No Cats Allowed: A Cat in the Stacks Mystery (4 page)

“Wait a minute,” Melba said with a puzzled expression. “How did you know about Oscar’s car?”

“Come on in the kitchen, and I’ll tell you.” I motioned for her to precede me, and Diesel escorted her, meowing every few steps. That was how he expressed concern for his friend.

Before I got involved in a long conversation with Melba, I figured I’d better turn the heat down on the oven, or my dinner would get completely dried out.

That done, I continued with my story once she was seated. Diesel leaned against one of her legs. “Diesel and I happened to walk by the parking lot not long after Oscar discovered the vandalism. He summoned me over and demanded to know what I knew about it.”

“So he was trying to blame you first,” Melba said in a tone laden with disgust. “Figures.”

“How about something to drink?”

“Got a bottle of bourbon?” She gave me a wry grin. “Water will do, thanks.”

I started to remark on the coincidence of her asking for bourbon the way Lisa had, but I caught myself in time. I couldn’t betray Lisa’s confidence, just as I hadn’t told Lisa about Melba’s issue with Oscar. I had to watch what I said to Melba carefully.

Once Melba had a couple of sips of water, I posed a question. “You said that it probably was your lipstick that was used to do this. Did somebody steal it out of your purse?”

“Out of my top desk drawer,” Melba said. “I put the day’s lipstick there so I don’t have to dig in my purse.” She brandished the large, bulging handbag, then set it down again. “Some creep went into my desk and took it.”

“Did the creep put it back after he or she was done with it?”

“No, they didn’t.” Melba scowled. “Not that I’d want it back anyway after the way it was used, but it wasn’t cheap, let me tell you. Oscar made a stupid joke about all my pink earlier in the day.” She indicated the pink pants and jacket she wore with a white top. “So I knew he’d noticed my lip color.”

Diesel rubbed against Melba’s leg. He knew she was still upset. For his sake and hers, I hoped Melba would calm down a bit, and soon.

“Did you tell him someone stole the lipstick out of your desk?”

“At first, when he accused me, I didn’t know it
was
stolen,” Melba said. “Then when I was going to whip mine out and show him it was practically a new tube, it wasn’t there.”

“I’ll bet he took that as proof.” I shook my head at the man’s hardheaded obtuseness and lack of judgment.

“He sure did.” Melba downed the remaining water. She set the empty glass on the table and leaned back in her chair. One hand
stroked Diesel’s head while the fingers of the other beat a tattoo on the table.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do, Charlie,” she finally said. “I can’t work for that man one more day. He might fly off the handle any minute and accuse me of the good Lord knows what. But I don’t have much vacation time at the moment, after I took that month off at Christmas to go visit my cousin in Orlando.”

“I suppose you could try what I’m trying,” I said, though I realized now it wouldn’t work for either of us.

Melba perked up. “What’s that?”

“Ask for a leave of absence. I submitted my request form a little while ago.”

She slumped back in her chair again. “Fat chance of him agreeing to that.” She shot me a curious glance. “Why are you wanting a leave of absence all of a sudden? What has he done to you?”

“Complained to HR about me bringing Diesel to work with me. He’s claiming he’s allergic to cats.” I snorted in derision. “Have you seen any signs of him having allergies? I haven’t.”

“Not a one,” Melba said. “I swear, if someone doesn’t get rid of that jerk, I may do it myself. Imagine picking on this sweet, darling boy.” She looked down at Diesel. “We don’t like that nasty man, do we, boy? You knew right away he was a stinker.”

Diesel warbled in response, as if he had understood every word. Frankly, I often thought he did. Or if not all the words, the sense of them and the emotion with which they were spoken.

“Let’s talk about the stolen lipstick,” I said, “and see if we can figure out who had the opportunity to take it. When was the last time you remember seeing it or using it today?”

Melba thought for a moment. “I did a little touch-up about nine thirty, after I finished my coffee. Usually I check it before I
leave for lunch, and then when I get back. But I was in a hurry to get out the door for lunch and didn’t check. Oscar had so much urgent work waiting for me the minute I got back from lunch, and I never even thought about checking my lipstick.”

“I saw Oscar in the parking lot with his car not long after three thirty,” I said. “That’s a big window of opportunity for someone to steal the lipstick. Depending, of course, on when the lipstick was used on Oscar’s windshield. Who came into your office today?”

“Lisa Krause, for one,” Melba said right away. “Oscar wanted to talk to her about something, and it was after nine thirty when she showed up.” She frowned. “I’m pretty sure I went to the ladies’ room while she was with him, so I guess she had the opportunity.”

