No Cats Allowed

by Miranda James

  “Hi, Dad, how are you?” Sean came over to the table and set his briefcase down. He went to the fridge and rummaged around for a beer.

  “Doing okay, Son, how are you?”

  “Better now,” he said, brandishing the bottle of beer. He popped the cap off and came back to the table to join me.

  “Rough day?” I asked.

  Sean shook his head. “No, not that bad really, just intense. Crazy family members challenging a will. Like something out of a really bad movie. Hard to believe lunatics like these guys are free and on the street.” He grinned suddenly. “They’re going to make a heck of a chapter in my memoirs one of these days.”

  “With the names changed to protect the not-so-innocent,” I said, and he grinned even more broadly.

  “Something like that.” Sean sipped at his beer. “What about you? You were looking pretty serious when I came in.”

  Diesel chose that moment to amble back into the room. He chirped several times and approached Sean for attention. Sean complied, rubbing the cat’s head until Diesel purred.

  “Actually I do have a matter to discuss with you. I might need your professional services.”

  Sean regarded me with concern. “What happened?”

  He had already heard me talk about Oscar Reilly, so now I simply related what had happened today. As an afterthought, I included the incident in the parking lot. I wouldn’t put it past Oscar to try to blame me for it.

  Sean listened without comment until I finished. Then he shook his head. “Wonder what his game is?” He thought for a moment. “Until he produces his proof of allergy to cats, I think it’s probably best that you don’t take Diesel with you. Or simply don’t go to work at all.”

  “That’s my plan,” I said. “I don’t want to deal with him. In fact, I put in for a leave of absence. I figured I could take time off until the college finds a new library director.” I sighed. “The only problem is, Oscar has to approve the leave.”

  Sean drained his bottle and set it on the table. “You think he will?”

  “I don’t know. He might, but I think it’s more likely he’ll refuse.”

  “If he does turn out to be allergic to cats, and he won’t approve your leave request, what will you do?”

  “I’ll quit,” I said. “I don’t want to, because I love what I do there. But I’m not going to leave Diesel at home. It’s not fair to him after all this time.”

  Sean suddenly looked a bit uncomfortable. “We’ve never talked about this, Dad, and it’s not really my business, but will you be okay financially if you quit?”

  I had never told either of my children the full extent of my aunt’s legacy, beyond the fact that she left me her house and some money to keep it up. In truth, she left me quite a considerable inheritance that, combined with my pension from the city of Houston, made it unnecessary for me to work.

  “I’ll be fine,” I said. “Aunt Dottie left me pretty comfortably well-off, and I don’t really have to work. I do it because I like to keep busy and I like to think I’m providing a useful service to my alma mater.”

  “What do you know?” Sean grinned. “Had no idea my old, doddering father was a rich man. You’d better watch your coffee from now on.”

  “Ha ha.” I had never fully discussed my financial status with either of my children. They knew I was comfortably off, but this was the first time I had admitted to one of them that I didn’t have to work to make ends meet.

  “Seriously, though, I’m glad for your sake. I don’t like to see you treated this way, and if necessary, I’ll act on your behalf, of course. But for now, I think we have to wait to get the doctor’s report.”

  “If it ever shows up,” I said. Diesel warbled loudly, and both Sean and I laughed. “Diesel agrees with me. Neither of us thinks that Oscar is really allergic to him. The man seems to be a born troublemaker.”

  The front doorbell chimed and startled me. I rose from the table.

  “While you see who that is,” Sean said, “because it’s bound to be for you, I’m going to run upstairs and pick up a couple of things from my room.”

  Diesel accompanied me to the door while Sean climbed the stairs two at a time.

  I opened the door to find a distraught Melba standing there.

  “You’re not going to believe this,” she said as she entered the house. She paused for a moment to scratch Diesel’s head while I shut the door.

  Melba looked at me, her expression stormy. “That man is now saying I vandalized his car with lipstick. Can you believe it? I would never do anything so stupid.”

  I glanced at her lips. Their pink hue looked uncomfortably like the color of the lipstick on Oscar’s windshield. I said that to her as tactfully as I could.

  “I know that, Charlie,” she said. “The thing is, it probably is my lipstick. But I didn’t do it.”

  SIX

  “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 Orla
ndo.”

  “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.