Let's Play Dead (15 page)

“Or a security system?” Felicity added wryly. “Good idea, and it will make us look good, being proactive. But if whoever looks finds something that’s not up to code, we might find ourselves having to do some tap dancing to fix things up. It’ll cost money.”

She was right, and she would know—she’d been here longer than anyone else in the building, as far as I knew. “Doesn’t everything? But some things we can’t afford to put off. We’ve got a building full of paper and other flammable objects here, and an electrical fire would be devastating.”

We were both silent for a moment, contemplating the unthinkable horror of such a thing. Then Felicity shook herself and stepped forward to pour a cup of coffee. “I’d better enjoy this while I can—it wouldn’t do to set a bad example for our patrons. No food or drink in the reading room!”

“I hear you.” I filled two mugs and carried them back to my office. Eric wasn’t at his desk, and I wondered if he had gone off hunting for documents already. I’d leave him to it and see how he did.

He was back before his coffee cooled, clutching a thick folder. “You were right—there was a file in development.” He deposited it on my desk with a flourish. “But like you said, what’s in there is mostly descriptive. I’ll go through the files out here and see if there’s any more detail. Or would the business manager have them, do you know?”

“You’re amazing. But drink your coffee first. And he might—you can ask him.”

“I’m on it!”

I sat back with my coffee and contemplated the weighty, battered folder in front of me. It dated from two presidents back—an individual with grand schemes and little fundraising prowess. I was glad the document existed, but saddened by the sheer volume of things that we should be doing, that we couldn’t possibly do. At least, not now. Maybe in a few years. I opened the folder and riffled through the pages until I came to something that looked vaguely like a wiring study—one that was less than complimentary about the status quo, which hadn’t changed since the document was written. Again, I had to wonder if we would trigger any official attention—like citations for egregious code violations—if I asked someone to look at the wiring again. All I really wanted, right now, was someone to explain to me what I was looking at in the report, and whom I could pump discreetly for information along the way. But I had no electrical connections—I smiled at my own pun—in the city and only a vague knowledge of how the city’s licensing and oversight agencies operated. I needed a consultant.

“Eric?” I called out. “You know any electricians?”

He came and stood in the doorway. “No, ma’am, I do not. I live in an apartment, so I don’t have any call for one. But I’ll see what I can find out. Do we have a wiring problem?”

“Not yet, but I’d like to keep it that way.”

“Amen!”

My thought exactly. “Why don’t you get in touch with the company that did the last review and see what they’ll tell you?”

“Right away.”

Eric came back a few minutes later, looking troubled. “Problems already?” I asked.

“Well, no, or maybe not. I called that company, and they said they’d be happy to come on over and tell you what they said—for a fee. And they won’t tell you anything about the state of things now, because they’d have to start all over again and look at the wiring. I figured maybe you didn’t want to go that far right now.”

I sighed—so much for the easy route. Eric was right, of course. I couldn’t throw money at this casually, even if it was for a good reason. And we weren’t anywhere near ready to do a complete review at the moment, even if we could afford it. “Thanks, Eric. I’m not surprised. And you’re right—I didn’t want to run up any bills for it right now. Thanks for checking, though.”

“You don’t have any friends in the construction trades, in Philadelphia?”

I shook my head. “Nope, I live in the suburbs, and I think the rules are different here, plus this is a public building, not a home. So anyone I do know would probably be useless to me. I’ll ask around, though.”

Poor Eric looked disappointed that he hadn’t been able to help. His shoulders drooped as he headed back to his desk. I tried to think of who might know someone I could talk to. Most of our staff members were not particularly skilled at the construction arts: give them an old book and they were in heaven, but give them a hammer and they were clueless.

Shelby knocked on my door frame. “You look like somebody’s rained on your parade.”

“Just thinking. You wouldn’t happen to know any Philadelphia electricians, would you?”

“Of course I do. When John and I moved into our little town house, the wiring was a mess, so we had the whole place redone. You looking for an electrician? Eric said something about that.”

“I just want to make sure we’re not at risk for any unfortunate accidents. We can’t do a whole reevaluation right now.”

