Миранда Джеймс - Twelve Angry Librarians

“You truly are a Southern gentleman.” Marisue smiled, and Randi nodded. “Hardly anyone bothers to ask these days. I don’t mind. Do you?” She glanced at Randi.

“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.”