Free Fire Engine Dead by Sheila Connolly Page B

encountered. I wondered how he would fit with our motley crew of librarians and administrators, but he did seem to have a genuine interest in history, and so didn’t exactly fall outside the bounds of what passed for normal here. He was staring at me expectantly.
    “Nicholas, you’re definitely well suited for this position, and I’m flattered that you’re interested. May I contact your references?”
    “Of course.”
    “Do you have any questions for me?”
    Nicholas appeared to reflect for about three seconds. “I think Latoya told me everything I need to know.”
    “Then let me get back to you, one way or another, early next week.”
    “That would be fine.” He stood up and extended a hand. “Thank you for seeing me on such short notice. I look forward to hearing from you.”
    I stood as well and walked him to the outer office. “Eric, could you take Nicholas back downstairs?”
    “Sure, Nell.” Eric stood up. “Follow me, Nicholas.”
    As I watched them walk down the hall, I realized that not once during the interview had Nicholas smiled, tried to make any small talk, or said anything about his life apart from the software he had created. Nor had he appeared nervous. He was a serious young man. Maybe I didn’t have a lot of experience with interviewing job applicants, but those I had interviewed had generally acted eager to please, nervous, or over-talkative. Nicholas fell at the opposite end of the spectrum: he was reserved almost to the point of stiffness, and while he had said all the correct things, I had learned very little about him, apart from his professional skills.
    I decided I needed Latoya’s input, so I walked down the hall to her office. She looked up from her superbly clean desk when I walked in. “Do you have a moment to talk about Nicholas?”
    She closed the folder she was reading. “Of course. He’s left already? What did you think of him?”
    I dropped into the chair in front of her desk. “I guess I’d have to say I had mixed feelings about him. He seems very bright, and he has some interesting ideas. He said he could pick up where Alfred left off, so we wouldn’t lose any ground. But personally? I guess he seems a little cold.”
    “And the Society is such a warm and fuzzy place?” Latoya arched one eyebrow.
    I checked to see if she was being sarcastic, but she seemed sincere. “We have our share of odd ducks, I’ll admit. But we do have to play well together, because nobody is working at the Society for the money or the glory. I know the registrar operates fairly independently, and certainlyAlfred kept his interactions with staff to a minimum. So social skills are not a high priority.” I wondered why I felt so defensive about a polite, intelligent young man’s lack of warmth and humor—neither was a requirement for the position.
    “Do you want me to keep looking?” Latoya asked neutrally, although it was clear that it took an effort. Did she expect me to reject Nicholas just because she was the one who had found him? I hoped I wasn’t that petty.
    I thought for a moment. “Give me the weekend to think about it, all right? I told Nicholas we’d get back to him next week. You’ve seen his résumé—have you called his references?”
    Latoya relaxed slightly. “I’ll get on that today. In his favor, let me say that his credentials seem solid, and I think he’d be a real asset. But it’s your call.”
    Was it? Clearly he was Latoya’s pick, and I didn’t want to butt heads with her over something like this. “Then I’ll let you know on Monday. On another note, have you heard from our friends at the FBI lately, about returning our collections?” And talk shifted to other topics.
    When I turned to leave, Latoya said, “Oh, one moment—these are the records on the Fireman’s Museum collection that you asked for. Not a particularly impressive group of artifacts.” She handed me a slender file—far less substantial than the one Felicity had assembled for