Death Among The Stacks: The Body In The Law Library

- Title Page

- Chapter One

- Chapter Two

- Chapter Three

- Chapter Four

- Chapter Five

- Chapter Six

- Chapter Seven

- Chapter Eight

- Chapter Nine

- Chapter Ten

- Chapter Eleven

- Chapter Twelve

- Chapter Thirteen

- Chapter Fourteen

- Chapter Fifteen

- Chapter Sixteen

- Chapter Seventeen

- Chapter Eighteen

- Chapter Nineteen

- Chapter Twenty

- Chapter Twenty-One

- Chapter Twenty-Two

- Chapter Twenty-Three

Death Among The Stacks:

The Body in the Law Library

By Louise Hathaway

Copyright Louise Hathaway 2014

Smashwords Edition

Chapter One

It’s another working day at the Law Library. The library’s director is the first person to arrive each morning. She starts her day at 7:00 and is usually the last to leave. The library has been having financial trouble lately. There is less money in the budget to buy new books and many subscriptions to legal publications have had to be cancelled. In previous years, there were more patrons willing to pay the $100 fee to have borrowing privileges. The library’s other source of income from court filing fees is also sharply dropping.

The library has just constructed a major new wing and there are several problems with its construction. Nothing is going as planned and the director is getting increasingly frustrated with all of the cost overruns, unexpected delays, and setbacks. Adding to all of her other worries, she’s on edge today because the library is expecting a visit by an inspector from the United States Government Printing Office. The inspector, Sean Gaylord, is coming to critique the library’s marketing of its federal and state depository items that come to the library free, courtesy of U.S. taxpayers.

The librarian, Yvonne, who oversees the depository collection, is also very nervous about the inspector’s visit. The last time he came, he criticized the way that the library had been showcasing its depository collection. She and her assistant had put together a book display of the library’s federal and state materials and the inspector had said that it was so ineffective that it “left him cold.” He explained that the purpose of the entire Government Depository System dates back to the times of our founding fathers. The public’s “right to know” what its government is doing is a tenet upon which the whole Constitution was formed. The inspector is planning to meet with Yvonne to discuss the guidelines that the library must follow to market its collection in TV and radio ads. Yvonne’s brother and younger sister died this year and she is grieving so much that she can barely function. It’s taking all of her energy just to “suit up and show up” to drive to work each morning. This was not a good day to be “under the microscope”; she just wished she could be invisible.

Yvonne’s assistant, Ms. Kathy Brown, had retired the previous year. Her assistant had done an excellent job in designing the Government Documents webpage, writing bibliographies to hand out to the library’s patrons, and contributing articles to the library’s house organ. This assistant had a keen devotion and commitment to the depository program and Yvonne had grown to depend on her. Yvonne really needs her help with writing the copy for ads that the inspector will be demanding because Ms. Brown has Master’s Degree in English and is good with the written word. Adding to all of those other assets, Ms. Brown had once worked at an advertising agency writing copy for its TV ads.

Yvonne envied her former assistant’s personal life. Ms. Brown and her husband, Randy, had been married for 35 years and they were still very much in love with each other. Ms. Brown’s husband treated her like an angel and was every woman’s dream. He was tall, handsome, smart and kind. They had a very passionate relationship with lots of ups and downs. Ms. Brown had once told Yvonne that Randy was like the character, “Mr. Big”, in the HBO mini-series, “Sex and the City”. Like Carrie in the show, Ms. Brown loved her man with all of her heart and soul, but felt insecure with him because he was a “lady’s man.” They would have arguments, hurt each other, break one another’s heart, but they always came back to each other’s “secret garden of love”. Ms. Brown told Yvonne that her master bedroom looked out onto a garden with a lily pond. It all sounded so romantic. Yvonne had been married to a psychiatrist in Chicago and she and her former husband had a very rocky relationship together. After their divorce, Yvonne left Chicago vowing to never come back.

