Larceny at the Library

by Colleen Shogan

  “I guess.” He added quickly, “But only to see if he was breathing.”

  “How was he killed?” I asked. There was no way someone could have snuck a gun or knife inside the Library of Congress. The level of security was comparable to the congressional office buildings since tunnels connected the structures underground.

  “I shouldn’t be sharing information, but since your husband is involved, I might as well tell you,” said the newly minted sergeant. “It appears Gaffney was hit on the head with a bust of Thomas Jefferson.”

  “The bust was inside the Librarian’s office?” I asked.

  O’Halloran consulted his notebook. “You got it.”

  “It was a gift from the Archivist of the United States when Miriam Dunlap was sworn into office,” said Doug. “She keeps it on display on the bookshelf inside the ceremonial office.”

  “If that’s the case, then a lot of people would know it could serve as a handy weapon,” I said.

  “True,” said O’Halloran. “It definitely points to an insider. Someone who knew his or her way around the Library of Congress.”

  I couldn’t disagree with the Sergeant’s reasoning. The perpetrator had taken advantage of the situation and used the opportunity to steal a national treasure. A light bulb went off in my head. If theft was the motive, then maybe there was a way to clear Doug.

  I turned to face O’Halloran. “Have you searched Doug?”

  “The officer on the scene sequestered him,” said the sergeant. “Once we realized the safe was open and items were missing, we did search Dr. Hollingsworth.” He added, “After he consented, of course.”

  I snapped my fingers. “That puts him in the clear! The murderer clearly has the missing artifacts in his or her possession.”

  “Wait a second, Ms. Marshall,” said O’Halloran slowly. “I know you want to clear your husband, but I’m afraid it won’t be that easy. First, we don’t know when Gaffney was killed. It might have been last night. Second, even if it was this morning, the culprit might have done the deed, removed the goods from the safe, and then stashed them somewhere for safekeeping.” He waved his hand around the Great Hall. “God only knows there are about a million places to hide something in this building. We could search for a year and not find all the nooks and crannies.”

  O’Halloran was right again. The killer could have hidden the stolen items behind a book in any of the reading rooms. Then, when the coast was clear, the thief could retrieve the objects undetected.

  “How did the murderer manage to open the safe?” I asked.

  “Remember the details from last night?” Doug said. “Only two sets of fingerprints work on the safe. Gustav Gaffney’s and Miriam Dunlap’s.”

  “Everyone at the event last night would have heard that,” I said. “Are you saying the perpetrator bashed Gaffney over the head and then used his finger to open the safe?”

  “I’m afraid so, Ms. Marshall,” said O’Halloran. “We’re dealing with a vicious criminal who killed Gaffney and then positioned his body near the safe so he or she could gain access to the treasures.”

  “Who would have known these critical details?” I asked Doug. “Was it widely known that the contents of Lincoln’s pockets would be stored in a safe inside the Librarian’s ceremonial office last night?”

  Doug shook his head vigorously. “Absolutely not. Many congressional offices knew about this morning’s event, but not the details. Certainly rank-and-file Library of Congress staff weren’t privy to the insider information.”

  O’Halloran rubbed his chin. “It does point to someone who attended yesterday evening’s preview. The details about the safe were discussed, and the perpetrator would have had the opportunity to strike after the event had ended.”

  “I can make sure you have a list of everyone who was present last night,” said Doug helpfully.

  As Doug listed the names of the Library employees and guests, I scanned the room. Across the Great Hall, my boss was deep in conversation with a fifty-something woman wearing a worried expression. I recognized Maeve Dixon’s interlocutor as Miriam Dunlap, the Librarian of Congress. Doug was still explaining last night’s program to Sergeant O’Halloran. Although the police would definitely consider him a suspect, Doug seemed to have things under control at the moment. I touched him lightly on the arm and let him know I needed to speak with Maeve Dixon.

  My boss saw me coming and motioned for me to hurry. “Here’s the person I was telling you about, Miriam. This is Kit Marshall, my chief of staff.”

  I offered my hand to the Librarian of Congress. “I’m sorry to meet formally under these terrible circumstances, Ms. Dunlap. You have my condolences.”

