Let's Play Dead (21 page)

Chloe sniffed. “Eric was nice to me the other day when Hadley was throwing one of her hissy fits. Which she does maybe every ten minutes. It’s like, Chloe, carry this; Chloe, get me that. No matter what I do, it’s not enough. I would have quit weeks ago, but I’m flat broke. And she owes me money. Not just my salary, but she’s always asking me to get her a latte or pick up her dry cleaning, and she never remembers to reimburse me for it.”

I was beginning to get impatient. Was I supposed to take care of all of the local orphans and strays? “Was there something different that set her off this time?”

“The police asked for her records. Her correspondence with her publisher, stuff like that. She went off the deep end, said that was private, and they should get a warrant.”

“That’s probably true, and she’s within her rights.” And then I realized that as her assistant, Chloe probably knew what was in those files, and I could ask her . . . It was slippery moral ground, but I wanted to help Arabella, and I really didn’t like Hadley. I decided to approach this indirectly. “Chloe, did the police question you?”

Chloe nodded, new tears springing to her eyes. “I didn’t know what to do. I mean, I had to tell the truth, didn’t I? Even though I knew I’d lose my job. Which I did.”

I chose my words carefully. “Did Hadley have something to hide?”

“Maybe. I’m not sure.”

I took a deep breath. “Maybe you should tell me what you’re worried about, and then I can help.”

“Could you? But, I mean, it’s not like I have anything real to tell anybody.”

“Were you working for Hadley when the planning started for the exhibit?”

“No. That was about three assistants back, but at least they left pretty good records.”

“Was Hadley pleased with the way things were going at the museum?”

Chloe snorted. “Ha! Is Hadley ever pleased about anything?” She leaned forward in her seat. “Look, here’s what I know. Based on what I found in the files, and what I’ve overheard, Hadley’s publisher told her that her sales numbers were dropping and maybe she should look at some new ways to expand her audience. The message was, either the numbers pick up or you’re toast. So after she went into a royal snit, she started thinking about things she hadn’t tried, and she brainstormed with the publicist and they came up with the idea to approach the museum. I mean, Hadley’s local, so it was a logical tie-in. And the publicist promised to chip in some promotional bucks for the exhibit and getting the word out. This was maybe two years ago?”

That matched what Arabella had told me. “Did you get the impression that Hadley thought she was doing the museum a favor, or vice versa?” I asked.

“You’ve met Hadley—what do you think? But the memos that went back and forth made it sound like the museum was calling the shots. I mean, everybody benefitted, but the museum set the timetable and the scope of the display, not Hadley. Anyway, the announcements about it went out in all the museum’s promotional stuff, so that was good exposure for Hadley. And to be fair, I think once she realized what was on the line, she did pitch in and try to help. But it might have been too little, too late. That silly hedgehog is a nice character and all, but she’s kind of out of step with the times, isn’t she? Kids these day, even the really young ones, want something more than cute talking animals.”

“Did anyone tell Hadley that?”

Chloe shrugged. “I don’t know—maybe. Not me, that’s for sure. I think her agent kept trying to let her down gently—there was a little bump up in sales when the exhibit was announced, but not as much as the publisher wanted to see. So this exhibit opening was really, really important to Hadley.”

I mulled over what Chloe had told me. Hadley needed a success, or her career might be on the line. Or at least, she needed to get some attention. But would that have included rigging the exhibit display to do harm? Would that include a deadly weasel? Maybe that was Hadley’s idea of taking her work in a new, edgier direction. Or she hoped to milk the event for a lot of tearstained network interviews, defending the beloved hedgehog and pals? Based on what little I’d seen of Hadley, I wouldn’t put it past her. But if she had somehow been behind the incidents, why had she stormed into my office and ranted at me? How could that benefit her? Unless she wanted to make this an even bigger story by piggybacking off the Society’s recent unpleasant events . . .

I realized Eric and Chloe were looking at me expectantly. “Chloe, what did you tell the police?”

“All of this. I mean, I couldn’t give them the documents, but I could tell them what I knew, right?”

“And how did they respond? Wait—was there a detective named Hrivnak there?”

