Dorian checked his watch. “I’m afraid I have a scheduled meeting I cannot miss. But I’m happy to chat with you. Are you free at the end of the day? Perhaps we could meet somewhere outside of the Library of Congress.” He looked around nervously. “It might enable us to speak more freely.”
The offices at the Library of Congress seemed to provide more privacy than the House of Representatives. But Dorian obviously knew best. If he couldn’t speak honestly inside his office, it was best to talk to him at another location.
“Do you know my colleague Meg Peters?” I asked.
Dorian’s eyes twinkled. Very few men (at least straight men) were unaffected by Meg’s beauty and charm.
“Of course,” he said. “She’s been quite helpful as we work with the oversight committee in the House.”
“Would you like to meet us for a drink after work? Since Chairwoman Dixon wants me to prioritize this investigation, we can probably leave work a little early to meet you.”
He rubbed his chin. “It’s been a difficult day with Gustav’s death and the theft. I think a drink would be perfect. How does five o’clock sound?”
“Sure,” I said. “Do you have a favorite place? My husband works at the Library of Congress, but I’m not sure he knows the hangouts yet.”
Dorian smiled. “I do know the hangouts, and if we want to have a productive conversation, we shouldn’t go to any of them.” He thought for a moment before continuing. “How about Barrel? It’s a few blocks away from here, in the Eastern Market area. I doubt we’ll run into too many Library of Congress staff there.”
“Perfect. I’ll confirm with Meg, but let’s plan on meeting there. I appreciate your help.”
Dorian showed me the way out and ten minutes later, I opened the door to our congressional office suite inside the Cannon House Office Building. Our staff assistant greeted me. “Good afternoon, Kit. Patsy said you should check in with her.”
Patsy was the inviolable keeper of the Congresswoman’s schedule. I willingly tussled with a lot of people on Capitol Hill, but not Patsy. She managed to keep a thousand balls in the air and had the complete confidence of our boss.
I breezed through our office suite and dropped my purse on the desk chair inside my tiny office. It was a miracle I had a private office on Capitol Hill; they were rarer than approved legislation in the Senate.
Ten seconds later, I was standing in front of Patsy’s desk, which was situated right outside Maeve Dixon’s office. “I got the message you wanted to see me,” I said.
Patsy scrunched up her round face as she stared at the computer monitor. She was probably trying to figure out how Maeve Dixon could be in two places at once. Such a feat might challenge the laws of physics, but such a trifling complication was no match for Patsy.
She raised her finger in the air. “One moment, Kit.” A few seconds later, she smiled. “Mischief managed.” She turned to face me and sighed.
“Everything okay, Patsy?” I asked.
“I’m fine, Kit. But I heard you managed to get yourself embroiled in another murder. How is that possible?”
“I suppose it is unusual. I seem to find myself in the right place at the right time, I guess.”
Patsy shifted in her chair. “You mean the wrong place at the wrong time, Kit.”
I crossed my arms across my chest. “Depends on your perspective, I suppose.”
Patsy ran her fingers through her dyed blonde hair. “I give up. If you like solving murders, then go for it. You certainly work for the right boss.” She pointed toward Maeve’s office. “She’d like to speak with you about what happened at the Library of Congress this morning.”
I gulped. “Is she upset?” Patsy could usually interpret my boss’s moods with considerable accuracy.
Patsy shook her head. “Don’t think so. You can go on in now. She has a meeting in twenty minutes so keep it brief.”
I gave Patsy a two-fingered salute and knocked lightly on the door.
Maeve’s voice echoed from the rear of her office. “Come in, Kit.” I walked inside and found my boss hunched over her computer.
“Are you working on something?” I usually helped with Maeve’s big speeches. I didn’t know about anything in the works.
“No,” she said, with a pained gaze. “The news has broken about the theft and murder at the Library of Congress.”
