Larceny at the Library

by Colleen Shogan

  I could feel Vivian’s breath against my cheek, which was a little too close for comfort. I leaned backwards. “I’m not, Mrs. Langsford. Believe me.”

  “Smart girl,” said Vivian. “You’ll have to excuse me. I need to find this reception. I used to think it was busy being a Senator’s wife. But now that I’ve taken on a more philanthropic role, it’s simply maddening.”

  Somehow, I doubted Vivian’s life was too strenuous. “It was nice seeing you again. I’m really glad to know you’re doing well.”

  Vivian grinned, exposing her perfectly capped white teeth. Despite the fake, superficial veneer she often exuded, her smile was genuine. She leaned across and gently grabbed my arm. “Every favor deserves a return. You once were discrete when confronted with an indiscretion of mine.” She paused and looked me directly in the eye. “Pay attention to Lea Rutherford and watch your back, Ms. Marshall.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  W

  After rushing back to Capitol Hill and collecting Clarence, I pulled up in front of the Library’s Jefferson Building in our Prius. Doug was waiting for us in front of Neptune’s Fountain, but I could have seen the anguish on his face a mile away.

  “We’re going to be late for our appointment with Jonathan,” he said as he climbed into the car. “And we can’t stay too long because I need to be back here for the congressional event this afternoon.”

  “As do I, Doug. I promised the Librarian of Congress I’d attend with Maeve Dixon.” I reached over and patted his hand as I made the turn onto the I-395 South freeway. “Don’t worry. If we really like the house, I’m sure we can go back to see it again this weekend.”

  “It will probably have ten offers by then,” grumbled Doug.

  “Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed.” Perhaps he’d lighten up once Jonathan showed him this supposed dream house in Falls Church.

  “There’s a lot going on with the event being rescheduled. Plus, I’m still a suspect in Gustav’s death.” He shook his head. “I can’t help but think that people are whispering about me when I walk into a room.”

  “You’re likely imagining things, Doug. Even if you’re not, once the killer is caught, everything will go back to normal.” Then I caught myself. Doug needed an empathetic voice. “But I know this is a really difficult time.”

  “Any new leads?” Doug asked, gently biting his lip.

  “Not much.” I gripped the steering wheel tightly. “I ran into Vivian Langsford this morning after meeting briefly with Miriam Dunlap at Ford’s Theatre. She advised that I pay attention to Lea Rutherford and not underestimate her.”

  Doug perked up. “That sounds like a potential lead. Did Vivian explain why?”

  “I didn’t have time to interrogate her about it. But if I had to guess, I think Vivian wanted to make sure I was listening to what Rutherford had told me.”

  Doug slumped back in his seat. “Vivian doesn’t think Lea Rutherford is the murderer and thief?”

  “I’m not sure,” I said slowly. “But if Vivian thinks I should pay attention to what Rutherford has to say, I’ll be sure to follow her advice.”

  Doug had been tracking our progress on a GPS app. “Take this exit and make a left.”

  I did as he instructed and followed his verbal directions until we pulled up in front of a ranch-style house on a quiet cul-de-sac. Sure enough, our realtor Jonathan was waiting for us in the driveway. I mentally braced myself for the hard sell that was sure to follow.

  We parked the car and the three of us walked to meet Jonathan, who was waving his hands enthusiastically. “Doug and Kit, over here!” It wasn’t really possible to miss him, but I guess Jonathan didn’t want to take any chances.

  “It’s been ages since I saw you!” he exclaimed. “And look, you even brought your pup so he could check out the backyard. This is a doggie friendly house, for sure!”

  Doug pumped Jonathan’s hand up and down. “Thanks for showing it to us on short notice. We only have about twenty minutes, so if you can get us inside quickly, that would be great.”

  “Alrighty, then!” said Jonathan. “Follow me to the backyard, which is where we can start.”

  The rear of the property was enclosed by a wooden fence. Jonathan opened the gated entry door, and we stepped into a sizable yard with a patio near the corner. Once we were safely inside, I unclipped Clarence’s leash, and he charged across the lawn, undoubtedly chasing an innocent, unsuspecting squirrel.

