Fire Engine Dead (17 page)

“That’s not our problem,” she said, brushing aside the issue of the fires. “What’re you going to do with the mess here?”

“Most of the materials will be things that we know didn’t come from the Society’s collections. Nicholas has made some impressive claims about his software package. I figure I’ll let him loose on the new materials and see what he can do. And before you ask, the ownership of this stuff is kind of up in the air, so it makes sense if Nicholas keeps it independent of the Society’s data, at least for now. He can give his results to the FBI, which should win us some points.”

“Any chance the Society’ll get to keep any of it?”

I shrugged. “I really don’t know. According to James, it depends on whether any of it can be identified as belonging to another institution.” Marty snorted. “I know, it’s unlikely that we’ll be able to trace its ownership. But I also don’t know what the FBI can or will do with it. Right now James has asked us to sort through it and identify what we could, period.”

“You know anything about the guy who collected all of it?”

“Not much. I think James told me when they arrested the guy that he was into the Civil War, but that’s about all I know.”

“You gonna let me get my hands on any of this?” Marty said with an evil gleam in her eye.

I was surprised that she actually asked permission. “Within limits. You can identify the Terwilliger stuff, which demonstrably belongs to the Society, so we need you there. That means you’re going to have to be involved in sorting through it all, at least the first pass. Will that make you happy?”

“It’s a start.” Marty stood up. “Want to get going?”

“Marty, I need to get some lunch, and I need to go
smooth some ruffled feathers and make sure everyone is working together. Not necessarily in that order. Why don’t we go over to the workroom now and make sure nobody has come to blows yet?”

“Excellent,” Marty said, and led the way.

I had to rush to keep up with her. She pushed through the doorway with me on her heels, and we were confronted by a scene of controlled chaos. At least I hope it was controlled; the chaos part was a steady state. It was a large single room with windows along the outside wall. Large tables were distributed throughout the room, and various supplies and works in progress were scattered around the perimeter, on shelves, under the tables, and anywhere else there was room. Now there were 167 boxes shoehorned between the tables—and three people at opposite corners, looking none too happy.

I sneaked a look at Marty, who appeared to be enjoying herself. But then, she wasn’t the one who had to clear up the mess, literal and figurative. It was time for me to step up to the plate. “Rich, Nicholas, Alice—I’m glad to see you all here.” That much was true. “And I’m sorry I wasn’t here earlier this morning to explain and to get you pointed in the right direction, although I’m sure Latoya and Rich can do a much better job with that last part. Grab a stool, why don’t you? This may take a little time.”

They sat, without moving any closer together, and I reviewed for them what I understood about the situation, based on what James had told me. I wouldn’t swear that I had the whole story yet, but it was the best I had to work with. I finished up by saying, “I think this is a great way to get you started—you can jump into sorting and cataloging with both feet, and we have no idea what you’ll find. Pretend
it’s a treasure hunt. Plus you’ll be garnering the gratitude of the FBI, which can’t hurt—especially if you’re planning anything illegal.” When nobody even smiled, I hurried to add, “That was a joke. We take honesty, and the integrity of our reputation, very seriously here. All I’m saying is that this is a good opportunity for you to learn to work together, and you could find some interesting material here. Nicholas, you’ll be using your software for this? You won’t be hampered by having to compare it to our current records, in the event that your software isn’t compatible with ours. Rich and Marty between them can cull out the Terwilliger papers, and you can handle the rest.”

He nodded, his expression still serious. “That makes sense. I don’t have to hand my software over to the FBI, do I?”

“Just the output, not the program.”

“What do you want me to do?” Alice said.

“Whatever Rich asks you to do. Plus I’m hoping that you can take what Nicholas comes up with and create an overview report that we can send to the FBI. You know, more qualitative than numerical, describing the scope of the collected materials, their quality, and so on. You all can work together on this, can’t you?” I scanned the group and was relieved to see that they were beginning to look a little happier. “How about you three come up with a preliminary assessment by, say, the end of the week? And include how much time you estimate it will take to get through all this. Then we can sit down together and work out a plan. Sound good?”

Three heads nodded.

