Page 8 of The Bride Wore White

Attwater got to his feet, brows snapping together. “Where is your notebook?”

“You’ll be thrilled to know that Professor Tinsley intends to credit the library in his paper—assuming he gets the treatise, of course. When it’s published, the library and its director will be famous in the most exclusive academic circles that take paranormal research seriously. I’m sure Duke University’s Parapsychology Laboratory will be madly jealous.”

“Now see here, Miss Ryland—”

She went briskly through the doorway. “Goodbye, Mr.Attwater. Give my best to Professor Tinsley.”

“One moment, Miss Ryland. Where is that treatise?”

“I told you,” she said over her shoulder, “I can’t recall precisely, but the exact location is in my notes. Took me days to track it down. I’m afraid my Latin is a bit rusty. But being the professional that you are, I’m sure you’ll find it very quickly.”

“Where is that notebook?”

“In my handbag.” She patted the leather bag slung over her shoulder.

Attwater stared, aghast, at the handbag. “That notebook is library property.”

“No, it’s not. I purchased the notebook myself and I use it to keep track of personal information.”

Attwater’s mouth fell open. Something approaching panic flashed in his eyes. His face was suffused with an unflattering shade of red. Her Latin might be rusty, but his was nonexistent. They both knew he was never going to find the treatise that Tinsley was after. That meant there would be no credit for the director of the library of the Adelina Beach College Department of Parapsychology in Tinsley’s paper.

She closed the door very firmly and went down the hall to her desk.

Otto Tinsley was currently the most powerful professor in the department. It was important to keep him happy. The only reason she had obtained the position of research librarian in the first place was because Tinsley had been impressed with her and had insisted she be hired. He was not going to be pleased when he found out that she had been fired, regardless of the cause. If he did not get the treatise he was desperate to reference in his paper, he would be even more irate. Academic politics being what they were, a professor of Tinsley’s stature always outranked a librarian, including a librarian who happened to be the director of the library.

Reginald Herring, the library clerk, was at his desk. Hepretended not to notice when she emerged from Attwater’s office. When she passed him, she gave him a beatific smile.

“Goodbye, Mr.Herring,” she said. “It was so very helpful of you to inform Director Attwater that I disappeared into the stacks with a man yesterday.”

Herring, thin and bitter because she had been given the title of research librarian and therefore outranked him, looked up. Behind the lenses of his spectacles his eyes glittered with vengeful satisfaction.

“It’s not my fault you chose to engage in a dalliance in the stacks, Miss Ryland,” he said.

“It was a whirlwind affair,” she said. “I didn’t even catch the gentleman’s name. But you’re the observant type, especially where I’m concerned, and we both know that only the most distinguished members of the faculty are allowed to browse the stacks. I’m sure you noticed which professor followed me yesterday.”

Herring blinked a couple of times. “I can assure you your paramour wasn’t a member of our faculty.”

“Oh, I see. You allowed astrangerto wander into the stacks.”

Herring started a little at the accusation. “He mentioned that he was a visiting professor from a small college in San Francisco.”

Prudence held her breath. “I see. I assume he gave you his name?”

“Smithton. He said he was here to see you.” Herring sneered. “He mentioned something about your unique talents.”

She ignored the sarcasm. “Did you see him leave?”

“No. I left promptly at five.” Herring gave her a superior smile. “I assumed you would escort your visitor out of the library and lock up when the two of you were finished with whatever you were doing back there.”

“What did he look like?”

“Really, Miss Ryland, I have better things to do than catalogyour male acquaintances. If you can’t remember what they look like, you can’t expect me to recall them or take notes. I will say he was quite fashionably dressed. I certainly could not afford his tailor on my clerical salary.”

Prudence gave Herring’s cheap, ill-fitting suit and plain tie a once-over and then smiled a pitying smile. “That’s too bad. You could use a good tailor.”

She went out into the hall and closed the door with considerable force before Herring could come up with another snide comment. She marched past the glass-paned door of the cataloging department, aware that Mr.Bryerly, the cataloger, was watching to see who had just slammed the door.

She went outside onto the front steps and paused to let the warm light of the California morning envelop her. It was just after nine. Attwater had been waiting for her when she had arrived promptly at eight thirty. It had taken him a full half hour to fire her because he had been unable to resist the opportunity to lecture her on his firmly held belief that women did not belong in the academic world.

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