Diesel had thawed enough by now that he let me stroke his head a couple of times. After we each made a bathroom stop, he followed me into the den. I powered up my desktop computer, because I didn’t want to take the time to retrieve my laptop from my bedroom. I hung my jacket on the back of the desk chair, rolled up my sleeves, and started my searches to dig up information on my list of suspects.
I never ceased to be amazed at the amount of information you could find on people. After only a little poking around, I found Nancy Dunlap’s résumé on her library’s website. She had achieved the rank of full professor at her university, and I skimmed through a list of publications and professional activities until I found her degrees listed. She had earned a bachelor’s degree in biology, a master’s degree in library science, and a second master’s degree in biology. Though biology wasn’t chemistry, it was still a science, and that made Nancy Dunlap more interesting as a suspect. I checked back through her résumé to find a description of her current position, and there it was: liaison to the departments of biology and chemistry, along with mathematics. Nancy Dunlap obviously had the necessary contacts.
Next on the list to check was Cathleen Matera. I found her information on a social media website for professionals who wanted to network with one another. I supposed if I took the director’s job I might consider creating a profile on it for myself, although I wasn’t sure what purpose it might serve. I pushed that distracting thought aside and focused on Ms. Matera’s background. English major and liaison to the departments of English, foreign languages, and fine arts. I recalled vaguely that cyanide was sometimes used in photography in the developing process, but I doubted it was used much these days because of its extreme toxicity. I left a question mark by Cathleen Matera’s name and moved on to the next person.
Sylvia O’Callaghan, I discovered, had retired three years ago and did not appear to have active connections to an academic library. From what little I could glean about her, she must have been an English major. She didn’t appear all that promising. Besides, I wondered if she would have murdered her friend Maxine Muller. Another question mark. Kanesha would probably find out more about her than I could.
Harlan Crais had been a history major and had a master’s degree in European history, along with his master’s degree in library science. His position as an upper-level library administrator didn’t seem to include liaison work, but if he had been a liaison in the past, I doubted it was for a science department of any kind. Thus, no promising connections there that I could discern.
Mitch Handler, though, turned out to have a bachelor’s degree in organic chemistry along with the obligatory library science degree. He also wrote science fiction. As I would have expected, his liaison duties included the typical science departments at his campus.
Bob Coben, the final person on my list, had what was to me the most interesting background. He had been a music major—his instrument was apparently the oboe—with a minor in biology. Not a combination I would have expected to find. Still, it did give him a bit of a connection, though his liaison duties included the music department, fine arts, and biology at his school.
I was pretty sure I remembered both Marisue’s and Randi’s backgrounds, but I checked to make sure. Both had been English majors in college, and Marisue came to library school right after college, as I had done. Randi, I knew, had worked for about seven years as a secretary before deciding she wanted to be a librarian. I left question marks by both their names, though I strongly doubted either of them had committed two murders.
I had been so absorbed in my research that I had neglected Diesel, and I became aware of a large paw on my thigh. Claws dug into my leg ever so slightly, and I looked down at him, amused by his innocent expression.
“Yes, I know I’ve neglected you terribly today. Come on, let’s sit on the sofa together, okay?”
Diesel understood the word sofa. He climbed onto it right away and waited for me to take my place. Once I was seated, he stretched out, his head and front legs in my lap. I talked to him for a couple of minutes and combined words with suitable physical gestures that soon had him purring loudly.
Once Diesel yawned and appeared to go to sleep, I allowed my thoughts to return to the information I had learned about the librarians who had attended Gavin’s party.
The source of the cyanide—keeping in mind that I didn’t know for sure that cyanide was the murder weapon—was key to the solution. Any of these eight people could have ordered cyanide over the Internet, obviously. But if several of them had sources closer to hand, it was possible they had obtained the cyanide that way.
I realized, of course, that I was spending a lot of time on this—time that no doubt could have been better spent focusing on the major life decision I had looming before me. But I didn’t want to think about that decision right now, or about the decision facing my daughter and son-in-law. It was easier to let myself be distracted by the double murder, even if all my speculation and information gathering turned out to be useless. Kanesha possessed the actual facts in the case—as far as they were known at the moment, that is. I didn’t.
Kanesha. I promised to e-mail her with the information I had received earlier from Marisue and Randi about Gavin’s expensive car and my idea that he could have been blackmailing people to get the money for it. There was the information about the party to share as well, although I hoped Lisa Krause would tell Kanesha about that. I needed to get back to the computer to take care of it. I didn’t like composing e-mails of any great length on my phone. It was simply too tedious.
The cat resting partly on my lap and partly on the sofa deterred me for a few moments longer. I eased Diesel off my lap, got up from the sofa, and let him stretch out. He opened his eyes, yawned, and then closed his eyes again. He seemed content to let me leave him there.
At the computer I opened my home e-mail, and a few minutes later I sent Kanesha a message containing the information I had promised to send her. Whether she would find it helpful, I didn’t know, but at least she had it.
