I looked at him directly. “I wanted to help. It’s not like you sent me into enemy territory to spy on anyone. You asked me to find out what I legitimately could about a peer institution and the people associated with it. I probably would have checked that out myself, just out of curiosity, once I recognized the switch in the fire engines, or would have when Marty pointed it out, too. I couldn’t have let that go without saying anything to you or the police. You had no way of knowing how it would turn out.”
“I still regret putting you in that position.”
“Well, don’t,” I said tartly, taking another sip of wine. “I make my own decisions, and I was glad that you asked for my help.”
“Ah.” He looked at his plate and pushed a few noodles around. “Thing is, I’m sorry I put you in that position because I care for you a lot, and when someone attacks you I want to smash his face in before I shoot him twelve times.”
At last we’d gotten down to it. I felt giddy with…relief? Exultation? “I feel the same way about you. Well, minus the beating up and the shooting part. But what really got to me was the way you just came in and held me together. James, nobody has ever done that for me before. It made me realize that maybe I could possibly lean on someone—you—without giving up anything of me. Does that make sense?
He nodded solemnly. “It does.”
“But you’ve really perfected that stony agent face! I have no idea what’s going on in your head most of the time.”
“You’re pretty good at stonewalling yourself.”
He was right, and I knew it. “I know. And I’m sorry. I’ve wasted too much time pushing you away. And you didn’t have to scrape me off the floor, take me home, feed me, and give me pep talks to keep me going, but you did. And I liked it. I really liked it, and that surprised me. You keep surprising me. I want to know more.”
“That can be arranged.”
“I’m glad to hear that.”
He looked at me for a moment, then stood up and came around the table to my side and held out his hand. I took it, and he pulled me up—and into his arms.
We got to know each other quite a lot better.
CHAPTER 28
James and I were enjoying a leisurely breakfast consisting of whatever I could find in my cupboards—not much—when Marty called.
“He still there?” she began.
It wasn’t worth protesting that I had no idea what she was talking about. “Mm-hm. What’s up?”
“I managed to corral a quorum of the board for three o’clock this afternoon. Most of them were squawking like chickens after they’d seen the news, but nobody was answering the Society’s phone. I explained that you had gone into seclusion to recover.”
Shoot—I should have thought to leave a message on the machine, but I’d been just a little distracted. “Any problems?”
“Nothing you can’t handle. I got a ballpark estimate for cleaning up the mess in the reference room, both the books and the space, so we can throw that at the board and let them argue about pennies.”
I saw James tiptoe down the hall with his cell phone at his ear. I admired the line of his back as he went.
“Yo, Nell—you still there?”
“What? Oh, yes, of course. Do I want to know how much the cost will be?”
“No. But it’s not like we have a choice. It has to be done. So I’ll see you at three. Say hi to Jimmy for me.”
James had returned and was watching me with a smile. “Marty, right?”
“Yes. She says to say hi to you. Do you ever get the feeling she’s pulling the strings here?”
“Marty? Maybe. Under that plain exterior beats the heart of a true romantic. So, you’re meeting with the board today?”
“Yes, at three. We need a damage-control strategy, putting a positive spin on this whole mess, as far as possible. But look, only one person died! It could have been more! When nobody should have died at all.”
“It’s not your fault. That’s your mantra for the day. If you hadn’t done what you did, it would have been far worse. Oh, and I’ve got some news that should distract them.”
“Good news? Because I really don’t want to hear any bad news at the moment.”
“I’d say good. The police have found the fire engine.”
I felt like clapping my hands like a small child. “That’s wonderful! Where?”
“Jennifer’s brothers hadn’t gotten around to moving it far—they stuck it in one of the warehouses they use in Jersey. Once they heard the FBI was involved, they gave it up fast. I think they figured they could handle local cops, but not the feds. And I have a feeling that the city will think twice about shutting down the Fireman’s Museum, now that there’s been so much publicity. Maybe you and Peter can plan a grand reopening—with the fire engine.”
“Maybe. He’s going to have to replace Jennifer. It’s not going to be easy to find someone who can do everything for the lousy pay the museum offers.”
“He can ask Gary O’Keefe to help with recruitment. I’m sure he could sweet-talk someone into doing it.”
“Good idea. I’ll suggest it. So I guess I have a couple of hours to spare before I have to leave for the city. You have any idea what we could do?”
“Yes.”
I like a man who knows his own mind.