“Did the media reports say anything about a suspect?” I asked, half-hoping that Sergeant O’Halloran had gotten lucky and found a piece of incriminating physical evidence at the crime scene that enabled him to make a swift arrest. As much as I enjoyed solving murders and bringing guilty parties to justice, Doug would remain under a cloud of suspicion until the real perpetrator was apprehended. I’d gladly trade in my usual sleuthing for a swift resolution of this mystery.
Much to my chagrin, Maeve shook her head slowly. “Afraid not, Kit.”
“I met with Miriam Dunlap this afternoon and I’m scheduled to speak with her chief of staff early this evening,” I said. “The pool of suspects is limited. Dunlap said only those in attendance at last night’s preview event knew whose fingerprints would open the safe.”
My boss blinked rapidly. “That’s good news, I suppose.” With a pained expression on her face, Maeve rubbed the back of her neck.
“Ma’am, is something wrong?” Dixon was usually as cool as a cucumber. Her experience as a combat veteran kept her calm and collected as a politician.
Dixon inhaled deeply. “The stakes have changed, Kit. I’m the chair of the committee responsible for the Library of Congress.” Her eyes shifted around the office. “And the Capitol Hill police force.”
“Unlike the other crimes that have been committed in the past, this one falls directly under your watch.” I’d been around enough members of Congress to understand what they believed was important.
“Precisely. The theft of the contents of Abraham Lincoln’s pockets make it a hundred times worse.” She drummed her fingers on the desk.
“No one can blame you for that fiasco,” I said evenly.
“Not blamed for it,” she said. “But they can criticize me if this case lingers or goes unsolved.”
I couldn’t disagree with Maeve. She’d welcomed the opportunity to become a committee chair. Now she was caught in the crosshairs of one of the most notorious heists in American history.
“I’ll start speaking with suspects tomorrow. Hopefully the Librarian’s chief will shed light on potential motives.”
“Motives?” asked Dixon. “That’s one part of this mystery you don’t have to solve, Kit. The murderer wanted to steal the treasures inside that safe. Gaffney was nothing other than a convenient set of fingerprints for him.” Then she added abruptly, “Or her.”
“I suppose so,” I said slowly. “I still think it’s important to understand what makes these suspects tick. Why steal a national treasure now? And why the contents of Lincoln’s pockets?”
Maeve waved her right hand absently in the air. “I shouldn’t be telling you how to investigate. After all, you’re the one with the experience in these situations. But remember that time is of the essence. Every day that goes by that we don’t bring those precious items home, I wither on the proverbial political vine.”
It was a bit dramatic. To say nothing of the fact that a man was killed and finding his murderer might be the number one reason for cracking the case. For the zillionth time, I wondered if politics was really the right business for me. My boss certainly wanted to serve the United States and help people, but self-preservation was the name of the game.
“I’ll check in with Sergeant O’Halloran and see if there are any updates,” I said. “And I’ll reinforce how important the investigation is to you.”
Maeve smiled. It wasn’t genuine, but more of a forced grin. She usually made this type of face when she was trying to act politely in front
of constituents who she disagreed with.
“Thank you, Kit.” She turned back to her computer. I understood Maeve Dixon’s body language. I’d been dismissed.
I trotted back to my bijou office. Piles of paperwork had already grown into a chain of mountains on my desk. I stacked everything in a corner and vowed not to worry about it until the larceny at the Library had been solved. Doug’s future rested on it, and furthermore, I wasn’t about to let Maeve’s political future wither on any vine. I’d worked too hard to make sure she had a second act in Congress. Even more importantly, I wasn’t going to stand by quietly while a greedy murderer robbed the United States of invaluable historical artifacts.
I grabbed my desk phone and dialed Sergeant O’Halloran’s extension, which I’d memorized. It was a long shot he’d be at his desk, and sure enough, he wasn’t. Instead of leaving a message, I picked up my iPhone and texted him to call me.
I was about to turn on my computer when Meg popped into my office. “Any luck with the Librarian of Congress?”