Ms. Brown’s replacement, Nicole, had turned out to be a real disappointment to Yvonne. “Nick,” as they called her, spent large portions of her workday socializing with her co-workers and surfing the Internet for personal business. Her Internet surfing was so extreme that some of her co-workers had nicknamed her “Nic.Com”. One time Yvonne had even caught her doing a crossword puzzle on company time. Nic spent many long lunches with her work friend Kelly. Both of them were very frustrated with all of the “office politics” and they liked to get together and vent. Kelly had become increasingly frustrated with trying to deal with of all the maintenance problems due to the faulty design of the new wing to the library. She was the “Go-to-Girl” during all of the new construction. In her mind, the architect who designed the new addition seemed to haunt her everyplace she went, driving her nuts with his nasty cigar smoking. She couldn’t even go out to lunch “with the girls” at Original Pete’s without seeing him there, stinking up the place. “Men!” she’d say, “Can’t live with; and can’t live without them! They’re all the same!” Nic also has major trust issues with men. She often quotes lines from a 1980’s song which asks: “Don’t You Know That It’s Different for Girls? You’re All The Same.” Both of the women have “a bone to pick” with the entire male race.

The only man whom they really trusted was the Public Services Librarian, Hung Tran. Everyone loves him for his kind and gentle ways. He is the patrons’ favorite librarian because he always goes way out of his way to answer their questions. Because he had passed the bar exam, he is the person who knows the most about legal research. He earned the name, “St. Hung”, because he reminds everyone of Mother Teresa. He spent his youth as a monk in his native Viet Nam and knows a lot about meditation.

During the noon hour at the Library, Hung would often help the staff with meditation exercises and stress reduction techniques. He had a cd called, “The Quiet Mind”, which he sometimes played in the staff lounge. When Ms. Brown was still working at the Library, he knew that she was having a lot of neck and back soreness due to all the heavy lifting of boxes of new legal treatises and heavy microfilm trays with which she was working. He often would bring her tubes of ointment for muscle aches. He got it from Viet Nam and it smelled like peppermint. Sometimes Ms. Brown and her husband would get carried away with “Hung’s Magic Oil”-- but that’s a separate story.

Today at the Law Library, Hung spends the morning at the reference desk. Meanwhile, Yvonne is growing increasingly anxious as she waits for the arrival of the Government Printing Office inspector. The minutes and hours seem to drag as she watches the clock. Finally, she decides to take a break and go out for some fast food. She tells Hung that she’ll be back shortly in case the inspector happens to show up while she’s gone. At around 1:30, Nic comes back from her lunch and decides that she is going to do some filing on the first floor. The staff nicknames this floor “the dungeon” because it’s dark and a bit spooky. Nobody ever goes down there anymore because it is filled with archival materials that are readily available on the Internet. When Nic gets out of the elevator on this floor, she notices in the distance what appear to be two black shoes sticking out at odd angles from the compact shelving. She presses a button that separates the rows of shelving and screams when she sees that a man’s body is lying on the ground, crushed between two rows of shelving. She gasps and runs towards the elevator to tell the rest of the staff what she’s just seen.

Chapter Two

Detective Mark Sledge precariously balances the two piping-hot Starbuck’s venti coffees on his knee as he reaches for the car keys in his pocket. Just then his cell phone rings, erupting with the ‘William Tell Overture’, causing Sledge to spill both coffees into his lap and drenching his service revolver. Even though he is sitting inside his car, everyone sitting outside of Starbucks turns their heads in unison to see the hapless detective screaming and flailing about inside his car at some unseen menace. “Damn it,” he screams as his legs and other unmentionable areas burn with an intensity he hasn’t felt since spilling bacon grease on his chest as a young boy.

With the coffees empty, he reluctantly drives through the drive-up and sheepishly orders two more. He had promised his wife a coffee that afternoon and wasn’t going to let her down. She is the love of his life and any time spent with her or for her is his only real happiness and satisfaction in life. They have been married 20 years last month and they are the happiest when they are together. He wonders aloud, “Why the heck did I become a cop? I should’a been a 9-5 kinda guy.”

