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.

“Reilly hasn’t so far impressed me as being anything other than slimy and obnoxious, and I know you don’t care for him, either.” I had observed him leering at two of the youngest and prettiest female library staff several times when he evidently thought no one was watching him. “He sure doesn’t know anything at all about what a library does or how it should function. But why would you associate a stranger on the street with Reilly?”

Diesel warbled loudly when he heard the name Reilly. My cat and the interim director had met twice since Reilly stepped into the interim position, and both times Diesel took one sniff and backed away.

The first time it happened, I should have taken it as a sign that things were about to get unpleasant. Upon initially meeting the man, I found Reilly charming, sympathetic, and eager to do his best for the library while it was in his charge. What became quickly apparent afterward, however, was that he was mercurial in temperament, harsh in his criticisms, and contemptuous of his staff.

The president couldn’t find a new director soon enough to suit me or the rest of the staff. In the meantime, if Reilly aggravated me too much, I could simply hand in my notice. I had sufficient income that I wouldn’t really miss the part-time salary, but I would definitely miss the work I did cataloging the rare books and maintaining the archives. Others, like Melba, didn’t have that option. They needed their jobs, and they were all terrified Reilly would fire them at any moment.

“You never know what might crawl out from under all sorts of rocks when that man’s around,” Melba said darkly. She continued to scratch Diesel’s head. “I wouldn’t put anything past him. Maybe the guy watching him is out for revenge.”

“Revenge for what?” I asked. “Reilly hasn’t been in Athena all that long.” He had come from a small school in New England only four months ago, in fact, to take the job here. “Surely you’ve had time to dig up most of what there is to know about him.” Melba always managed to find out details about the lives of anyone who interested her—or who annoyed her, in this case.

Melba shook her head. “All I’ve heard is that he’s a widower with two grown children who live up North somewhere. I don’t know the girl who was his assistant over in the finance office, but I’m going to make her acquaintance right soon. I’m sure she has a few tales to tell.”

“You’d better be careful.” I tried not to sound like a stern father admonishing his daughter to behave, but as much as I loved her, Melba sometimes tried my patience. She could worry at a subject until it was in rags. “Reilly impresses me as the vindictive type, and you don’t want to lose your job. He’ll be replaced eventually, and we can hopefully get back to business as usual.”

My reward for what I thought was a well-tempered speech was a look full of irritation.

“He’d better not try to fire me,” Melba said in a fierce tone. Diesel trilled loudly, alarmed by the shift in his friend’s demeanor. “I’ve been here a long time, and I know a lot of people. People with influence, and if I have to call in favors, I’ll do that.” She further stated that if Reilly crossed her too much, she would hand him a certain part of his anatomy on a platter and make him kiss it.

Melba was a lot more riled up than I had realized. Normally she was an easygoing sort, but once her temper started rising, she could turn into a gale-force wind.

Before I could speak in an attempt to calm her down, she went on. “He had the nerve this morning to accuse me of lying to him. Can you believe that? Why would I run the risk of lying to my new boss?”

“That is utterly ridiculous.” I could feel my own temper start edging toward the red. Melba was one of the most forthright people I knew, and she wouldn’t lie. “What could he possibly accuse you of lying about?”

“My lunch hour yesterday. He left for a meeting around ten, and he wasn’t back at noon when I left to go to lunch with a friend. He claims he was back by ten to twelve, and I didn’t come in from lunch until a few minutes after one.” Melba’s face reddened as she talked, and I feared for her blood pressure. “When I told him I was late by only about five minutes, he said it was obvious to him I was goofing off the whole time he was gone and had left for lunch a lot earlier.” She paused for a deep breath. “Then he said he would see about putting in a time clock to keep me from cheating the college out of work time.”

“That’s outrageous.” I could understand now why Melba was so angry with the jerk. She didn’t tolerate any aspersions against her character, particularly against her truthfulness. She did like to gossip more than she probably should, but she never passed along dirt just for the sake of it. She was invariably right, at least in my experience.