“Was she still with him when you came back from the ladies’ room?” I asked. “You weren’t gone that long, were you?”

“No, I wasn’t,” Melba said. “But I didn’t leave my desk for probably a good ten minutes, though, after she went in to Oscar’s office. I was gone probably five minutes, max, and she’d left by then.”

Lisa was so distraught over Oscar’s accusation that I supposed she could have decided to get back at him with a prank. I didn’t think, however, that she would do such a juvenile thing.

“Anyone else come into the office?” I hoped there were more viable suspects besides Lisa.

“Delbert Winston came along right after Oscar and I finished our little meeting.” She grimaced. “I went to the ladies’ room again and stayed there for at least ten minutes. Delbert was gone by the time I came back.”

Delbert Winston, the head of the cataloging department, who also did minor repairs on damaged books, had a small run-in with Oscar the first week Oscar took over, I recalled. Something to do
with supplies Delbert ordered and that Oscar canceled. Delbert, only a couple of years away from retirement, didn’t strike me as a strong candidate for the role of practical joker. I didn’t think he would risk being fired if caught doing something like this. I figured Oscar would make sure the culprit lost his or her job, if the truth ever came out.

“That’s two people,” I said. “Nobody else?”

Melba shook her head. “Not while I was in the office. Oscar was gone part of the time, and then I was up in your office for a good ten minutes. Anyone could have come in and stolen the lipstick then.”

It was more like twenty minutes, but I hadn’t begrudged her the time.

“I hope neither Lisa nor Delbert was involved,” I said. “I like them both. This one’s up to Chief Ford to handle.” A thought struck me. “There’s another question. Where did the petroleum jelly on the windshield come from?”

“Beats me.” Melba shrugged. “I didn’t have any in my desk or in my purse. I guess the joker must have had it on him. Or her.”

I nodded. “I suppose so. Well, enough of that. I have something to share. Penny Sisson called me this afternoon and told me about the complaint. I went to talk to her, and I told her that I thought Oscar wasn’t telling the truth.” I grinned. “She didn’t say anything outright, but I could tell she doesn’t care much for Oscar, either.”

“Probably she’s had to deal with other complaints from him, or about him.” Melba laughed. “At least we know we’re not the only ones who hate his guts.”

“You need to go to HR first thing in the morning. Tell Penny about this, and get your own complaint on record. If they receive enough complaints, they’ll have to do something.”

Melba nodded. “I already made an appointment for tomorrow morning. Remember, you suggested I do that this afternoon.”

“You’re right,” I said. “It slipped my mind, thanks to all the goings-on.” I laughed. “I have a feeling Penny’s going to be busy tomorrow.”

Melba’s eyes narrowed. “What is it you’re not telling me?”

I shook my head. “Sorry, I can’t break a confidence. All you need to know is that Oscar has targeted another person besides the two of us. This person is also going to file a complaint. I realize now that I need to file a countercomplaint myself.”

“You darn sure should,” Melba said. “I’d talk to that gorgeous lawyer son of yours.” She grinned suddenly. “I think maybe I’ll do that myself. He sure is good to look at.”

“Sean is here,” I said. “I was talking to him about all this right before you arrived. He ought to be down soon, if you want to stay and talk to him.”

“I’m surely tempted.” Melba rose from her chair. “But I’m going to wait till I’ve had time to talk to Penny tomorrow morning. Then I may give him a call.”

I rose to escort her out with Diesel right behind us. At the door, Melba turned and gave me a quick hug. She let me go before I could gather my wits enough to hug her back. She smiled and slipped out the door after one last scratch of the head for Diesel.

The door shut, I stood there for a moment with Diesel staring anxiously up at me. I rubbed his head while I thought about the situation at work. Peter Vanderkeller, the director who suddenly quit, wasn’t the best library director I’d ever worked for, but he was smart enough to let his staff do their jobs. As a consequence, the library ran smoothly, from everything I’d seen the past several years.

Now we were saddled with a man who did not have the right kind of personality to be an effective leader, nor did he have any understanding of the workings of an academic library. He might be a wizard with financial machinations, but as the person in charge of a library, he was a complete dud.

I wondered if it would do any good to approach the president of the college directly and express my concerns. He had seemed like a sensible man, a good leader—until he foisted Oscar Reilly on the library. That was a spectacular error in judgment. I feared that, if no action was taken soon to stop Oscar’s bizarre behavior, excellent staff members might quit, even if they really couldn’t afford to. Or Oscar might start firing people he didn’t like.

Diesel trilled loudly, and I came out of my reverie to see him regarding me with what looked like alarm.

I smiled at him. “I’m okay, buddy, I promise. I was only thinking hard about something. Let’s go back to the kitchen so I can check on my dinner.”

