Larceny at the Library

by Colleen Shogan

  I bent down to examine the contents of the tray. The stitching on the handkerchief was extraordinary. Despite sitting in an unattended box for decades, it had been preserved perfectly. The two pairs of spectacles were equally curious. The gold-rimmed spectacles had a bit of string holding them together.

  “Did Lincoln repair his glasses with this string?” I asked. “You would think the President of the United States could have had a better fix.”

  Endicott motioned for Doug to answer. “We don’t know precisely, but yes, the string was an attempt to fix the left hinge. Those were his reading glasses,” said my husband. “Perhaps he was too busy saving the Union to have his spectacles properly repaired.”

  After taking another look, I stepped out of the way and whispered to Doug. “How long do you have to stay here tonight?”

  “Unfortunately, I was busy this afternoon making sure everything is settled for tomorrow’s congressional event. I need to return to my office to catch up on some paperwork after this is over,” he said.

  After examining the artifacts, Meg and Trevor joined us. “Dinner plans?” asked Meg. She had a one-track mind, and most of the time, it was focused on happy hour or eating out.

  Trevor steered her outside the ceremonial office. “Let’s have a drink first. It’s bad form to rush off after viewing priceless treasures, darling.”

  A few years ago, Trevor’s sarcastic comment would have sent Meg reeling. Now, she simply giggled and followed Trevor’s lead.

  “They seem happy,” said Doug. “I guess things are working out.”

  “It’s not an exclusive relationship, though. She’s still seeing Clay Donovan, too. Tonight is Trevor’s night.” I shook my head.

  “Is Donovan the Republican chief of staff?” asked Doug.

  I nodded. “About ten years older than her. Nice guy. Honestly, I don’t know how much longer Trevor is going to stick around. Three’s a crowd.”

  Gustav Gaffney’s clipped voice interrupted our conversation. “Dr. Hollingsworth, will you please join us to answer additional questions about the Lincoln assassination?”

  Doug muttered under his breath. “Gotta go. Gaffney will cry bloody murder if I don’t follow his order. Be sure to say goodbye before you leave for dinner.”

  Neither of us realized how foreboding Doug’s words would turn out be.

  Chapter Two

  W

  I returned to the reception area outside the Librarian’s ceremonial office. My stomach grumbled. As Trevor noted, rushing off to dinner would be viewed as rude. Small talk was part of the Washington, D.C. game, although my patience for it had grown thinner over time. It seemed like there were a hundred things to accomplish, and never enough time to get it all done. Schmoozing as a sleuth was valuable, less so when I wasn’t trying to solve a case. On the other hand, my brother Sebastian had adapted well to Beltway life. He was standing alongside Trevor, Meg, Joe Malden, and Janice Jackson, chatting away at the speed of a POTUS tweetstorm.

  “Thank you for including me this evening,” Sebastian said. “Six months ago, I was just a tech guy making his way in Silicon Valley. And now I’ve seen the contents of Lincoln’s pockets the night he died.” He shook his head and took a sip of his drink.

  Trevor piped up. “I’m normally as blasé as it comes, but that was definitely a pinch-me moment.”

  “Tomorrow’s event will go over really well with members of Congress,” said Meg.

  Janice beamed. “We certainly hope so. The Librarian wants to make a splash.” She emphasized the last word by flashing her hands in front of us. Someone had drunk too much coffee this morning.

  “I haven’t met Gustav Gaffney before,” I said. “Is he always so. . .”

  I paused to search for the right word.

  Joe Malden finished my sentence for me. “Stuffy?”

  “Yes,” I said, smiling. “But I wasn’t sure if I should say it.”

  Malden blushed. “I certainly shouldn’t be saying it. After all, he’s our boss.” He motioned to include himself and Janice. “But to answer your question, he’s pretty much always that way.”

  “Gustav is an acquired taste,” said Janice. “He’s worked in the librarian profession for a considerable time and has a lot of opinions about how we should accomplish our work.”

