“Couldn’t she buy the contents of Lincoln’s pockets, if she wanted it?” asked Doug.
“If it was for sale, she could,” said Trevor. “But as you know, some things cannot be bought. From what I’ve read, Lea Rutherford is an aggressive collector. She might want to take her obsession into uncharted waters.”
“It’s not like she could show anyone what she stole,” said Meg. “Everyone would know she was a thief and murderer.”
“Remember that Lea Rutherford owns houses in many different countries,” said Trevor. “In far flung places, she might be able to enjoy what she’d taken.”
“She also didn’t like Gustav Gaffney very much,” I said. “There was something mentioned last night to that effect.”
“She recently decided to give several rare books she bought to Yale instead of the Library of Congress,” said Doug. “It enraged Gustav. Ironically, she did it because she couldn’t reach an agreement with him about how they would be displayed inside the Jefferson Building.”
“It sounds like it wouldn’t have bothered her to bop Gaffney on the head,” said Meg.
“We’ll add her to the list,” I said. “Although I don’t know how I’m going to investigate a billionaire.”
“You always think of something, Kit,” said Meg, grinning mischievously.
“I think that’s about it for the suspects,” said Doug. “I probably need to get back to work. My colleagues will have a lot of questions.”
“Wait a second,” I said. “We forgot someone.”
“Who?” asked Doug.
“Joe Malden,” I said. “He was there last night.”
Doug waved his hand. “Joe can’t be our killer,” he said. “He wouldn’t hurt a fly.”
“Famous last words,” muttered Meg.
“I had an awkward conversation with him before we left for lunch,” I said. “He swore that Lea Rutherford wasn’t involved in the murder and theft. But he couldn’t give me any insight about who else might have done it.”
“You can’t blame him for that, Kit,” said Doug, a tinge of annoyance in his voice. “He’s the counsel for the Library of Congress. He’s not going to sell any of his colleagues down the river.”
“That’s a good point. But he seemed extraordinarily tight-lipped. Something was off, like he was withholding information. I can’t put my finger on it, but that was the feeling I got.” Similar to Meg, I’d learned a thing or two after helping to solve several murders. My intuition was rarely wrong. Over time, I’d grown more comfortable in trusting it.
“I wouldn’t waste your time on Joe,” said Doug.
I reached over and placed my hand over Doug’s. “He’s your friend,” I said gently. “Remember that you’re also a suspect. We can’t let any stone go unturned until you’re cleared.”
Doug gulped and said nothing. Not a fan of emotion-laden moments, Trevor stood up. “Speaking of the office, I’d better get back soon. My boss will want an update. He likes to stay informed about what happens on Capitol grounds.”
We were clearing our table of trays and garbage when I heard a familiar, whiny male voice behind me. “Kit Marshall, is that you?”
I spun around. I’d recognize that voice anywhere. Sure enough, I was right. I summoned all the good karma left inside my body and plastered a smile on my face. “Dan, it’s been so long since I’ve seen you last. How are you?”
Dan had briefly been my boss in Maeve Dixon’s office. After Dixon had been accused of murdering the Speaker’s top aide, he jumped ship. When the murder was solved and the guilty party apprehended, Maeve immediately offered me Dan’s job as chief of staff. Dan had been such a disaster, we never spoke of him in the office. It was almost like he never existed.
Dan scanned our table nervously. “Team Dixon, I presume?”
“Sort of.” I didn’t want to give him too many specifics. I turned to everyone else and explained, “Dan was Maeve’s first chief of staff.”
Doug, Meg, and Trevor knew what a disaster Dan had been. They murmured pleasantries and kept their heads down.
“You’re not still working in the House, are you?” I hadn’t seen Dan at any chief of staff meetings in a long time. After leaving Dixon, he went to work for a congressman with a reputation for being extraordinarily difficult.
Dan waved his hand. “Nah, my time in Congress is over. I’ve moved on to the association world.”
Washington, D.C. was a city full of associations. Everyone knew the National Rifle Association or Planned Parenthood. But there were literally thousands of organizations in the city, representing the particular interests of businesses, professions, and advocacy groups.
“Really?” I’d always thought Dan would have returned to his native small town in North Carolina. He didn’t seem a good fit for permanent residence in our nation’s capital.
Dan puffed out his chest. “Absolutely. I’m the executive director.”
I raised my eyebrow. “Which association?”
Without missing a beat, he answered, “The National Association of Pet Sitters.”
I blinked. “Pet sitters?” Doug turned his face away, hiding his valiant attempt not to laugh.
“Absolutely, Kit. We have a board of directors and thousands of members. Pet sitting is a growing economic industry in the United States,” he said.
I glanced at Meg. For once, we were both speechless. It was a rare occurrence.
I stuck my hand out. “Congratulations, Dan. I’m glad you found your calling.”
He accepted my handshake and passed me a business card. “I’d like to visit you and the congresswoman to discuss our organization’s most pressing issues.”
I took his card and smiled. “Sure thing, Dan.”
Trevor stood. “Kit, we should be going.” He didn’t pull my arm, but by the look he gave me, he was pondering it.
