Larceny at the Library

by Colleen Shogan

  “What’s going on?” I hated to be nosy, but there was a lot on the line. The time for being polite had flown out the window when Clarence disappeared.

  Dorian started to answer but was interrupted by the front office assistant. “Excuse me. Lea Rutherford is on the line. She needs to speak with you. Now.”

  Dorian rolled his eyes. “I don’t know what else can go wrong today.” He turned to me. “I’ll be right back after I take this call.” He disappeared into the rear of the office suite.

  I grabbed my phone out of my purse. Sergeant O’Halloran had received my photos of Clarence and had dispatched them to all police units on the Hill. I hadn’t heard from Doug. I hoped that meant the local police were proving helpful. I realized I hadn’t let Meg know about today’s developments. For some reason, I couldn’t bring myself to text her about Clarence’s disappearance. There were some things that just had to be communicated in person. My mind drifted back to the photograph of Congressman Chang. Something bothered me about it, yet I couldn’t figure out what it might be. I decided to forward the image to Meg with a note asking her if she had any thoughts about it.

  Just as I finished sending the email, Dorian reappeared. “Kit, can you join me in my office? There’s something I need to talk to you about.”

  I followed Dorian back to his office, which wasn’t much bigger than mine. I squeezed into a chair opposite his desk. “Lea Rutherford was trying to track you down.”

  “Me?” I tapped my finger to my chest. “Why?”

  “She said that the two of you talked about Gustav Gaffney’s work at the D.C. Public Library yesterday.”

  “We did,” I said. “Lea’s husband was a big donor to D-C-P-L so she had some background information on Gaffney and Jackson. It wasn’t too revealing, as I recall.”

  “She must have decided to investigate the history,” said Dorian. “She called because she wanted me to tell you that Janice Jackson and Gustav Gaffney did work at the D-C-P-L together. Apparently, they were both in senior positions during her husband’s tenure as chairman.”

  “There’s probably a lot of people here who worked together previously,” I said. “I’m not sure why it’s important she confirmed that piece of information.” I tapped my fingers on the desk.

  “It’s important because Gaffney was Janice’s boss, and he got her fired,” said Dorian. “Lea remembered there was tension between them, but she wasn’t sure what the story was. She went back through her husband’s files, and sure enough, there was a record of Gustav’s personnel action.”

  I sat back in the chair and rubbed my chin. “That is interesting. The problem is that Janice Jackson has an alibi for the murder. She’s on the Library of Congress security cameras, headed to the tunnels so she could meet with a congressional staffer. Sergeant O’Halloran verified it for me.”

  “Ah,” said Dorian. “Well, it was good of Lea to follow up, I guess.”

  “Before you were interrupted with the phone call, you were going to tell me about Joe Malden. You said you needed to see him. Is something the matter?”

  Dorian sagged into his chair. “We have another problem. Joe’s bat has gone missing.”

  “His bat?” I narrowed my eyes.

  “You know, his baseball bat.” Dorian waved his arms around like he was taking a major league swing. “The famous Red Sox outfielder Mookie Betts signed it.”

  I nodded. “He showed it to me when I visited him a few days ago in his office. I remember he said he kept it in the office because it made him happy.”

  Dorian frowned. “Not anymore. It’s gone.” He sighed heavily. “It makes me think we have a serious thief inside the Library of Congress. First, it was Abraham Lincoln artifacts. Now it’s valuable sports memorabilia.”

  “At least Joe wasn’t hurt,” I said. “Better than what happened to poor Gustav.”

  Dorian stood up. “I’d better talk to him about it. Would you like to join me?”

  Quite frankly, I didn’t have any other leads. “Sure. Maybe Joe has thought of something about the murder.”

  Dorian motioned for me to lead the way. Two minutes later, we arrived at Joe’s office. He was sitting at his desk, staring into space.

  Dorian waved his hands in front of Joe’s face. “Are you awake?”

  Joe snapped to attention. “Oh, it’s you.” He turned his head and spotted me behind Dorian. His face fell. “And you.”

