Praise for the
Washington Whodunit Series
Gore in the Garden
“Engaging characters, a captivating story, set in an awesome place, will have readers rapidly flipping the pages. The twists are exquisite and our protag has guts, knows how to think on her feet and doesn’t back down.”
—Escape With Dollycas Into A Good Book
“With plenty of suspects and a few red herrings, Kit had her work cut out for her. The story was very well-written with all the sub-plots coming together nicely at the end.”
—Carla Loves To Read
“Another edge of your seat Cozy. Colleen Shogan continues in book 5 of the series to give the reader a page-turning Cozy Murder Mystery.”
—My Reading Journeys
“Altogether this is an enjoyable read with an authentic touch that comes from the author’s experience on Capitol Hill . . . It definitely is not your normal cozy mystery . . . more like a cozy thriller. And the final scene at a little known place in DC is creepy-suspenseful.”
—Here’s How It Happened
“The mystery, the writing and story development is simply superb. I really enjoyed reading Gore in the Garden and I hope you will, too.”
—The Book Decoder
Other Books in the
Washington Whodunit Series
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Stabbing in the Senate
Homicide in the House
Calamity at the Continental Club
K Street Killing
Gore in the Garden
Larceny at the Library
A Washington Whodunit
Colleen J. Shogan
Seattle, WA
Epicenter Press
6524 NE 181st St., Suite 2
Kenmore, WA 98028
A Camel Press book published by Epicenter Press
For more information go to: www.epicenterpress.com
www.colleenshogan.com
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, incidents, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, businesses, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Cover and interior production by Scott Book and Melissa Coffman
Larceny at the Library
Copyright © 2020 by Colleen J. Shogan
ISBN: 978-1-60381-835-3 (Trade Paper)
ISBN: 978-1-60381-305-1 (eBook)
Library of Congress Control Number: 2019945304
Printed in the United States of America
This book, a fictitious, light-hearted attempt to draw attention to the institution and its valuable work,
is dedicated to the staff of the Library of Congress.
Acknowledgments
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Writing a book is a team effort. I would like to thank my family and friends, who are unwavering in their support of Kit Marshall and her continued adventures. My agent Dawn Dowdle and fellow authors at the Blue Ridge Literary Agency provide sound, helpful advice at every turn of the publishing process. Editor Jennifer McCord has worked on the series since the very beginning and I am grateful to her patient guidance. Thank you to my husband Rob and my entire family for continued support of my inspired pursuits.
I always wanted to write a murder mystery with the Library of Congress as the setting. The Library is known for its beautiful architecture and unparalleled collections. Indeed, there is no other place like it in the world. My favorite part of the Library of Congress, however, is not the awe-inspiring Main Reading Room or Great Hall. As much as I enjoyed the occasional opportunity to view the draft of the Declaration of Independence or Lincoln’s Second Inaugural, such treasures are not my favorite component of the Library, either.
Rather, the best part of the Library of Congress is its people. Over the past decade, I had the privilege of working with many different programs and divisions of the Library. It was an honor to serve alongside such a talented and dedicated team of librarians, analysts, managers, senior leaders, development officers, event coordinators, curators, congressional specialists, and book lovers.
Special thanks to Librarian of Congress Dr. Carla Hayden, a supporter of creative endeavors of all Library staff, including these books. Before I started writing Larceny at the Library, I mentioned to Dr. Hayden I was having difficulty coming up with yet another clever plot twist involving Clarence, the beagle mutt who appears in the series. Without missing a beat, she encouraged me to give Clarence a Capitol police dog friend. The idea for Murphy was born, and he makes his first appearance in Larceny. Also, kudos to Roswell Encina, who read an early version of the manuscript and provided valuable feedback.
A character in this book, Joe Malden, is dedicated to the memory of Joseph M. Alden, a classmate of mine at Boston College who passed away in 2010 at an early age from cancer. His parents are supportive fans of my books and asked if I would construct a character in Joe’s memory. I think I did a pretty good job with Joe Malden: a smart, Red Sox-loving lawyer and dedicated public servant. I hope Joe is enjoying the book and laughing at its best moments.
Chapter One
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“Kit, please be careful. You almost knocked the Lincoln Bible off the table.”
Those weren’t words you heard every day from your husband. Reflexively, I backed away from the ornate wooden table inside the Librarian of Congress’s ceremonial office.
“Sorry,” I murmured. “I’ll try to be more careful.”
Doug was referring to the actual Bible owned by the sixteenth President of the United States, Abraham Lincoln. With a dark red velvet cover, the small book itself wasn’t particularly valuable. Nonetheless, its provenance made it a national treasure. Lincoln was sworn into office in 1861 with it, as was Barack Obama and Donald Trump.
I knew this historical fun fact and dozens more because I was married to the head of the scholarly center at the Library of Congress, who was also a Georgetown American history professor. Right now, he was bustling around the Librarian’s ornate office, preparing for a VIP pre-show displaying several of the Library’s top treasures.