As he sits in the drive-thru line, he calls the dispatcher back to find out what the call was all about. “This better be good!” he mutters. He had just gotten one of those new “smart” phones that the department was issuing to all its employees. It could do everything: surf the web, send email, play music, you name it. Detective Sledge is not a technology guy; he has only just gotten the hang of a regular cell phone, now he has to learn this new gizmo. Geez. The department IT guys had programmed it with special ring tones to help him identify who was calling by the tone. They asked him if he had a favorite song or melody that they could assign to any incoming call from dispatch. “Yeah, I like the William Tell Overture, you know, all that cavalry-coming-to-the-rescue-stuff.” The IT guys suppressed a giggle and set him up with his favorite song for dispatch, purposely turning up the volume to the highest level as a practical joke. I’m going to get them bastards!” he thinks.

“Hi Lucy, this is Sledge. I just got a call. What’s up?” Sledge shifts and mushes in his seat as he pulls up to the coffee window.

Lucy responds, “Seems there’s been a murder, Detective Sledge. Some federal mucky-muck over at the Library of Law in downtown.”

Sledge thinks, ‘A murder? In the Library of Law?’ “Don’t you mean the Law Library, Lucy?”

She indignantly shoots back, “Aw, whatever. Some library over there in downtown, I’m not exactly sure. Someone called right after lunch and was screaming that someone was killed and we needed to get over there right away.”

Wow, Sledge thinks, a murder; this could be my big chance. “You sure this isn’t another gang shooting, Lucy?” he asks.

“No,” Lucy replies. “The lieutenant called and said this was important and that you needed to get over there right away.”

“Okay; thanks Lucy. Tell the lieutenant I’m heading over now.” Sledge hangs up the phone and wonders, “Why would the lieutenant get involved in this? This must be important.”

“Hey, didn’t you just get coffee, officer?” the Starbucks barista snaps at Sledge.

“Yes, well, I, er, ah--I spilled it on the way out. Could I get some half-and-half in those too, please?” Sledge begs.

“Wow, I guess you did, didn’t you!” the barista says, eyeing his pants. Sledge’s face is now as red as his crotch as he reaches back into the pool of coffee for his wallet. He fishes out a few almost dry bills and pays for the coffees.

“Do you want a carrier for these, hon?”

“Yeah, I suppose so. Don’t want to spill it now,” Sledge answers snarkily. He takes the coffees, gingerly places them on the floor of the squad car, and heads home to his wife and some dry pants. “Boy; she’s gonna laugh at me for this,” he thinks. Even so, with all his pain and embarrassment, he can’t suppress a grin, thinking about her and what she will say, as he heads home to the love of his life.

*******

Detective Sledge pulls into the Law Library Parking lot with a fresh pair of clean, dry pants. Only two blocks from the police department, Sledge knows this area well. He takes a ticket from the parking meter and pulls into a space near the entrance to the Library.

The Law Library is situated in the County Civic Center. Everything legal and judicial that happens in this county happens here. Sledge has never been to the Law Library before. No reason to, really. He feels like a fish out of water actually. Mark graduated from the police academy 20 years ago and immediately went out in a patrol car policing the baddest areas of the city. He saw more violence there than he saw in the military all those years ago. Now, at age 42, he has become a detective, finally passing the promotion test. Mark worked hard and strove to become the best he could be. All that Marine Corps training had made its mark on him. He hoped his father would be proud of him. His father was a gunnery officer in the Marine Corps who lost his life fighting in Vietnam when Mark was barely 2 years old. His mother wouldn’t talk about his dad; she would only tear up when he mentioned him and say that we shouldn’t hold on to those memories; they don’t do any of us any good.

Detective Sledge walks up the stairs to the Law Library where he is met by Sergeant Ronnie Willis, his partner at the department. The front and back doors are wrapped in yellow police tape and there are several uniformed officers stationed at every entrance.

“So tell me what’s going on,” Sledge asks Officer Willis.

“Seems like there’s been a murder—or perhaps a gruesome accident. Some Federal employee was found crushed between two rows of compact shelves here in the basement. These ain’t your ordinary shelves either. They are pretty heavy and motor driven. Anything that gets stuck in them ain’t got a chance,” Willis says.

“This place has a basement?” Sledge asks.

