Миранда Джеймс - Twelve Angry Librarians

“Disgusting,” I said.

“I finally used a few words that would have my grandmother spinning in her grave if she even suspected I knew them.” Marisue smiled grimly. “That pissed him off, and he left me alone after that.”

I decided not to broach the subject of blackmail with them, especially since Kanesha had that spreadsheet and would be working on deciphering it and trying to connect it with Gavin’s victims. That was definitely a task better left to a professional.

“You know, there was another person who didn’t seem all that bothered by Gavin and his remarks.” Randi shifted in the bed, and the pillow bracing her head and shoulders slipped. “Would you mind fixing my pillow?” She looked at Marisue, but I responded first.

“Thanks, Charlie,” she said. “Now, what was I saying? Oh, yes, Harlan Crais. He sat in one corner and watched most of the time. Looked to me like he was smirking. What do you think?” She directed her question at Marisue, who nodded.

“I thought so, too,” she said. “Maybe he’s like Nancy and has tenure. I don’t know, but he didn’t seem all that bothered by Gavin.” She frowned. “And you know, I don’t think I saw Gavin speak to him at all while we were there.”

“Maybe Gavin was avoiding him then but went after him later, once we’d left,” Randi said.

“Could be,” Marisue replied. “Well, let’s see, who was there that we haven’t talked about?”

“The other two men,” Randi said.

“Right, trust you to remember the men,” Marisue said. “I talked to Mitch Handler for a bit, mostly about his writing. I’ve read most of his books and was curious about a few things. He’s a nice guy, but boy, is he shy. It took a little while to get him to say more than four or five words at a time. I guess it’s a good thing he’s a cataloger so he doesn’t have to deal with the public at work.”

Mitch Handler interested me particularly, because he had a degree in organic chemistry. He served as liaison for the science departments at his institution, so he obviously had a connection to a chemistry lab. He was a dark horse, however, when it came to his connections with Gavin. They must have worked together at some point. This was another one Kanesha would have to dig further into, unless Randi and Marisue knew something more about him.

I recalled a remark Randi made during one of our conversations. I reminded her of it. “You said you’d heard something about Gavin and Mitch Handler, but at the time you couldn’t recall it. Can you remember it now?”

“Did I say that?” Randi asked. “If you say so, I guess I did.” She thought for a moment, then shook her head. “Sorry, my brain is too fuzzy right now. If I can recall whatever it was, I’ll tell you.”

That was frustrating, but I knew I couldn’t push her at the moment. Maybe by the time she felt ready to talk to Kanesha, she would have dredged it up out of her memory. I glanced at Marisue, but she shook her head. “Sorry, I don’t know what it was, either.”

“Well, then, that leaves us with Bob Coben,” I said.

Randi giggled again. “The bad boy.” She licked her lips and quirked her eyebrows at me.

“What do you mean?” I asked, though I had an inkling.

“He looks like a bad boy,” Randi said. “That bald head, all the tattoos, the earrings. You know, like he should come roaring in on a motorcycle, wearing a leather jacket. That kind of bad boy.”

Marisue snorted with laughter. “He doesn’t seem anything like that to me.”

“You have your fantasies, I’ll have mine,” Randi retorted. “I actually talked to him for a little while before Marisue started yanking on my arm to get me to leave.”

“I did not yank your arm,” Marisue said. There was a knock on the door, and she went to answer it.

Figuring it was room service, I told Diesel to come down off the bed to sit by me. Randi wouldn’t want to eat with a cat on the bed beside her, I figured.

The server brought the tray in, and Marisue cleared the nightstand on the side of the bed where Randi sat propped up. She signed the ticket for Randi, and the server left. Marisue began to prepare the food for Randi to eat, adding mayonnaise and mustard to the hamburger and opening the tiny ketchup bottle for the fries.

I knew Randi was ready to eat by the way she looked at the food tray, but I wanted to hear about Bob Coben before I left her and Marisue. I said as much, and Randi nodded.

“All right, all kidding about hot bad boys aside,” Randi said, “I talked with him for a while, and he mostly wanted to talk about his plans for his career. He’s a musician, did you know that?”

I nodded, and she continued. “I thought he wanted to go further into music, but he told me he was working on a master’s degree in chemistry. He wants to go on for a PhD, but he has to work for a couple more years to save up the money.”

A master’s degree in chemistry? If Bob Coben was taking classes, then he was actively working in a lab—where he would have direct access to all kinds of chemicals, including cyanide.

TWENTY-NINE

Neither Randi nor Marisue seemed to understand the implications of what Randi told me about Bob Coben. After a moment, however, Marisue figured it out. Randi, after dropping her bombshell, had reached for a french fry. In the midst of chewing it, her mouth dropped open, and I looked away.

Randi evidently swallowed quickly, because when she spoke she did so clearly. “No, I don’t believe it. Surely he wouldn’t poison anyone.”

“How could he expect to get away with it?” Marisue said. “Don’t they have to keep careful track of any chemicals they use in their labs?”

“I’m sure they do,” I said. “Look, I don’t know that Bob Coben is the one who put the poison in Gavin’s bottle, or in Maxine Muller’s. The thing is, he had easy access to it, or at least easier access than anyone else in the case that I know of.”

I pulled out my phone and texted Kanesha a quick message about Bob Coben. She might already have found out about his getting a degree in chemistry, but in case she hadn’t, I thought she ought to know right away.

Moments later my phone buzzed, and I thought I’d received a reply from Kanesha. Instead, the message came from Lisa Krause.

Where r u? Need u at the party .

I had lost track of time, talking with Randi and Marisue, and forgotten about the party in Lisa’s suite. I checked the time on my phone. I should have been in Lisa’s suite ten minutes ago.

I responded that I would be there in two minutes. I explained to Marisue and Randi that I had to leave.

“Thanks for talking with me,” I said. “I know you’re both exhausted.”

Marisue nodded, and I noticed that she looked rather wilted now. Randi actually looked perkier, but that was probably because she was eating.

“I’ll check in on you tomorrow,” I said. “When were you planning to leave?”

“Not till Monday morning,” Marisue said. “We both took the day off so we didn’t have to rush back tomorrow.”

“Good, you’ll have time to rest before the drive. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Diesel and I took our leave of my friends and made our way to Lisa’s suite on another floor.

The door stood open, and when we entered I saw Lisa talking to a couple of women who looked vaguely familiar. That meant I had probably noticed them at some point during the past couple of days here at the conference, but I had no idea who they were. There was no one else in the suite that I could see.

Lisa saw me, nodded in my direction to acknowledge me, and continued with her conversation. I took the opportunity to glance around the suite. The layout was exactly as I remembered it. The bar against the outside wall, with a large window next to it, a table that could seat six comfortably on one side of the room, and two sofas and a couple of armchairs, with a coffee table in their midst. Small tables at each end of the sofas held lamps, all dark at the moment, because Lisa had the overhead lights on.