  “It looks like he’s ready to move right in,” said Jonathan, a wide smile plastered across his face.

  “Unfortunately, Clarence hasn’t figured out how to negotiate a loan for a mortgage yet,” I said. “So, it’s not really his decision.”

  Jonathan stared at me for a few seconds and then burst into laughter. “You are so funny, Kit. I forgot how I enjoy your wit and humor. Come on, follow me around to the front and we can see the inside of the house.”

  As we walked toward the gate, Doug turned around and gave me the high sign. I’d better behave. After all, Doug was under a lot of stress lately and he was really looking forward to seeing this house. I checked out the surroundings as Jonathan finagled with the lockbox outside the front door. It seemed nice enough, with several cars parked alongside the tree-lined street. Front yards were littered with bicycles, landscaped flower gardens, and Adirondack chairs. Of course, there was no restaurant, store, or watering hole in sight. This was the heart of suburbia and there was nothing but sidewalks and houses for as far as the eye could see. Was this reality my immediate future? I swallowed hard and followed Jonathan and Doug inside the house.

  A small but well adorned dining room with perfectly restored hardwood floors led us into the kitchen. Jonathan led the way. “Now, if I remember correctly, the two of you don’t cook at home very often, but that might change if you buy this house!” He stepped aside to reveal a completely remodeled kitchen, complete with cobalt blue granite countertops, stainless steel appliances, and a country-style island.

  “It is beautiful,” I said. “But I’m afraid you’re right. Other than to make coffee from our beloved espresso machine, I confess that I don’t spend too much time in the kitchen.”

  “Not a problem,” said Jonathan. “Let’s go see the master bedroom. Even if you don’t cook, I know you have to sleep!” He laughed at his own joke and charged down the hallway.

  The main bedroom had been renovated and it showed. New paint, designer closets, and an attached “his and her” bathroom did strike me as enticing. If suburban living was less than thrilling, at least it could be done in comfort and style. French doors in the corner opened onto a small landing that was attached to the outdoor patio.

  “Can I open the door?” I asked.

  Delighted that I showed more than feigned interest, Jonathan’s eyes brightened. “Of course, Kit. Mi casa es su casa.” This wasn’t really his house, but I kept my mouth shut.

  I opened the door and stepped outside. This February had been rather mild. In a few months, spring would arrive and we’d have two or three weeks of pleasant weather before the onslaught of humidity and heat. Clarence would undoubtedly enjoy a backyard like this, especially as the warm days approached.

  I scanned the expanse of the outdoor area and didn’t see Clarence. He probably had investigated the line of bushes in the far corner of the yard and was busy digging a massive hole. Although he was a beagle rescue, he wasn’t a purebred. I had a distinct feeling that Clarence had a grandparent who had been a terrier.

  “Clarence! If you’re digging over there, I’m going to be really angry.”

  I walked across the yard and looked between the bushes. Clarence wasn’t there. I scanned left and right. No sign of our dog.

  “Doug!” I screamed. “Clarence is gone!”

  Had he somehow breached the gate? No such luck. It was latched securely. The fencing was over six feet. Clare
nce was spry, but no way could he jump that high.

  Doug emerged from the house and joined me. “I’m sure he’s here, Kit. He’s just hiding.”

  I turned around. “Where? I already looked behind the bushes.”

  Doug spotted a small shed in the opposite corner. “He’s probably inside there.” He marched over to the shed and whipped open the door. After ten seconds, he emerged from the enclosed structure.

  “Not there,” he said quietly.

  Jonathan came outside. “Is your doggie playing games?”

  “I don’t think so. He’s not here, and I have no idea where he could have gone.” I didn’t bother to hide the frantic sound of my voice. I’d never been separated from Clarence. If he’d escaped, he would get lost in a strange neighborhood.

  “Kit and Doug, you’d better take a look at this,” said Jonathan, who was standing next to the patio table. His face had drained of all color.