“He asked me if I could prove my story, and the way he said it made me want to scratch his eyes out right then.” She shook her head. “I tell you, Charlie, that man is crazy.”

“Why did he wait until this morning to talk to you about it?”

Melba shrugged. “I don’t know. I was so surprised by the whole thing I never asked him.” She glanced at her watch. “Break time is over in two minutes. I’d better get back downstairs.” She gave Diesel a couple more scratches on his head before she rose.

“Don’t do anything rash,” I said, even though I knew I risked annoying her further. “I think you ought to talk to human resources and file a complaint for harassment. He’s creating a hostile work environment, and he shouldn’t be allowed to get away with it. You need to document his behavior toward you and let them handle it.”

“Good idea,” Melba said. “I’ll go call right now and make an appointment.” She strode briskly from the room, and moments later I heard her clattering rapidly down the stairs.

Diesel came back around the desk and jumped into his window again. I gave him attention briefly before I turned back to the computer.

I found it difficult to concentrate on work, though, because I was concerned for Melba. What was the matter with Reilly? Why was he so combative?

My thoughts then turned to the strange man in the car. What was he doing, sitting out there every day? Keeping someone under surveillance?

I stared at the computer screen blankly for some time while Diesel napped. The ringing of my office phone finally roused me. I picked up the receiver and identified myself.

“Hi, Charlie. Penny Sisson from HR. Sorry to bother you, but I’m afraid I have an issue I need to discuss with you.”

“Hi, Penny, what’s up?” I didn’t know her well, but the college’s chief HR officer was known to be intelligent, thoughtful, and highly competent. I wondered if her call had anything to do with Melba’s problem with Reilly.

“There’s been a complaint.”

I couldn’t interpret the tone in Penny’s voice. There was a bit of hesitancy to it, and that made me uneasy.

“A complaint about me?” I couldn’t imagine what I could have done to upset anyone.

“In a way,” Penny responded. “Can you come over to my office this afternoon sometime?”

“Sure.” I glanced at my watch. Ten minutes after three. “I’m about ready to wind things down here, and I can be over there in about ten minutes.” I paused a moment. “Can’t you at least tell me what this is about?” Curiosity was one of my besetting sins. I had to know now; otherwise I’d work myself into a tizzy.

Penny exhaled into the phone, and for a moment I thought she would refuse to answer until I was in her office. Then she said, “It’s about your cat. We’ve had a complaint about you bringing him to work with you.”

TWO

That—as Aunt Dottie used to say—flew all over me.

I was ready to storm downstairs and have it out with that jerk Reilly, because I had no doubt whatsoever who’d made the complaint. It was exactly the kind of underhanded, childishly vindictive action he would take. All because Diesel wouldn’t have anything to do with him. And, I realized, because he knew I’d seen him leering at women.

I forced myself to take a couple of deep breaths so that I could respond in a civilized manner to Penny.

“I’ll be over in a few minutes,” I said. “Diesel will be with me, and I hope there won’t be a problem with that.”

“No, not at all,” Penny said.

I said good-bye and put down the receiver, still in a fog of rage. Diesel sat up on the window ledge and meowed at me. He had picked up on my distress. I forced myself to calm down and give him some attention to keep him from getting upset as well.

“We’re leaving work now, but we’re not going straight home,” I told him as I stroked his head and down his back. “We’re going to talk to a nice lady for a little while, and then we’re going home.” I continued stroking for a few moments, and he relaxed.

Diesel stood patiently while I put on his harness and attached the leash. I powered down the computer, gathered up my backpack and a bottle of water, and we left the office. I made sure the door locked securely behind us. After an unpleasant incident in the fall, I had been overly conscious of the safety of materials in the archive.

As the cat and I made our way downstairs, I prayed that we wouldn’t encounter our nemesis. The last person I needed to see right now was Oscar Reilly, because I was still way too angry with him.

My prayer went unanswered, however. Diesel and I made it halfway to the front door from the foot of the stairs, and then I heard Reilly call out to me.

