Лори Касс - Wrong Side Of The Paw

It was more a timeline she wanted than a list, but I wasn’t sure Eddie would understand what a timeline was. Not that he knew what a list was, other than a piece of paper he could shred into bits the minute my back was turned. Still, pretending that he understood even a portion of what I was saying amused me.

I extracted a spiral notebook from the depths of the backpack. “Okay, are you ready?” I flipped to a clean sheet. “Goal number one,” I informed Eddie, “is to get everything moved into the boardinghouse before the weather turns really cold. Everything includes you and me. Aunt Frances wants a date from us because she needs to plan the changeover.”

Every fall that I’d lived in Chilson, I’d helped my aunt with numerous summer-to-winter tasks. Sheer curtains came down, insulated drapes went up. Light summer blankets were switched to thick comforters. Smooth cotton sheets were changed to cozy flannel. The furnace filter was replaced, the fireplace chimney was cleaned, white and pastel colored couch pillows were changed over to deep autumn colors.

And that was just the inside tasks. Outside there were oodles of leaves to rake, plants to cut down, furniture to store, screens to put away, and firewood to stack. Last, but certainly not least, we ceremoniously took the snow shovels out of the back corner of the garage and put them on the porch.

The whole enterprise took two full weekends if we worked hard. My bookmobile schedule of working on three of four Saturdays, however, made that a little difficult. “That’s why she wants a timeline,” I said to Eddie.

He, however, was more interested in playing with my pencil then listening to what I had to say.

“Speaking of timelines,” I said, holding the eraser end of the pencil out for him to bat, “I’m wondering about the time of Dale’s murder. If it was at the estimated two in the morning on Thursday, why wasn’t he home, asleep in bed? It was a weeknight and he was working the next day.”

Or was he? I realized I had no idea what Lacombe’s normal hours had been. For all I knew, he’d been a night owl and was regularly up at that time. But if he wasn’t, why had he been out so late?

“Something to ask Carmen,” I said, but Eddie was still focused on my pencil and not paying any attention to me. “What do you think?” I asked him. “Does the fact that Dale was out in the middle of the night have anything to do with—hey!”

Eddie grabbed the pencil with his pointy teeth, gripped tight, and tugged it out of my hand.

“What exactly are you going to do with that?” I asked, stretching forward to get it back. “It’s not like you can write with it. You don’t have thumbs, remember?”

He sent a glare that should have instantly evaporated me, jumped to the floor, and ran off with my pencil.

I heard him thump down the stairs to the bedroom and leap up onto the bed. Shaking my head, I got a pen out of my backpack and kept on working.

• • •

On Monday, I kept trying to talk to Jennifer about setting up a library lecture series for senior citizens, but every time I went up to her office for a friendly face-to-face chat, she was either on the phone or cozied up with a library board member.

I spent the afternoon trying not to think about that and wasn’t very successful. I didn’t like that she was talking to the board members individually, didn’t like it at all. It looked like she was manipulating the board, giving them her side of whatever issue she was talking about and preempting what should have been an open discussion during a full board meeting. Stephen, as annoying as he’d been in so very many ways, had never done that.

Halfway down the stairs, I stopped. Was it possible that I was actually missing my former boss?

I stood there, hand on railing and one foot in midair, considering the question, but it didn’t take long to come to a conclusion. No. I did not miss Stephen. I missed one particular aspect of his management style, that was all.

Breathing a sigh of relief, I continued down the stairs.

The next day was a bookmobile day, and on the way to the first stop, I told Julia what Jennifer was doing.

“Interesting.” Julia, who, as a successful actress, had endured more than her share of backstabbing, infighting, and alliances that shifted underfoot, made the humming noise that meant her quick mind was hard at work. “What did your coworkers say?” she asked.

“Didn’t tell them.”

Julia glanced over at me across the wide console. “Why?”

I shrugged. “They don’t like her and I didn’t want to give them any more reasons to not get along. Besides, it might be nothing.”

“But you think it is something, don’t you?”

“It kind of has to be. Otherwise, why would she be working so hard to talk to each of the board members separately?”

“I see what you mean.” Julia leaned back and propped her feet on top of the cat carrier. Eddie, who was curled up in his pink blanket, took no notice. “Do you have a theory?” she asked. “No, let me rephrase that. Your name is Minnie Hamilton and of course you have a theory. On a scale of don’t-be-ridiculous to stake-your-life, how likely is it?”

I considered the question. “Somewhere in the sure-enough-to-make-my-stomach-hurt realm.”

“Do you want to tell your aunt Julia about it?”

Her overly warm concern made me laugh out loud. “I thought you were supposed to be a good actress.”

“Only when I’m getting paid.”

“Your husband must find that comforting.”

“He does indeed,” she said.

There was a short pause, then I said, “It’s my guess that Jennifer is trying to persuade the board to buy that new library systems software.”

Julia frowned. “Isn’t the program we’re using just a couple of years old?”

“Four and a half. It was installed just before the move to the new building.”

“How time flies,” she murmured. “But those systems are expensive, aren’t they? Why would they change over to something new?”

An excellent question. “Jennifer thinks a different system would be more efficient.”

“Let me guess,” Julia said. “This other program is what she used at the library where she worked before she came here.”

“Bingo!” The road, which had been narrow and tree-lined, widened to include a turn lane that led to a county park. For a few miles we’d been following a vehicle with a bright yellow kayak on top and now its right blinker and brake lights went on. Since the bookmobile was too wide to go around comfortably, I braked, too.

“I am a genius,” she said modestly. “You, however, are stuck. As someone with more knowledge of library software than most library directors and, I daresay, every library board member, you know that what Jennifer wants to do is nuts. As her assistant, however, you’re obligated to follow her lead, no matter how ridiculous it may be.”

“That sums it up nicely.” The vehicle in front of us, a midsized SUV, turned and I blinked as I recognized it.

“More proof that I am indeed a genius.” She tapped her head. “What are you going to do?”

I had no idea what I was going to do about Jennifer’s machinations, but I did know what I was going to do next. “Hang on,” I said, “we’re going to make a short stop.”

Ignoring Julia’s surprised look, I followed the SUV into the park’s gravel parking area. I circled around, braked to a halt a few yards from the vehicle, told Julia I’d be back in a flash, and hurried out to meet Brad Lacombe.

“Hey, Minnie.” He smiled. “I know I should read more, but you really don’t have to chase me down.”

“Whatever it takes,” I said, laughing. “But as much as I’d like everyone to read more, including me, when I saw you in front of us, I thought I’d stop and ask a quick question about your dad.”