My cell phone rang, and I picked it up to see who was calling. Laura.
My heart started racing. Was she calling to tell me they’d made a decision about Virginia?
TWENTY-FOUR
My hand trembled so badly I almost dropped the phone on the floor. I managed to tighten my hold on it, though, and tapped the icon to answer the call.
“Hello, sweetheart, how are you?” I was thankful my voice didn’t waver.
“Hi, Dad,” Laura said. “I’m a little tired, as usual, but otherwise okay. How has the conference been going?”
I hesitated. I didn’t want to give my daughter any reason to worry, because she had more than enough to occupy her mind right now. “It’s been okay, a few hiccups. I’ll tell you all about it later.” I hoped she wouldn’t press me for details. I would tell her about the murders another time.
“Better you than me.” Laura giggled. “I don’t care much for meetings like that, especially these days.”
“No, I suppose not,” I said.
“I know you’ve been wondering about this big decision we’re having to make,” Laura said. “We haven’t made it yet, although I think Frank is really leaning toward accepting the job.”
My heart sank. I tried to form words but couldn’t.
Laura continued without apparently noticing my lack of comment. “He’s told his department chair about the offer, though, and she’s invited us to dinner tomorrow night. I know she’s not happy about losing him, so I’m pretty sure she wants to try to talk him out of it. She asked him not to make a final decision until after dinner tomorrow night.”
Now I was able to speak. “Do you think she has a chance of changing his mind?” I hoped the woman would be able to come up with enough money and perks to keep Frank and Laura in Athena.
“I don’t really know, Dad. He knows I’m concerned about leaving so soon aft
er the baby is born, but we’re both aware of the advantages of the new job.”
“I want what’s best for you, you know that,” I said. “But I’m going to be praying that the department chair manages to find some incentives to keep Frank here.”
Laura sighed. “Me, too, Dad. We probably won’t see you until sometime after we’ve had that dinner tomorrow night, but I’ll let you know what happens.”
“All right, sweetheart,” I said. “Try not to worry. I know you and Frank will make the best choice for all three of you.”
“Thanks,” Laura said. “I’ve got to go, but I’ll call you tomorrow.”
I put down the phone and stared blankly at the computer screen. I hated this feeling of suspension—waiting for the worst to happen, even though there was a chance it wouldn’t. I wanted to know now, to end this tension one way or the other, but I knew it wasn’t possible.
I also wished I could make up my mind about my own future. Did I really want to work full-time again? With two grandchildren soon to be born, did I want to be tied down to the nine-to-five routine five days a week? Then I thought about how much I had been enjoying—for the most part—the work I was doing as the interim director. I would miss that if I didn’t take the job.
There was also the question of my relationship with Helen Louise. We both were comfortable with things the way they currently were. She loved her business, despite the huge demands it made on her time and energy. We spent time together when we could, and we both tacitly agreed that marriage at present wasn’t a huge priority. Though I know we both wished we had more time together, I didn’t expect Helen Louise to give up a business she had worked so hard to make successful in order to marry me.
Everything would work out for the best. I had to believe that. I had to trust that we would all make the best decisions we could, and then we would go forward. I felt like a superannuated Pollyanna thinking that, but optimism was always a better choice.
My phone buzzed to notify me that I had received a text message. From Kanesha, it read simply, Got the e-mail. Interesting. Thx. Nothing more. I sighed and set the phone down again. I really wished I could sit down with Kanesha and find out more about the progress she was making. The longer it took to identify the killer, the more worried I was that someone else might die.
My phone buzzed again. Perhaps Kanesha wanted to talk to me.
No, this text was from Lisa Krause. Charlie, where are u? Been hoping to run into u. Need to talk about tonight.
I frowned. What about tonight? I wasn’t sure what she meant. I texted back that I was at home and told her to call me. I hated long text message exchanges because my big fingers didn’t handle the small keyboard all that well. I couldn’t do the two-thumb typing that so many young people did with such ease.
Lisa called two minutes later. “Hi, Lisa, what about tonight?”
“Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten about the post-reception party in my suite at the hotel, Charlie.” Lisa sounded exasperated and tired.
Oops. Lisa had told me about that last week, but it had slipped my mind until now. “Oh, that,” I said, trying to sound halfway knowledgeable. “What about it?”
“I wanted to get your okay on the budget for the drinks and the food. Dessert-type things, you know, like mini-cheesecakes and things like that. I was going to go out and get the stuff myself, but there wasn’t time, so I arranged for the hotel to do it. And that costs more, of course, but I’m hoping you won’t think it’s too much, since the library is paying for it.”
“How much are we talking about?” I asked. As overseer of the library budget, I had to keep a tight rein on costs for everything.
Lisa named a figure, and although I winced inwardly, I told her it would be okay. The amount wasn’t that much more than the original figure I’d signed off on, and I would sort it out next week when we had all the bills for the conference expenses in hand.
“That’s okay,” I said. “We need to make sure that’s it, however. No more wiggle room in the budget after that.”