  We both hustled over to Jonathan, who now had a white unlined piece of paper in his hand. The scrawled handwriting delivered an ominous message: “IF YOU WANT TO SEE YOUR DOG AGAIN, BACK OFF!”

  Chapter Sixteen

  W

  My heart sank like an anchor. I grabbed Doug’s arm to steady myself. While I’d never fainted before, I felt as though I was on the precipice. Doug must have sensed my body sway. He grabbed me just before I hit the ground.

  Luckily, I only wavered for a moment. Doug helped me stand straight again. “Jonathan, can you get Kit a glass of water from the kitchen?” Our realtor scampered off, likely relieved he could escape the tense situation.

  “Are you okay, Kit?” Doug asked in a quaking voice.

  I grabbed a patio chair to steady myself and sat down. “I think so. I can’t believe Clarence has been taken.”

  “Whomever did this wants to intimidate you,” he said. “You can stop pursuing this case and make it known to everyone involved. Then the guilty person will have no need to keep him.”

  Doug was a professor and always thought logically. The problem was that we were dealing with someone who was clearly deranged. “I don’t know if a reasonable approach like that will get us Clarence back,” I said.

  Jonathan approached with the glass of water. “I’m only your realtor and maybe you don’t want to answer a personal question. But I can’t help wondering. Do you guys have mortal enemies or something?”

  Doug started to answer. “It’s nothing like that. Kit is investigating a murder and theft at the Library of Congress. . .”

  Jonathan cut him off. “Did you say murder?”

  “Yes,” said Doug slowly. “Kit has solved several murders in the recent past. She’s quite adept at it.”

  Jonathan put up his hand. “Listen, I really like you both. But I had no idea you were involved with killers, thieves, and dognappers.”

  “It’s not like they’re our friends, Jonathan,” said Doug. “The Librarian of Congress asked Kit to help. . .”

  “Enough said,” said Jonathan. “I’ve read my share of Dan Brown. I know what’s going on. Missing artifacts, the involvement of government officials, and dead bodies.” He ticked each off with his finger. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to think about our professional relationship going forward. I simply cannot get caught up in your craziness.” He motioned for us to follow him to the backyard gate.

  “Are you kicking us out?” I asked. “After our dog was stolen from the house you want to sell us?”

  “Quite frankly, nothing like this has ever happened to me before. They don’t go over these scenarios when you take the exam for the realtor license. I don’t know what to do when a crime occurs during a showing.” He stood by the gate with his hands on his hips.

  Doug grabbed the note from the patio table with one hand and took my arm with the other. “Let’s go, Kit. There’s no clues here about Clarence’s whereabouts.”

  Jonathan slammed the fence door behind us. Doug and I stood outside the house on the sidewalk and looked at each other.

  “What should I do?” I asked in small voice. The person who had taken Clarence had already brutally killed one person. Clarence’s welfare wouldn’t be a priority. His life was in danger.

  “Call Sergeant O’Halloran,” said Doug. “This is out of his jurisdiction, but let’s find out if he’s got any more information about solving these crimes. In the meantime, I’ll call the local authorities to report Clarence as missing. You never know. The person who stole him might turn him loose unexpectedly.”

  I pulled out my phone and dialed O’Halloran while Doug made his call. Luckily, he picked up after the first ring.

  “Sergeant, this is Kit Marshall.” I tried to keep my voice steady. “I have disturbing news. Our dog Clarence has been taken.” I proceeded to explain the circumstances and the note that was left at the scene.

  O’Halloran didn’t respond right away. I heard him take a deep breath. “Ms. Marshall, I am very sorry. This isn’t in my jurisdiction, but if you send me a photo of your dog, I will alert all Capitol police about it, in case the culprit decides to bring him in the vicinity.”

  “I’ll do that, Sergeant,” I said. “This means, of course, that Gustav’s killer isn’t an antiquities thief who decided to steal the contents of Lincoln’s pockets. It’s an insider.” I took a deep breath. “Unless you think my husband stole our dog, it also eliminates him from the suspect list.”