The cat gave a couple of happy meows, and back to the kitchen we went. I checked the casserole and adjusted the heat upward again. My dinner ought to be ready in less than ten minutes.

“Who was at the door?” Sean asked as he strode into the kitchen carrying a small canvas tote bag in one hand. He set the bag on the table after a wary glance at the cat. He had learned early on not to set anything like that on the floor unless he wanted Diesel to pull everything out and then try to insert himself in it.

“Melba.” I recounted her story to Sean, and he rolled his eyes.

“This guy is really rocking for a knocking,” he said. “What is he hoping to accomplish, I wonder? Is he deliberately trying to screw things up, or is he just a nutcase?”

“I can’t decide,” I said. “I’ve been thinking I might go to the president and talk about the situation with him.”

Sean shook his head and fixed me with his stern gaze. “No, Dad, you shouldn’t do that. If this Reilly finds out about it, then the situation gets more complicated. You don’t want trouble from that.” His gaze softened. “I know you want to help Melba, but in this case you have to let things work out without you getting any more involved than you have to.”

“You’re right.” I sighed. “I have to stifle this impulse I have to rush in and try to make things better. The good Lord knows this situation doesn’t need any more complications.” I went back to the oven and checked the casserole. It looked ready, so I grabbed oven mitts, pulled it out, and set it on a trivet on the table.

“Do you have time for a bite?” I asked. “One of Azalea’s specialties, chicken and mushrooms with rice.”

Sean gazed hungrily at the casserole, then shook his head. “Much as I’d love to, I’d better get back to the office. Alex and I have a little more work to do, then I’m taking her out to dinner.” He picked up his bag. “Take care, Dad, and I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Diesel, you try to keep him out of trouble.”

The cat chirped, and Sean grinned as he headed to the door. I called my good-bye and good wishes after him, and the door shut behind him.

After I prepared myself a bowl of salad and poured a glass of water, I sat down to eat. Diesel sat beside me and tapped my leg a few times in hopes of snagging a treat. I had to deny him, however, because the casserole contained onions—truly bad for cats. Also, I wasn’t too sure about the mushrooms.

While I ate my delicious meal, and occasionally gave attention to the always-famished feline by my leg, I mulled over the prank
played on Oscar. Surely there were other possibilities besides my library colleagues.

Besides
my library colleagues
.
Of course, you idiot.

Why did the culprit have to be a library staff member? Why couldn’t it be someone from the finance office, where Oscar had been working before he was transferred?

Yes, I decided, I shouldn’t limit the suspects to library staff. Surely, unless his current behavior was a bizarre aberration, he had caused similar turmoil among the staff in the financial department.

I did not know anyone personally who worked in that area, however. Even though I knew it was Chief Ford’s job to uncover the culprit, I couldn’t help my overlarge bump of curiosity. I wouldn’t call it overlarge myself, but Sean and Laura often did.

Then I remembered Melba saying she intended to scrape up an acquaintance with a young woman who worked in the finance office. Perhaps she wouldn’t go through with that, however, since she planned to file a complaint.

After I finished my meal, I cleaned up the small mess I’d made and put my dishes and utensils in the dishwasher. I checked my watch and saw that I had another four hours to wait before I could call Helen Louise. I didn’t like to call her at work and usually waited until I figured she was home. That meant not until ten. The
bistro closed at nine, and Helen Louise and her staff had to balance out the registers and perform a few other tasks before they all went home.

Television didn’t appeal, and I had plenty of books, so I headed upstairs with Diesel to read. Soon my cat and I lay in comfort on the bed. Diesel stretched out beside me, head on his own pillow. His eyes regarded me groggily for a few minutes while I read. Then he fell asleep.

I awoke later when the insistent ringing of my cell phone roused me. I put aside the book that had lain across my chest and fumbled for the phone. My eyes registered the time, ten fifteen, and the caller’s number a moment before I answered.

“Hello, love.” I couldn’t hold back a yawn.

“You fell asleep reading again, didn’t you?” I could hear the smile in Helen Louise’s voice. “I figured you had when you didn’t call right on the dot at ten.”

“Yes, I did, sorry. Told myself that for once I wasn’t going to do it.”

Diesel was awake now, too, because he knew that one of his favorite humans was talking to me. He warbled.

“Diesel sends his greetings,” I said.

“I heard,” Helen Louise replied. “Scratch his head for me. How was your day, love?”

“Eventful,” I said. “Nothing earth-shattering, so no need to worry. I’ll fill you in on the details tomorrow night.” We had plans for dinner, just the two of us. Diesel warbled again, as if to remind me that there would be three, not two.