I waved goodbye to my former colleague and followed my friends out of the restaurant. Meg waited exactly five seconds before letting loose. “You’re not going to suggest that Maeve Dixon meet with him, are you?”
“We can have someone in the office take the meeting. I’m not going to worry about it now,” I said. “Somehow, I’m not surprised that Dan is now the esteemed leader for the pet sitters.”
“I can’t believe he was your boss,” said Doug.
“Neither can I, but it’s all water under the bridge now.” I grabbed my phone out of my purse and scanned my email. “Looks like Miriam Dunlap would like to speak with me as soon as possible. I’ll head to her office now. Let’s touch base later to share any information about the murder and theft.”
“I’ll keep my eyes and ears open,” said Trevor. “And I’ll let Meg know if anything useful comes my way.” Poor Trevor. He’d use any excuse to spend more time with Meg, all in hope she’d decide to make their relationship exclusive.
“Don’t say too much,” I told Doug. “You don’t want to fan the flames of any rumors or gossip.”
Doug nodded. “I plan to shut myself in my office until this whole ordeal is over.”
I laughed. “That might be a little extreme, but better safe than sorry, I suppose.” We split apart in front of the Library of Congress, each of us headed in our separate directions. I entered the Madison Building and got on the elevator for the sixth floor, searching for the Librarian’s executive suite. With the modern digital signage added to the Library of Congress recently, it didn’t take me more than a few minutes to find the right place. I waited for less than a minute before Miriam Dunlap strode across the waiting area to greet me.
“Welcome again to the Library of Congress, Ms. Marshall. It’s the largest library in the world. And now. . .” she said, swallowing hard. In a shaky voice, she finished the sentence. “The scene of a ghastly murder.”
Chapter Six
W
The day’s events had shaken
Miriam Dunlap to the core. “Don’t despair too much,” I said in a soothing tone. “I’ve been in this situation before. Every time, it works out.”
Dunlap motioned for me to follow inside her private office. With a spectacular view of the historic Jefferson Building and the United States Capitol accompanied by floor to ceiling windows, the Librarian’s corner suite constituted prime real estate on Capitol Hill. Her desk was littered with papers and books. I appreciated a disheveled work space and instantly felt at ease with the homey appearance of her personal space.
“Please sit down, Ms. Marshall,” she said, pointing to a leather armchair. She took a seat directly opposite me, straining to offer a smile.
“I’ll touch base with Sergeant O’Halloran later this afternoon,” I said. “I’ve already done a preliminary survey of the immediate suspects so we can talk freely about where the investigation stands.”
“Impressive,” said the Librarian, her hands folded neatly on her lap. “How did you come up with such a list?”
I explained that a limited number of people knew that only her fingerprints and Gustav Gaffney’s could open the safe. Given Doug’s observations, if we assumed that Gaffney was killed last night instead of this morning, then only those already inside the building would have had access to the Librarian’s ceremonial office. That narrowed the list of possible suspects considerably.
“Then who are we talking about specifically, Ms. Marshall?” asked Dunlap. “After all, I’m in charge of the Library of Congress, and I need to know who might be responsible for these heinous crimes.”
“Of course, ma’am.” I ticked off the known suspects with my fingers. “There’s Gordon Endicott, Joe Malden, Lea Rutherford, Janice Jackson, and Congressman Henry Chang.” After taking a breath, I continued. “The police likely consider my husband Doug Hollingsworth a suspect, too. But I don’t.” I chuckled. “For obvious reasons.”
“Thank you for those names, Ms. Marshall,” said the Librarian, now with a pinched expression on her face. “I’m afraid you’re going to have to go back to the drawing board.”
My head flinched backwards. “Excuse me, ma’am?”
“Many of those individuals are my employees here at the Library of Congress,” she said. “None of them could have killed Gustav Gaffney or committed theft.”
“It’s hard to imagine a colleague you know and trusted could have done this. But I’ve seen this unfortunate scenario time and time again. You’d be surprised what motivates people to do horrible things.”
Dunlap didn’t respond immediately. She pressed her lips together and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Gustav was a dear friend. I knew him for many years in our shared professional community of librarianship. We both worked at other institutions but saw each other frequently at conferences. Even before he became the Assistant Librarian, he offered valuable counsel when I first arrived to this position.”
I leaned closer to her. “This must be quite difficult for you. I’d be happy to come back another time if you’d rather not talk about it.”
“No, no,” she said quickly. “I don’t want any delay in solving this crime. I owe that to Gustav, after all.” She looked directly at me. “What do you need from me?”
“Can you tell me anything about those people I mentioned?” I asked. “Such as details or information that might shed light on who could have done this?”
Dunlap spoke slowly. “I’ve been here for only a little over a year. I know them professionally, but I don’t have too many personal insights to offer, I’m afraid.” She shook her head. “I don’t understand why anyone would want to do this to poor Gustav.”
“Speaking of the victim,” I said. Dunlap’s face twisted into a somber expression. “I mean, Assistant Librarian Gaffney. What about him? Can you tell me more about what type of person he was?”
Dunlap’s expression brightened. “Of course,” she said. “What do you want to know?”
“Well, how about his reputation at the Library of Congress?” I asked.