“No, well, not actually a basement, basement, but they call it a basement; ah, it’s the bottom floor,” Willis explains.

“OK. I guess,” Sledge answers.

He walks in to find a group of library employees huddled behind the reference desk whispering to each other. Beyond the reference desk he could see a group of people in a glass-walled room, looking out curiously at what is going on. “Who are they?” Sledge asks Willis.

“Patrons of the library that got stuck here after we arrived. We thought you’d like to question them.”

“Get their names, addresses and phone numbers and tell them we may want to talk to them later. Use your initiative, Willis. After you get the patrons sorted out, I want every member of the Law Library staff in that conference room for questioning. We’ll talk to them one at a time in the Director’s office here. Don’t let anyone go; tell the officers at all the doors. No one leaves. Got it? Get moving!” Sledge barks.

“Yes sir!” Officer Willis begins herding the patrons off to get information while Detective Sledge moves towards basement stairs.

Detective Sledge makes his way down to the basement where he finds a group of officers huddled around the body of the victim. Dr. Phil Gore, the department pathologist, is bent over the body of the deceased. “Phil, what’s up? What do you have for me here?”

“The victim is a 56 year old, white, Caucasian male who got stuck between some pretty heavy compact shelves.” Dr. Gore says. “How the heck would someone get stuck in these shelves? I gotta think he’d make some sort of noise as these things closed in on him.”

Sledge says, “Maybe he couldn’t.”

Dr. Gore adds, “He’s got a nasty bruise on his forehead that seems to match the pattern on the side of this book tape dispenser we found over there. This thing is really heavy and probably knocked him out cold before he got stuck in here. I imagine he was out before the shelves began to close in on him. He died of asphyxiation as far as I can tell. The lab reports will tell us more but I’m pretty sure that’s what got him,” Dr. Gore says.

“So when did he die? Today or when?” asks Sledge.

“I’d say two maybe three hours ago. Rigor mortis has barely set in. Also, I found this odd smell on the body, like peppermint. I’m not sure what it is. Maybe some cheap cologne or something. We’ll check it out at the lab and have an answer for you in a day or so.”

Detective Sledge takes the stairs up to the main level and enters the Director’s office. A vast, roomy office, it is well-lit by two enormous windows. The room reminds him of an executive’s office in a large corporation somewhere. This room seems a bit much--perhaps over the top for a county worker, Sledge thinks.

Sledge sits down at a small conference table and begins to collect his thoughts. Just then, the door opens and an officer says, “I’ve got the Director for you, sir.”

To which Sledge replies, “Thanks, send her in.” The Director walks in and appears a bit taken aback that someone is in her office. She catches her composure and sits down next to Sledge. The director is a small, slight figure of a woman. The stress of her job has made her look much older than her 45 years. She is dressed in a simple, smart looking professional suit, a drab brown color. She has a small American flag broach pinned uncomfortably to her lapel.

The director is very nervous about being questioned, feeling that her entire reputation as an administrator is at stake. She thinks that she must remember every word of the interview so that she can report them back to her supervisors, the Board of Trustees. What if she says the wrong thing? She squirms in her seat as Sledge began to question her.

“Thank you for your patience and cooperation with us. I know you understand the importance of what we need to do and that it may take some time and hopefully not inconvenience you or your staff.” Sledge says.

“Yes, I mean I understand,” the Director answers, her lip slightly quivering.

“Can you tell me about your day and what you remember about what happened prior to 1:30?” asks Sledge.

“Certainly,” the Director answers, trying hard to sound confident and composed. “I arrived at work at a little after 7:00 and opened up the library. I’m usually the first to arrive and I had to unlock the doors and reset the security system. The security system settings are in the basement so I have to go down there and enter the security code.

“Did you notice anything odd or unusual in the basement this morning when you turned off the alarm?”

“No, nothing out of the ordinary. We did have a few extra homeless people sleeping in the bushes; we can see them out of the basement windows so we’re used to who is normally there and who’s not.”

“So you came back up to your office after that?”

“Yes, I came up the stairs and went into the kitchen to get some coffee started and to clear out the dishwasher from the night before. I will say that it was quite a mess; the night staff was not very considerate and I needed to clean up quite a few dishes!”