Helen Louise laughed, a sound I loved. “No need. Melba came by on her way home from your house to pick up dinner. She filled me in on all of it.”

“I hope she didn’t alarm you over any of this,” I said.

“She didn’t alarm me, but naturally I’m concerned,” she said. “I find it curious that he waited this long to complain about Diesel. Surely, if he were that allergic, he would have mentioned it the first day.”

“Of course he would,” I said. “Another reason I’m sure he’s lying about it. He claims he’s getting proof from his doctor, but whatever the so-called doctor says, I won’t believe it. The man apparently lives to antagonize people.”

“Sounds to me like one or both of his oars aren’t hitting the water.” Helen Louise laughed again. “I’m curious now to see this guy for myself.”

“I don’t have any plans to introduce you,” I said in a wry tone. “I’ve applied for a leave of absence from the archive, but since Oscar has to approve it, I doubt I’ll get it. I may end up quitting so I don’t have to put up with his craziness.”

“I’d hate to see you quit a job you love so much. I want you to stay busy so you don’t have time to run around town, chasing other women.” She laughed.

“Oh, I could fit it in if I really wanted to,” I said in an arch tone. “But why do that when I’ve already found you?”

She laughed again, and after that, the conversation turned a bit soppy, as Sean would have called it during his teenage years. A few minutes later we said good night, I turned out the light, and Diesel and I went back to sleep, me with a huge smile.

The next morning, after a delicious breakfast cooked and served by Azalea, I decided to take Diesel for a morning walk. This wasn’t one of my workdays at the archive, and I felt restless. Diesel chirped happily when he saw the harness and leash in my hands. He enjoyed
these little rambles as much as I did, for we invariably ran into at least one or two of his admirers in the neighborhood.

The air had a cool, crisp edge to it, and I wore a light jacket as we started out. I would probably shed it before we returned home. Diesel liked to trot along at first, eager to encounter his friends, and I had to walk briskly to keep up.

By habit, Diesel turned onto the sidewalk in the direction of the college. I thought about turning to go the other way, but I decided I wasn’t going to let the possibility of an encounter with Oscar spoil our morning. I checked my watch—a few minutes past nine. Oscar should be safely in his office by now.

We met two neighbors along the way, and I stopped to chat while Diesel received the attention he enjoyed. By the time we neared the campus and the library administration building, it was almost nine thirty. Now a bit too warm, I shed my jacket and slung it over my shoulder. Diesel continued toward the library building, because we didn’t usually come this way unless we were headed for work.

“Not today, boy.” I halted, and Diesel stopped to look up at me with what I called his interrogative expression. “We’re not working today.” He meowed in disapproval. He was no doubt eager to go inside to see his buddy Melba.

In my peripheral vision I caught a blur of motion. I turned my head slightly to observe a tall man extricating himself gingerly from a small car.

He had to be the man Melba talked about yesterday. I had forgotten about him until now, but, my curiosity piqued, I started walking toward the library, even though I knew it would confuse the cat.

“Good morning,” I called out when Diesel and I were about
ten feet away from where the man stood by his car. “Lovely day, isn’t it?”

Evidently startled, the man whipped his head in my direction, his expression confused at first. Confusion quickly turned to blandness, however. “Good morning to you, and to your companion. Yes, it is a beautiful day.” He leaned back against the car and crossed his arms over his chest. He continued to regard Diesel and me—warily, I thought—as we moved to within five feet of him.

Closer up, I realized the stranger—clearly a Yankee, by his accent—had to be at least six foot seven. I felt a bit puny in contrast, though I was by no means a small man. The stranger had broad, muscular shoulders, with upper arms that strained against the tight fabric of his cotton shirt. He had a vaguely menacing air about him, though I couldn’t determine why I felt that way. Perhaps it was simply his size. I had seldom seen so big a man in the flesh.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you around campus before,” I said in my best chatty manner. I thought giving him the impression of a dotty Southerner might disarm him enough to let something slip. “I work in the building right there, but today is one of my days off.”

I caught the direction of his gaze and went on. “This is my Maine Coon, Diesel. He goes to work with me. Actually, I take him with me almost everywhere. Do you like cats?”

Startled, the man raised his eyes to mine. “Not so much. I’m more of a dog person, I guess. He’s really big. Shouldn’t he be on a diet?”

“No, he isn’t overweight. Well, maybe only a pound or two,” I admitted. “Maine Coons are big cats, although Diesel is much bigger than the average male.”

The object of the conversation remained by my leg. His usual
practice was to approach a stranger and sniff, then wait to be petted. When he hung back like this, I knew it meant there was something about the person that put him off. My cat was an excellent judge of character, and I decided I should heed his judgment.

