War and Peas

automatically.
    “Second,“ Eli Bascomb said.
    “Objections?“ Babs asked. “Passed. Our first order of business is my report on hiring a new director. I’m very glad to say I believe I’ve found a perfect candidate.“
    “Already?“ Georgia said.
    Jane and Shelley exchanged surprised looks.
    Babs nodded. “The candidate is within one credit of obtaining the necessary degree, so I’m recommending appointment as acting director, with the permanent appointment to be made upon completion of the remaining credit. The candidate has a comprehensive grasp of the workings of this museum and staff and a superlative employment record. Sharlene, would you be interested in the job?”
    There was a stunned silence, then the sounds of Sharlene’s steno pad and pen hitting the floor. “Me? There must be some mistake—“
    “No, dear. The only mistake was Regina’s not telling me how close you were to completing your degree.“
    “But that can’t be right,“ Sharlene said. “I was just taking the courses Ms. Palmer suggested—“
    “Believe me, I’ve checked this out very thoroughly,“ Babs said. “You’re lacking only one history course. Now, will you accept the job?“
    “I—I—“ Sharlene glanced around the table as if waiting for someone to tell her the answer.
    Jumper Cable, who’d obviously known about this in advance, grinned at her and nodded.
    “Yes—yes, I will,“ she said, blushing furiously.
    “Do I hear a motion?“ Babs asked.

Twenty-four

    Jane pretty much tuned out the rest of the board meeting. She’d been surprised and pleased for Sharlene at first, but almost immediately a nasty suspicion had pushed its way into her mind and refused to be dislodged.
    Was Sharlene really so astonished to learn that she was within one semester of being qualified to be the director of the Snellen? Could anyone have taken all those years and years of night-school courses and never once wondered what they added up to? Had she never seen her own transcript? Never looked at the course catalog and realized she was close to getting a degree? Even as sweet and obedient as Sharlene was, had she never questioned why Regina was choosing the courses she did? Sweet. Sharlene was sweet. But there was a core of toughness in her, too. She’d stuck out a demanding job for many, many years. She’d taken a great many classes, not all of which could have been interesting to her, and done well in all of them.. And she’d done the same with her job. No one had ever suggested having any problems with her. It wasn’t easy creating that kind of persona—the perfect secretary, on top of everything, producing perfect board packets, knowing how everything from the coffeemaker to the laser printer worked, making sure all phone calls were returned, taking care of dozens of disparate little chores. That took real strength. She appeared to be fluffy, but under the fluff there had to be a core of steel.
    Jane hated suspecting Sharlene of anything wicked. But the fact was, somebody had cleared a path for her to leap from secretary to director. And who was more likely, in a purely logical sense, to do that than Sharlene herself—the clear beneficiary of those deaths? Trying to shake off the thought, Jane studied the others in the room. Unless there was a nearly invisible maniac on the loose who was an unknown factor, one of these people had killed two of their own group. Yet it looked like a handful of other groups Jane had been part of—PTA boards, the church fund-raising council. Good, generous people who gave their time and energies to the boring details of keeping a valuable organization running.
    They were discussing a traveling exhibit that might be available to them at the time the new museum would open, but which had to be committed to now. Whitney was being questioned about the building schedule, possible glitches in the timing. Jumper was being questioned as to the financial and legal liabilities if the building was not one hundred percent completed when the exhibit arrived. There was serious talk about security, insurance, promotion, and parking facilities. Everyone at the table appeared to be giving his or her full attention to the matter.
    Nevertheless, one of those intense, committed individuals was a coldblooded killer.
    Eli Bascomb was out of the running. Babs had gotten in touch with him in Alaska, so he was presumably too far away to have been zipping back and forth. And the elderly honorary board member