“A kind of chunky woman? Yeah, she was there. I don’t think she got the whole hedgehog and publishing thing, but she was paying attention to what I told her.”

I had trouble envisioning Meredith Hrivnak in a children’s museum—she wasn’t exactly the maternal type. But would the detective see a motive for Hadley to sabotage the exhibit, or the opposite? Hadley wasn’t a warm and fuzzy person, either, and she had her eye fixed on the bottom line, selling books. Did disaster sell?

But there was still one big sticking point: how could Hadley have done it? “Chloe, how much time did Hadley spend at the museum while the exhibit was being installed?”

“Lately, lots. She really wanted to make sure they got it right. I mean, she even bitched—oh, excuse me—complained that they hadn’t made Harriet look happy enough, and that Willy looked too snarky. I think they had to change Willy’s head a couple of times before she was satisfied. It was kind of creepy—she kept the heads sitting around at her house so she could decide which one she liked best.”

Now that was interesting. If Hadley had had the heads at home for a while, she could have had someone else rig the wiring for her, or figured it out for herself. From what Barney had told me, the whole setup wasn’t particularly complicated. Even if there had been multiple tests of the equipment, Hadley had been in and out of Let’s Play often enough that it was possible she could have tweaked Willy after the testing was done. But it was hard for me to make the leap from diva behavior to rigging Willy’s wiring. “Is Hadley good with her hands? I mean, does she make things, do any craft work?”

Chloe shook her head. “Nope. She can barely keyboard. Didn’t you notice her manicure? No way she’d risk those nails, much less actually do some real work.”

I couldn’t say that I had—I just wasn’t tuned into that kind of thing. “When did she decide which head she liked best?”

“Early last week, I think—I’d have to check her calendar. Arabella or Caitlin would know. I know the installation crew was getting really fed up, and I think Arabella had to put her foot down: no more changes.”

“And when was she there last?”

“The Wednesday that the guy died, when she and Arabella got into a fight over the heads. After that, last week, maybe? Monday or Tuesday, I think.”

Opportunity
and
motive. I wondered how hard the police were looking at Hadley. But I was still troubled by the mechanics of rigging the head. I’d read that short brochure on wiring, and I was nowhere near ready to deliberately cross wires to achieve what had happened. I didn’t think Hadley was any better qualified than I was, so she must have had help. “Chloe, is Hadley seeing anyone?”

“In the time I’ve worked with her, she’s dated at least three guys that I know of, and I’d bet there are some that I didn’t. She goes for the young blue-collar type—hunky but not too intellectual. That way they’re too intimidated to argue with her, and they think she’s brilliant because she writes books, even if they’re only children’s books. And she doesn’t keep them around long.”

That was promising. The right construction worker could certainly know the rudiments of electrical wiring. I wondered if the police had already gone down this road.

Chloe seemed much calmer now. “Listen, I know this is real pushy, but do you have any job openings here?”

Smart girl, to seize the opportunity. And she had given me some useful information. “I can’t promise anything, but I can certainly ask. It’s likely to be something low level, like shelving books, if that’s okay.”

“After working with Hadley, that’d be great—books don’t yell at you. Thank you, Nell. I mean it.”

I glanced at Eric. “Why don’t you show Chloe the library, and I’ll call Melanie?”

Eric grinned. “I’d love to. Chloe, follow me.”

I watched them leave, and then I picked up the phone. Luck was on Chloe’s side: it turned out we had a short-term slot with grant funding, doing some reorganization of one of our collections. It might not last long, but it would let her get back on her feet. Chloe had helped me, and I was happy to be able to repay the favor.

I headed downstairs in search of Eric and Chloe, to give
Chloe the good news, but instead I found Barney waiting in the lobby.

“You got your membership card already?” I asked.

“Yes, ma’am, I did. Shelby hand-delivered it, and I thank you. I had some time between jobs, so I thought I’d check this place out. I’m just waiting for your guy here”—he nodded toward Front Desk Bob—“to track down that librarian you said could help me.”

