Stork Raving Mad: A Meg Langslow Mystery (A Meg Lanslow Mystery)

afford to order it.”
    “Parts and materials are to be supplied by the vendor,” Blanco said. His tone was mechanical, as if parroting an often-quoted sentence from a contract.
    “And the customer’s supposed to pay the vendors on time,” Randall said. “Some of our invoices are six months past due.”
    “I explained the problem we were having in accounts payable,” Blanco began.
    “Stupid problem to have,” Randall said. “If a woman’s going out on maternity leave, you can usually spot that problem far enough in advance to arrange for someone else to take over.”
    “The unfortunate logjam has been resolved,” Blanco said. “And your check has been mailed.”
    “The check’s in the mail,” Randall said. “Been hearing that for six weeks. Meanwhile, I’m getting hounded by my suppliers for what I owe them on parts and materials we used on your jobs eight or nine months ago. I’ve got payroll, I’ve got overhead—I can’t afford to keep carrying this.”
    “You have to—” Blanco began.
    “Hold it,” the chief said. “Is this why there’s no heat at the college?”
    Blanco pursed his lips. Randall nodded.
    “Blanko’s right about one thing,” Randall said. “The main boiler’s been in pieces on the floor for weeks now. What he doesn’t ever mention is that the reason it’s been in pieces is that we can’t afford to fix it. College owes us nigh onto half a million dollars in back invoices.”
    “Which you’ll have as soon as you find the check we sent you,” Blanco repeated.
    Randall shot him an angry glance and continued.
    “I can’t fix the boiler without a piece that costs nearly a hundred grand, and thanks to Blanko there, I’m so far in the hole I can’t afford to buy a hammer at the hardware store. If I don’t get what’s due me soon, I’m going to go under.”
    “The check has been issued,” Blanco repeated.
    “And it hasn’t been received, so cancel it and issue another one,” Randall said. “People do it all the time. You don’t know how, the bank can walk you through it. And if you give me a call, I’ll pick it up myself and save you the postage.”
    “That shouldn’t be necessary,” Blanco said. “There’s a lot of paperwork involved in canceling a check, and a fee, and if you’d only—”
    “Damn the fee!” Randall shouted.
    “I agree,” I said. “You mean the heat has been off for a month now because you’re too cheap to pay a stop-check fee? How much is it? I’d be happy to donate that much to the cause.”
    “It’s not that simple,” Blanco said. “But I’ll look into it.”
    He scuttled down the hall. Sammy followed, presumably to see that he went to the kitchen as instructed.
    “Not that simple?” I repeated. “Is the man an idiot?”
    “Just incompetent,” Randall said.
    “Interesting,” the chief said.
    “I’ve been hearing that sniveling liar make excuses for six months,” Randall said. “You know what I’m starting to think? Maybe the college is having a cash-flow problem. Maybe they’re not paying me because they can’t.”
    My stomach churned at the thought. Cash-flow problems at the college? Right now, with me unable to work at my blacksmithing because of my pregnancy, Michael’s paycheck from the college was our only reliable source of income. I had a brief, melodramatic mental image of myself like a character out of Dickens, wearing rags, struggling through snowdrifts, carrying a swaddled infant in each arm, begging for alms.
    Hormones again. I took a deep breath, banished the image, and focused on Randall’s problem.
    “You need a lawyer,” I said. I reached into my pocket for my notebook, pulled it out, and tore out a blank page. Then I flipped to the section in the back where I kept names and addresses and wrote down the names of two attorneys.
    “Here,” I said. “Cousins of mine. Call one of them, say I sent you, and they should do a good job for you.”
    “Thanks,” Randall said. He was about to put the sheet of paper in his pocket, then seemed to change his mind andpulled out his cell phone. “You recommend one over another?”
    “Victor’s nicer,” I said. “Hermione’s a shark.”
    “I want Hermione then,” he said. “Thanks.”
    He strolled away, already dialing.
    I winced slightly. I wouldn’t have minded siccing my cousin Hermione on someone I didn’t like. The late Dr. Wright, for example. But Blanco? He might be spineless and ineffectual, but I suddenly began to feel