terry Farmer. Mere thanks are not enough for their continued support, love, and encouragement. They are always there for me.

CONTENTS

Berkley Prime Crime titles by Miranda James

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

Acknowledgments

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

CHAPTER THIRTY

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

ONE

“He’s out there again today, Charlie.” Melba Gilley made the announcement as she strode hurriedly into my office at the Athena College Library. “Do you think we should call the campus police?”

“No, I don’t think we need to do anything.” I turned from staring at my computer screen to face my longtime friend. “This is, what, the second day you’ve seen a strange man sitting in a car across the street from this building?”

Diesel, my Maine Coon cat, jumped down from his perch on the window ledge behind my desk and ambled around to greet Melba. The two adored each other, and if anyone could calm Melba down, Diesel could. I couldn’t figure out why she was so agitated by this. I figured there was an innocent explanation for the so-called lurker’s presence.

Melba plopped down in a chair near my desk and commenced rubbing the cat’s head. Diesel’s rumbling purr brought a smile to her face.

“I know you think I’m imagining things.” Melba’s tone was defensive. “And for your information, Mr. Smarty-Pants, this is the third day I’ve seen that man out there.” She sniffed. “He’s hard to miss, sitting in that little bitty car. He’s way too tall for it, and I don’t know how he manages to scrunch himself into it.”

“Maybe he’s simply waiting for someone to get off work so he can give them a ride home,” I said. “Have you thought about maybe approaching him and asking him if he needs help? On the other hand, if he’s lurking for some purpose, and you let him know you’ve spotted him, he might go away.”

Melba shot me a look tinged with utter disgust. When she spoke, she addressed the cat. “After all these years somebody ought to know me better’n to think I don’t know most of the people who’ve got legitimate business around here.” She darted another barbed glance at me when she paused for breath. “Or think I’d do something so dumb as to go up to a complete stranger and ask him why he’s trying to hide in a teeny-tiny car way too small for him.”

Diesel warbled as if he agreed with Melba, and this time the glance I got was triumphant. My cat was smart and a good judge of character, but he loved Melba so much he’d probably warble at anything she told him.

I resigned myself to the fact that I wouldn’t be able to work again until I allowed Melba to get whatever this was out of her system.

“So if he’s not here to pick someone up from work, and you don’t feel like simply asking him,” I said, “why do you think he’s sitting out there every day?”

“I don’t know, but I’d be willing to bet you it has something to do with him .” She pointed down at the floor, and I knew whom she meant—her new boss, Oscar Reilly.

My new boss as well, actually. The previous library director, Peter Vanderkeller, departed abruptly a couple of months ago, right before classes resumed after the holidays, with no explanation that I ever heard. While the college searched for a new library director, the president, Forrest Wyatt, appointed an assistant vice president of finance as the interim director. I thought the interim should be a senior member of the library staff, but the president didn’t concur—not that he ever asked my advice in the first place.