“I understand,” Lisa said. “Now, I’ve told people that they can come as early as seven thirty, though I expect we won’t see many until after eight. Most of them will head out for dinner after the reception from five thirty to six thirty.”
“How many people are you figuring on turning up?” I asked.
“Fewer than fifty,” Lisa said. “Frankly, I’d be surprised if as many as twenty show up. By the time most of them finish with dinner, they’ll probably be headed to a bar or to bed.”
“If you really don’t think all that many people will show up,” I said, “I might bring Diesel with me. What do you think?”
“That would be great,” Lisa said. “I’ve had quite a few people ask me about him. You don’t think it would be too much for him, do you? I wouldn’t want him to be frightened or upset.”
“If there are a lot more people than you expect,” I said, “I will bring him home. He did fine at the retirement party last month, though, and there were about thirty people at that.” One of our senior librarians had retired after forty years at Athena, and her one special request was to have Diesel at her going-away party. Diesel had seemed to enjoy all the attention.
“That’s fine,” Lisa said. “I won’t tell people that he’s going to be there in order to keep the numbers down, how’s that?”
“Good plan.” My idea about having a party with all of Gavin’s party guests in attendance forced its way back into my consciousness. Should I simply wait and see if any of them turned up? Or should I make an effort to get them there? I figured Randi and Marisue would come if I asked them, but I didn’t know about the others.
“Thanks, Charlie. I’d better get going,” Lisa said. “Can you and Diesel be there by seven thirty?”
“Yes,” I said. “Look, Lisa, can you do me a favor?”
“Sure, what is it?”
“If you happen to see any of the people who were at Gavin’s party on Thursday, could you tell them how much you would like them to come to your suite tonight? Don’t sound too effusive, but see if you can get them to show up.”
Lisa didn’t respond right away. Finally she said, “I guess I can do that. What exactly are you up to, though? I have to tell you, you’re making me nervous.”
“I’d like to talk to them,” I said. “Nothing more. Maybe having them in a party situation again will stimulate their memories, and we could learn something that’s pertinent to the murder investigation. You never know.”
“I hope you know what you’re doing,” Lisa said. “All right, I’ll make sure to talk to any of them that I happen to see. Now I’ve really got to go.”
I put my phone down feeling both excited and apprehensive. I hoped I hadn’t set up a possible disaster. Perhaps I should make Kanesha aware of my little plan. I’d have to think about that. I would have to be particularly vigilant, and I’d definitely have to keep a close watch on Diesel. That shouldn’t be too hard, because he would probably stick close to me in a group like that. If he showed any signs of stress from the gathering, I would of course take him home right away.
Probably I’d be lucky if even half of the people on my short list showed up tonight. The lure of more food and drink at someone else’s expense might suffice, if some of them were on tight travel budgets. They might rather save their per diem and pocket it, rather than spend it on a restaurant if they could get enough to fill them up at the two parties tonight. I remembered times when I attended conferences outside of Houston when I’d had to stretch my travel allowance as much as I could in order to avoid dipping into my own pockets. Particularly in the days when I had two young children who seemed to outgrow their clothes and shoes every couple of months.
My phone rang, and I saw that Helen Louise was the caller. She must be taking her midafternoon break, I reckoned. The time was a few minutes past three thirty.
“Hello, love, how are you?” I asked.
“I’m doing fine, love.” Helen Louise sounded tired, but she rarely ever would say that, at least during the workday. “We’ve had a really good day today so far. I must say, all your librarian colleagues seem to have made the bistro their favorite place to eat. Business has boomed since the conference started.”
“I’m not surprised,” I said. “The food of course is fabulous, and your prices are reasonable. They can afford to eat good meals and not worry about running their expenses up.”
Helen Louise chuckled. “All I have to say is bless them. Hungry librarians are a good thing.” She paused for a moment. When she continued, her tone was more serious. “What time do you think you might be through with the conference today? Or tomorrow? I know you said it runs through noon tomorrow.”
“Yes, it does,” I said. “I’ve got to be at a reception the library is having for attendees at the hotel from seven thirty to probably around nine or nine thirty. What’s up?”
“I want to talk to you about something,” she said. “I’m just wondering when will be the best time for us to sit down and talk when neither of us is distracted.”
“When is best for you?” I asked. “I’ll make my schedule work around yours as much as possible.”
“Thank you for that, sweetheart,” Helen Louise said. “I don’t want to impinge on what you need to do for the conference, though. I don’t think I’ll feel up to it tonight after we close, and I don’t imagine you’ll feel like talking then, either. So how about tomorrow afternoon sometime? Before Sunday evening dinner?”
“That should be fine,” I said. My curiosity about what she wanted to discuss was growing every second. Several possibilities danced around in my mind, but the one that made me terrified was the thought of illness. I knew she’d been to see her doctor the previous week for a routine checkup, and so far she hadn’t shared the results of that with me. I prayed I wasn’t going to hear devastating news about her health. “Can you give me any idea about what this is you want to discuss?”
Twelve Angry Librarians Page 15