  “He certainly seems to take a lot of pride in his position,” I said, choosing my words carefully.

  “He was named the Assistant Librarian about six months ago,” said Janice. “Let’s just say it didn’t take him very long to settle into the role.”

  “Was he the only person suitable for the job?” asked Sebastian.

  Janice shrugged in the direction of Joe Malden. “Except for one other qualified candidate.”

  I raised my eyebrows. “You were considered for the position?” I directed my question at Joe.

  “I’ve worked at the Library of Congress for three decades,” he said. “Some people thought I had the experience and background for the job.”

  Lea Rutherford approached our group from the side. “Let’s not mince words. Many people thought Joe was the best candidate for the position.”

  Joe’s face turned pink. “That’s all water under the bridge. Gustav got the job, and he obviously has the right demeanor for it.”

  That was debatable, but given Joe’s obvious embarrassment, I decided to change the topic of conversation. “What about Gordon Endicott?”

  “As you know, he’s the head of our noteworthy rare books and collections division,” said Joe Malden. “He arrived about the same time as Gustav. Very well connected in the world of antiquities. We think he will help us make strategic connections to acquire impressive items for the growing collection. He has a keen eye for the changing demands in the rare book market, and we hope he can keep the Library of Congress ahead of the curve.” Joe added, “As part of my job, I often work on these acquisition agreements. They’re often legally complex.”

  “Certainly very impressive jobs,” I said. “We spend so much time with politicians, sometimes we forget there’s all types of people working on Capitol Hill.”

  “Well said, Kit.” Trevor extended his hand to Joe, and then Janice. “Thank you for hosting us this evening. You must have a lot of details to attend to before tomorrow morning’s event.”

  “I wish I could go home, but I’m afraid you’re right,” said Joe. “I’m going to head back to my office in the Madison Building to finish some work.”

  Lea Rutherford made a face. “All work and no play, Mr. Malden. It’s not good for the soul.”

  Malden laughed. “That may be the case, but it’s good for my bank account. I want to make sure I keep my job here.”

  “I need to make sure Representative Chang has successfully retrieved his coat,” said Janice. “I’m glad you enjoyed this evening. Please excuse me.”

  I whispered to Meg. “I’m going to say goodbye to Doug. Then we can head to dinner. Why don’t you speak with Sebastian and Trevor and find out where you want to go?”

  I poked my head inside the Librarian’s ceremonial office. “We’re headed to grab a bite nearby. Are you sure you can’t join us?”

  Doug glanced uneasily in the direction of Gustav Gaffney. “Afraid not. I need to finish up here and then go back to my office to finish up some work.”

  Endicott was moving the contents of the red velvet tray from the desk back toward the closet. “Dr. Hollingsworth, please come over here so you can be a witness to the return of the items to the safe,” said Gaffney.

  “Text me and maybe we can share a ride back home?” asked Doug.

  “Of course.” I resisted the urge to give him an affectionate peck on the lips. Somehow, Gustav Gaffney didn’t seem like the romantic type, particularly if it caused him to wait a few precious seconds.

  I exited the office and returned to my brother and friends. �
��Doug has his hands full in there, both literally and figuratively. He can’t join us for dinner.”

  Trevor sighed. “Alas, same for me. I’m afraid I must return to the Capitol to finish a memo for my boss.” He gave Meg a kiss on the cheek and took off in a flash.

  “And then there were three,” I said, an obvious reference to Agatha Christie’s novel Ten Little Indians.

  Meg waved her hand. “Never mind them. I’m famished.”

  “Let’s not go too far,” I said. “Doug and I will drive home together, so I will need to swing back to the Library to pick him up.”

  Meg pressed a manicured red nail to her chin as she pondered the options. “What about Bullfeathers?”

  “Let’s do it,” I said, linking my arm underneath my brother’s. “We can introduce Sebastian to it.”

  “I’m not sure I can take all this excitement today,” said Sebastian.

