“His name is Diesel,” I said. The memory finally surfaced. I’d seen her several months ago at the Atheneum, our local independent bookstore. She’d been talking about children’s mysteries with the owner, Jordan Thompson. I thought at the time she sounded quite knowledgeable as she and Jordan discussed the various incarnations of Nancy Drew.

“He’s a Maine Coon, isn’t he? Melba Gilley has told me about him. You must be Charlie Harris.”

I acknowledged that I was. I had gone to school with Melba, and now she worked as administrative assistant to the head of the Athena College Library.

Mrs. Taylor beamed at me. “What a handsome fellow he is. But isn’t he rather large even for his breed?”

“Yes, he weighs in around thirty-six pounds, definitely on the large side for a Maine Coon. He’s a gentle giant, though.” I smiled as I watched her continue to interact with my cat. Diesel obviously approved of her, to judge by the purring.

Teresa approached and introduced herself. Mrs. Taylor greeted her, and the two women went to the director’s office. Diesel trailed after them.

I wondered what Mrs. Taylor wanted to discuss. Obviously something to do with Electra Barnes Cartwright, but that was as far as I could figure. Teresa would fill me in when she had a chance.

Ten minutes later a tall, lanky young man—thirty at most, I judged—entered the library. He stopped in the doorway to look around. When he spotted me, he walked over, thumbs hooked in the belt loops of his jeans. He sported cowboy boots that looked like ostrich hide, a silver belt buckle the size of a goose egg, and a deep crimson dress shirt emblazoned with the monogram GB. His raven hair was close-cropped, as was his beard. He stopped in front of the desk and stared at me. His close-set eyes, shamrock green, blinked like they were still adjusting to the inside light.

“How may I help you?”

“Is it true what I read on your website?” He had a flat Midwestern accent. “You’re going to have Electra Barnes Cartwright here soon?”

“Yes, she’s going to take part in our celebrations for National Library Week. We’re very excited about that.”

“I have to meet her.” He placed his hands on the edge of the desk, and I could see them tremble.

“You’ll have a chance to do that on the day she is here for her public interview. The schedule approved by Mrs. Cartwright is on the website, and I can give you a flyer with everything listed, if you like.”

He shook his head. “I can’t wait that long. I need to see her like today. She’s so old she might croak at any minute, and I’ve got a collection of books for her to sign.” He gripped the desk harder.