He stopped and walked over next to me, giving my hand an affectionate squeeze. “The food and drink should be set up right outside the office,” said Doug. “Why don’t you wait there for our guests?”
As a chief of staff for a member of Congress, I knew how to take a subtle hint. Before I instigated the destruction of a cherished item with national significance, perhaps a walk outside was in order. Besides, I was thirsty and hungry. Doug had promised a high-end bar and tasty treats. History could wait until I’d had a glass of wine and three or four fancy canapés.
Before I could grab a Chardonnay from the waiter, my phone buzzed. My best friend and congressional staff colleague Meg had texted me.
Trevor and I are headed over now.
I typed back a response.
It’s Trevor’s date night?
Three dots appeared, indicating Meg was writing a response.
He wouldn’t miss this.
I chuckled. Meg had started dating our former Senate colleague Trevor just over six months ago. Their relationship could be described as classic love/hate. For years, they bickered, each claiming he or she detested the other. Then, Trevor professed his romantic infatuation with Meg last summer,
and she agreed to go out with him. Much to Trevor’s chagrin, it wasn’t an exclusive relationship on Meg’s part. She was dating one other guy, a current House chief of staff. Such insular amorous intrigue could get exhausting, but long ago I’d learned not to tell Meg what to do in the dating department.
“Hey, big sister.”
I looked up from my phone when I heard my brother’s voice. Sebastian had recently moved to the Washington, D.C. area and now worked as a tech guru at a local non-profit. Tall and trim, Sebastian had arrived in his hipster millennial work attire, consisting of tartan plaid pants, a grey cardigan, deep red tie, and white button-down shirt. At least he’d listened to my advice that an invitation to a swanky, intimate reception at the Library of Congress meant he couldn’t wear a stylish sweater, skinny jeans, and slip-on loafers.
“Looking sharp, little brother.” I reached up and gave him a hug. After years of living apart, we’d recently become reacquainted with each other. We had more in common than we initially thought, although our physical appearances didn’t peg us for siblings. Sebastian had a lean build with sandy locks that made him seem as though he belonged on a surfing beach in California. With long, brown straight hair, I was average height and build, although I routinely thought my obituary might one day read: “Kit Marshall, congressional staffer and amateur sleuth extraordinaire, who courageously tried to lose ten pounds.”
We walked over to the bar and each ordered a glass of wine. After taking a sip, we placed our glasses on a high top table covered with a fancy white cloth. Sebastian’s eyes wandered. “Fancy digs here. I’ve never been inside the Library of Congress.”
As if on command, a middle-aged man dressed in a traditional dark suit appeared next to us. “Sorry to interrupt, but I overheard this was your first time visiting us.”
Sebastian nodded. “My brother-in-law is helping with the reception tonight. My name is Sebastian and this is my sister, Kit Marshall.”
Our eager guest smiled widely. “You must be married to Doug Hollingsworth. I’m Joe Malden, the general counsel for this great institution.” He tipped his tumbler of amber liquid in our direction.
“Doug has mentioned you,” I said. “The Red Sox fan, right?”
Joe Malden’s smile grew. “Absolutely. And I’m stuck here in Washington, the land of the Nationals. Doesn’t stop me from cheering for my Sox.”
“What’s the deal for tonight?” asked Sebastian. “Doug and Kit invited me, but I’m not sure what I’ve gotten myself into.”
Malden leaned forward with a glint in his eyes. “First of all, you’re standing inside the Great Hall of the Thomas Jefferson Building. It opened in 1897 and it’s arguably the most beautiful room in Washington.”
Malden wasn’t exaggerating. The surrounding open space was ornately decorated in a style reminiscent of the Italian Renaissance, although uniquely American at the same time. We were standing on the bottom floor of the two-story building, surrounded by colorful murals, statues, mosaics, and a vaulted marble ceiling. If I didn’t know where I was, I might have thought I was enjoying a glass of wine in a far-flung European capital art museum.
Sebastian swiveled his neck around. “Can’t disagree with you, although I haven’t seen as much of the sights as I’d like since moving here.”
“This is our country’s pantheon of knowledge. Authors, inventors, scientists, and world cultures are represented,” said Joe. “Every sculpture, engraving, and entryway has significance. At the turn of the century, it was built to show the United States was equal to Europe in matters of knowledge and culture.”
“It must have cost a fortune to build,” I muttered. The member of Congress I worked for, Maeve Dixon from North Carolina, had recently been appointed as the chair of the committee which provided oversight to Capitol Hill itself, including the Library of Congress. We were constantly fretting over authorized expenditures, cognizant that the American people didn’t want Congress spending lavishly in its own backyard as the federal deficit ballooned.
“Not exactly,” said Joe. “Only six point three million dollars. And it was under budget.”
Sebastian took a sip of wine. “That’s a bargain. You can’t even build a reputable data server for that amount these days.”
“You’ll have to excuse my brother. He’s a techie who thinks the world revolves around the internet,” I said.
