Let's Play Dead (24 page)

“Anything to keep my staff happy.”

James’s lunch arrived, and we bantered over it, and over another cup of coffee after. It was fun. Three months earlier I would never have guessed I’d be having lunch with an FBI agent, much less flirting with him. Flirting? I thought I’d forgotten how. Anyway, it was a weird mix of business and pleasure.

Finally he said, “This is nice, but that blasted report should go out today.”

“So you’re going back to the office? I should, too. I can get a lot done when the administrative staff isn’t around on the weekend—no interruptions.”

“Would you consider scheduling something else on a weekend?”

“You mean, with you? I could probably fit that into my calendar.”

“I’ll call you. And I’ll take care of lunch. You finish your coffee.” He rose and headed toward the cashier. I stayed where I was and admired the cut of his topcoat. Nice shoulders under that grey tweed.

I felt good. The feeling lasted until I got back to the Society. I came in the front door and took a quick scan of the reading room. It looked fairly well filled for a Saturday, especially considering the season and the rather cold and gloomy weather. Of course, I knew well that a truly committed researcher wouldn’t let anything deter him or her from the pursuit of a tiny but critical detail. Still, it warmed my heart that there were people here today, doing what we were here for.

Felicity beckoned me over and said in an excited whisper, “I think I found a picture for Barney!”

I replied in the same hushed tone. “That’s great. Are you going to call him and tell him?”

I could swear she blushed. “I couldn’t do that. Does he have email, do you think?”

“I can check the membership list when I go upstairs. Good work, Felicity. I know he’ll be happy.”

“I hope so.”

She turned back to help a patron, and I headed for the elevator. I didn’t make it, because Rich Girard waylaid me before I got there. “Can I talk to you about something, Nell?”

Rich had been hired to catalog the massive Terwilliger Collection of documents, and had been making steady progress, with Marty egging him on. Had Marty been pushing him too hard? “Sure, Rich. Is this about the Terwilliger Collection?”

He looked around. “Uh, no. Can we go to your office?”

“Sure.” Mystified, I led the way to the elevator and then to my third-floor office, turning on lights as I went. As I had anticipated, none of the administrative staff was in today. Inside my office, I hung up my coat and pointed Rich toward a chair, then sat down behind my desk. “So, what’s up?”

“It’s about Eric Marston,” he began, looking uncomfortable.

“Eric?” I hadn’t expected to hear that.

“Yeah, your new assistant, right? Uh, how much do you know about him?”

Where was he going with this? “Not a lot. Shelby Carver found him for me, and so far he’s been doing a great job. Do you have a problem with him?”

Rich wouldn’t meet my eyes. “You know he’s gay?”

I sat back in my chair and looked at him. Rich was the last person I would have suspected of homophobia. “I haven’t asked about his personal life. Nor should you be interested in it.”

He had the grace to look embarrassed. “Oh, no—hey, I don’t care what he does on his own time. But, well . . . this is complicated. When you showed him around, I thought he looked kind of familiar, but I didn’t think anything more of it. But last night, I was out with Carrie, you know? And we hit some clubs. And that’s when I remembered where I’d seen him before.” Rich stopped, apparently reluctant to go on.

“At a club?” I really didn’t know the local club scene.

“No, outside a place, when I was walking by. With some cops. It looked like he was getting arrested.”

Something inside me went cold. Eric hadn’t mentioned anything about any criminal record, but then, I hadn’t asked, had I? Nor had I requested that kind of background check on him. I had trusted my instincts, because I liked Eric and he had looked like he needed a break. Shelby had vouched for him, but I barely knew her, either. Had I been wrong? “When was this?” I asked, my voice tight.

“A while ago. Six months, maybe? I remember it was warm, so it had to be summer. Look, I really didn’t want to bring this up, because he seems like a nice guy. But I know a lot of people are looking at the Society under a microscope these days, and I wanted to be sure that you checked it out.”

He was right, much as I hated to admit it. “Thank you, Rich. You were right to bring it to my attention. Was there anything else?”

Relieved, he bounded out of his chair. “Nope. Cataloging’s going great, and thanks for sending Chloe our way. That’ll make things go faster, once I show her the ropes.”

“I’m glad I could help.” I watched his retreating back, then slumped in my chair. Damn! I fix one thing, and another one pops up. How could I discreetly find out if Eric had a history with the police? Well, duh—I could ask him. But he wouldn’t be around until Monday, which gave me two whole days to stew. What was our liability if we hired people with criminal records? I had no idea, and I really didn’t want to ask anyone and send up red flags.

Why was nothing ever easy? With a sigh, I turned to the waiting pile of paperwork. At least that I could do.

I spent the rest of the weekend wondering what I would
say to Eric on Monday—and wondering what my seat-of-the-pants decision to hire him said about my management skills. I hadn’t had any training or preparation for stepping into the role of president, and I had certainly never coveted the position. I had been happy doing my former job, drumming up funding for worthy projects and making sure that our members were happy enough to keep renewing their membership, and to keep giving. Every dollar counted when you were as perpetually strapped for cash as the Society was.

Administration at the highest levels required a lot of skills, and I wasn’t sure I had them all. There were definitely some things I could manage. I could put together a budget. I could prioritize projects and delegate tasks. I could stand up in front of a crowd and make an impassioned case for supporting the Society. All good. Where I was afraid I was inadequate was in managing people as a leader. I wasn’t comfortable telling other people what to do, and frankly, I didn’t like trying to manipulate them to do my bidding. I relied on goodwill and friendly persuasion and instinct. Had my instinct let me down with Eric? I hadn’t asked him any hard questions, and had offered him the opportunity to prove himself on the job. So far as that was concerned, he was doing quite well. His lifestyle choices were his own business, unless he acted wildly inappropriately in-house, and in my time I’d seen enough extracurricular activities in the stacks to know that our policy was flexible, to say the least. As long as the work got done, administration didn’t care what you did with whom, and I supported that policy.