I hit my forehead. “Duh, I forgot to text you. Can you join me for drinks with her chief of staff?”
“Dorian Jones?” Her eyes twinkled. “Of course. He’s just my type.”
“And what type would that be, Meg?” I teased.
“Attractive, successful, and single,” she said.
“Spoken just like a woman who has not one, but two suitors.”
“There’s no harm in making it three.” Meg licked her lips.
“Actually, there might be,” I said.
Meg wrinkled her forehead. “What do you mean?”
I suppressed a sigh. “Last night, you were lamenting that Trevor and Clay wanted you to decide between the two of them. I don’t think they’d appreciate adding a third guy to the mix.”
Meg narrowed her eyes. “Because it would reduce their odds?”
“Yes, Meg,” I said, not hiding the exasperation in my voice. “And they might also view you as a lost cause if you start dating another guy. It sends the wrong signal.”
Meg twirled a lock of her blonde bob. “Doesn’t it make me appear more desirable if another guy wants to date me?”
I stood up and placed my hands on Meg’s shoulders. “You’re missing the point. It will make both Trevor and Clay think you aren’t serious about either of them. They might move on…” I paused before finishing the sentence. “To greener pastures.”
Before Meg could answer, my cell phone vibrated. Saved by the bell. Or, more accurately, the buzz. It was Sergeant O’Halloran.
“Sorry, I have to take this. I’ll swing by your desk in fifteen minutes for happy hour.”
Meg nodded and skedaddled out of my office. Not only did Meg help solve murders, she also held down the fort when I got sidetracked on a big mystery. Even though she could be a little dense when it came to men, she was a loyal best friend and a terrific congressional staffer.
“Sergeant O’Halloran,” I bellowed into my phone. “Thanks for getting back to me.”
“Ms. Marshall, I was at the crime scene this morning and heard what your boss and the Librarian of Congress said. I was instructed to work with you.” From the sound of his reply, he was likely saying these words through clenched teeth.
“I’ll make sure it’s not too much of a burden,” I said, somewhat ironically. Without my help, you might still be looking for several killers on Capitol Hill.
The other end of the line was silent, except for the muted sound of chewing. No doubt it was time for the Sergeant’s afternoon snack. He never let a difficult case get in the way of his eating regimen.
I used the pause to ask an important question. “Do you have time of death established for Gustav Gaffney?”
After a gurgle that I assumed was a big swallow, O’Halloran cleared his throat. “Yes, we do.”
“What is the approximate time of death, Sergeant?” If the whole investigation progressed as slowly as this conversation, I’d better tell my boss and Miriam Dunlap to settle in for the long haul.
“Gaffney was killed the night before,” he said. “Probably not too long after your cozy soirée wrapped up.”
That meant Doug wasn’t the obvious suspect, given that he’d discovered the body the following morning. Unfortunately, it still left him as a potential suspect, since he was working in his office alone when the murder likely occurred.
“And the security cameras didn’t pick anything up?”
“There’s no camera inside the office itself,” he said. “The cameras outside in the Great Hall are focused on the most valuable displayed items, like the Gutenberg Bible and the Buell map. There’s no way to monitor every nook and cranny of that building.” The fifteenth century Gutenberg was one of only three perfect printed vellum copies known in the world, and the 1784 Buell wall map was the first cartographic representation of the independent United States. It made sense the cameras would be trained on them.
“So, our murderer knew how to elude the cameras?” I asked.
“You could draw that conclusion,” said O’Halloran. “Any professional thief would have staked the place out numerous times beforehand. That doesn’t mean it was an inside job.”
“How would an outsider know that Gaffney would be alone with the contents of Lincoln’s pockets, though? Only the people who knew his habits were aware that he liked to work late at night inside the Librarian’s ceremonial office,” I pressed. “Also, why would a thief assume his prints would open the safe? Or even know the safe could be opened through biometrics?” My voice went up a few decibels at the end of my speech.