“Felicity Soames. Bob, I’ll take Barney to the reading room. He’s signed in, right?”

Bob nodded, and I led Barney through the catalog room into the large reading room beyond. Barney studied the soaring ceiling and the tiers of books around the perimeter and on the balcony above, and gave a low whistle. “Wow. Nice place. I wouldn’t know where to start.”

“You haven’t looked at our collections before? You said you’d been doing research for a while.”

“On and off. I don’t get much free time, and it’s just kind of a hobby, really.”

Felicity was seated behind her high desk, surveying her domain. The reading room had a few people in it, and one of our shelvers was delivering requested materials to the patrons. I led Barney over to the desk. “Felicity, this is Barney Hogan, the person I told you about who’s interested in what we have on baseball history.”

Felicity’s eyes lit up. “The Quakers, right?”

Barney grinned. “Yup. My great-great-grandfather played for them, and I’m hoping you have some team pictures.”

Felicity looked at him critically. “He must have been a baby when he played for them.”

It took Barney a moment to find the compliment buried in her statement, and then he grinned. “Yep, he was all of eighteen.”

Felicity picked up her phone. “Let me find someone to cover the desk for me, and I’ll show you what we’ve got.” She spoke into the phone, then stood up. “When Nell told me about what you wanted, I started to do some digging, and I’ve already set aside some files about the team in back. Ah, Janie, there you are. If you can hold down the fort for a while, I’ll get Barney started.”

I was clearly superfluous, but since I knew next to nothing about local sports history, I wasn’t insulted. “I leave you in good hands, Barney. Happy hunting!”

I’m not sure he even heard me, as Felicity led him toward the elevator and her office upstairs. It looked as though I’d made at least two people happy today.

As I was trying to figure out what came next on my to-do list, I realized I still needed to tell Latoya about Marty’s offer at the Executive Committee meeting to fund part of the registrar’s position. I was pretty sure that Marty hadn’t discussed the issue with Latoya first; they didn’t get along well. So Marty had told me—and the core board members—first and left me to deal with the fallout. But that was my job now. I squared my shoulders and headed for Latoya’s office on the third floor.

She looked up when I reached her door. “Hi, Nell. Sorry I didn’t make the staff meeting this morning, but I had a problem with my car, and I had to leave it with the mechanic. Did I miss anything?”

I took a seat across from her. “Kind of. At the Executive Committee meeting last night, Marty announced that she’s setting up an endowed fund to supplement the salary for Alfred’s replacement. I gather she still feels kind of responsible for what happened with him. I wasn’t about to turn her down, and she’s going to lean on the rest of the board to contribute. We haven’t had a lot of interest in the registrar position so far, so I think we have time to sort out Marty’s contribution. Do you have someone in mind?”

Emotions flit across Latoya’s expressive features. Annoyance came first, but she smoothed that over quickly. “I have put some feelers out among my colleagues, but being able to offer a better salary should spark some interest.”

So far she was playing nice. “I’ve also asked Shelby to look into any matching grants Do you have a job description for the position handy?”

The always well-organized Latoya reached into the bottom drawer of her desk and pulled out a piece of paper, then handed it to me. “Of course. This is what I gave Melanie.”

“Thank you. I’ll give this copy to Shelby. Anything else we need to discuss? Do you have the documentation for the cataloging software?”

“I’ll have a complete package together for interviews. I should tell you that I’ve been working with the FBI to refine the list of what’s gone missing. I think we’re making progress, but we shouldn’t expect too much. Sadly, I think some items are gone forever.”

As was Alfred. “I know, but I hope we’ve done all we can.”

“Was there anything else, Nell?” Latoya looked at me expectantly.

I stood up. “No, that’s all. I just wanted you to know about the funding change.”

“Thank you,” she said gravely—and waited for me to leave.

I left. Maybe I was her boss now, at least on paper, but she’d never had much time for me before, and some of that attitude still lingered. We’d have to work on that.

I dropped the registrar job description on Shelby’s desk and went back to my own. The next time I looked up it was three o’ clock, and I hadn’t even remembered to eat lunch—again. I was interrupted by a phone call from Felicity.