Jamie Brodie 01 - Cited to Death

articles and the visit from Dr. Oliver. But I dismissed that immediately. That was eccentric-patron conspiracy theory land, and I wasn’t going there. It had to be coincidence. No one from outside UCLA should be able to hack into the system deeply enough to affect only my computer, and no one from inside UCLA was involved in the Dan thing.
    As I walked into the office, my phone was ringing. It was Karen Lewis. “Hey, Karen.”
    “Hey back. Do you have a problem with your email?”
    “Oh, shit, you’ve gotten carpet bombed too?”
    “Oh yeah. Big time. Do you really think I should invest in a nickel mine?”
    I snorted. “It looks like everyone in my internal address book has been getting spammed by me all night. Dr. Loomis called me in first thing about it. IT’s on the way.”
    “Okay. Just wanted to see what was going on.”
    We said goodbye. I logged on to my computer and opened email, then files. Everything looked okay. My own email seemed to be unaffected. However, I had messages from people all over the university telling me they were being spammed from my account. I did a group email to all of my contacts, explaining and apologizing. I didn’t know what else to do.
    In the meantime, I had to get some work done. I finalized my budget presentation and started working on collection development requests. I had switched my reference shift to the morning to accommodate the funeral, and the desk was busy. I ate the lunch I’d packed at my desk, still working.
    I was supposed to meet Diane outside at 1:30. But, at 1:15, she appeared at my door. Her hair today was dyed a more funeral-appropriate maroon color. “Hey, ready to go?”
    “I thought I was going to meet you outside. You didn’t have to park and come in.”
    “It’s okay. I found a parking spot without too much trouble.” Diane looked around the office. “It looks a lot better in here than it did Tuesday.”
    “No kidding.” I took my inhaler from my computer bag and locked the rest of the bag, including my laptop, in my filing cabinet. “I’ve got to visit the men’s room. Then I’ll be ready to go.”
    When I got back to my office, Diane was sitting at my desk, doing something on my computer. What the hell? “What the hell are you doing?”
    Diane looked hurt. “I’m just checking my email. I didn’t think it would be a problem.”
    “Sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you, but it took me by surprise. My computer’s been acting weird the past couple of days. It might have a virus.”
    “Oh – well, I use protection. I’m sure I won’t catch it.”
    “Ha ha.” I logged out of the PC and we left. It occurred to me that I’d caught Diane behind my desk twice now. Could she be involved in my computer issues? She was the only person I could think of that had had access to it besides me. But why would she do that?
    I was still thinking about that as Diane pulled out of the parking garage. But I didn’t think long; Diane was her usual chatty self. She filled me in on all of our classmates, giving me way more than I wanted to know about any of them. “How do you know all this?”
    “Facebook, duh. And speaking of, when are you going to get on there?”
    “I’m not. I value my privacy.”
    “Oh, come on. How are you going to know what’s going on with your friends and family?”
    “Well, see, I have this great new device. It’s called a cell phone. You can actually talk to people live, and not have to wait for them to update their status online. It’s fun.”
    Diane glowered. “You’re such a smart ass.”
    “It’s a gift.”
    “Seriously. Don’t you have nieces or nephews or something? How do you keep up with them?”
    “I talk to them. On the phone. No one in my family is on Facebook or any other social media. We all talked about it, and none of us are comfortable with it. Especially because my brother frequently causes people to go to jail for a long, long time, and some of them get disgruntled and might try to track us down. Besides, it’s not like my nephews are in Timbuktu. They’re in San Diego.”
    “That is just weird. It’s practically un-American.”
    I expressed my opinion through sign language. She snorted. “You know, you and Dan had that in common. He wasn’t on Facebook either.”
    “No surprise there.”
    “I guess not. Oh, look! Is that Lindsay Lohan?”
    “Oh, for God’s sake…”
    When we got to Forest Lawn, Diane parked in the main lot by the mortuary. “There’s a viewing inside