No Cats Allowed

by Miranda James

  With all the controls the college had in place to insure against fraud, I was surprised that Reilly could have found anything suspicious. I said as much to Delbert.

  “Right, I know. You have no idea how many hoops I have to go through to get purchase orders and invoices okayed. There’s no way I could embezzle anything.” He sounded disgusted. “Maybe if I was some high-priced accountant, I could figure out a dodge, but I was a classics major, for crying out loud. What the hell do I know about cooking the books?”

  “Yes, I can see your point.” I didn’t necessarily agree with him but there was no point in my antagonizing him. “He accused you of embezzling. What was your response?”

  “I went ballistic,” Delbert said. “See, I’ve got a temper. Most of the time I’m this quiet, mild-mannered guy, gets along with pretty much everybody. But I have a quick fuse, especially when some idiot like Reilly comes along and calls me a criminal. I totally lost it, and I was screaming at him like nothing you’ve ever heard. And you know what?”

  “No, what?” I said, because he was obviously expecting me to.

  “The jackass just sat there and stared at me with this superior little smile on his face.” Delbert sounded surprised. “I couldn’t believe it, and it just made me angrier. I grabbed this brass bookend I have and was about to brain him with it, and then he got up and walked out. I went after him, though I had enough sense to put down the bookend, and I was yelling all kinds of things at him.” He paused. “I guess I even said I’d kill him if he ever came back and accused me of anything like that again. So you see why I’m worried, don’t you?”

  “Did anyone besides Reilly hear you make those threats?” I asked.

  “All of technical services,” Delbert said. “You’ve been in our area, you know what it’s like. All those cubicles are open, and if you’re loud enough, they can hear everything.”

  “You’re worried you could be a suspect in the murder,” I said. “I really think you should go to the sheriff’s office and make a statement before they have a chance to hear about it from anyone else. I’ve known Chief Deputy Berry for several years now, and she is tough and determined. She’s also principled and intelligent. She’s not going to railroad anyone. If you didn’t do it, you don’t have to worry about it. Just tell her the truth.”

  There was only silence on the other end. Had I angered him? I wondered. I wasn’t sure what else he expected me to do, other than to give him the benefit of my experience.

  “I’ll think about it,” he finally said. “You won’t go to her and tell her about this, will you?”

  “Not if you don’t want me to,” I said. “I will respect your confidence for now, but eventually you will have to talk to her and be straight with her. Just think about it this way. How would you feel if the wrong person is arrested and charged with the murder?”

  Delbert laughed, a harsh sound. “I’d just as soon give the guy a medal for getting rid of Reilly. He’s no loss to anyone, believe me.”

  “He may not be, but we can’t let a murderer go free,” I said. “What if the killer goes after someone else?”

  “Why would he do that?” Delbert seemed surprised.

  “If the murderer feels threatened somehow, he—or she—might do anything for self-protection.”

  “I hadn’t thought about it that way. Interesting,” Delbert said. “But if someone is smart enough, they can keep the killer from finding out what they know.”

  Something about his tone made me suspicious. “Delbert, if you know anything else about this, I cannot urge you strongly enough—for your own safety—to talk to Kanesha Berry. As soon as possible.”

  “I’ll think about it,” he said. “Look, thanks for your advice. I appreciate it.” He ended the call.

  Did he really know anything that could be dangerous? For his sake I hoped I was misreading the situation.

  If I wasn’t, however, he could end up in a lot of trouble—or worse. I really ought to talk to Kanesha, I decided. I didn’t have to break Delbert’s confidence—at least, not yet—but I could emphasize that she really needed to talk to the senior library staff. There was no telling what kind of accusations Reilly might have made against Cassandra or Lisa, for example. He could have subjected them to the same kind of intimidation.

  My phone rang and pulled me out of my rumination.

  “Hi, Sean. Are you still at the jail? How’s Melba?” I asked.

  “Yes, I’m still here,” he said. “They plan to hold Melba for a while longer.”

  “Why? Surely they haven’t charged her with anything. What’s the holdup?”

  “They haven’t charged her. Yet.” Sean sounded grim. “But I think it’s only a matter of time.”

  “Why?” I asked again.

  “They have evidence tying her to the scene,” Sean said.

  “What evidence?”

  “A tube of pink lipstick that she says is hers.”

  SEVENTEEN

  “Pink lipstick?” I said, momentarily confused. Then my mind cleared, and I understood the significance.

  Sean started to explain, but I cut him off.

  “Yes, I know what it means, Son. I was there when Reilly found his car vandalized with the lipstick, and Melba told me about how the lipstick was stolen from her desk.”

  “That’s right,” Sean replied. “I’m sure the killer planted the lipstick on the body to implicate Melba.”

  “And that means the killer also played the prank on Reilly.”

  “More than likely yes, or the killer stole the lipstick from the prankster. We can’t overlook that possibility.”

  “No, you’re right,” I said. “I should have thought of that.”