“Leaving early today, Charlie?”

I turned to see Reilly consulting his watch rather ostentatiously. He leaned against the door frame that led into the outer office where Melba worked. I wondered briefly where she was, because I was afraid she would go after him herself for that remark.

I stared at Reilly for a moment, careful to keep my expression neutral, while I longed to walk over and punch that smirk off his face. I seldom had such strong adverse reactions to people, but there was something about Reilly that brought out the worst in me.

Instead, I consulted my own watch, making a grand gesture of it. “Why, no, Oscar, I’m not,” I said in a tone that I might have used to respond to a toddler. “My normal hours are eight to three, and it’s now nearly twenty past. So actually I’m leaving late. I won’t claim overtime, though, so you don’t need to worry about that.”

Diesel meowed loudly, and Reilly’s face darkened, whether at my tone or at the cat’s timely contribution, I had no idea. I had to suppress the sudden urge to laugh.

Before Reilly could respond, I said brightly, “Diesel and I have an appointment with the head of HR, Penny Sisson. So if you’ll excuse us, we’ll be on our way.”

I didn’t wait to gauge the effect of my statement on Reilly. Instead I turned and headed for the door, and Diesel trotted beside me.

The mid-March afternoon had turned cool, but not unpleasantly so. I could have used a light jacket, but the walk to the building that housed HR would warm me. Diesel had his own coat to keep him warm. The thick ruff around his neck had started to thin out as the spring and summer loomed.

The Athena College campus had never looked lovelier—leaves on the trees beginning to show new canopies of green, the buildings basking in the glow of the afternoon sun, the whole scene one of solidity and respectability. The college had been founded before the Civil War, and a few of the original buildings remained. I sometimes fancied that, if I closed my eyes and listened intently enough, I would hear echoes of students and faculty of generations past as they went about their business on this historic campus.

I smiled at my own whimsy and realized that my mood had lightened. Good for my blood pressure.

The few students and faculty we encountered during our brief walk to the HR office all smiled and nodded pleasantly at Diesel and me. I knew I had a reputation around campus as an eccentric because I was often seen walking a large cat on a leash, but Diesel and I had not encountered anyone unfriendly in the several years since I’d adopted him and started bringing him to work with me.

The building that housed the human resources department occupied the corner of a street a couple of blocks past the main part of the campus. Though designed with a nod to harmonizing with the older architecture, the structure looked too square and boxy to be anything other than what I called municipal modern. Diesel and I headed up the walk to the front door and stepped inside, where a blast of frigid air greeted us.

I shivered from the onslaught, having warmed up from our walk over. I consulted a directory on the wall to find the number of Penny Sisson’s office, and I hoped that her space would be warmer.

“Down the hall this way,” I told Diesel, who stood sniffing the air and staring in the opposite direction. He trotted obediently beside me as I strode toward the correct office.

I identified myself to Penny’s administrative assistant. She smiled at me and the cat and told us to go right in. I thanked her, and we moved around her desk. Penny awaited us in the doorway with a welcoming smile.

After an exchange of greetings, Penny invited me to have a seat. Diesel settled on the floor beside me, and I glanced around the office. Sun streamed in the windows, helping temper the cold air from the vents. Colorful photos and posters of various scenes in Mexico decorated the walls, and I recalled that Penny’s husband was a distinguished anthropologist who worked extensively in Mexico.

“I appreciate your responding so quickly, Charlie.” Penny smiled again, a bit nervously this time. She ran a hand through her thick, black curls, and then pushed her horn-rimmed glasses up her nose. “As I mentioned during our phone conversation, there has been a complaint about your bringing Diesel to work with you.”

I nodded. “The previous library director gave me permission to have Diesel with me, and it was approved by the president.”

“Yes, I’m aware of that.” Penny laid her hand on a folder on her desk. “I have copies of both letters in your file. The issue at hand is that the complainant claims to be highly allergic to cats and that having Diesel in the building is making him sick.”