Shelby lowered her voice. “This wouldn’t have anything to do with Arabella’s little problem, now, would it?”

“Yes and no,” I admitted. “As the president of the Society, I have primary responsibility to make sure that our building is safe and our treasures properly protected. As witness to Jason’s mishap the other day, I’d really like to know how that could happen. You can draw whatever conclusion you like.”

“I’ll go find that guy’s business card. If I lay it on thick, he might do me a favor. He wasn’t cheap, but he did good work. At least, all the lights are still working at my place.”

“Thanks, Shelby.” One more small task I could check off my list. I dove back into the several dozen others.

I looked up what seemed like mere minutes later to find it was after three o’clock, and Shelby was standing in the doorway once again. “You have time to talk to Barney around five? He’s got a job in the neighborhood and said he could swing by.”

Barney, Barney . . . did I know any Barney?

“Barney Hogan, my electrician pal,” Shelby prodded.

“Oh, right. That was fast! You didn’t promise him anything, did you?”

“Well, maybe a quick look at some early Philadelphia sports memorabilia, if that’s not too much trouble. He’s a lifelong fan of Philadelphia baseball.”

Interesting system—bartering our information in return for other information. I’d have to think about broader applications. “Seems fair enough. Of course, I don’t know a whole lot about sports, but maybe he can tell me what he’s looking for. Five o’clock, you said?”

“Yup. Want me to hang around?”

“At least long enough to introduce us, please. You’re welcome to stay if you want—two ears are often better than one, particularly when it’s all Greek to me.”

“Not a problem. I’ll bring him up when he gets here.”

Shortly past five I could hear Shelby’s laughter and the
deeper rumblings of a second voice approaching. Eric snapped to attention at his desk. Shelby played right along with him. “Eric, this is Barney Hogan. I believe Nell is expecting us.”

They waited as Eric knocked on my half-closed door and then popped his head in. “The electrician is here, Nell.”

I suppressed a smile—I wasn’t used to all this formality. “Send him right in, Eric. And thank you.”

Shelby entered first, then stood aside as Barney extended a hand, and I stood to shake it. He was a paunchy, sixtyish guy, wearing work clothes, and he looked a bit battered by the years. “Barney Hogan. Shelby tells me you’ve got some questions about the wiring here?”

“I’m Nell Pratt. Yes, she’s right. You’ve heard about the accident at Let’s Play? In light of that, I thought I should make sure nothing like that could happen here. We had a full assessment done a few years ago, but I wasn’t directly involved at the time and didn’t get all the details. I’ve looked at the original electrical report, and I’m not sure how to interpret it—I’m hoping you can help. I made copies of the relevant parts, if you’d like to take a look.” I handed him a slim sheaf of photocopies.

“Would y’all like coffee?” Eric asked from the doorway.

I glanced at Shelby and Barney, who shook their heads. “No, we’re good, Eric. You can go on home now.”

“You sure?” he asked. When I nodded, he went back to his desk to collect his things, and I turned my attention back to Barney. I let him read the documents I’d given him for a minute or two before I asked, “Can you tell me if any local codes or regulations have changed since that study was done?”

“Not much. And this looks pretty solid—I know the company, and they’re honest. At least as far as the evaluation—I won’t go so far as to swear their prices are fair.”

“I looked over the report, but I’m not equipped to understand most of it. Can you give me a quick summary?”

“No problem. What you’ve got here is an old building—what, a hundred years old?”

“A bit over,” I answered.

“Okay, a century old, and there’ve been several overhauls over the years, right? Brick and concrete construction, which makes it a pain in the patootie to run new wires. I think when you folks were thinking about renovating, they might have planned to do some serious demolition and then run new conduit in the new construction. That didn’t happen, right?”

I shook my head. “It was a good idea, but we didn’t have the money. Still don’t. I guess what I’m asking now is, is there anything that is a potential hazard right now or that’s likely to deteriorate and become one in the near future?”

