Ford stared hard at Oscar. I didn’t think he appreciated Oscar’s behavior any more than I did. When he spoke, his tone had a definite edge to it.
“Can you tell me where you’ve been the past hour?”
Oscar looked startled. “What has that got to do with anything? I told you I was in a meeting.”
“It wasn’t on your calendar,” Melba said sweetly. “It must have been a last-minute thing.”
Oscar glared at Melba, but before he could speak, Ford posed another question.
“This meeting of yours,” he said, “was it with a Mr. Porter Stanley?”
That shot hit the mark. Oscar paled but recovered quickly. He pointed at me. “You need to keep your nose out of my business, Harris.” Then he jabbed his finger in the air at Melba. “You’re every bit as bad as he is. I know you two are cronies. I’d be willing to bet the two of you are behind this campaign to drive me out of this job.” He turned to Ford. “She’s probably the one who wrote these letters and forged my name. I’m sure if you examine the letters, you’ll find out they were printed right here in this office.” He waved vaguely in the direction of the combination printer-scanner-copier that occupied a corner of Melba’s office.
“You jackass.” Melba looked ready to pick up her computer and throw it at Oscar’s head. “How dare you accuse me of such a low-down, low-class thing. I’d never do anything like that to save my life. I’m not going to lie and say I don’t despise you and wish you were gone, but I know for damn sure I’m not the only one.” She snorted. “There’ll be a line around the block before long, people just waiting for their chance to tell you what they think of your sorry rear end.”
I decided there was no point in my adding any remarks to Melba’s forceful tirade. Oscar appeared shell-shocked. I almost laughed. He had no idea what tangling with my old friend could cost him.
“We will be examining every possibility, Reilly.” Ford spoke in a calm tone, though I would have sworn I caught his mouth twitch ever so briefly into a smile while Melba ranted at Oscar. “I would like to say, and I want you to consider my words carefully, that both Ms. Gilley and Mr. Harris have outstanding reputations here at the college. You had better think carefully about flinging around accusations like that.”
Oscar glowered, and I was surprised he didn’t have a comeback to offer. Ford exuded authority, and evidently even Oscar, brash as he was, knew when to shut up.
The chief continued, “Now, back to my earlier question. Was your meeting with Porter Stanley?”
After a stiff nod, Oscar said, “It was. However, the subject of it is a private matter that has nothing to do with my job or the situation here.”
“That might be,” Ford replied. “Can you give me contact information for Mr. Stanley, in case I need to talk to him as part of my investigation?”
I thought Oscar paled slightly at that question, but he made a quick recovery. “No, I’m sorry, I have no idea where he’s staying nor do I have any kind of phone number for him.” He paused a moment. “As a matter of fact, I believe he said he was leaving town right after our meeting.” His facile smile was not convincing.
“Sure he is,” Melba said in a low tone. I heard it, but I couldn’t tell whether Ford or Oscar did, since they didn’t react.
I agreed with Melba. I thought Oscar had lied—a really stupid thing to do, but then the man wasn’t nearly as smart as he thought he was. The more I was around him, the more contempt I felt for him and what a miserable human being he was. I didn’t even have much sympathy for him as the target of practical jokes. I had no cheeks left to turn for this man.
“Then I will have to trace him another way,” Ford said.
“His car.” Melba smiled in grim satisfaction and looked right at Oscar. “I can give you the license plate of his car.” She pulled open the top drawer of her desk and retrieved a small notepad. She tore off the top sheet and handed it to the chief.
“Mississippi tag, I see. And you have the make and model.” Ford gave a brief smile. “Good work, Ms. Gilley.”
“If you’ve finished interrogating me, I have work to do.” Oscar crossed his arms over his chest and regarded Ford steadily. “I don’t think there’s anything else I have to say to you.”
“Idiot,” I muttered under my breath. I couldn’t help myself. How stupid did you have to be to antagonize the investigating officer with such an obnoxiously patronizing tone? I wondered. As stupid as Oscar, I thought. The man must be a financial whiz to have remained employed over the years if he behaved like this on every job.
That gave me an idea. When Diesel and I got home, I would do some digging on the Internet. I might find interesting information about Oscar. You never knew what you could turn up until you tried.
“You might as well go back to work now,” Ford said in an even tone. “I will probably have more questions for you, but I have enough to work with at the moment.”
Oscar waited barely long enough for Ford to complete that last sentence before he turned and strode to his office. He opened the door and slammed it shut behind him.
“Melba, are you going to be comfortable working here today?” Ford asked. “It might be better if you told your boss you aren’t feeling well and go on home.”
I agreed with Ford. I didn’t trust Oscar not to try to browbeat Melba once we were gone. He was furious with her; anyone could see that.
Melba smiled, and I recognized that smile. She was loaded for bear, as the saying went—a bear named Reilly. She reached back into that same desk drawer and pulled out a can of room deodorizer and plunked it on the desk.
“If he tries any of his mess with me,” she said, “he’ll get a face full of this before he knows what hit him. He’s not going to intimidate me anymore, so don’t you worry.”
“If it comes to that,” Ford said, “he could bring charges against you for assault.” He didn’t sound overly concerned about that.
“Don’t care.” Melba laughed. “I’ve got a good lawyer. By the time Sean Harris gets through with Mr. Jerkhead Reilly, there won’t be much of him left over.”
“I still think you ought to go home,” Ford said.
“I do, too, for what it’s worth.” I shook my head at her. “You know I love you dearly, but sometimes, as my mother used to say, you let that big mouth of yours overload that tiny rump you sit on.”
Melba gave me a sweet smile. “I love you dearly, too, Charlie Harris, but I’ve been taking care of myself and my tiny rump just fine for many a year. You and Diesel go on home, and don’t worry about me.”
When Melba was in an obstinate mood, there was not much anyone could do to dissuade her from whatever she meant to do. Evidently Ford knew her well enough to understand that the way I did.
“All right,” he said. “But you call us if you need anything.” He nodded at each of us in turn before he left.
“Scoot,” Melba said. “Don’t you even think about hanging around here. Take your poor boy home where it’s nice and quiet. He’s probably been terrified with all this ruckus going on.”
I was already squatting to coax Diesel out from under the desk. He meowed pitifully, and I felt remorse. I should have removed him from the scene earlier, but I got so caught up in everything going on I simply forgot him.
I spoke in a soft, soothing tone. “Come on, boy, let’s go home, okay?”
He meowed again, then appeared to consider my words. He wiggled out, stretched, and butted his head against my chin a couple of times. I scratched his head, and he chirped.
“He’ll be okay.” I stood. “We’ll go home now, but you be careful. Promise me.”
“I will. You really don’t need to worry,” she replied. “By the time Penny and his boss in financial affairs get through with Reilly this afternoon, he’ll be afraid to squawk at anybody.”