“So am I.” The stranger guffawed. “Bigger than the average male, I mean.” He flexed his shoulders and stared down at me.

Was that meant as a warning? Or was he simply showing off his superior size and musculature?

He had made no attempt to answer my question, I realized, so I created another opportunity.

“If you’ve never been on campus before,” I said in a fatuously pleasant tone, “Diesel and I would be happy to show you around. In addition to working here, I’m also an alumnus.” I held out a hand. “I’m Charlie Harris.”

The stranger eyed me for a moment, then stuck out his hand. “Porter Stanley. Thanks, but I don’t need a tour.”

That’s something
, I thought.
At least I have a name
.

Then Stanley appeared to reconsider. “Tell you what, though, I wouldn’t mind seeing inside that building.” With a jerk of his head, he indicated the administration building. “I really like antebellum architecture, and I never pass up the chance to see inside old places like this.”

“I’ll be happy to show you.” I wondered how Melba would react when she saw me bringing her mysterious and menacing stranger into the building. “Come on, Diesel, let’s show the nice man where we work.” I turned toward the building and didn’t wait to see whether Stanley followed me.

I launched into a history of the building as I headed up the steps to the verandah. I felt Stanley’s presence beside me. I paused on the verandah to point out a few features before I opened the front door
and motioned for him to precede the cat and me. He had to duck his head to enter, and his massive frame filled the doorway.

Inside I chattered away about the staircase, the antique carpets and furniture in the entrance, and the hallway. I saw that the door to Melba’s office stood open, as usual, though she wasn’t there. Then I remembered she had an appointment this morning with Penny Sisson, to file her complaint. I really would have liked to see her reaction to Porter Stanley, but there might be another opportunity.

Stanley nodded now and then during my peroration on the house, and to my surprise he didn’t look bored. He appeared to be taking in the details with considerable interest. Perhaps he really was fascinated by antebellum architecture.

Diesel remained silent. He made a couple of attempts to go up the stairs but I called him back. “Our office is upstairs,” I said. “He thinks we’re here to work today, but it’s actually my day off.”

Stanley nodded. He pointed toward Melba’s door. “What’s in there?”

“The outer part of it is the office of the administrative assistant to the library director,” I said. “She must be off from work today. She and Diesel are big buddies, and she would have been out here to see him the moment she spotted us.”

Stanley didn’t respond to that. “What else? Another office in there?”

I nodded. “Yes, the library director’s office is there, too. The room next to it.” I wasn’t eager to see Oscar myself, but I was too curious to see Stanley’s reaction if the two men did meet. “He’s probably in his office. Would you like to meet him?”

Stanley shrugged. “Why not?” He appeared not to be particularly interested in Oscar, but I still wondered.

“Let’s go knock on his door,” I said. “Come on, Diesel.” We headed into Melba’s office, and the cat sniffed and looked around for his friend. The door into Oscar’s office stood slightly ajar. As we moved nearer, I heard voices emanating from it. I heard Oscar’s usual rumble, followed by the strident tones of a voice I recognized all too well.

The head of the library’s collection development and acquisitions unit, Cassandra—“Don’t ever call me Cass”—Brownley rarely spoke in anything other than an irritable tone. I had never known anyone who always appeared to be annoyed at something, but Cassandra invariably seemed to be. I wasn’t in the least surprised to hear her arguing with Oscar.

I turned to Stanley with an apologetic expression. “I think we should continue our tour and come back a bit later. The director appears to be in a meeting.” Diesel had shrunk back against me. He hated arguments, especially one as loud and apparently rancorous as this one. I couldn’t make out the words, but I could tell Cassandra was mighty upset over something.

“Okay,” Stanley said with a speculative glance toward Oscar’s door.

Before we had moved three feet toward the hallway, I heard Oscar’s door bang against the wall. I turned to see Cassandra storming out. She did not acknowledge the fact that two men and a cat were in the room. She pushed past us in an apparent fury, and seconds later I heard the front door open and then slam.

Stanley quirked one eyebrow at me. “Looks like he’s free now.”

He seemed intent on meeting Oscar. I wasn’t keen on seeing my boss right after such a tempestuous meeting, but I was curious to see what happened when the two men met. “Sure, let’s go in.”

I headed back toward Oscar’s office, a reluctant Diesel in tow.
Stanley followed right behind us. I walked into the room to see Oscar smiling broadly. That smile vanished the moment he saw me. Then his eyes moved past me and focused on the larger man behind me.

Oscar paled and stood on shaky legs. “What the hell are
you
doing here, Porter?”