My blood pressure rose drastically, but I held on to my temper as I spoke. “I am assuming that the person who lodged the complaint is Oscar Reilly. Is that correct?”

“Yes,” Penny said.

“Then he’s a liar.” I saw no reason to hold back. “I saw him when I left to walk over here, and he displayed no signs of an allergic reaction of any kind. No sneezing, no tearing eyes, no blotchy skin. No sign at all. Surely if he were truly allergic, I would have seen signs of it before now, and I never have in the entire time that he has been working in the building with Diesel and me.”

“Oh, dear.” Penny’s eyes widened. “That’s a serious accusation, Charlie.”

“I will stand by it,” I said. “I am truly sorry that you have been put in the middle of this. I have no idea what game he’s playing, other than trying to harass me enough to make me quit. It’s not going to work, however. If he wants to keep Diesel out of the building, then he’s going to have to prove that he is severely allergic.”

“I will note your response.” Penny opened the folder, picked up a pen, and started writing. After a few moments, she looked up. “Do you want to lodge a countercomplaint?”

“Not at the moment,” I said. “Any further communication on this complaint can go to my lawyer, Sean Harris. Pendergrast and Harris is the firm.”

I rose, and Diesel sat up and looked up at me. I smiled down at him. “I don’t think there’s anything more to say at the moment. Thank you, Penny.”

She stood and came around the desk to extend her hand. I shook it, and we exchanged smiles. “I will be delighted to share your response to the complaint with Mr. Reilly,” she said. “Have a good day.”

I bade her good-bye, and Diesel warbled for her. We left her office and wended our way through the building and back outside. As we headed in the direction of home, back the way we had come, I reflected on Penny’s choice of words. Why would she be delighted to tell Oscar Reilly how I had responded to his complaint? I wondered whether he had made other such malicious, and frivolous, complaints. If so, Penny was no doubt tired of having to deal with them. And him.

Diesel meowed loudly, and I realized I was walking too quickly. I spotted a bench underneath a tree nearby and decided we should sit for a few minutes until I’d had time to cool down a bit. “Come on, boy,” I said. “Let’s rest here for a while. Sorry for going so fast.”

Once I’d made myself comfortable on the wrought iron, Diesel hopped up on the bench and leaned against me. I put my arm around him and rubbed his chest. He purred happily, and as I petted the cat, I could feel my temper cooling down.

My thoughts couldn’t stay away from Oscar Reilly for long, however. What did he have against me? I wondered. I couldn’t think of a single thing I had done to make him annoyed or angry with me. He might have seen my disgusted expression, I supposed, when I observed him ogling women. Maybe he thought I would report him for that, and this was his way of launching a preemptive strike.

I simply didn’t get it. The more I thought about it, the odder it seemed. Was he simply paranoid? Or overly sensitive? Perhaps he had picked up on the fact that I didn’t think he was fit for the position he held. Had I somehow given myself away?

Then the memory surfaced, and I knew exactly why he was targeting me through Diesel.

THREE

I hadn’t given much thought to the incident at the time, but now that I reconsidered it, I figured it had to be the source of Oscar Reilly’s petty-minded attempt to get rid of me.

The occasion was the first senior staff meeting held after Reilly stepped into the suddenly vacant position. He opened the meeting by giving us a short sketch of his background, chiefly as a financial administrator in various university positions. Having grown up poor in New England, he had worked hard to save money and to earn scholarships to put himself through school, although he had taken a couple of years longer than usual because he had to drop out at one point to work several jobs to help pay for his mother’s hospital bills. I thought the level of personal detail unnecessary in the situation, and it made me a bit uncomfortable.

After he finished the story of his life before Athena, he stated twice how important the library was to the college’s reputation and accreditation and mentioned that he personally made great use of the online resources. He looked forward, he told us with an ingratiating smile, to working with the university’s board of trustees to raise money for a much-needed library addition. In particular, he said, he enjoyed working closely with the Ducote sisters, Miss An’gel and Miss Dickce, and gushed about how gracious and generous they were.