  “I wanted to talk to you about your baseball bat,” said Dorian. “What happened?”

  “Beats me,” said Joe. “It was sitting here in my office this morning. I went to a meeting and when I got back to my desk, it was gone.”

  “Who knew you had the bat here?” I asked.

  He rubbed his eyes. “Everyone. I showed it off to anyone who visited me.”

  “Gordon Endicott,” I muttered. “Did he ever come to your office?”

  “Yes, he was here at some time or the other,” he said.

  “If the two crimes are related, then maybe the thief tried to sell the Lincoln items but wasn’t successful. If the motive is money, then he might be motivated to steal something else valuable. Your bat was an easy mark,” I said.

  “Not a bad theory,” said Dorian. “It would certainly explain why one theft led to the other.”

  Joe looked pointedly at Dorian. “Maybe you should pay Endicott a visit. I really want my bat back. If he stole it, I doubt he had an opportunity to smuggle it out of the building yet.”

  “I shouldn’t really accuse anyone” Dorian fidgeted with his tie.

  “You could easily talk with him.” Joe didn’t bother to hide the desperation in his voice. “If I show up at his office, it’s suspicious. But you’re the chief of staff. Can’t you speak with anyone who works here?”

  Dorian blinked rapidly. “I suppose so I guess I could ask him if everything is in order for the congressional event later today.”

  Joe’s face brightened. “Perfect.” He got up from behind his desk and grabbed his coat off the hanger. “I think I need a cup of coffee.”

  I felt badly that Joe’s bat was stolen, but he was much luckier than me. A baseball bat could be replaced. Clarence could not.

  “By the way, were you here at the Library of Congress all day?” I asked.

  “Of course, I was,” said Joe. “Where else would I be? Anyone can tell you I didn’t leave this building.”

  “You weren’t the only person to have something stolen.” I briefly told him about Clarence and studied his face. His eyes bulged as I spoke. He was either genuinely surprised about Clarence’s dognapping or a very convincing liar.

  “I’m sorry to hear this news,” he said in a gentle tone. “I’ve been completely out of sorts about my baseball bat. What you’ve lost is much more precious.”

  “Thank you,” I said. “You can understand why we need to figure out who killed Gustav. It’s the only way we can have Clarence returned to us.”

  Dorian spoke up. “Lea Rutherford called me. Do you know where she is?”

  I looked directly at Dorian, hoping my expression conveyed the gratitude I felt. It was a perfect question to ask.

  “As a matter of fact, I do,” said Joe. “She should be on her jet, headed to the west coast. The Getty has an exhibit opening in March for Women’s History Month. She wanted a preview.”

  Such a specific alibi would be easy enough to verify. I doubted he was lying. After all, it would have been easy for Joe to abscond with his own baseball bat, thus diverting guilt and attention. Something told me that wasn’t the case.

  Joe put his jacket on. “If you don’t have any more questions, I’m going to take that break and grab a cup of coffee. It’s been a long day and we have a lot of important guests this afternoon for the preview.”

  All of a sudden, I felt like a ton of bricks had hit me.

  “Wait a secon
d,” I said.

  Joe turned around and looked and me and Dorian.

  “What? Am I not allowed to have a cup of coffee?” he asked, his eyes narrowed.

  I waved him off. “Where are you going for the coffee?”

  “A block away on Independence Avenue.” He pointed to his window. “It’s winter time, Kit. That’s why I need my coat.”

  “Exactly,” I said. “You are one hundred percent correct, Joe.”

  I grabbed my phone out of my purse and fired off a text message to O’Halloran. Both Joe and Dorian stared at me as I rubbed my temples, waiting for his response.

  “Kit, what’s going on?” asked Dorian.

  “I’m not sure,” I murmured. “But I have a hunch about who killed Gustav.”

  “And it involves my cup of coffee?” asked Joe.

  “No, but I wouldn’t be surprised that if we find the killer, we’ll also find the baseball bat,” I said.

  My phone dinged. Sergeant O’Halloran had responded. I glanced at my phone to see his reply.

