Buried in Books

by Kate Carlisle

  “Thank you.”

  “It’s a little tricky,” he said with a grin, and led the way down the hall toward a bank of elevators. He walked past them to the far wall, where he pushed a door open and pointed. “That’s the freight elevator. There are two basement levels. You want level two. That’s where we store items that have been shipped out here for our guests.”

  “We appreciate your help,” Derek said, and steered me into the elevator.

  “Be careful,” the clerk added. “It can get kind of dark and there’s probably no one working down there at this time of the day.”

  “Okay. Thanks again.”

  I pushed the down elevator button and the doors slid closed. “Here goes nothing.”

  “He made it sound rather uninviting,” Derek muttered.

  “Yeah, not a place I’d want to hang out late at night.” I shook off the spooky chills the clerk’s words had left me with.

  Derek wrapped his arm around my shoulders. “We’ll just consider this an adventure.”

  “Seems our entire life is an adventure.”

  He kissed the top of my head. “Indeed.”

  “I’m afraid she might’ve gone home,” I said, finally voicing what I’d been worried about all morning. “I wouldn’t be surprised to find out that she and Rod had a fight and she just left.”

  “She probably would’ve told you that in a text,” Derek said, which made perfect sense but did nothing to alleviate my concerns.

  Something else occurred to me. “What if Cornelia fired her?”

  “If Sara is doing all this heavy lifting, it wouldn’t be in Cornelia’s best interests to fire her.”

  “I guess not.”

  The elevator came to a shuddering stop and we stepped out into the second-level basement. As promised, it was a dark, massive space with a low ceiling. The air was dank and cold.

  “Is there a light switch somewhere?” I asked.

  Derek found the panel of switches, but none of them worked.

  “That’s not good.” I felt those spooky chills return.

  “No.” His voice was pitched low and I could sense the tension in him.

  “It’s bad enough having to lug around a bunch of heavy boxes,” I said, still trying to be upbeat about this whole situation. “I just hope she wasn’t doing it in the dark.”

  “I’ve never heard of a hotel allowing their guests to work in a space like this without an employee supervising.”

  “It’s odd, isn’t it?” I shook my head. “Not one person working down here?”

  “Perhaps they’re on a break,” he mused.

  “Maybe. They could’ve left the lights on, at least.”

  “Let’s remedy this state of affairs,” Derek suggested, reaching for his cell phone and turning on the flashlight app.

  “Much better,” I said. “But I can’t imagine Sara is working down here with all the lights turned off.”

  “Perhaps the lights were working last night.” He swept his flashlight across the rows before us. “Let’s do our due diligence and check each of those rows.”

  “Sara?” I called. The word echoed in the cavernous space. We started walking, searching up and down each long row. The shelves were stacked to the ceiling with boxes and crates.

  “Sara?” I called again. There was no answer, but I didn’t really expect one. “This place is huge.”

  We checked the next aisle. Nothing.

  “She can’t still be down here. For all we know, she’s upstairs in her hotel room having a cocktail.” I was grasping at straws. “Maybe she’s sick or she pulled a muscle doing all this heavy lifting.”

  “Perhaps.”

  “She still would’ve answered her phone, though.”

  We kept going until we reached the end of the dark, creepy space. That was where I noticed pieces of several large crates scattered on the ground, cracked and broken.

  “What a mess.” I sighed, although it should have been expected, with so many wooden crates sitting on top of each other, filled with heavy books. A deserted forklift was parked in the middle of the aisle.

  I nearly jumped when Derek grabbed my arm. “Darling, I don’t want to switch off this light, so can you check your phone to see if you’re getting a signal?”

  “Sure. Man, this place is like a bunker.” I pulled out my phone and checked my settings. “Believe it or not, I do have a signal. Why do you ask?”

  “You need to call the police.”

  “Right now? Why?”

  “In fact, let’s go upstairs and call from there.” As he spoke, he moved until he was standing in front of me.

  “Why? Hey, you’re blocking the light.”

  He sighed and squeezed my arm gently. “I’m sorry, love, but I’m afraid there’s something disturbing at the end of this row.”

  I leaned over to see beyond him and stared into the darkness. “How can you even see down there?”

  He turned. “I happened to aim the light right . . . there.” His flashlight illuminated a pile of broken crates against the wall at the far end of the row.

  “Oh.” I began to walk toward the pile.

  “Darling, wait. This would be better handled by the police.”

  “But we won’t know what to tell them if we don’t check it out.”

  Derek stayed right behind me, focusing his phone’s bright light on the mess ahead of us. A huge pile of books towered over us as we approached. It had to be at least six feet tall. It looked as though three or four pallets of books had split open and spilled their contents. When I got closer, I hesitated, then stopped completely when I noticed someone’s legs sticking out from under the massive pile of books.

  I recognized those gorgeous boots.

  “Oh no!” I rushed forward. “Oh God, no. It’s Sara.”

  Chapter Seven

  “She might still be alive!” I shouted, grabbing books and chunks of wood and tossing them off to the side. “Sara, hang on!”