  Dunlap adjusted her glasses and peered up at me. I was no giant, but she was barely five feet tall. Her worried eyes narrowed. “You’re the amateur sleuth of Capitol Hill?”

  “Yes, ma’am. I’ve had some luck solving a few cases.” My voice quavered.

  “I’ve never been involved with a real murder, but I’ve read my share of mysteries,” said Dunlap. “I hope you’re as good as the literary sleuths I’ve encountered.”

  All thoughts of Gustav Gaffney disappeared. I was a big fan of mystery novels and enjoyed talking with a fellow aficionado.

  “Who do you like to read?” I asked. “Christie? Sayers?”

  Dunlap wrinkled her forehead.

  “Or maybe you like more modern authors. Lippman? Grafton? French?” I continued.

  Miriam Dunlap took me by the arm and gently guided me toward the ceremonial office. “Ms. Marshall, I would like to speak to you about your favorite mystery authors one day in the near future. However, we have important business at hand. Don’t we?” She gestured in the direction of the police tape that now served as a barrier blocking the entrance to the office.

  “Oh, yes,” I said, blushing. “You’re absolutely right.”

  She smiled. “I understand your husband Doug Hollingsworth, the director of our scholarly center, discovered Gustav’s body. Is that correct?”

  “Yes, ma’am. I spoke to him briefly. The police officer in charge, Sergeant O’Halloran, is asking Doug some questions now.” I gestured in their direction.

  Miriam Dunlap nodded. “Good. I’m glad he’s cooperating.” She paused for a moment before continuing. “Your boss speaks highly of your talents. Not only as a chief of staff, but also as an investigator.”

  “Thank you,” I said. “We’ve found ourselves in several quagmires in the past and I’ve been able to help the police.” I stared at the Librarian of Congress directly in the eye. “I’ve managed to find the guilty party every time.” I conveniently neglected to mention the unorthodox routes to justice involved in these escapades. She could read the newspaper accounts if she wanted all the sordid details.

  Dunlap clasped her hands together and then dragged me back toward Maeve Dixon, who was standing several feet away. “Let’s talk to the esteemed committee chair.”

  My boss, whose head was buried in her phone, looked up when we approached. Dunlap spoke first. “Chairwoman Dixon, I’ve had a brief chat with Kit. I would like to enlist her services.”

  Maeve was a consummate politician. After experiencing combat in Iraq and Afghanistan, she almost always kept her composure, even in sticky situations. But I could tell that Miriam Dunlap’s request caught her off guard. Dixon’s head jerked backwards, and she blinked several times. A moment later, she had regained her poker face.

  “I assume you’re referring to Kit’s detective skills?” asked Dixon.

  “Of course,” said Dunlap. “Given the circumstances, I need all the help I can get.” She pulled both of us closer and lowered her voice. “Ladies, this murder must be solved quickly. First, Gustav Gaffney was my colleague and friend.” Dunlap’s chin trembled as she continued. “I owe it to him to find the person responsible for this heinous crime. Second, I need t
o recover the stolen items. As you surely know, those artifacts are irreplaceable items of our national heritage. We must apprehend the thief as soon as possible so we can recover everything and make sure nothing has been damaged. Or worse.”

  “Worse?” I asked. It was hard to imagine how the situation could become more dire.

  “If this goes on too long, the thief will find a buyer underground. And who knows what that person will do with our treasures. We may never see them again.” Dunlap covered her face with her hands. “I can’t believe poor Gustav died because of it.”

  Maeve took a deep breath. “These are extraordinary circumstances, Miriam.” My boss looked at me. “Kit, what do you think?”

  I was taken aback by Maeve’s question. Her military training usually meant she operated in demonstratives, not questions.

  I thought for a few seconds before answering. Doug was nervously standing in the corner of the Great Hall, now chatting with the crusty Library of Congress general counsel Joe Malden. If the culprit wasn’t apprehended swiftly, we’d need to find Doug a real lawyer. He’d taken the job at the Library of Congress to give his career a new direction. It would be a very short tenure if a cloud of suspicion hung over his head. There was no doubt about it. I needed to help Doug.