  “Dorian, I think we need to head over to the Jefferson Building now,” I said.

  “Why?” he asked.

  “To find out if my intuition is right about who killed Gustav Gaffney and stole the contents of Lincoln’s pockets.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  W

  I didn’t wait for Dorian to ask more questions. Instead, I hustled out of the office and was waiting by the elevator when he caught up.

  “Are you going to tell me what’s going on?” he asked, slightly out breath.

  “I don’t think I should right now,” I said. “If I’m wrong, I wouldn’t want to lessen your opinion of anyone.”

  He followed me into the elevator. I hit the button for the ground floor, which provided access to the Jefferson Building underground tunnel.

  “Can you at least tell me what Joe Malden said that clued you in? One second we were talking about Lea Rutherford’s whereabouts, and before I knew it, you’d run away.”

  “Actually, it has to do with this.” We exited the elevator, and I pointed straight ahead.

  “What?” Dorian followed my gaze. “The Jefferson tunnel?”

  “Not exactly,” I said. “But the tunnel system that connects the Library of Congress with the congressional complex.”

  We were deep inside the labyrinth maze of tunnels when my phone buzzed. Good to know I could get reception underground. It was Doug. He wanted to give me an update about Clarence. I hit the button to make a phone call, but it wouldn’t go through. There was sufficient bandwidth inside the tunnel to send a text, but not enough to connect the call.

  I sighed deeply. We hustled up two flights of steps and emerged inside the Great Hall, which now had a stage and chairs assembled for the congressional event.

  “They already finished the set up for everything,” said Dorian. “The security sweep went through a few hours ago.”

  “My husband wants to talk to me,” I said. “Do you mind if I take this call inside the Members Room? It will be quiet there.”

  Dorian waved me off. “Sure, go ahead. I’m going to speak with our event staff to make sure there are no glitches.” He rubbed his temples. “We need a flawless performance today after the week we’ve had. I’ll meet you back here in ten minutes or so and maybe you can tell me what’s going on.” He shuffled towards an opposite hallway.

  I walked into the alcove and down the hallway to the Members Room. The door was open, so I stepped inside. The beautiful salon had been decorated for a reception, likely scheduled to take place before or after the congressional show-and-tell. I glanced at my phone. Members of Congress wouldn’t be arriving for another hour or so. Two bars were set up at opposite sides of the room, adorned with fancy cocktail and martini glasses. Empty tables awaited the smattering of hors d’oeuvres and tasty edibles that would accompany the libations. Today’s event would be educational and then politicians would be able to unwind after a long week of hearings, votes, and meetings. No wonder the Library of Congress was such a popular place for Congress. It was literally an oasis of knowledge inside a capital city desert of hardscrabble politics, shameless tweets, and perennial backbiting.

  I punched Doug’s number and glanced around the room. Not a soul in sight. It was much better to have this conversation inside a private room rather than the Great Hall where anyone could eavesdrop. I walked to the corner of the Members Room by the fireplace and sat down in an ornate chair. Was everything inside this building built at the turn of the century? The decor certainly seemed like it.

  “Kit, where are you?” I could hear the tension in Doug’s voice.

  “The Jefferson Building. Are you headed here now?” I asked.

  “I am,” he said. “The local police came to the house and I gave them Clarence’s information. They’re not too optimistic, though. People usually call to report a lost dog, not one that has been kidnapped.”

  I sighed. “I doubt Clarence is still in Falls Church. He’s with the murderer.”

  “Are you any closer to figuring out who that is?”

  I told Doug about Joe Malden’s missing bat and the phone call to Dorian from Lea Rutherford.

  “Are you sure this isn’t a ploy by Lea and Joe to cast suspicion elsewhere?” asked Doug.

  “I thought about that possibility, but I don’t think that’s the case. Besides, Lea isn’t in town today, and Joe didn’t leave the office this morning.”

  “Any other info? I should arrive in about twenty minutes.”

  “There was something else.” I told Doug my theory about who may have killed Gustav and stole the contents of Lincoln’s pockets.