  Derek joined me, grabbing handfuls of books at a time and placing them only slightly more gently on the floor nearby.

  “We can still save her,” I whispered, lifting an armload of books and shoving them against the wall. I wanted to use more care with the books, but my priority was saving Sara. Later, I promised myself, I would stack them neatly.

  “She could have been down here all night, love,” he said. “If the full weight of these crates hit her in the head, it would be a devastating blow.”

  “Maybe she managed to block it enough to survive.” I refused to believe we were too late. “Let’s keep going.”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Maybe it’s not even Sara,” I muttered a few minutes later.

  “Perhaps not,” Derek said, his optimistic tone giving me the slightest thread of hope. Still, those boots . . .

  We kept working for another ten minutes until we could finally verify who was buried under all those books.

  “Oh my God,” I whispered. Yes, it was definitely Sara. Still so beautiful. And horribly, completely dead.

  Derek checked for a pulse, but gave up after a long moment. “She’s gone. I’m sorry.”

  My throat closed up and tears began to flow. I sat cross-legged on the cold floor and used my fingers to brush Sara’s hair back. “I shouldn’t touch her, but she would hate having all this hair in her face.”

  Derek touched my shoulder in sympathy as he handed me his handkerchief. “I’m so sorry, love.”

  “Me, too.”

  * * *

  • • •

  An hour later the basement was lit up by a dozen portable spotlights. The air was still dank and cold, though, and I shuddered as I estimated at least a thousand books had been piled on top of poor Sara. Not to mention several heavy wooden crates that had broken apart in the fall.

  “Books
. It’s always books with you,” Inspector Janice Lee murmured next to me as she gazed upon the scene. I had called her immediately because, yes, I did have her number on speed dial. We were friends.

  “With all due respect,” I said. “It’s usually just one book with me.”

  “True. This takes it to new heights.” Shaking her head in dismay, she approached the body and stared at all the books and debris stacked around her. She took at least two dozen photographs from every angle and then turned to her officers. Even though Derek and I had managed to move the books off of Sara’s body, she was still surrounded by hundreds more, making it difficult for Inspector Lee to maneuver around her. “Can we get these books and stuff moved out of the way?”

  Two uniformed officers rushed over and began moving our piles of books farther away from Sara to allow better access for the police and medical examiner.

  “Carefully, please,” Inspector Lee cautioned.

  I felt bad that I had thrown the books every which way and stepped forward. “I can help stack them against the wall.”

  “Thanks, Brooklyn,” Lee said. “But my officers can take care of it.”

  The two men took the hint and moved the books away from the body, neatly stacking them along the wall. It took them nearly twenty minutes to clean up all the piles while Inspector Lee bent down to take a closer look at Sara’s face and body.

  “Will Inspector Jaglom be joining you?” Derek asked, when she stood up.

  “Sadly he won’t,” Lee said. “Nate’s actually contemplating retirement.”

  “Oh no,” I said, thinking about the kind man with the wiry gray hair who tended to appear slightly rumpled, but always wore a smile on his face. “He’s not that old, is he?”

  “No, but he’s discovered the joys of grandfatherhood,” she explained. “And since his wife is a doctor and loves her job, he’s probably going to take his pension and run.”

  “I’ll miss him,” I said.

  “Yeah, he’s a good guy,” Lee said. “I’m bummed.”

  “Please send him our best regards,” Derek said.

  “You bet.” Lee continued to survey the area where Sara had died. While she worked, she took the opportunity to question Derek and me. “What made you two come down here?”

  I explained the whole story. “I was having my sisters and a few friends over last night and Sara texted and then called me to let me know she’d be late. Her boss was making her bring all these boxes of books over to the convention center.”

  “I take it she didn’t make it to your house last night.”

  “No. So I texted her a few times this morning to see if she wanted to meet for coffee, but I didn’t hear back.”

  “What did you do next?”

  “When Derek got home around lunchtime, he suggested that we walk over to the convention center to see if she was working in the booth she’d been assigned to.”

  “Which booth is that?”

  I gave her the name of the small college Sara worked for and tried to describe the location of the booth on the convention floor.

  “She wasn’t in the booth, of course,” I said. “Her coworker Darla said she hadn’t seen her since last night and told us where the books were being stored. That’s when we came down here on the off chance that she was still working.”

  “Did you have business with her or what? Why were you looking for her?”

  I glanced up at Derek. “I guess you could say I was checking up on her. She and I . . . we had a falling-out back in grad school and I hadn’t seen her since, not until two nights ago. I wanted to make sure she was doing all right.”

  Lee was gazing down at Sara’s face as if studying her. “She was at your bridal shower.”

  “You remember her?”

  “Sure. Tall, pretty, great hair. Great boots.”

  “That’s her.” It was suddenly hard to swallow around the lump in my throat. I took a few deep breaths to help maintain my composure. “I really appreciate you getting here so fast, but now that you’ve had a chance to check out the scene, I have to ask you something.”