  Before answering, I straightened my posture. “I’m sure I can assist. But it will need to be in cooperation with the police.”

  “Let’s not waste any time, then,” said the Librarian. “It looks as though the Sergeant has a free moment.”

  She marched over to O’Halloran, who seemed to be carrying on a conversation with himself as he read through the scrawl in his notebook. As chief of staff for Maeve Dixon, I was used to working for a strong-minded woman. But Miriam Dunlap took the cake. She made General Patton look indecisive. Maeve Dixon and I followed behind her.

  Ensconced in his notes, O’Halloran didn’t recognize our presence immediately. Dunlap waited patiently for several seconds and then cleared her throat. The sergeant looked up. “Ms. Dunlap,” he said. “How can I help you?”

  “Sergeant, I don’t think introductions are necessary. You know Kit Marshall and Chairwoman Maeve Dixon,” said Dunlap.

  The Librarian didn’t give O’Halloran a chance to disagree.

  “The Assistant Librarian, my dear friend Gustav Gaffney, was killed in my office and a great national treasure has been stolen. The criminal behind this outrage must be apprehended as soon as possible,” she said.

  O’Halloran tried to say something, but Dunlap kept going. “You need all available resources at your disposal. I’m sure there will be numerous federal agencies who will want to make this case their own.” She stared at O’Halloran pointedly. “But I’m also certain you have the internal knowledge of Capitol Hill to solve this case.”

  Miriam Dunlap certainly didn’t pull any punches. Nothing like going for the jugular and hitting O’Halloran where it hurt. Overlapping jurisdictions infuriated him and any other self-respecting law enforcement officer. Capitol Hill was his beat. Pretty soon, the FBI would be all over this case, decreasing the chances of the local Capitol cops solving the crime.

  “As the head of the Library of Congress, I would like to ask you to collaborate with Ms. Marshall. As I understand it, she’s had much success in assisting the police previously with homicide cases.”

  O’Halloran inhaled and started to speak. Miriam Dunlap didn’t give him the opportunity. “This arrangement has the support of Chairwoman Dixon.” Dunlap motioned toward my boss as she emphasized her name. “As you know, she leads the committee with congressional oversight authority concerning the Library of Congress.” She paused for a beat. “And the Capitol Hill police.” Her speech finished, Dunlap crossed her hands in front of her body and took a half step back.

  O’Halloran eyed the three of us warily, his hands tightened into fists. He certainly didn’t welcome my help. On the other hand, Dunlap had him between a rock and a hard place. After an uncomfortable silence, he finally spoke. “Normally, I wouldn’t contradict the wishes of an elected official, particularly a member of Congress. However, in this situation, we have a conflict of interest. Ms. Marshall’s husband is a suspect.”

  Dixon chimed in. “I would never substitute my judgment for a law enforcement officer’s expert opinion.” She raised a finger. “However, I can vouch for the character of Doug Hollingsworth. Do you have material evidence against him?”

  “No, we do not,” said O’Halloran, a tone of regret in his voice. He knew where this conversation was headed.

  “Sergeant, can I suggest that until you do, Ms. Marshall can work with you on the investigation?” She gestured toward Miriam Dunlap. “After all, the Librarian of Congress is the lead agency official, and she’s asking for Kit’s help.”

  O’Halloran sighed. His ploy to oust me from the investigation had failed. These two women were not going to let him prevail. “Very well,” he said. “Once again, Ms. Marshall will serve in a liaison capacity.” He raised his hand, with his palm facing us as a “stop” sign. “However, she will not interfere with the pursuit of this criminal. We are dealing with a very different scenario than other crimes she’s assisted with.”

  He turned to face me directly. “Homicide is nasty enough business. But this person committed murder to steal artifacts of immeasurable value.” He shook his finger. “We don’t know what we’re dealing with here. A professional killer for hire? An insider working with a crime syndicate?” His voice became higher pitched. “A terrorist plot?”

  I couldn’t resist. “You really think terrorists want to steal the contents of Lincoln’s pockets from the night he was assassinated?”