Barney sat back in his chair. “That’s hard to say. Electrical demands have changed in the last few years—lots more computers, better lighting. Nowadays they don’t necessarily draw a lot of power, but it all adds up. And since you’re not putting in new lines, the old ones get more and more loaded. If they’re running where they shouldn’t be, they could be subject to wear. And you can’t discount the occasional mouse chewing on wires.”

I shuddered. “I don’t even want to think about that! We do have a current contract for pest control, at least. Unfortunately, mice like old paper and leather.”

He looked at me levelly. “So what do you want me to tell you?”

I thought for a moment. “Well, you’ve already said that the last report looks solid, which I’m happy to hear. And we aren’t in any danger of blowing fuses or breakers or whatever we have now?”

“Have you had a problem with power failures?”

“No, not that I can remember.”

“Then you’re probably doing all right, as long as you don’t add much. Not that I wouldn’t recommend a thorough overhaul. You could probably save money in the long run if this place was wired more efficiently and you put in low-energy lighting fixtures.”

“That’s a good point. Shelby, you listening?”

She nodded. “I am. It might be nice to work up some numbers showing how the cost savings would offset the installation costs. Barney, can you help us out there?”

“I could.” He looked at Shelby, then at me. “I told Shelby I’d be happy to take a look at this stuff for you, but she may have mentioned I wanted something in return.”

“Yes, she said that,” I replied cautiously.

Barney smiled. “What do you know about Philadelphia baseball history?”

I hadn’t expected that question. “Not much. I don’t really follow sports.”

Barney looked disgusted. “You’ve at least heard of the Phillies?”

Was he being sarcastic? “Yes, of course.” I’d have to be blind and deaf not to know our city’s own baseball team. Even the William Penn statue atop City Hall occasionally sported a Phillies cap. Hard to miss.

“They weren’t always the Phillies, you know.” Barney got a faraway look in his eye and seemed to be settling in for a long story. “They’re the oldest continuous, one-name, one-city franchise in all of professional American sports. They were founded in 1883, but in the very beginning they were called the Quakers. That name was used on and off, as well as the Phillies, up until 1890, when they made the Phillies name official. They even had a permanent home by 1887—the Baker Bowl. Over twelve thousand seats it had. First one burned down in 1894, and they built a bigger, better one on the same spot, with more than eighteen thousand seats. Won their first pennant there, in 1915, and they kept on using it until 1938. Betcha don’t know where it was?”

I shook my head. I could find the current stadia only because they were obvious if you drove past Philadelphia on I-95. I’d never been to an event at any of them.

“Little over three miles from here, up Broad Street. Nothing left now—coupla gas stations, some factories. What was still standing was torn down in 1950. Ah, but it had a great history. Babe Ruth—you’ve heard of him?” He was looking at me with a twinkle in his eye, clearly enjoying educating me. “He played his last major league game there. Woodrow Wilson was the first president to ever attend a World Series game—right there in the Baker Bowl.”

Clearly I was in the presence of a rabid sports historian. I could sympathize with his enthusiasm. “I never knew! So tell me, what is it you want in return for sharing your electrical expertise?” I was pretty sure I could guess.

“I want to know what kinda stuff you got in your collections, about the team and the Baker Bowl.”

“Surely there are better sources than the Society for information on the team?”

“I’ve looked.” He ticked them off on his fingers. “The Atwater Kent—they had a good show there about local baseball a couple of years ago. The Philadelphia Sports Hall of Fame. The Philadelphia Athletics Historical Society, out in Hatboro. Even Comcast, and the architects for the new park.”

“So what can we add for you?”

“My great-great-grandpa played for the original Quakers, the first couple of years. My great-grandpa went to a lot of games in that park, starting out as a toddler—he remembered seeing Ruth play there. I want to know more about the team and the players, maybe find a few photos. I bet you might have some records here that nobody knows about. You’ve got great stuff about the city, going way back. And Shelby here tells me a lot gets misfiled somewhere. So, say I was to look in one of those boxes that just says
Philadelphia photographs
, who knows what I might find? Especially if I know what I’m looking for?” He regarded me expectantly.