The Ducote sisters had been trustees for many years and were always involved in fund-raising efforts, so I had no doubt Reilly had encountered them. But he mispronounced their surname, giving it two syllables rather than three. He did it several times, and after the meeting ended, I decided I had better tip him off to the fact that the sisters got annoyed when people didn’t get their name right.

“Oscar”—he insisted that we address him by his given name—“if you have a moment,” I said as we rose from the table, “I need a quick word with you.”

“Certainly, Charlie,” he said, offering me an expansive smile.

I waited until the room was clear before I explained why I wanted to talk to him. He frowned when I told him the sisters’ preferred pronunciation of Ducote (du-COH-tee). I smiled when I finished and added, “I know you wouldn’t want to offend them.”

Reilly shook his head. “Certainly not. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have another meeting.” He turned and strode from the room.

At the time I thought his manner and abrupt departure merely rude, but now I wondered whether he had also been angry because I caught him in a mistake and dared to correct him. At least, I reflected, I hadn’t done it in front of the group. He wasn’t particularly friendly after that incident, but I never suspected he would act maliciously or vindictively against me because of it.

I could, of course, be letting my imagination run a bit too wild with this, but I couldn’t come up with any other reason or explanation for Reilly’s making a frivolous complaint.

“I don’t know, Diesel.” I rubbed the cat a few more times before I stood. “Come on, boy, let’s go home.” We resumed our walk across campus but took a different route this time, one that would take us by the main library building. I remembered I had a book to return, and I could put it in the book drop by the sidewalk in front.

As we approached the book drop, I glanced past it and noticed Oscar Reilly in the small parking area between the antebellum home that housed our mutual offices and the main library. He was talking on his cell phone, holding it to his left ear, while his right arm gesticulated wildly. He didn’t look happy, I decided as I put my book in the drop. He stood in front of his car, a late-model Mercedes, and he kept looking at the windshield while he talked and gestured.

“Come on, Diesel, let’s cross the street here.” I looked down at the cat, who blinked at me a couple of times and meowed. I wanted to avoid Reilly, and thus far I didn’t think he had seen me and my cat. I was curious about what had him so worked up, but I didn’t care enough to go find out.

When Diesel and I reached the sidewalk across the street, we walked a bit faster than usual. I wanted to be out of Reilly’s sight quickly. I didn’t trust my temper if I had to talk to him right now.

“Harris.”

My name boomed out at me from across the street, and with great reluctance I halted and turned. Reilly beckoned with his free hand.

“Get over here. Now.”

My blood pressure rose rapidly. For a moment I stayed where I was, furious at the peremptory summons. Diesel scuttled behind me and huddled against my legs. I tightened my grip on his leash. The last thing I needed was for him to bolt in fear.

“It’s okay, boy,” I told him, though it took great effort to speak in a calm tone. “We’ll go see what he wants, and then we’ll go home.” I stepped forward. “Come on, now. It will be okay.”

Diesel responded with a plaintive meow but came docilely enough behind me. I checked the street for traffic before we crossed. Reilly waited beside his car, his phone now put away.

“What is it you want?” I asked, my tone barely civil.

Reilly glared at me, his face flushed with anger. He pointed to the windshield of his car. “What do you know about this?”

I almost laughed when I saw what had infuriated him. The windshield bore the slogan Oscar the Grouch in large, lurid pink lettering. The words took up the center portion of the glass. The rest of it was covered with what looked like petroleum jelly.

I turned back to Reilly. “I believe that refers to a character from Sesame Street.”

Reilly cut loose with a string of obscenities, but I simply stared at him. I really shouldn’t have tried to goad him, but I was still furious with the man. When the flow trickled to a halt, I said coolly, “If you are asking whether I know who did this, the answer is no, I don’t.”

Reilly took a step forward, right hand curled into a fist, and I thought he was about to strike me. Before the scene degenerated further, however, a voice interrupted.

“Step back, Reilly. Now.”