  O’Halloran took his handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his forehead. “Ms. Marshall, for all of your detecting and interactions with killers, you have a sanguine view of the world.” He put his hands on his hips, almost indistinguishable from his sizable waist. “I do not have that luxury.”

  The sergeant’s words seemed more adversarial than necessary. Best to diffuse the situation, especially if we were going to work together to find the culprit who committed homicide and larceny at the Library of Congress. “I am an optimistic person, Sergeant. But my positive outlook has never prevented me from delivering justice to those responsible.”

  Dixon listened to our repartee with a tight smile. I knew my boss. She was amused, but not for long. “It’s settled, then.” She gestured between me and O’Halloran. “You’ll work together to find the party or parties responsible for this travesty. Kit’s primary assignment will be providing Miriam with information as the investigation progresses.” She grasped the lapels of her suit jacket and gave them a straightening yank. “I will also require regular briefings, since I am the chair of the committee with jurisdiction concerning this matter.”

  Maeve Dixon spoke with such authority, no one could dispute her pronouncement. Miriam Dunlap seemed satisfied. “Very well,” she said. “Ms. Marshall, perhaps we should speak later today, after the dust settles, so to speak.”

  I nodded. “Detective.” I realized my mistake. “I mean, Sergeant.”

  Dixon and Dunlap walked away, deep in conversation. They couldn’t hear O’Halloran’s parting commentary. “Doesn’t matter if I’m a sergeant or the chief of police. Those two would still be telling me what to do.”

  We hadn’t caught the killer yet, but at least Sergeant O’Halloran had a firm grasp of what it meant to work on Capitol Hill.

  Chapter Five

  W

  I joined Doug and Joe Malden, still deep in conversation near the marble staircase leading to the second floor. “Well, I have good news and bad news. Which one do you want first?”

  Doug wrinkled his forehead. “I could really use some good news.”

  “Miriam Dunlap asked my boss if I could assist the police in solving the murder,” I said. “Dixon agreed and made it clear to O’Halloran I should be
kept in the loop.”

  Doug’s face brightened. “That’s great news, Kit. With you on the case, this fiasco should get wrapped up in no time.”

  “I’m not sure about that,” I said. “It’s a pretty complex situation.”

  “Wait, what’s the bad news?” asked Malden.

  “The police apparently consider Doug a suspect.” I put my arm around Doug and gave him a tight squeeze. Being considered a murder suspect was stressful. I could practically feel Doug’s unease with the situation.

  Malden shrugged. “That’ll clear up in a flash. Once the authorities realize they’re barking up the wrong tree, their attention will be focused elsewhere.”

  As someone who had been accused of murder a few years ago when my boss was murdered in the United States Senate, I wasn’t quite sure it was as simple as Joe suggested. The moniker “suspect” was stickier than flypaper. In my experience, the specter of suspicion didn’t lift until the police apprehended the real murderer. I’d been so eager to end the drama, I solved the murder to clear my name.

  “Let’s hope so,” muttered Doug, staring in the direction of the Librarian’s ceremonial office, where Sergeant O’Halloran was now chatting with Gordon Endicott. I followed Doug’s gaze, just in time to notice O’Halloran and Endicott glancing in our direction.

  “I wonder why they’re looking over here,” I thought out loud.

  “Gordon is probably up to no good,” said Doug glumly.

  “What makes you think that?” I asked.

  Malden answered. “Endicott wanted the job Doug has now as head of the scholarly center. Gustav preferred Endicott. But Miriam Dunlap believed Doug had a higher academic profile and more publications to his name.” Malden smiled. “She was right, of course.”

  “Are you worried that Gordon Endicott might try to frame you for the murder and theft?” I asked.

  Doug ran his hands through his dark, bushy hair. “It’s possible. He’s not a fan of mine.”

  It was bad enough trying to solve a homicide, but now I had to clear my husband and figure out a way to combat a crafty rare books expert who was hellbent on discrediting Doug. I had my work cut out for me. Reinforcements were in order, particularly since I had missed breakfast this morning. I pulled my iPhone out of my purse and texted Meg.