But a criminal record was another matter. We were an institution that served the public, and our reputation was a very real asset. Undermine that and we were in trouble: donors had plenty of choices for where to spend their philanthropic allowances, and we were already on shaky ground after our recent scandal, with donors questioning our integrity. Employing known criminals after all that was definitely pushing the limits. If it was true. But I’d been working with Rich for the better part of a year, and I didn’t think he would have brought this to my attention unless he was convinced that he had in fact seen Eric in a compromising situation.

And, I had to remind myself, I hadn’t looked any more closely at Shelby, taking her at face value, too. Melanie had told me she was checking out Shelby’s résumé, but had she? I made a note to myself: talk to Melanie on Monday and find out what her vetting process was, and what she’d found out about Shelby. Or Eric.

Stewing was getting me nowhere. I resolved to shove all Society-related matters into a closet in my head and shut the door until Monday. Everybody ran into a few glitches during transitions. Didn’t they?

Monday I took the train in early. I liked arriving before
everyone else. The old building was still and dim, taking its time to wake up in the morning. I’d always felt as though I owned it when it was empty, even before I had risen to the top job. Now it
was
kind of mine . . . along with all its responsibilities.

I was both relieved and dismayed to find Eric already at his desk, looking all shiny bright and eager. On the plus side, I could get this discussion over with quickly; on the minus side, it might ruin his day, or week, or life.

“Hi, Eric, you’re in early. Can I talk to you for a minute, in my office?”

“Sure. Coffee first?”

“No, let’s wait on that. Come on in, and shut the door.”

He did, looking mystified and apprehensive. I hung up my coat and sat behind my desk, facing him. “Eric, I won’t beat around the bush. Someone I trust said that not long ago you were seen outside a club, apparently involved with the police. Is there something you need to tell me?”

Eric’s face fell, and his eyes filled with tears. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. He waited a moment, then cleared his throat. “A few months ago I was arrested. The charges were dropped. It was the first and only time it happened.”

Could I believe him? I knew I wanted to. “Eric, I’m counting on you to be honest with me. Can you tell me a bit more about what happened?”

“I’m not proud of it. Look, I didn’t tell you that part of why I moved to Philadelphia was because my folks didn’t want to have anything to do with me when they found out I was gay. I figured I might as well move somewhere new, and after college I ended up in Philadelphia over a year ago. I tried really hard to find steady work when I got here, but I didn’t know the place, and the economy sucks, so I ended up temping. Which meant I didn’t stay in one place long enough to make friends, and I was pretty lonely. When I had some money to spare, I’d do a little clubbing, but I wasn’t into the party scene in college, and I wasn’t looking to get into anything here. I was just trying to get out of my crappy apartment, you know?” He looked at me like a puppy, hoping for approval.

“Go on. How did you end up being arrested?”

“I guess I just read the signals wrong one night. I mean, I wasn’t doing anything illegal, as far as I know. I thought I’d connected with this guy, and he said, why not come to my place? We’d both been drinking, so I said, sure, why not? And after that I’m not sure who said what. I swear to God, I never asked for money or anything like that. Heck, I even paid for our drinks. But when we got outside on the pavement, he told me he was an undercover cop and I was under arrest for solicitation.”

I’d heard about such sweeps in the city, although I would have thought the local police had enough to keep themselves busy dealing with real crime without hassling harmless hookups between consenting adults. “Why did they drop the charges?”

“Apparently the arresting officer had a history of jumping the gun. He’s a real homophobe, plus he’d been drinking—lots of people saw him. I was turned loose after a couple of miserable hours, and I don’t think I’ve been out after dark since.”

“So no criminal record?” I asked.

“No, ma’am.” He swallowed. “Look, Nell, if this is a problem for you, you can let me go, no hard feelings. I don’t hide what I am, and I know that makes some people uncomfortable . . .”

I stopped him there. “And I’m not one of them. Eric, you’ve done a good job for me so far, and I don’t care what you do in your personal life. But I do need you, and anyone else I hire, to be honest with me, because I’m responsible for this whole place. If you say this was just a misunderstanding, and there’s nothing else like it lurking in your past, then we’re good. Does that work for you?”

Eric broke out in a big grin. “It sure does. I like it here, and I enjoy working for you. You ready for coffee now?”

“I am.” I watched his retreating back and sighed with relief. I did like Eric, and I didn’t want to start hunting for another assistant. But this little tempest in a teapot had definitely put me on notice: check everything and everyone, twice. Like it or not, I was accountable for all things great and small at the Society.

I settled down at my desk to get something accomplished. Mondays were usually so peaceful, since we weren’t open to the public—not that the patrons of the reading room downstairs were exactly a rowdy bunch. But there was something soothing about the silence of the place.

Until Eric came back with coffee—and with Shelby. She looked worried. My heart sank into my stomach. What now?

Before they could speak, I said, “Do I want to hear this?” I took the coffee that Eric handed me. He looked at Shelby.

“Probably not, but you should,” Shelby said.

I took a sip of coffee, sighed, and said, “What?”

“Eric just told me what you just talked about. About his arrest and all.”

“Did you know?” I wasn’t sure what answer I wanted from her.