My erstwhile attacker faltered, no doubt startled by the commanding tone. He turned to see who had spoken.

I had already recognized the voice. The chief of campus police and a retired marine, Martin Ford brooked no nonsense, student, staff, or faculty. Relieved to see him, I stepped away from the still-glowering Reilly, making sure Diesel stayed by my side.

“Look at my car.” Reilly gestured imperiously. “What are you going to do about that?”

Chief Ford approached the car and examined the windshield. “I don’t think there’s any permanent damage. Looks like lipstick and petroleum jelly.” He turned to Reilly. “When was the last time you used your car?”

“When I came back from lunch,” Reilly said. “Around one.”

Ford checked his watch. “Ten to four. That’s well over two hours, say two and a half, for someone to do this.” He gestured toward the windshield. “Any idea why you’re being targeted like this? Third incident, right?”

“Yes, it’s the third practical joke.” Reilly rubbed his forehead. “Why haven’t you caught the jackass who’s doing this?”

“It would help,” Ford responded in a mild tone, “if I had an idea about why these things are happening to you. I repeat, any idea why you’re being targeted?”

I figured I could have thrown in a few cents’ worth of reasons, but I kept my mouth shut. I was curious to hear what Reilly had to say.

“None of this happened before I took over administration of the library.” Reilly’s fists clenched. “I’m simply trying to do the job I was asked to do by the president, but obviously some jerk doesn’t like what I’m doing. I haven’t done anything to provoke this kind of juvenile behavior, I can assure you.”

“I see.” Ford pulled out his phone and took several pictures of Reilly’s windshield. “Probably the work of a student you’ve somehow annoyed.” He put the phone back in its holster on his belt. “We’ll keep looking into these incidents, and eventually we’ll track down whoever is responsible.”

“That’s what you told me two days ago,” Reilly said, obviously angry. “And yet it’s happened again. The president isn’t going to be happy when I report this to him.”

Ford appeared unruffled by the threat. “I’m not happy, either, Reilly. Don’t blow this out of proportion. I told you, we’re working on it.”

Reilly stared at the chief for a moment, then turned and strode to the back of the library administration building. Moments later, the back door slammed behind him.

Ford turned to me. “Afternoon, Mr. Harris. And you, too, Diesel.”

I returned the chief’s greeting, and Diesel emerged from behind my legs to let Ford rub his head.

“Any idea what’s going on here?” Ford asked.

I shrugged. “He’s not popular with the library staff. He has no idea how to run a library, and the staff resent him. I didn’t know about the practical jokes, but I guess someone is trying to get back at him for being such a jerk.”

Ford arched an eyebrow. “Pretty strong words coming from you. Don’t think I’ve ever heard you speak that way about anyone.”

“I haven’t had much cause to, I guess.” I grinned. “But Reilly brings out the worst in everybody.” I was tempted to share the story of Reilly’s complaint about Diesel, but I realized that wasn’t a good idea.

Ford grimaced. “I want to catch whoever’s behind this and put a stop to it before it escalates any further. Right now it’s pretty harmless, but it could get ugly if it’s unchecked.”

“I’ll keep my eyes and ears open.” Despite the fact that I found the current prank amusing, I knew Ford was right. This behavior had to be stopped before someone got hurt.

Ford nodded as he left. Diesel and I continued on our way home. I thought about the words in pink lipstick on Reilly’s windshield. They were innocuous enough, but the prankster had to be pretty annoyed to go to such lengths.

Could Melba have done it? I wondered. She was certainly angry, but surely she wouldn’t do something so childish. I could picture her as she was earlier, ranting about Reilly to me.

I stopped suddenly, and Diesel chirped in surprise.

Pink lipstick.

Melba was wearing pink lipstick today.

FOUR

Diesel meowed loudly several times and pulled against his leash, and I realized I still stood in the center of the sidewalk, oblivious to what was happening around me. I heard a loud “Excuse me,” and I hastily stepped to one side. Diesel, clever boy, moved nimbly with me so that the woman and her two stuffed canvas bags passed us without further fuss.