“So after that you went to your office?”

“Yes, I began to check my email and get ready for the day. I had several meetings with the Board of Trustees in the morning and then we had scheduled some time to sit down with the Federal Depository inspector, that poor Mr. Gaylord.”

“What was the purpose of your meeting with Mr. Gaylord?”

“He was coming to inspect the library to make sure that it met the requirements for being designated a Federal Depository Library.”

“What exactly is a Depository Library? The only Depository Library I’ve ever heard of is the Dallas Depository Library where Lee Harvey Oswald shot President Kennedy.”

“The Depository Library is responsible for keeping government documents and making them available for the public in various areas of the country. The Federal Government only selects the finest libraries to be Depository Libraries. I’m proud to say that we’ve been a Federal Depository for the entire time I’ve been Director here at the Law Library.”

“Sounds like quite an honor. Do you expect to be renewed this year?”

“Of course! I have no doubt about it!”

“Where were you from noon until about 1:30?”

“I was at a judges’ luncheon at the Old County Courthouse building. We were discussing the various options for future library expansions and some of the problems we were having with the new library wing.”

“You spent the whole time at lunch?”

“Yes, I returned at about 1:30 because we had a meeting schedule with Mr. Gaylord to discuss the inspection.”

“So you went directly from the Old Courthouse to the Law Library?”

“Yes.”

“Can anyone vouch for you regarding the time you left the Courthouse?”

“Of course.”

The Director thinks, Who does he think he’s dealing with here? The sides of her face began to feel warm.

Sledge, detecting her discomfort says, “I’m sorry ma’am; a man has been murdered and we have to ask these questions. Can you think of any reason that Mr. Gaylord would be murdered in your library today?”

“None—none at all. It comes as a total shock to me and I’m sure I speak for my entire staff.”

“Do you have security cameras on each floor?”

“Yes.”

“We’re going to have to check the CCTV tapes for today. Can you get us copies of these?”

“Yes, I’ll make sure you get copies as soon as possible. Hopefully, the video will have picked up the area where the murder took place. If not, I’m going to have to reevaluate where we are positioning the cameras.”

Sledge decides he won’t put the Director through much more agony. He thanks her for her time and asks if she would be so kind as to send in the Depository Librarian, Yvonne. The Director is uncomfortable being told what to do in her own office. She reluctantly agrees and goes out to locate Yvonne.

Chapter Three

The Depository Librarian, Yvonne enters the room and Sledge shakes her hand and asks her to sit down. Her handshake is a bit wet and clammy--he’s felt this before--she’s obviously very uncomfortable and nervous about being questioned. She looks like she’s on the verge of tears from the pressure and stress she’s under. What if the life she led in Chicago somehow gets unearthed during the interview with Detective Sledge? Will he ask her personal questions about her feelings towards men? Will she have to bring up her divorce and the reasons why she left Chicago, vowing to never return?

Yvonne has always been very concerned about her image. She grew up in a house designed by Frank Lloyd Wright in the famous Oak Park neighborhood near downtown Chicago. Her father was a successful architect and she went to all of the finest schools and knew all the best people. She earned her Masters Degree in Library Science at the University of Chicago. Her biggest dream was to marry a doctor and live on Lake Shore Drive--the neighborhood of celebrities like Oprah. When she met a young psychiatrist who later asked her to marry him, she was thrilled. It seemed like she had a charmed life with a storybook romance. It wasn’t until later that she realized that this man had more “issues” than the patients he counseled. Not only was he questioning his own sanity, but he was also questioning Yvonne’s. He was constantly trying to analyze everything she said until she was a nervous wreck. She felt like she was walking on egg shells every time she opened her mouth and he took every little incident about her relationship with her father and twisted it into a child sexual abuse issue that it never was. She adored her father: he could never have done the things her husband was suggesting.

