Twelve Angry Librarians

by Miranda James

“No, certainly not,” Randi said. “Not after Charlie asked so nicely.”

  “Thank you for the compliment,” I said, “and the permission. I won’t take long.”

  My message to Kanesha was simple. Have potentially useful information. When can we talk?

  I set the phone on the table. I had no idea how long it might be before Kanesha responded. She had to be under tremendous pressure to find the killer, and she might not be in the mood to talk to me. Although, to be fair to myself, I didn’t think I’d ever wasted her time when I had what I considered pertinent information to share.

  The server arrived to hand us dessert menus and to clear away our plates and used utensils. I put my menu aside immediately, tempted though I was. Marisue and Randi, however, did not demur. The server returned to take their dessert orders, and I listened with envy as they each ordered the double-chocolate brownie, served hot with a scoop of cinnamon vanilla ice cream. I felt my resistance weakening as the server glanced at me.

  “Okay, I know I’ll regret this later, but I’ll have one as well.” So much for my willpower. I handed the server my menu, and he departed. I grinned at Randi and Marisue. “It’s all your fault, naturally. I ordered dessert just to be sociable.”

  Marisue laughed. “Think of it as a party, and you have to have something sweet and chocolaty at a party.”

  Randi nodded. “Of course you do.”

  The word party reminded me about the party Marisue and Randi had attended in Gavin’s suite the night before he died. I was still curious why they hadn’t mentioned it to me at dinner last night. I decided to ask them point-blank.

  “Speaking of parties,” I said. “How come you didn’t mention Gavin’s party to me last night? I heard you both were there.”

  They both tensed for a brief moment, then relaxed. Marisue shrugged. “It wasn’t that big a deal, frankly. We only put in an appearance to be polite.”

  Randi wouldn’t meet my gaze when I turned to her. I looked back at Marisue.

  “Why would you even bother to show up? I thought you both loathed Gavin so much you wouldn’t want to be in the same room with him.”

  “Free liquor, what else?” Marisue said. “What the hell difference does it make to you, Charlie, whether we attended that lame party? You know librarians rarely turn down the chance of free food and alcohol.”

  Stung by her tone, I waited a moment before I replied to make sure I didn’t snap back at her. “Because I’m pretty sure whoever killed Gavin and Maxine Muller was at that party. Either of you could have seen something without realizing it that could help Deputy Berry solve the murders.”

  “I doubt it.” Marisue shrugged. “I told you we weren’t there long.”

  Randi shot her a quick glance, then focused again on her lap, from what I could see.

  I didn’t know why, but I had the strongest feeling that Marisue was lying to me. Why? What was she trying to hide?

  TWENTY-TWO

  As I regarded the palpable tension in both Marisue and Randi, I realized that, despite our close friendship back in library school, over the years we had grown further and further apart. So much so that I really didn’t know them as well as I thought I did. When you don’t have regular contact with friends, even the best of friends, you don’t see how their lives have changed, how their opinions may have altered, and what might motivate them to do things you never would have believed they could do.

  Like kill someone.

  I told myself I was overreacting, simply because Marisue and Randi seemed not to want to confide in me. I couldn’t really believe that either one of them, or the two of them in concert, killed two people.

  But I couldn’t be sure.

  In the same way, they couldn’t be sure of me, either. Not because they thought I killed Gavin Fong and Maxine Muller, I reckoned, but because of my involvement in murder investigations over the past several years. They might be leery of telling me anything they didn’t want Kanesha to know.

  If they weren’t implicated in the two murders, however, why should they be reluctant to tell me—and Kanesha, of course—about what happened at the party?

  I realized I had let the silence last too long, and Marisue and Randi now looked even more uncomfortable. I forced a smile.

  My phone buzzed to let me know a text had arrived. “Pardon me.” I picked up the phone to read the message. From Kanesha, as I expected.

  E-mail me please. No time to talk f2f right now.

  The f2f stumped me for a moment, then I realized she meant face-to-face. I texted back Ok, will do as soon as I can, and set the phone back on the table.

  My thoughts had strayed from my earlier panic over the thought of more cyanide running loose. My fear was legitimate, because the killer could have plenty more of the deadly substance, especially if it came from overseas. I wondered just how much you could order.

  If the killer had stolen it from a chemistry lab, however, the chances were that the amount was very small indeed so as not to arouse suspicion. Although, as Stewart told me, a well-run lab would know that even a minute amount had been taken.

  Our server arrived with our desserts, and they turned out to be sinfully delicious. Our mutual enjoyment of the brownies and ice cream seemed to have erased the awkwardness that had sprung up over my questions about the party. I decided to let the subject drop for the moment and waited to see if either Marisue or Randi mentioned it.

  Randi finished hers before Marisue and I were barely halfway through ours. “That was lovely.” She put down her spoon and patted her lips with her napkin. “Although I swear I could eat another one.”

  “Yes, it’s wonderful,” Marisue said. “But one is more than enough. We should probably have split one between us, the brownies are so big.” She pushed her dessert plate away with about a third left.