  Meg hit Sebastian playfully on the shoulder. “Bullfeathers won’t be as exciting as viewing the contents of President Lincoln’s pockets.”

  Ten minutes later, we walked into the classic restaurant and bar on First Street, two blocks south of the Library of Congress. The restaurant owners renovated several years ago, and the establishment benefited from a rebuilt bar, new tables, and an overhaul of the kitchen.

  The waiter gave us our menus, and Meg leaned in. “I read online that Bullfeathers received more campaign fundraising visits than any other restaurant on Capitol Hill.”

  “How would anyone know that?” asked Sebastian.

  “Filings with the Federal Election Commission,” I said. “All campaign or political action committees have to file reports to explain their expenditures.”

  “That’s right,” said Meg. “Bullfeathers had the highest number of entries. It was particularly popular amongst Republicans.”

  Sebastian crinkled his forehead. “Why would that be?”

  “Tradition mostly,” I said. “The name of this place is tied to Teddy Roosevelt, and Republicans are big Teddy fans.”

  After the waiter took our drink and food orders, Sebastian ran his fingers through his dishwater blond locks, now trimmed neatly. A political activist at heart, my brother used to have a shaggy look about him, but since relocating to the Washington area and accepting a full-time, permanent job as an IT specialist for a non-profit, he’d adapted to the more conservative D.C. culture. He now confined his protesting activities to nights and weekends, which seemed to provide him with a satisfying balance of stability and anarchy. When he tired of his nine to five existence, there was always another corporation to picket or politician to phone bomb in his free time.

  “You got me again,” said Sebastian. “How is the name ‘Bullfeathers’ tied to Teddy Roosevelt?”

  “It was his preferred euphemism for bullshit,” I said. “Teddy was a classy guy. He didn’t want to swear all the time.”

  Meg laughed. “The better question is how you know all this arcane information, Kit.”

  I sat up straight. “I am married to a historian. And now Doug works on Capitol Hill. I’m picking up new information all the time.”

  “How’s that job working out for him?” asked Sebastian. “Those people at the Library of Congress are a real cast of characters.”

  “Pretty well. He was getting bored at Georgetown and wanted to stretch his wings. Managing the scholarly center fits the bill,” I said. “It was rocky for a while. Gustav Gaffney didn’t want Doug to get the permanent job as director.”

  “I don’t understand it,” said Meg. “I mean, Doug is perfect for that position.” She ticked off her points with her fingers. “He’s boring, likes old stuff, and loves talking about obscure topics with weird people.”

  Meg liked Doug, but she also enjoyed giving him a dig or two when the opportunity presented itself.

  “Perhaps you have a future as a Human Resources professional,” I said.

  “You know what I mean, Kit,” said Meg. “Doug had all the qualifications, no matter how you want to describe them.”

  Our waiter approached, interrupting our conversation with the arrival of our food. Sebastian’s mouth watered as our server plunked down a huge Reuben sandwich with fries in front of him.

  “Now I understand why the Republicans are spending so much money here,” he said eagerly.

  I’d gone for the Teddy Cobb, which made me feel virtuous while still enjoying fried chicken, cheese, and ranch dressing. Meg had ordered only an appetizer portion of mac and cheese. It was uncharacteristic of my best friend to not indulge in a full meal. Svelte as she was, Meg possessed an appetite of epic proportions.

  I eyed her suspiciously. Motioning toward her plate, I asked, “Something the matter with you, Meg?”

  With a puzzled look on her face, she shrugged. “Me? Nothing.”

  “Come on,” said Sebastian. “I’ve only known you for a short time, but even I know you never pass up the opportunity for a good meal.”

  “Boy troubles?” I asked.

  She pushed her plate away and sighed. “As you know, I’m dating Trevor and Clay Donovan at the same time.” She paused to take a sip of her water. “I just can’t decide what to do. They both want me to decide about who to date exclusively. Pronto.”