  “If that’s the case, Kit, then you’d better get out of there and find Sergeant O’Halloran,” he said. “You shouldn’t waste any time. You don’t want any unfriendly encounters.”

  “Don’t worry. I decided I’m going to tell Dorian about it. I thought there might be a way to spring a trap to see if my hunch is correct, but I’m fresh out of ideas on that front.” I said. “Then we can contact O’Halloran. My number one priority is finding Clarence, after all. I don’t want to waste any more time.”

  “Be careful,” said Doug. “I’ll be there soon.”

  “I know,” I said. “I wouldn’t be here if Clarence’s life wasn’t on the line.”

  “We’ll bring him home,” said my husband softly.

  “I can’t imagine life without him, Doug.” I clicked off the phone and rubbed my eyes. I’d experienced other trying days in my life. Today was amongst the worst. Every time I took a second to breathe, I envisioned Clarence’s pleading eyes, desperately hoping that either me or Doug would rescue him.

  It was time to find Dorian and clue him in on my suspicions. If he had a bright idea, maybe the two of us could chase down my lead and figure out if I was correct.

  I was about to stand up when I heard the slam of a door. I leaned to the left in the high back chair, looking over my shoulder to figure out what happened.

  My stomach lurched. The door to the Members Room was now closed, and Janice Jackson was standing on the other side of it. She was holding a baseball bat in her right hand, and it was pointed directly at me.

  Chapter Eighteen

  W

  “Please, don’t get up on my account,” said Janice. “Although I was fascinated by your conversation.”

  I stood and braced myself. Countless times in my life, I’d been wrong when I jumped to conclusions. As Alanis Morissette professed, isn’t it ironic the one time I put two and two together and got four, I was dealing with a psychopathic killer?

  “Eavesdropping isn’t very polite.” I forced my voice to remain steady.

  Janice walked towards me, holding the bat in her right hand. Now she was tapping the end of it with her left hand, probably quite similar to how Mookie Betts approached th
e plate before slamming the next pitch for a home run. Except Janice Jackson didn’t want to blow the cover off a baseball. Instead, I was the target.

  I moved to left, positioning myself in front of one of the decorated bars. “Don’t be ridiculous. Dorian walked over with me to the Jefferson Building. He’ll call in the cavalry when he figures out I disappeared.”

  “Lies, lies, lies,” said Janice. She tapped the bat. “It’s pathetic, really.”

  I scanned the bar. There had to be a weapon I could grab and use to defend myself against Janice’s attack. To my dismay, all I saw was fancy glassware and a corkscrew. The bottles of wine and liquor were way out of reach. If there were knives to cut the lemons and limes, they were safely stowed behind the countertop.

  “I’m actually telling the truth,” I said in my most sincere voice. “If you kill me, you’re going to prison. Doug is headed this way, too.”

  “I was careful not to contaminate this bat with fingerprints.” Both of her hands were covered with black leather gloves. “It’s cold outside, so it wasn’t hard to mask the evidence. These were inside my coat pocket.”

  “Doug will tell the police what I told him,” I said. “You can’t get away with this.”

  “It’s hearsay,” she said. “And who says that Doug won’t have an unfortunate accident on his way home from work later today? Perhaps he’ll be so distraught over your death, he’ll decide to end his own life. Seems like the perfect ending to a charming love story.” She flashed her teeth, her smile resembling the Joker’s maniacal grin.

  “You’re completely deranged,” I said. “But I suppose your insanity makes sense, given what’s happened. Gustav knew you were unhinged when he worked with you at the D.C. Public Library. He fired you. Somehow, you made your way to the Library of Congress.”

  “Gustav was a close-minded man,” sneered Janice. “He never understood you have to break a few eggs to get what you want in life.” She tapped the bat against her left hand again. “He got rid of me at D.C. Public when he found out I’d arranged modest compensation for a few city council members who had helped us out. Did he think that everything in life comes for free? He was a naive man who never belonged in a position of power, especially in this city.”