Joe Malden laughed. “We know a thing or two about servers these days. It’s not just about collecting old, dusty books anymore. We’re putting our digital collections online for everyone to explore.”
“Speaking of old stuff, can you tell us more about what we’re going to see this evening?” I asked. When Doug had the opportunity to invite guests to this evening’s preview, he hadn’t given too many specifics, other than it was a rehearsal for tomorrow’s big event celebrating Lincoln’s birthday.
“I’m not the expert curator, but as I understand it, we will be viewing one of the Library’s most treasured collections,” said Malden.
He had just taken a breath to continue when a high-pitched feminine voice interrupted. “One of the crown jewels,” she said.
A well put-together middle-aged woman with professionally styled, shoulder length blonde hair joined us at our standing table. She wore a long sleeve expensive-looking print dress perfectly fitted to her well-proportioned frame. I guessed Dolce & Gabbana, but I was no fashion blogger. Her makeup was expertly applied, and I noticed she wore diamond earrings with a matching necklace that tripled the carat count. I’d eat my hat if this woman worked at the Library of Congress. If she did, I needed to consider a career change. Pronto.
We scooted over to make room for our new guest. She placed her tumbler aside and offered her hand. “Lea Rutherford.”
I accepted it, noticing that diamonds also adorned her slim fingers, along with other brightly colored gems. I introduced myself, and Sebastian followed in turn.
“What is your relationship to the Library of Congress?” asked Sebastian innocently.
Joe answered before Lea could speak. “Ms. Rutherford is one of our most generous donors. A true patron of the humanities in Washington.”
Big shocker. “I’m happy to support worthy institutions.” She glanced sideways at Malden. “You wouldn’t think it, but sometimes my assistance isn’t welcome.”
“Really? Funding is scarce on Capitol Hill these days. I’m surprised they’re not beating down the door for help,” I said.
Joe raised his eyebrows and wiggled them in my direction. I took it as a clumsy sign to drop the issue, so I quickly changed the topic. “Back to Sebastian’s question. What will be on display tonight?”
Joe took advantage of the opportunity to steer the conversation back to safer ground. “The contents of Lincoln’s pockets.”
Sebastian interrupted. “The Library owns Lincoln’s personal possessions?”
Joe smirked. “You didn’t let me finish. The contents of Lincoln’s pockets the night he was assassinated.”
Sebastian and I gasped at the same time. Both Joe and Lea laughed at our reaction.
“I don’t mean to be a bore, but I’m going to repeat my brother’s question. Why does the Library of Congress have these items in its collection?”
Joe motioned toward an older, slightly built gentleman walking inside the ceremonial office. “I’m sure you’ll hear the story from him tonight.”
“Who’s that?” asked Sebastian, draining his drink.
“Gustav Gaffney,” said Lea. “He’s the Assistant Librarian of Congress. The number two around here.”
“And our host for this evening,” said Joe. “He’s been a librarian for decades and makes it his business to know our collections inside out.”
“You can say that again,” muttered Lea.
Joe patted Lea’s hand. “You have to forgive Ms. Rutherford. She and the Assistant Librarian occasionally dis
agree concerning where to focus resources at the Library of Congress.”
Lea smiled tightly. “No need to apologize, Joe. You know I’ve made alternate plans for my dollars. As Kit mentioned, there’s plenty of places who welcome my financial support these days.”
I hadn’t met Gustav Gaffney before, but his name was familiar. As I recall, he hadn’t enthusiastically supported Doug’s selection as head of the scholarly center, believing that Doug would only serve in the position for a short period of time before returning to his tenured professorship at Georgetown. However, Gaffney’s boss, the Librarian of Congress, had overruled him and made the appointment. As the chief of staff for an important member of Congress, I’d steered clear of the matter entirely. I knew a conflict of interest when I saw one.
Doug emerged from the ceremonial office and approached our gathering. “We’ll begin our short program in about ten minutes. We’re waiting for a member of Congress to arrive. Once he shows up, we can start.”
I turned to Joe. “I thought the congressional event was tomorrow. That’s when my boss plans to attend. You know, Maeve Dixon.”
Joe’s eyebrows furrowed. “Of course, we know Chairwoman Dixon.” He glanced around nervously, and then spotted a tall woman in her early fifties with short, light brown hair and a substantial build. Waving at her, he said, “Janice, can you come over here for a moment?”
She hustled over and, ignoring everyone else, spoke directly to Joe. “I’m looking out for our congressional guest. What’s wrong?”
Joe motioned in my direction. “Janice, you must know Kit Marshall.”
I stuck out my hand, and she politely accepted it. “I’ve heard the name.”
Joe cleared his throat. “She’s a chief of staff in the House.” He paused for a beat. “Maeve Dixon’s chief.”
Janice’s entire visage changed in an instant. Her face lit up, a wide smile spreading across her face. “Certainly. We work with Chairwoman Dixon’s committee staff and Meg Peters from your office. I’m Janice Jackson, the head of congressional relations for the Library.”
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