“I know, it’s early days. And I know you’re doing your best, Nell. I’ll see what I can do about Alfred’s position. I seem to recall promising you I’d guilt-trip the family into creating an endowment in his honor-maybe that could make up the difference? You should have reminded me.”
I grinned at her. “That’s what I just did-didn’t you notice?”
She nodded her approval. “Smooth. You’re learning fast.” She stood up. “Well, I’ve got something to follow up on in the stacks.”
I rose as well. “Let me walk you out-I want to talk to Felicity anyway.”
Marty and I chatted as I escorted her to the elevator. She went up; I took the stairs down, to seek out librarian Felicity Soames, who knew where everything in the collections was. I found her at her post at the high desk in the reading room.
“Hi, Felicity,” I whispered. “Do you have a moment?”
Felicity looked around the room: it was moderately busy for a weekday. She nodded to her assistant, who was circulating with a rolling cart, collecting documents for reshelving, and she parked it and headed for the desk. “Where do you want to go? Is this hush-hush?”
I suppressed a laugh. “No, I just wanted to ask a favor. Can we just step into the lobby?”
I could swear she looked disappointed. “All right.” She led the way to the lobby, and we found two chairs near the monumental grand staircase. “What’s this about?”
“I’ve been doing a little horse-trading. After what happened at Let’s Play, I wanted to make sure our wiring was in good shape, but I didn’t want to have to pay for a full review. So I found an electrician who was willing to look over the last report and tell us if things were up to par, but he had a price.”
“And how does that involve me?”
“He’s really into Phillies history, and he wants some help looking through our archives.” I stopped, since Felicity’s face had assumed a strange and wonderful expression. “What?”
“The Quakers?” she said.
“Yes, I think he mentioned those. Why, do you know about them?”
Felicity produced as close to a grin as I’d ever seen on her. “It’s my secret vice. I love sports history, but nobody else here seems to share that. I’d be happy to help him.”
“Great! I said I’d give him a complimentary membership, so he can come in when he has time. I’ll send him straight to you.”
“Thank you! Do you know if he’s done a lot of research?”
“He said he’s checked out some of the other local collections, but he’s looking for something more specific, and he thinks we might have it.”
“Wonderful.” Felicity sighed. “I love a challenge. Was that all?”
“For now. Thanks for helping out, Felicity.”
“My pleasure. Really. Well, back to work.”
She headed back to the reading room, and I went to the elevator. One more stop and I could settle my debt to Barney. I dropped in at Shelby’s office on the way to my own.
“Hey, lady,” Shelby greeted me. “What’s up?”
“If you recall, I promised Barney a free membership, so he could work on that Phillies stuff. Can you process that?”
“Sure will. Definitely a good trade.”
“I thought so. And I just talked to Felicity, who is apparently a secret sports fan, so she’ll be happy to help him out. I’ll write a cover letter for you, so you can send him his membership card.”
“Felicity’s the head librarian, right? I love it when a plan comes together. Don’t you? And that Felicity has hidden depths.”
“I do, and she does. Thanks for bringing Barney in.”
“My pleasure. And I’ll get right on that membership.”
I went back to my office with a feeling of accomplishment. As I walked toward my door, Eric waved a message slip at me.
“Agent Morrison, that FBI guy? He wants you to call him. You want me to place the call?”
I snagged the slip from him. “Thanks, Eric. I’ll do it myself.”
CHAPTER 17
Back at my desk, I looked at James’s message. It was his work number, rather than his cell phone, which surprised me-trouble? Or good news? I dialed, then waded through a couple of layers of receptionists until I reached him.
“Hello, Nell,” he said when he picked up, all business.
“James,” I replied in the same neutral tone. “You called?”
“Yes. Thanks for getting back to me. I need to talk to you about something.”
“Business?” I acknowledged a small feeling of disappointment, then squashed it.
“Yes. Can you meet me after work?”
If he could be businesslike, so could I. “Sorry, I can’t-committee meeting tonight. Lunch?”
He hesitated a moment before answering. “No time. Coffee?”
“Okay. Where?”
“How about the Doubletree again? Half an hour?”
Not his office, not my office, but the very public hotel down the street. Interesting. “Fine.”
“See you then.” He hung up before I could add anything more.
I sat back in my chair, mildly baffled. If this was about the Society, he could have met me here, but his tone suggested it was not about the two of us, whatever we were. Something about the missing collection items? But again, he wouldn’t be coy about that. Ergo, it had to be something about the Let’s Play problem. Had something changed since the last time we had met? At that point I ran out of deductions and resolved to wait until we got together to think about it further. I turned my attention back to the agenda for the Executive Committee meeting.
Collections: acquisitions were on indefinite hold, both because of a shortage of funds and because we didn’t have a registrar to catalog anything right now. Membership: holding steady for the moment, but would members renew when the time came? Fundraising: on hold. Shelby seemed competent, but she wasn’t yet up to speed on the inner workings of our organization, and that would take time. Right now I felt like a nurse, trying to soothe everyone and keep them calm. Not to mention, keep our name out of the press, at least in any negative way.
So I did what I knew I could do-ran numbers, assembled information, talked briefly to staff members, and tried to cobble together reports that were accurate, short, and as optimistic as I could make them. I’d only roughed out a few before I had to leave to meet James-luckily he’d picked a spot just down the street.
James was waiting at a table and stood when he spotted me. I tried to gauge his expression: I was reading cautiously welcoming. “Thank you for coming on such short notice,” he said.
“Thank you for picking a convenient location.” He held out my chair and I sat. “So, what’s this about? And why so formal?”
A waiter appeared. James ordered coffee, and I followed suit. When the server had left, James began, “I know I told you that there was no way I could involve myself or the agency in what happened at Let’s Play.” He sighed. “Turns out, there may be a reason for the FBI to take an interest after all.”
“Oh really?” I racked my brain for a list of the FBI’s responsibilities and couldn’t find children’s museums with electric hedgehogs there.
“What do you know about Arabella’s husband?”
Only what Marty had told me, but I wasn’t going to mention that. “Next to nothing. I know that she was married a long time ago and had one child-in fact, I’ve met her daughter, Caitlin. She’s head of exhibits at Let’s Play. The husband’s been out of the picture for years, I gather. All that was long before my time. Why do you ask?”
James stared pensively over my head. “Arabella’s husband, Nolan Treacy, was Irish-born. He was active in raising funds in Boston for the IRA, back in the eighties. And he was a member of the local electrician’s union.”
I sat back, somewhat stunned. It took me a few moments to line up the pieces: IRA meant terrorism, which is why James finally had reason to be sitting in front of me talking about it. I decided to start with the simple stuff. “I thought the IRA was dead, or at least dormant.”