  Quite frankly, it didn’t seem like an unreasonable request. We were in our late thirties, after all. Maybe a decade ago, Meg would have gotten away with dating several guys casually at the same time. But probably not at this station of life.

  Sebastian stuffed a few fries in his mouth, put up his finger while he was chewing, and then swallowed. “Let’s approach this analytically. You shouldn’t get so emotional about it.”

  Leave it to a tech professional to remove emotions from love. “Oh, brother,” I said. It was one of my favorite expressions to use around Sebastian.

  “Kit, just let me handle something for once. You’re not the only one who can solve problems,” he said.

  Ouch. Nice dig, Sebastian. Growing up, I’d always been the “fixer.” Gradually, I was trying to teach myself that I didn’t always have to solve the world’s problems. Sometimes, it was better to let others take a crack at it.

  “Let’s make a list concerning both Trevor and Clay. What do you like about each of them? That will help you decide who to stick with,” he said.

  Sebastian made it sound like Meg was selecting a new sofa for her apartment. But I kept my mouth shut.

  Meg seemed willing to play along. She ticked off items like a grocery list. “Let’s start with Clay. He’s handsome, accomplished, understands politics, and loves to plan fun dates.”

  “Great start,” said Sebastian. “What about Trevor?”

  “Trevor is intelligent, earnest, hardworking, and quite funny once you get to know him. Plus, he really likes me,” she said. “I mean, he adores me.”

  Sebastian raised his eyebrows. “Clay doesn’t adore you?”

  “He does,” said Meg quickly. “Just not in the same way.”

  Sebastian wrinkled his nose. “What do you mean, not in the same way?”

  “Clay has a lot of options. Women are dying to go out with him on Capitol Hill,” said Meg. “I practically had to wait my turn to get a chance to date him.”

  “You don’t think Trevor has other options, too?” I asked. Trevor might not be as attractive as Clay, but he had a certain je ne sais quoi that Washington women might find alluring.

  “Sure,” said Meg casually. “Just not as many.”

  Sebastian rapped the table with his hand. “Let’s keep on point. What about negatives for both?”

  Meg hesitated for a beat. “Clay might not want to commit longer term. He’s ten years older than me and has never been married.”

  Sebastian rubbed his chin, deep in thought. “And Trevor?”

  Meg sighed. “Trevor is the opposite end of the spectrum. He’s super com
mitted. It’s intimidating.”

  Sebastian finished off his sandwich and pushed his plate away. “Objectively speaking, this is a draw.”

  Meg threw up her hands. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you!”

  “But that doesn’t mean it’s an impossible problem to solve,” said Sebastian. “You need to decide what your priorities are. Then you can decide who you want to be with longer term.”

  This was the same conversation I’d had over and over with Meg, although I hadn’t applied Sebastian’s dispassionate objectiveness to Meg’s conundrum.

  “I know,” said Meg, her gaze downward. “I’ll figure it out.” I patted Meg’s hand.

  “Of course, you will. Don’t fret too much, Meg. Most women would be lucky to have two worthy suitors lusting after them.”

  Meg’s face brightened immediately. “That’s true!” She picked up her fork and finished off her food.

  Sebastian cleared his throat. “While we’re on the subject of love, I have an announcement.”

  I stuffed the last piece of Teddy Cobb chicken into my mouth and eyed Sebastian suspiciously. Doug and I had thought something was up with him. He’d been busy the last couple of times we’d invited him to join us for dinner or drinks.

  “I’m dating someone,” he said, his face flush with excitement.

  “And who is this person?” asked Meg in a bossy tone. “Why are we only finding out about it now?” Like our boss Maeve Dixon, Meg was also a FOMO-phobe.

  “Her name is Lisa Reddy,” said Sebastian. “And for the record, I wasn’t holding out. I wanted to make sure she was interested in me as much as I was interested in her.”

  “Well, she’d be crazy not to be interested,” said Meg. When Meg first met Sebastian, she’d had a major crush on him. With his sandy surfer locks and lean build, Sebastian was certainly a looker.