“Great! I’ll go talk to Latoya about it. You three—get to work!”

I turned on my heel and went out the door, with Marty close behind. “That was fun!” she said.

“Maybe for you. Do you agree with my plan?”

“I do, overall. And I’ll hang around and make sure they don’t miss anything from the Terwilligers.”

“Why am I not surprised?”

Now I had to go explain the whole situation to Latoya.
How was it that I kept having to defend myself to that woman? Yes, collections was her domain, and she was entitled to make decisions that pertained to collections—acquisition, cataloging, physical maintenance. I subscribed to the idea that one should hire good people and let them do their job, without hovering over their shoulder and second-guessing all their decisions. Not that I’d been the one to hire Latoya, although I had no argument with her qualifications. Still, I know I’d resent that kind of treatment, and yet here I was, stepping all over Latoya’s toes. But I was in an unusual and awkward position, since it was my
special relationship
with the FBI that had created this problem. There was no way I was going to give Latoya the option of saying no to the FBI.

I squared my shoulders and marched down the hall. When I reached Latoya’s door, it was closed, so I knocked
and waited politely for her to invite me in. She took her own sweet time about it. When I finally walked in, she looked up in surprise. “Oh, Nell—I didn’t know it was you. What can I do for you?”

I sat without waiting for her to ask. “I wanted to give you an update about what’s going on with that material we received yesterday.”

Latoya sat back in her chair. “Ah, yes, the FBI dump. I did check in on the young ones this morning and encouraged them to cooperate with each other. I take it you’ve talked to your, uh, contact at the FBI?”

“I have. He says the agency wants us to go through it and see what we can identify. Our missing items, of course, but we should at least give him enough written detail on the rest that he can compare the other pieces to any of the available databases of stolen items.”

“I see. Did you tell him we have no space, no staff, and no time to undertake something like this, particularly without warning?”

“I did, but I also told him that we would find a way to make time. We stand to gain much more than we lose by doing this, starting with the goodwill of the FBI. Not to mention, they’ll pay us, enough to support the new staff for the time it takes. Plus there’s some possibility that we might get to keep the confiscated materials, if legalities permit.”

“Ah,” she said. “I wish you had done me the courtesy of discussing this with me first. But all right. What do you want me to do?”

“Supervise the team. I’ve asked them to do a first pass and create an action plan and a timetable. You need to make sure they’re on track.”

“What about the Terwilliger Collection?”

“I’ve already talked to Marty, and she’s okay with this. You can bet that she’s going to be involved all along the way, because she’s the best person to sniff out her family’s documents from the piles. In fact, she’s already in the workroom.”

“Very well,” she said at last. “I’ll keep an eye on them. All of them.”

“I already put them to work, so sooner would be better than later. Have you contacted human resources?”

“Of course.” This time it looked as though Latoya was swallowing a reply. “Was there anything else?”

“No.” Apparently I’d been dismissed—again. When was she going to acknowledge me as her boss? And when was I going to stop feeling like a guilty schoolgirl every time I walked into her office? I stood up. “Let me know if you have any other ideas.” I walked out with what I hoped was a dignified demeanor.

Instead of stopping at my office, I kept on going down the hall to Shelby’s office. My old office. Sometimes I wished I was still there, and all I had to do was produce pages of numbers and concise reports and the occasional request for funding. Alas, no more. “You had lunch yet, Shelby?” I inquired from the doorway.

She looked up from the papers on her desk and smiled. “No, ma’am, I haven’t, but you must be a mind reader—I was just thinking about it. You want to go somewhere?”

I lowered my voice. “Anywhere that isn’t in the building. I seem to keep stirring up hornet’s nests.”

“How about that Indian place a couple of blocks over? I love their lamb korma.”

“Terrific. Let me tell Eric and get my bag, and I’ll meet you in the lobby.”

Back outside my office, I updated Eric. “And if the FBI
calls,” I ended, collecting my bag, “tell them we’re working on it.”

“On what?”

“Everything. Anything. Don’t worry about it. See you later!”

Shelby was waiting downstairs, and together we emerged out the front door. “Hard morning?” she asked as we started walking toward the corner.