Led by my cat, I headed homeward again, a distance now of only about three blocks. My thoughts reverted to Melba and the problem of the pink lipstick. I grimaced at the words; they sounded like the title of a Golden Age detective story by John Dickson Carr. But this situation was happening in the present. I knew there were other women besides Melba who wore pink lipstick, but the coincidence struck me as worrisome.

How to approach the subject with Melba—that was the question plaguing me as I fished out my keys to unlock the front door. Diesel darted inside the moment the door opened wide enough. I knew the quick entry meant he was eager to visit the litter box.

While my hands coped with the fastenings of the cat’s leash and harness, I thought about Melba. I couldn’t blame her if she had played that prank on Oscar Reilly. His behavior toward her was inexcusable, and I knew when she had her dander up, she could be a bit unpredictable.

The trouble was, the tenor of this particular prank seemed more like something an undergrad would do, not a woman of Melba’s age and experience. If Melba wanted to get her own revenge against Oscar, I figured she would come up with a far subtler, and in the end more devastating, plan.

In the kitchen I headed right for the fridge and helped myself to a glass of ice-cold water. I thought more about Melba and the lipstick. I could just call her and tell her about the scene I had unwillingly witnessed and gauge her reaction. No, upon reflection, I decided it would be better to wait until we were face-to-face again. The direct approach was best.

Loud crunching noises emanated from the nearby utility room. Diesel did enjoy his dry food, though I knew it wouldn’t be long before he started campaigning for his nightly serving of wet food. He often had tidbits from the dinner table as well, but I tried to ration them carefully. I also tried to make sure that none of the ingredients of the people food he ate were harmful to cats.

Moments later my gentle giant of a feline ambled purring into the kitchen. That loud noise, the source of his name, always made me feel better. He rubbed his head against my knee for a moment before he stretched out under the table near my feet.

My thoughts shifted to a different topic, though one still connected to the odious Oscar Reilly. What would I do if he persisted in his attempts to keep me from bringing Diesel to work at the archive? I could quit, as I’d reasoned earlier, because I didn’t absolutely need the money from the job, helpful though it was. I would certainly miss the work I did there, though, because I loved it.

Or, I thought, I could take a leave of absence until the college found a new full-time director of the library. Oscar Reilly was only temporary, after all. And the more temporary the better.

That sounded like the superior option, I decided. First, though, I had to find out whether part-time employees could actually take a leave of absence. I pulled out my cell phone and checked the time. Thirteen minutes to five, so perhaps Penny Sisson was still in her office. I had a good memory for phone numbers, and I punched in her number after only a few moments’ thought.

As the phone rang several times, I figured I had missed her after all, but then she answered.

When I identified myself, she said, “I’m glad you called, Charlie. I was going to call you first thing tomorrow morning anyway.”

“Do you have some news for me?” I asked, a bit surprised.

“Yes, and I don’t think you’ll be happy with it.” I could hear the tension in her voice. “I spoke with Mr. Reilly and passed along your message about proof of allergies and your lawyer’s name. Mr. Reilly said he’d be happy to provide proof. He needs time to get in touch with his physician back East, though.”

“How much time?” I asked, dismayed by the news. I really expected Reilly to back down after I called his bluff.

“It might take as much as a week, according to him,” Penny said.

“In the meantime, do I have to leave Diesel at home when I go in to work?”

Penny sighed. “That would be best. I know it’s annoying, but I don’t think you should antagonize Mr. Reilly.”

“I’ve been thinking about taking a leave of absence from the archive,” I said. “Are part-time employees allowed to do that?”

“Yes, provided that you have the approval of your supervisor,” Penny said. “Do you think Mr. Reilly would approve your request?”

“I don’t know,” I said. Frankly, I doubted he would, simply to be difficult.

“It can’t hurt to ask,” Penny said. “There’s a form in the faculty and staff handbook. Fill it out and give it to him. Let me know the outcome.” ...