  Randi eyed it, and Marisue noticed. She picked up her plate and set it in front of Randi. “Go ahead.” She shook her head as Randi quickly finished the remains.

  Marisue turned her gaze to me. “If you must know, Charlie, we went to Gavin’s party because we were afraid not to.”

  I nearly dropped my spoon. “Afraid not to? Why on earth?”

  “Because he could be vindictive if you didn’t do what he wanted.” Randi stacked Marisue’s empty plate on top of her own.

  “What were you afraid he might do to you?” I savored the last bite of brownie while I waited for an answer.

  “Write nasty anonymous letters to our directors, for one thing, telling them who knows what,” Marisue said. “He was capable of anything underhanded. My boss would probably ask me about it, but I don’t seriously think she’d believe the crap Gavin would invent. It would be horribly embarrassing, though, to have to deal with it.”

  “It was easier just to go to the stupid party. Let Gavin see us there and gloat because he knew he’d forced us into it.” Randi picked up her water glass, and I noticed that her hand shook slightly as she raised it to her mouth and drank.

  “All it cost us was a couple hours of our time.” Marisue’s tone was bitter. “And a few ounces of pride.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said, although I knew how inadequate that was. “I have to ask you this, and I hope you’ll forgive me, but had Gavin ever written such a letter about either of you? Or about anyone you know?”

  “Not about me,” Randi said.

  Marisue shook her head. “Me, either, but you already know about Harlan Crais.” She paused for a moment. “You might talk to Maxine’s friend, Sylvia O’Callaghan, though. If she’ll talk to you, that is.”

  Given Ms. O’Callaghan’s reaction to me previously, I figured I’d have a hard time getting close enough to her even to explain what I wanted to talk to her about. Still, I’d have to try.

  I didn’t share these thoughts with Marisue and Randi, however. Instead I asked, “Can you tell me who else was at the party?” I
picked up my phone, selected an app I often used to make notes of things I needed to remember, and waited.

  “I suppose so,” Randi said, though she sounded uncertain. “I guess you’ll find out anyway in the long run.”

  “Besides Randi and me,” Marisue said when Randi failed to continue, “the others were Harlan Crais, that young man with the tattoos, Bob Something-or-Other, Maxine and her friend Sylvia, Cathleen Matera, and Nancy Dunlap.”

  “And Mitch Handler,” Randi added. “He’s so quiet, you probably forgot about him.”

  “Yes, he was there, too,” Marisue said.

  “Anyone else happen to come in while you were there?” I wondered if they remembered Lisa Krause.

  They were both quiet for a moment, then Marisue said, “Yes, Lisa Krause. She wasn’t there for long, though.”

  “Thanks.” I finished typing in the last name and closed the app. Now that I had the list I wondered exactly what I was going to do with it. I wanted to talk to each of them, but how should I go about it?

  I knew that Kanesha wouldn’t appreciate what she might legitimately consider meddling on my part, but I could always use the excuse that the college library was the official host for the meeting. As director of the host library, therefore, I should make an effort to talk to people and get feedback on the conference.

  One of my paternal grandmother’s sayings popped into my head. That’s your tale. I’m sitting on mine. My grandmother, bless her, had little patience for prevarication of any kind. No doubt my conscience dredged up that bit of folk wisdom, but despite that, I would go ahead with my plan if I could.

  Marisue checked her watch. “If we want to make that session on liaison services in small academic libraries, we’d better scoot. It starts in about eight minutes.”

  “Oh, gosh, yes, that’s one I really don’t want to miss a minute of.” Randi grabbed her purse and started digging in it.

  I caught the attention of our server, and he came over to the table. He had the separate checks ready, and he presented each of them. Randi and Marisue charged theirs to their rooms, and I had enough cash to cover mine, along with a healthy tip.

  “I think I’ll come with you,” I said as the three of us rose from the table. “That session sounds interesting.”

  “Fine.” Marisue strode toward the dining room door, and Randi and I followed.

  When we reached the meeting room for the session we wanted to hear, Marisue and Randi found seats near the middle of the room at the end of an aisle. I found an aisle seat several rows back. I had sensed that both women were ready to get away from me for a while, and I decided not to make more of a nuisance of myself than I needed to at the moment.

  I got out my program and turned to the pages where the afternoon sessions were listed. I scanned through to see if there were any others that might interest me. Nothing stood out as particularly exciting, though there was a session on the licensing of electronic resources that was a possibility. After the afternoon sessions ended, there were no further events for the day. Programming resumed tomorrow morning, Sunday, and ran until noon, when there was a final lunch session with another keynote speaker.

  Everyone had a free evening tonight. I wondered idly what they would find to do. Those who chose to venture out of the hotel had a number of excellent choices with nearby restaurants, and there were a couple of bars within walking distance.

  One of the presenters called for attention, and then she began to introduce herself and the other two presenters, another woman and a man. I paid little attention to what she said, because I’d had an idea and was running through the possibilities in my mind.