  “Just as you alleged all along, Ms. Marshall,” said the former detective. “The Library of Congress has that big congressional event scheduled for later today. I’m going to make sure we have enough officers there to watch everyone.”

  “Doug is going to deal with the local police. But I’m headed back to Capitol Hill soon. Were you able to check on Congressman Chang’s alibi?” I asked.

  “As a matter of fact, I did. Security cameras caught Chang walking into his office at exactly the time he claimed,” said O’Halloran. “I grabbed a still image from the video feed with the time stamp. I’ll email it to you.”

  “When did he leave his office?”

  “We checked that, too,” he said. “I thought he might have tried to establish an alibi before circling back to the Library of Congress to commit the crimes. But he stayed late in the office, just as he claimed. Until well after midnight, which would have been after the murder, according to the medical examiner.”

  So much for trying to pin this on Chang, unless he had some sort of secret tunnel from his office to the Library of Congress. Given his obsession with historical secrets, I couldn’t completely discount the possibility. Maybe we were stuck in a bad Dan Brown novel.

  I thanked O’Halloran again before ending the call. I consulted my phone, which had hundreds of pictures of Clarence. I emailed three of the most recent photos to the police sergeant so he could distribute them. I choked back tears as I looked at Clarence’s adorable beagle face with his big, sheepish eyes. My stomach lurched at the thought of Clarence in the hands of a cold-blooded killer.

  O’Halloran’s picture of Chang had appeared in my email inbox. I clicked on the picture to make sure it was indeed Chang in the image. The black and white photo was grainy, but it was clearly the congressman’s profile. I immediately recognized the overcoat he’d been wearing today at Ford’s Theatre. Unless he had a certified doppelgänger out there, Chang had a tight alibi for the crimes. Nonetheless, something bugged me about the photograph, but I couldn’t put my finger on it.

  Doug had gotten off the phone and put his arm around me. “Don’t worry, Kit. We’ll get Clarence back. The Falls Church police are coming to take a statement. I can handle it.”

  “Won’t you be late for the afternoon event?” I asked.

  “It’s fine,” said Doug. “Once I’ve spoken with the police, I’ll take an Uber back to the Library of Congress. Why don’t you go return to the Hill and see if you can figure out who might have don
e this?”

  I didn’t like the idea of splitting up from Doug since quite frankly, I felt like I might fall apart at any given moment. Short of a miracle, there was no doubt I needed to solve this mystery before Clarence was gone too long. My dog’s safety depended on it.

  “Okay. I’ll head back and try to sort this out,” I said. “The good news is that the police won’t suspect you anymore.”

  Doug must have noticed the quiver in my voice. He hugged me tight. “Kit, I promise I’ll do everything I can to find Clarence. But you need to be careful, too. The killer took him so you’d back off.” He waved the note around. “Don’t become the next victim.”

  I grabbed the keys from Doug and jumped inside the Prius. With light midday traffic, I made it back to Capitol Hill in twenty minutes. I thought about checking in at the office but scrapped the idea. Maeve Dixon would need to hold down the fort herself today. Politics was important, but nowhere near as precious to me as bringing Clarence home.

  After parking the car in the House of Representatives garage, I hustled through security and immediately proceeded to the underground tunnel system that connected the House office buildings with the Library of Congress. As I walked through the hallways, I thought about my next move. Who could I speak with who might be able to help? I decided to start with Dorian, the Librarian’s chief of staff. Hopefully he’d be back from Ford’s Theatre and could point me in the right direction.

  The receptionist inside the Librarian’s suite confirmed that Dorian had returned from this morning’s event. A moment later, he emerged from his office.

  “Kit, I didn’t expect to see you again until the congressional event later this afternoon,” he said.

  I quickly explained what had happened to Clarence. He removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes.

  “I can’t believe this,” he said. “This points to someone on the inside.”

  “I’m afraid so. Either someone who works here or is closely affiliated with the institution.”

  “The Librarian of Congress is not going to like this news,” he said solemnly. “But I will be sure to tell her as soon as she’s back in the office.” He looked nervously at his watch. “I need to speak with Joe Malden.”