Let's Play Dead Read Online Free

piece of paper, and glanced quickly at me. “That’s the form acknowledging receipt of the keys and promising you won’t copy them. Security, you know.”
    “Of course.” Shelby helped herself to a pen on the desk and quickly scribbled her name, handing the completed form back to Melanie.
    Melanie took it and handed Shelby another form. “This is your computer access information, so you can get to the donor files. Once you’re on, you can change your password.”
    “Any luck on the other positions, Melanie?” I asked hopefully.
    “Not really. I’m doing what I can. For the registrar position, I’ve asked that the listing be posted online at a couple of university sites. For your assistant, lots of applicants—I’ve sent you a few—but most are either unqualified, or they’re overqualified but lack the specific skills you need. Unless you really want a middle-aged unemployed mechanical engineer answering your phone?”
    “The age doesn’t bother me, but I’m not sure engineering talent is required. Keep trying, will you? I really need someone, and fast.” The unresolved paperwork was building up to avalanche proportions.
    “I’m on it, Nell. Or do you prefer Madame President these days?”
    I laughed. “Nell is just fine. Shelby, let’s go to your office and I’ll show you how the computer works. I warn you, it’s not exactly new.” When I had changed offices, I’d made a point of clearing my own files off of it, leaving only those that were relevant to the development position.
    “Lead on, Madame President.”
    “Stop!”
    The office was across the hall from Melanie’s, a small room tucked around the corner from Carrie Drexel’s desk. Carrie was membership coordinator, and would be working closely with Shelby to keep membership records up-to-date, to generate contribution letters and thank-yous, and to file the paperwork that even the electronic revolution hadn’t managed to eliminate. Carrie was just arriving, a few minutes late, and didn’t meet my eye as she hung up her coat.
    “Sorry, Nell—there was some hang-up in the trains.”
    That was an excuse I knew only too well, having had to use it many times myself. The regional rails were old—both tracks and cars—and notoriously prone to delays. “Don’t worry about it. I wanted you to meet your new boss, Shelby Carver. She’s taking my old job, so break her in easy.”
    “Hi, Shelby!” Carrie stuck out a hand. “Let me know when you want me to show you the database.”
    “No rush,” Shelby said. “I’m sure you’re doing a great job.”
    Carrie beamed, then turned back to her computer while I led Shelby to her office.
    Inside, she cast a critical eye at the peeling paint, shabby filing cabinets, battered chairs, and uninsulated window—I could feel the steady trickle of cool air from where I stood in the doorway. “Nice fireplace,” was all she said.
    “It is that. It came from somebody or other’s mansion—I think there’s a plaque there somewhere. It’s not connected to anything.”
    “I didn’t think to ask yesterday, but meeting Carrie reminded me—are there other people who I’m supposed to be managing here? And am I going to have any problems with her?”
    “You mean, did Carrie want your job? Nope. She’s a good kid and she gets the job done, but she doesn’t see this as a career path. She’s been here a couple of years, but I won’t place any bets on how long she’ll stay. Anyway, Carrie and our database manager, Daphne Smith, both report to you, and you report to me.”
    “Got it.” Shelby looked around the office. “Well, where do you want me to start?”
    “I’ve give you a little time to familiarize yourself with our records and collections. The only pressing thing is the member newsletter, but Carrie’s been handling that. We usually all get together to stuff and seal.” I stifled a twinge: the last time we’d done that, it had been to notify our members of an unfortunate death. I hoped