  “Yeah?” She sounded suspicious, which, to be fair, was her natural state of being most of the time. Probably why she was so good at her job.

  “Do you think this is a crime scene? Couldn’t it have been an accident?”

  “What do you think?”

  “I just can’t imagine someone thinking they could kill a person with a bunch of books.”

  Derek pointed out the shards of wood strewn all over the floor around Sara’s body. “More likely she was killed by the weight of the heavy wooden crates that were dropped on top of her.”

  “Exactly what I was thinking,” Inspector Lee said darkly. “Hardly sounds like an accident to me.” She pointed back toward the elevator. “The light switch wires were cut. That doesn’t sound accidental, either.”

  “But who would do that? This is all so random. She’s not even from here, so why did someone pick this place to attack her? I can’t imagine she made someone at the conference so angry that they followed her down here, jumped into the forklift, and tried to bury her in books. Most of the conference exhibitors are storing their books down here, so they’re probably in and out of this room at all hours of the day and night. Why would a killer take a chance that someone might walk in and catch them in the act?”

  Lee stared at her notepad. “So she worked at Glen Cove College. Where in the world is that?”

  “It’s in Indiana,” I said, unsure where she was going with that question.

  Lee shrugged. “She must have some coworkers who came out here with her.”

  I nodded. “She does.”

  “So she’s not exactly alone in the big city, is she? No, she’s here with friends and coworkers. Maybe there’s a love interest. And maybe she’s got an enemy or two. They’re all here for a week of fun and games and good times. And one of those people might be thinking that this would be the ideal spot to do the dirty deed, far away from the prying eyes of everyone they know.”

  “Wow,” I marveled. “That’s both impressive and creepy.”

  “I amaze myself,” she said, flashing me a crooked grin.

  “I believe it.” I let out a breath. “If you want to know all who traveled here from their small town, you could probably ask that woman we talked to, Darla. She might be able to give you a list.”

  Lee checked her notes. “Yeah, I’ve got her name written down.”

  I frowned, remembering something else that might be important. Duh. “Speaking of a love interest, Sara’s husband came with her, too.”

  Lee’s eyebrows shot up. “There’s a husband. That might have been useful to mention right up front.”

  “You’re right, sorry. I should’ve mentioned him first, but I got caught up in everything else.”

  “What’s his name?”

  “Rod Martin.”

  She wrote it down and circled it a few times. Probably because the spouse was usually the most likely suspect.

  In this case, I had to agree.

  “Tell me what you know about him.”

  “Well.” Where should I start? I wondered. I gave her a brief history of our grad school days, explaining that he wasn’t the most trustworthy, loyal guy in the world. “Even though he’s officially a librarian, he actually works as an antiquarian book broker.”

  “Oh great, more book people,” she said.

  “It’s a librarians’ conference,” I said mildly. “So yeah, we’re everywhere. You can’t escape us.”

  She grinned, then sobered. “What else do you know about Rod Martin?”

  “I don’t know him very well anymore, but I can describe him for you.” I gave her the details and mentioned that he stopped by my classroom yesterday.

  “Do you know why he stopped by to see you?”

  “Y
es, I’m curious about that as well,” Derek said dryly.

  Lee grinned at him, but I just gave him a look. “I told you about that.”

  “You did, but I’m at a loss as to his true motive for tracking you down.”

  “I think he came to see if he could coax me into giving back the book that Sara gave me the night of the shower.”

  “Why would he think you’d give it back?”

  “Because it’s currently worth seventy-four thousand dollars. And I have a feeling Sara wasn’t supposed to give it away.”

  She was momentarily speechless, but quickly recovered. “Jeez, Brooklyn. How do you always manage to get involved with . . . Never mind. I know it’s your business, but does there always have to be a book at the heart of these crimes?”

  “Some books are worth killing over,” I said with a shrug. “But I doubt this one was the catalyst for Sara’s death.”

  “What book is it?”

  “The Three Musketeers.”

  “Hey, I love that story.”

  “I do, too,” I said. “The thing is, everyone at school used to call my two roommates and me the Three Musketeers because we were such close friends. So the book has a lot of nostalgia attached to it.”

  “Along with being ridiculously expensive.”

  “Right. But Sara told me that Rod would be able to get a new copy of The Three Musketeers anytime he wanted.”

  “Is that true?”

  “No,” I said with some confidence. “The book she gave me is very rare. I doubt there’s another one like it on the market.”

  “I’ll want to take a look at that book.”

  “Okay.”

  She glanced at her notes. “So what else did Mr. Martin say to you?”

  “Once he realized I wasn’t about to turn the book over to him, he was actually very nice. He wished me lots of happiness and good wishes. All that stuff.”

  “Okay.” Lee blew out a heavy breath. “Okay. Have I got everyone’s name now?”

  Derek gave me an expectant look and I winced. “Oops. Did I give you Heather’s name?”

  “Heather Babcock is the other roommate?” Lee quickly flipped the page of her notepad and jotted it down.