  “I imagine you would have,” Sean said, a touch wryly. “Look, Dad, I have more to do here, then I’ll be going to the office. I may call you later to discuss this. Would you be able to come to the office?”

  “Sure,” I said. “I don’t have a job to go to at the moment, so I’m free.”

  “You’ll have to tell me about that later. Bye.”

  I was thankful my son was there to help Melba. In situations like this, he remained cool, always watching out for his client. Melba couldn’t be in better hands.

  I hated for her to languish in police custody, though. I knew how galling it must be to her, and I wished there were more I could do to help her. I would have to stick my nose into this, though I knew Sean would worry, and Kanesha might be furious.

  I decided I would call Kanesha, even though she was in the midst of this investigation. I speed-dialed her cell.

  “I know you’re swamped,” I said the moment she answered. I rushed on before she could respond. “Look, you know as well as I do that Melba didn’t kill Oscar Reilly. She would never do such a thing. There are other much more likely suspects. In particular, there’s Reilly’s ex-brother-in-law, Porter Stanley. You’d better track him down before he disappears.”

  “Thank you, Charlie, you’re always helpful.” Kanesha did not sound grateful, but at least she didn’t sound furious, either. “I was planning to get around to you later today. For your information, I am aware of Mr. Stanley’s existence, and I am trying to track him down. Will you be at home today, or at the archive?”

  “Home, unless I’m with Sean at his office,” I said. She was obviously in a hurry to get me off the line, so I would explain about my job later.

  “All right. I’ll check with you later.” She ended the call.

  I set the phone aside and thought about my options. Despite what I had told Sean and Kanesha, I was thinking about leaving home and heading for the library. Then I remembered that it was closed for the day. That frustrated me, because I itched to do something. Talking to people in the library would be relatively easy. I couldn’t go knocking at their doors at home and expect them to invite me in to talk about why they might have a reason to
kill Oscar Reilly.

  Diesel padded into the room and meowed. I patted the sofa and indicated that he should join me. He came closer and climbed up beside me, resting his head on my leg. He stared up at me, then twisted his body until he lay on his back. That was a signal that he needed his chest and belly rubbed. He didn’t do this often, and I hastened to fulfill his wish.

  He purred as I stroked and scratched. No doubt he had a bellyful of treats from Azalea to add to his contentment.

  As always, taking time to focus on Diesel helped me calm myself and order my thought processes. He was a remarkable tonic at times, I thought affectionately. Better than anything my doctor could prescribe.

  I hoped Kanesha would be able to locate Porter Stanley soon. He was my favorite suspect. He had seemed menacing to me, and I didn’t imagine he’d had Reilly’s best interests in mind when he tracked him down here in Athena.

  Had Stanley come here intending to kill Reilly?

  If he had, surely he would have been more unobtrusive about it. He wasn’t exactly a man who could fade into a crowd, not with his height and those broad shoulders. If he had been in the library last night, there ought to be witnesses who could place him there. Students could be oblivious when they were studying, but there ought to be at least one or two who would have noticed him.

  Delbert Winston, on the other hand, was exactly the kind of bland, nondescript man who could be overlooked. Average height, an ordinary face, neither handsome nor homely, bland coloring, bland clothing, and so on. Until I had known the man for a couple of years, I had trouble remembering who he was when I saw him around the library.

  I couldn’t remember if there was a security camera in the basement. There ought to be, of course, but that didn’t mean one existed. All the sports facilities and the scientific laboratories on campus had them, but the library was rather farther down the priority list when it came to expenses like security cameras and monitoring systems.

  I ought to mention that to Miss An’gel and Miss Dickce. They were avid supporters of academic programs at the college, and I knew the welfare and security of students, staff, and faculty were important to them. Yes, I really should talk to them about it.

  Now was as good a time as any, I decided, and picked up my phone.

  Miss An’gel answered after three rings. “Charlie, what on earth is going on at the college? Dickce and I have been sitting here talking about it. Do you know any of the details?”

  Diesel’s keen ears detected the voice of one of his pals, and he warbled loudly. He wanted to say hello to Miss An’gel. I told her that before I attempted to answer her question.

  “Tell him I said hello back. And tell him Endora and Peanut are looking forward to seeing him again soon.”

  Diesel had accompanied me a couple of times to Riverhill, the sisters’ magnificent antebellum home, and he had made friends with the Abyssinian cat, Endora, and energetic Labradoodle, Peanut, the sisters adopted several months ago. He also adored the sisters’ young ward, Benjy Stephens, now a freshman at Athena.

  “He would love to come see you all, I know,” I told her. “Now, back to your question.” I filled her in on what I knew and, after a moment’s hesitation, told her about Melba as well. She knew Melba and had a high regard for her, and I knew she would be concerned for her.

  “Dickce, you’ll never believe this,” she said when I finished. I heard her sharing some of the details with her younger sister. Then she spoke into the phone again. “How gruesome. He must have been a terrible person for someone to hate him that much.”