“Interesting,” I hedged. It took the whole walk for me to bring her up to date on the materials the FBI had unloaded on us. We reached the restaurant and walked in. Everything smelled wonderful, and I found myself smiling at the idea of a nice hearty curry.

When we were settled and had ordered, Shelby leaned closer. “So how are things going with Mr. Special Agent?”

“Slowly. By choice. We’re both crazy busy, and we’re not in a hurry. Besides, our dealings have been mainly business related.” All true, more or less, but for how long? At least I didn’t mind Shelby asking me.

“You think this little present of his is a way of showing you that he likes you?”

I had to giggle at that idea. “You know, if he wanted to give me a token of his affection, something smaller than a bread box would’ve been nicer. Seriously, as long as James says it’s okay for us to talk about the recovered collections, you’re going to have to think about some good ways to spin this, for the next newsletter and the website.”

“Do we need to raise money for any of this?” she asked.

I was happy to see that she was thinking like a development professional. “Not yet. The FBI says they’ll pay us for our services, and it’s not clear what will happen to the material in the end, so we can worry about that later.”

The food arrived, and I spooned a good-size serving over white rice. I ate several bites before going on to what had really been bugging me. “When do you think Latoya is going to see me as her boss? She treats me like an annoyance.”

“I think that’s just her way,” Shelby replied. “She doesn’t warm up fast, does she?”

“You, too?” I looked at her, and she nodded. “I keep working on it. The Society needs her. She’s smart, and she knows her stuff. But I don’t think we’ll ever be friends.”

“You don’t need friends, Nell—you need people who work for you and who will do a good job for the Society. Liking them—or them liking you—is just icing on the cake.”

“I know.” I sighed. “Remind me again why I thought I could run the place?”

“Because you’re smart
and
most people like you. Killer combination.”

“If you say so. Anyway, I put the little ones to work on sorting, and Marty’s helping out. Or snooping. I couldn’t stop her if I wanted to, but at least she’ll work hard, and she’s got a good eye.”

“Listen to you—
little ones
.” Shelby made air quotes.

“What, they don’t seem awfully young to you?”

“Of course they do. Remember, I’ve got a daughter their age. But are we supposed to mother them?”

“I hope not! Speaking of offspring, how is Melissa doing?” And talk drifted to nonbusiness matters for the rest of lunch. After we had stuffed ourselves, we strolled back. A lot of other people had had the same idea, and the sidewalks were surprisingly crowded. I found when we arrived back at the Society that I really wasn’t ready to face…anybody.
Luckily I realized there was something I needed to do anyway, and now was as good a time as any. “Shelby, can I rifle through your files?”

“Of course you can! What’s mine is yours,” she said grandly. “What do you need?”

We boarded the elevator. “I want to check the status of our fire suppression systems. I know I wrote a grant proposal for an upgrade a couple of years ago, but I want to refresh my memory.”

“Need help?”

“Maybe. You can ask me the obvious questions, and I’ll see if I can answer them.” I went out to the bank of four-drawer filing cabinets and leafed through the tight-packed files. Where had I stored that information? “Boilerplate”? “Building Description”? Not the dreaded “Miscellaneous”! Finally I located a thick and battered file for one of the national granting agencies—one that had consistently ignored our carefully crafted pleas. I took it with me back into Shelby’s office and dropped into a chair, conveniently out of sight from the hall so no one would see me. I opened the file and started reading. Once I could have spouted all of the information it contained from memory, but it had been a few years since I’d had occasion to review it.

“Nell? You still there?” I looked up and realized that at least fifteen minutes had passed as I read. Bless Shelby for leaving me in peace for that long.

I closed the folder. “I had forgotten just how depressing this material is.”

“That doesn’t sound good. What makes you say that?”

“In case you haven’t studied it yet, I’ll give you the short history of the building. The site when it was purchased by the Society included a nice country manor house—hard to
believe this was considered country, isn’t it? When the time came to expand, early in the twentieth century, they found that there was too much rot in the foundation to support a larger building, so they razed it and started from scratch. And, logically, they wanted to make the new building as fireproof as possible, according to the standards of the day.”