“Ms. Marshall, please refrain from shouting at me. I don’t disagree with your analysis. But I need to make sure we’re covering all the bases here.”
“I understand,” I said. “Where do you plan to focus your attention?”
O’Halloran hesitated. “I’ll need to look closely at those individuals who attended last night’s event who don’t have an alibi for the hour or two after it ended.”
“That includes Doug,” I said softly, almost to myself.
“Yes, it does” said O’ Halloran. “I can’t get into those details concerning your husband. You’ve done enough detective work with the police to understand. It’s best you let us complete our investigation. If you come across any leads, let us know.”
O’Halloran might come off as gruff at times, but he was a good cop. My gut told me he believed Doug was innocent, but he couldn’t leave any stone unturned. I needed to keep pressing to find the killer to make sure Doug’s reputation didn’t suffer irreparable damage.
“What about Henry Chang?” I asked. “Are you going to investigate him?”
“The congressman?” O’Halloran snickered. “That’s tricky, Ms. Marshall.”
It was politically sensitive, but I had an idea. “I can try that angle.”
“Good luck,” said O’Halloran. “Don’t get fired. In your line of business, accusing a congressman of murder and grand larceny isn’t exactly a recipe for career advancement.”
“I know what I’m doing,” I said. “Or at least I think I know.”
“Let’s hope it’s the former rather than the latter, Ms. Marshall.”
Touché.
Chapter Seven
W
Fifteen minutes later, Meg and I were walking due east on Pennsylvania Avenue. Given the chill in the air, we weren’t exactly taking an early evening stroll. Meg’s teeth chattered. “Why do we need to meet Dorian four blocks away? Sonoma is a perfectly good wine bar and it’s much closer.”
“Since he’s our guest, I asked him for a recommendation. He wanted to meet at a place where Library of Congress staff don’t hang out.” I pulled my wool scarf tighter around my neck.
“I’ll need to have a drink just to warm up,” said Meg.
“It might help if you dressed more appropriately
for the weather.” Meg’s thin red vinyl jacket was better for a crisp autumn day rather than the February cold.
Meg pouted. “This jacket matched my outfit. How was I supposed to know I’d be battling the Arctic tundra for happy hour?”
“Not to change the subject, but let’s make sure we use our time with Dorian wisely. The Librarian felt he might be able to give us more details about the staff who are suspects.”
“I agree,” she said. “I like working with him on committee business. He seems like a straight shooter.”
“He’s out of the running as a suspect,” I said. “I’m sure he knew which fingerprints opened the safe, but at the time of the murder, he was with the Librarian of Congress at another event across town.”
“Thank goodness. I’d hate to have to put a hottie like him in prison. He wouldn’t look good in stripes.” Meg giggled as she wiped her runny nose with a tissue.
“Let’s not use that approach tonight,” I said. “After all, we do represent the chairwoman who has oversight over the Library of Congress.”
Meg pursed her lips. “What do you mean by that approach, Kit?”
“You know,” I said. “The approach we often use when we interrogate men involved in murder investigations. Where you pretend to be interested in them so they tell us juicy information.”
“So that’s why you bring me along for these chats?” Meg’s steely blue eyes bore into me.
“Meg, don’t be ridiculous. You know it’s effective and you do it on purpose,” I said firmly. “Don’t deny it.”
We’d reached the entrance to Barrel. Meg reached into her purse to pull out her compact and apply a new coat of lipstick. She stopped before opening the compact. “I’m not going to bother,” she said. “After all, we’re not using that approach, right?”
Meg grabbed the door and walked inside, her blonde bob flouncing in the wind. These minor outbursts no longer bothered me. Meg had literally been a high school drama queen. I’d often thought she’d missed her true calling and instead of working on Capitol Hill, she should have pursued an acting career. She would have been a star on the soap opera circuit, for sure.
Larceny at the Library Page 8