  “I suppose so,” I said. “I didn’t care for him, I can tell you that much.” I might as well tell her about Reilly’s plans for the library. I gave her a quick rundown, and as I expected, she was outraged.

  “I don’t know what Forrest was thinking,” she said. “I’ve got a good mind to call him up and tell him if he goes through with any such thing, he can count on never seeing another dollar from me and Sister.”

  “Don’t be hasty, Miss An’gel,” I said, though I had to admit this was exactly the reaction I had hoped for. “Now that Reilly’s gone, I’m sure the president will rethink his plans for the archive. The publicity around all this isn’t going to be good for the college.”

  “No, it isn’t,” she agreed. “I think a meeting of the board of trustees is in order, and I’m going to call Forrest right away. Dickce happens to be president of the board this year. Did you know that?”

  “No, I didn’t,” I said. “That’s excellent news.”

  “Don’t you worry about the archive, or your job there,” Miss An’gel said. “The board will sort out the issues with the budget. Now, you tell Melba that Sister and I will be praying for her, and if she needs anything, anything at all, she should let us know.”

  By that, I knew Miss An’gel meant that she and her sister would happily give Melba the money, if she needed it, to pay any legal fees.

  “I’ll thank you on her behalf,” I said. “I know she will appreciate your kindness.”

  “You call me the minute you hear anything more,” Miss An’gel said, and I promised I would before we said good-bye.

  I put the phone aside, feeling rather smug. “It’s good to know people who can get things done,” I told Diesel. He meowed as if he agreed.

  I also felt a bit callous, but there was nothing I could do for the dead man. Kanesha would see justice done on his behalf. The living were more important, and the library and its staff needed help to recover, not only from the ghastly murder, but from the budget crisis also.

  The doorbell rang, and Diesel climbed down from the sofa and scampered out the door. He loved visitors and usually reached the door before either Azalea or I could.

  As I stepped into the hall, I saw Azalea at the door, the cat right by her side. She opened the door and remained in front of it. I couldn’t see who the visitor was until I reached them.

  Lisa Krause, her face blotchy from crying, stood on the doorstep. Azalea urged her to come in, but Lisa didn’t respond until she saw me.

  “Charlie, I’m so worried,” she said. “I’m sorry to keep showing up on your doorstep like this, but I didn’t know who else to turn to.”

  “You come right on in here, child.” Azalea gently took Lisa’s arm and pulled her in. “Come on into the kitchen, and I’ll make you something to drink. Coffee? Or hot tea?”

  “Thank you, ma’am,” Lisa said. “Hot tea would be great.”

  Azalea led the young woman into the kitchen and got her seated at the table, then busied herself filling the kettle with water and putting it on to boil.

  I took a seat across from Lisa. She looked pitiful. I had never seen her upset like this, but she was obviously distressed.

  “I’m happy to do what I can to help you,” I told her. Diesel had gone to sit by her, and I knew he would be rubbing his head against her leg in an attempt to comfort her. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

  Lisa’s glance flicked to Azalea and back to me.

  “It’s okay,” I said. “Azalea will help, too.”

  “Thank you,” Lisa replied. “I’m so scared, Charlie, I don’t know what to do.” She choked back a sob. “I’ve been terrified ever since I heard the news about the murder.”

  “What has terrified you?” I asked. “I can’t believe you killed the man. Did you?”

  “No,” Lisa said, obviously fighting hard to retain some composure. “But I may be the reason he’s dead.”

  EIGHTEEN

  “Here you go now.” Azalea set a mug of hot tea in front of Lisa. “You want anything to go in it?”

  “Thank you,” Lisa said. “If you have milk or cream, and a little sugar, that would be great.”

  Azalea nodded and retrieved a carton of heavy cream from the fridge, and I found the sugar bowl and a spoon for her. I waited until Lisa had prepared her tea to her liking and had a c
ouple of sips before I questioned her about her dramatic claim.

  “How could you be the reason that Reilly was murdered?” I asked gently. “I really don’t understand.”

  Lisa stared into her tea. “I’ve been dating one of the assistant football coaches, Brent Tucker. They call him Tuck.” She smiled briefly. “Tuck the Truck, because of the way he used to barrel down the field, knocking other players out of the way.”

  I did indeed know Tuck the Truck, although not personally. He had played collegiate ball at Athena, then gone on to a brief stint in the NFL before serious injuries ended his career. As I recalled, he was about six foot five and weighed nearly three hundred pounds. Not as massive as Porter Stanley, but still a big guy.

  “Yes, I know who he is,” I said. “Are you afraid your boyfriend is responsible? What did he have against Reilly?”

  “Brent is really protective of me, you see,” Lisa replied.

  When she failed to continue, I prompted her. “And?”

  Lisa paled, and her hands tightened around her mug. “I told you how Reilly accused me of lying. Well, that wasn’t the whole story.” She paused for a sip of tea. “He, well, he touched me and said he was sure everything would be okay if I cooperated with him.”