  The scheme was audacious, and I was nervous even thinking of it. I could imagine what Kanesha would say, but if it helped toward a solution of the double homicides, then most likely she would be willing to overlook the part I planned to play in it. I would have to do some fast work to get everything in place, but I had persons I could count on to make it work.

  The more I thought about the logistics, the more nervous I became. I pulled out my phone, opened the note-taking app, and started tapping away.

  Could I get this together in the next six hours or so? I hoped so, and I would have to count on the fact that Kanesha didn’t know about it in time to stop it.

  I was going to have a party in honor of the memories of Gavin Fong and Maxine Muller, and my guests would be everyone who attended Gavin’s party on Thursday night. I figured getting them all together in one place again could yield interesting results.

  Results that might lead to the arrest of a double murderer.

  TWENTY-THREE

  I was so caught up in my fantasy of playing Hercule Poirot, bringing all the suspects together in the drawing room for the big revelation scene, that I hadn’t really paid attention to one crucial point that finally forced its way to the forefront of my consciousness.

  Well, make that two crucial points.

  First, one of the people in my house would be someone who had already killed twice. Someone who might still have cyanide in his or her possession.

  Second, that person could easily decide to kill again, and who would be the most likely choice to play the victim?

  Hercule Poirot, that’s who—otherwise known as Charlie Harris.

  Sobered by these thoughts, I rapidly lost enthusiasm for my grandiose idea.

  Perhaps if Kanesha and one or two deputies were on hand, that would greatly lessen the chance that the killer would strike again.

  I brightened momentarily at that idea, but I realized Kanesha would never go for it. Too dangerous, she would say, and I couldn’t disagree.

  So much for my big idea. I deleted the notes I’d made on the app and decided I might as well listen to the presentation going on at the front of the midsize room.

  There were about forty people in a room that probably held roughly sixty, I estimated. I checked my program to see who the presenters were and what institutions they represented. I almost dropped my program when I read the names.

  The one man among the three was none other than Mitch Handler, the librarian-writer Marisue and Randi had told me about earlier. Now that I finally focused on the presenters, I realized I had met one of the women two days ago. Cathleen Matera, who was talking now, had come up to me after the incident with Gavin on Thursday. She had offered to serve as a witness for me. The other woman wasn’t anyone I knew.

  Cathleen Matera seemed to be nearing the end of her part of the presentation when I tuned in.

  “So you can see that’s how we make the program function with a group of only five reference librarians. With the help of our colleagues from technical services—four additional librarians, as I stated earlier—we manage to make sure each academic department has a contact person within the library. Now I will turn the program over to my colleague, Mitch Handler.” She closed her presentation on the large screen on the wall and handed a device to Mitch Handler when he reached her. She sat, and Handler busied himself at the podium getting his part of the presentation up on the screen.

  I thought about what Cathleen Matera said moments before about each department at her institution having a contact person in the library. Turn that around, and all the librarians had contacts in various departments at their universities.

  For example, a contact in the chemistry department, where one of the chemicals kept in stock could be cyanide.

  The liaison librarian might even have an undergraduate degree in the sciences, perhaps even chemistry. That was not an unusual scenario. One of the reference librarians at Athena had a bachelor’s degree in biology, for example. Not all librarians were English or history majors, unlike what many people thought.

  I knew Kanesha was having background checks done on people, and I was pretty sure she would be focusing primarily on the guests at Gavin Fong’s Thursday night party. I certainly would.

  I couldn
’t stand it. I had to go do a bit of background checking myself. I wasn’t going to be able to concentrate on any presentations until I knew for myself more about the backgrounds of the party attendees.

  I sent Melba a text to let her know that I would soon be at her place to pick up Diesel. I would have the quiet I needed at home, and I was more than ready to have my feline pal by my side again. I was so used to having him with me all day, and now that I hadn’t seen him in several hours, I wanted to spend time with him. Even though I knew Melba would never let any harm come to him, I still would feel better when I had Diesel in my sight again.

  The main reason I liked sitting at the back of the room for occasions like a conference session was that I could get out quickly and with little fuss. I did so now and made my way downstairs and out to the parking lot behind the hotel in less than two minutes.

  Melba responded to my text with a simple OK. When she opened her front door, Diesel stood a few inches behind her. The moment he saw me he started talking. From the slightly indignant tone, I figured I was being scolded for disappearing for such a long time. He loved Melba, but he didn’t like not knowing where I was for more than a few minutes at a time, usually.

  “I’m sorry, boy, but we’re going home now, okay?” I reached out to pat his head, and to Melba’s amusement and mine, he drew back and gave me a look loaded with disdain. He didn’t turn his back on me, but he made it clear that I wasn’t forgiven yet.

  He did deign to follow me to the car after I thanked Melba for looking after him.

  “You know it’s always a pleasure.” Melba grinned. “He was doing just fine until you texted me and I told him you were coming to get him. That’s when he started acting all haughty and peeved.”

  “I’ll try to make it up to him.” I thanked her again and then got the cat into the car for the drive home.

  All was quiet at the house. Haskell, I knew, was on duty, and Stewart’s car was in the garage. Stewart and Dante were probably on the third floor in their suite, as I had come to call it.