“Impeccable,” said the Librarian. “Gustav was a respected librarian of the first order.”
Okay, this might be a little harder than I thought. I’d have to be more pointed in my questioning.
“Was he well-liked by the staff? Wealthy donors? Any enemies? Of the first order?” I asked.
Miriam Dunlap got my drift. She rubbed her chin thoughtfully. “Now that you mention it, Gustav did not have the easiest job at the Library of Congress.”
“How so?” Now we were getting somewhere.
“It’s never easy being second in command, Ms. Marshall,” she said. “Gustav needed to take care of the nitty gritty, so to speak.”
“I won’t beat around the bush, since I know your time is valuable.” After taking a deep breath, I asked, “Was Gustav your hatchet man?”
Dunlap shifted uneasily in her seat. “The term is misleading. Gustav didn’t fire people for me.”
I chuckled. “This is the federal government. Does anyone get fired?”
The Librarian ignored my snarky remark. “But he did perform certain tasks that some might consider. . .” She paused before finishing the sentence. “Unpleasant.”
The adjective “unpleasant” was too vague. It could mean anything from terminating a program to organizing the annual holiday party.
“Such as?”
Dunlap sat back in her high-backed armchair. “Sometimes good people apply for jobs they can’t have. There’s not enough money to fund all the terrific initiatives staff want to support. Rules and regulations need to be followed, even when they pose inconvenient hardships. Choices must be made between competing priorities.” She adjusted her glasses. “In any organization, someone needs to make those operational decisions and communicate them. Gustav performed that function.”
“I imagine a high-ranking person put in that position would garner quite a few enemies,” I said, more as a comment than a question.
“It’s not outside the realm of possibility,” said Dunlap. “But Gustav’s murder wasn’t related to the difficult nature of his work, Ms. Marshall. The motive for this crime is theft. Gustav was caught up in this nasty business because his fingerprints opened the safe. At least that’s what the police told me.”
“You’re right,” I said. “It can’t hurt to know something about the victim, though. By the way, did anyone else know about the safe and how to open it?”
She shook her head. “For security purposes, we didn’t let many staff know about it. The only people who were aware attended the preview party inside the ceremonial office last night.” Then she added, “Plus my chief of staff. But he was with me yesterday evening at an event across town. The police have already eliminated his as a suspect.”
I perked up. “Who is your chief of staff?”
“His name is Dorian Jones,” said the Librarian. “I’m surprised you don’t know him.”
“My colleague Meg handles the House Administration liaison committee work,” I explained. “But perhaps I should speak with Dorian.”
Dunlap nodded. “Of course. When we’re done here, I will introduce you to him.”
“Is there anything else I should know?” I asked. “Obviously, the police will be investigating everyone’s background. It’s my experience they can miss subtleties that actually matter.”
“It’s best you speak with Dorian,” said the Librarian. “He might be able to help you there.”
I rose out of the armchair and extended my hand. “I wish we could have met under better circumstances.”
Miriam Dunlap adjusted her glasses and shook my hand lightly. “Ms. Marshall, I’m counting on you to help the Library of Congress at this difficult time. I simply cannot have a serious crime unsolved at this institution.” She straightened her posture. “After all, people don’t associate libraries with murder.”
My mind immed
iately recalled the litany of mystery novels with a library as a setting. Agatha Christie’s A Body in the Library. Charles Goodrum’s Dewey Deciminated. Margaret Truman’s Murder at the Library of Congress. Even more recently, Con Lehane’s Murder at the 42nd Street Library and Jenn McKinlay’s Death in the Stacks. But one look at Dunlap’s forlorn face and I shut my mouth. After all, these stories were fiction and she was struggling with the real deal.
“You’re absolutely right,” I said. “Libraries are for learning. Not murder.”
Dunlap’s face brightened. “Ms. Marshall, I’m glad we are on the same page.” She motioned for me to follow her. “Come this way, and I’ll introduce you to Dorian.”
I followed Dunlap through the maze of offices inside her suite. We finally arrived at a private office in the rear of the suite. A thirty-something African American man, smartly dressed in a dark grey suit and deep purple tie, was typing at his computer. He completed the look with wire round-framed glasses. Was it me or did everyone at the Library of Congress look like they’d just emerged out of central casting? Obviously, Lasik surgery had not made its way to the hallowed halls of our national library.
“Dorian, please meet Ms. Marshall, who works for Chairwoman Dixon and will be assisting us with Gustav’s murder.”
He turned to face us. “Pleased to meet you, Ms. Marshall.”
“By all means, call me Kit,” I replied.
“Ms. Marshall would like to speak with you so she can learn more about the Library and our staff,” said Dunlap, ignoring my request.
“Certainly,” he said. “Have a seat.” He motioned to the empty chair next to his desk.
“I’ll leave you to it,” said Dunlap. “Please don’t forget to keep me updated.” She turned to face me. “I will keep my ear to the ground, Ms. Marshall. I’ve read my share of mystery novels and not much gets past me. If a clue comes across my path, I’ll be in touch.”
With that, the Librarian exited Dorian’s office. “Thank you for speaking with me,” I said.
Larceny at the Library Page 7