Two thirty found me fidgeting in my office. I’d checked the cleanup progress when I came in, and things looked as good as could be expected after a fire and a flood. At least, as Marty had said, the damage had been limited to the one room, and the lost books were not irreplaceable. And we’d proved that our fire retardant systems worked, a small crumb of good news. I’d rather not have found out.
At quarter to three I went downstairs to the lobby. Marty and I had decided to start by giving the board members a quick tour of the damage and get it out of the way—I couldn’t guess what horrors they were imagining, based on the news headlines.
Lewis Howard, a grizzled old buffalo of a Philadelphia lawyer and board chair, was one of the first to arrive. He greeted me with what appeared to be sincere concern. “Nell, my dear, the papers would have you at death’s door, and the Society in ruins. I’m happy to see both of you looking so fit.”
“Thank you, Lewis. The press does tend to exaggerate, don’t they? I’m glad you could make it on such short notice, but I thought we should be proactive in addressing some of the events of the past few days.”
“Of course, of course,” Lewis rumbled. Then he spied a colleague. “Excuse me, m’dear, but I need to have a word with Thomas.” He lumbered off, and I turned to a new arrival. At five past three Marty and I shepherded our small flock through the catalog room and reading room until we found ourselves clustered in a ragged semicircle around the battered door of the vault. I cleared my throat, this time not because of smoke but because of the lump that had grown there, and addressed the group.
“Gentlemen—and ladies—I’m sorry we had to convene this hasty meeting, but as you all know, there was a fire and a death here on Friday. I wanted to explain…” and I launched into a sanitized version of the events, from the warehouse fire to the connection with the Fireman’s Museum, to the string of arsons in the city, which had ultimately led to the death of Scott Ingersoll. No one commented while I spoke, and they gave me a fair hearing. When I drew to a close, there was a moment or two of silence.
I wasn’t surprised that Lewis Howard was the first to speak. “So it was through your quick thinking, and your familiarity with all aspects of the building, that you were able to derail this man’s plan?”
“Yes.” I found myself wanting to elaborate, to apologize for somehow bringing this violence into this building, but I restrained myself; Marty had been coaching me on managing the board.
Lewis swept the group with his gaze. “Then I think we owe you a collective vote of thanks. Had it not been for you, the losses could have been catastrophic.”
“Yes,” I said, “but—” Marty’s hand on my arm stopped me; Lewis wasn’t fin
ished.
“Martha tells me that she has already obtained estimates to repair the damage and replace the items that were destroyed,” he went on. “I think that we may safely assign that first priority. Was there anything else that we need to discuss?”
What? That was all? No mention of Scott’s death? No censure for getting myself involved in yet another mess? “There is one more matter. Subsequent to the thefts we discovered here last fall, the FBI has entrusted us with cataloging all the items they recovered in their successful prosecution of the case. We’ve just hired a new registrar as well as an intern who I’ve assigned to the FBI cataloging project. The FBI’s payment for our services will more than cover their time. And finally, there is some chance that we may be able to keep some or all of those items that remain unclaimed at the end of the process.”
“Definitely a silver lining to that unfortunate episode.” Lewis checked his watch. “Do we need to vote on anything? If we need a formality, I make a motion that we allocate sufficient funds to make necessary repairs and replacements, and that we accept the FBI’s request that we assist them in their efforts to return the items they have recovered to their rightful owners. Do I hear a second?”
There were several. Ayes? They were unanimous. “Then we are adjourned. Thank you, Nell, for your good work.”
Five minutes later Marty and I were left alone in the building. “What just happened here?” I asked, still feeling a bit stunned.
Marty grinned at me. “The board just gave you a huge vote of confidence. Seriously, we came out of this better than we could have hoped, officially. Who knows—maybe this collections assessment thing will turn into a steady gig with the FBI. We could use the money. You want to go out and celebrate?”
I smiled. I did—but I also wanted some time alone. Or maybe just alone with James. “Maybe later. I’ve got a lot to think about. I’ll be in tomorrow morning.”
“You’d better be—we need you here.”
“Thanks, Marty. For everything.”
“Including Jimmy?” She grinned.
I didn’t want to give her credit for that, but I could be generous. “Everything. Persuading the board to take a chance on me. Backing me up through all the catastrophes. Trusting me. And maybe just a little for James.”
“You’ve earned it all, Nell, and you deserve it. Besides, it’s never dull around here with you in charge.”
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