Sometimes he just went too far. He was so controlling: if she didn’t do exactly what he wanted her to do, he’d get physically abusive with her. It had gotten so bad one night that he tried to rape her when they were having a bad argument. She had actually pulled a knife out of a drawer in the kitchen and literally “saw red”. Her husband threatened to call 911 and report her. He also told her that he wanted to get a restraining order against her and report it to all of the newspapers. What would all of her high society friends think of her actions? What would Frank Lloyd Wright, her father’s muse, think of the actions from a girl who had grown up in Oak Park? Horrified at the idea of scandal, she was forced to leave her life in Chicago and never come back. The last thing Yvonne wants is to be questioned by another man who obviously isn’t in the same social orbit she was in. He appears to be such a common person; he wouldn’t understand her background or her issues.

“Thank you for being so patient, Yvonne. I apologize for the inconvenience; I’d like to ask you a few questions about today. Where were you today, between 12 and just before 1:30?”

Yvonne, chewing gum said, “I spent the morning in my office doing some paperwork. We had a meeting scheduled with Mr. Gaylord, the Federal Depository representative. We were going to discuss our accreditation. He was supposed to be here before 11:30 but by 12:00 he still hadn’t arrived. No phone call, no message. Not very considerate. I finally decided to step out for some lunch and instructed the reference desk staff to be on the lookout for Mr. Gaylord should he arrive. I left my office at about 11:45 and returned at about 1:30. That’s when I saw the police and all the commotion. “

“Where did you go for lunch?”

“To the deli, across the street.”

“Did you eat in or take it out?”

“I ate in the deli.”

“Weren’t you concerned about Mr. Gaylord coming and not seeing you?”

“He was going to have to wait; he had inconvenienced me and I wasn’t going to change my schedule to match his. You know, people can be so inconsiderate.”

Sledge noticed a ratcheting up in Yvonne’s demeanor. She seemed to enjoy berating Mr. Gaylord even after he had died. He notices her hand gripping the stack of papers on the table to the point of almost tearing them. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat.

“Can someone vouch for you at the deli during lunch?”

“Why yes, of course; ask anyone--they all know me over there. They will be glad to vouch for my time there.”

Yvonne began chewing her gum more forcefully to the point to popping it. It began to give Sledge a headache. To Sledge, her gum chewing didn’t jive with her haughty, upper-class sense of herself. You wouldn’t see the First Lady chewing gum, now would you? he asks himself.

“Do you know any reason why someone would want to kill him?” he asks her.

She replies, “No; I can’t think of any reason. This is the weirdest thing that I’ve ever seen. How could someone do this?”

Detective Sledge notices that she is on the point of tears again and says, “I’m sorry that this upsets you. I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask to see your assistant, Nic. Can you call her and tell her to come here as soon as possible so I can ask her a few questions?”

Chapter Four

When Yvonne calls Nic, her assistant is busy gossiping with the rest of the staff about who might have committed this crime. Nic says, “I’ll bet it was an inside job. Someone here at the library probably did it.” Other co-workers speculate who the culprit might be. Nic seems to think that it might have been her boss. “You know how crazy Yvonne’s been acting since her brother and sister died,” Nic tells her coworkers.

Kelly thinks it might be John, the reference librarian who was on the desk with Hung all morning. “You know how anti-government John is. He’s always listening to that Rush Limbaugh and getting all steamed up. I can’t stand it when he turns the volume up on his boom box and we have to put up with hearing his hate radio. He still can’t get over Waco after all of these years. He says that he’s a Libertarian, but I think he’s just racist. Look at how he has painted a mustache on that picture of The President and put it front and center in his cubicle, so we have to look at it every time we pass by. He’s nuts.” Many of her coworkers listening to her speculation agree.

“Yeah,” Nic says, “He’s creepy. If he’s not looking at Internet pornography, he’s busy furiously typing and adding his two-cents’ worth on one of those crazy forums he likes, complaining about how the country needs to restore honor again, like it was when the founding fathers set up our government.” “Blah, blah, blah,” they all say. Nic’s phone rings again, and she is annoyed about the interruption. When she realizes that it’s her boss calling, she immediately jumps to attention and tells Yvonne, “Certainly; I’ll be right up to talk to the detective.”

“Good luck, Nic,” her co-workers say; glad that they aren’t the ones getting grilled.

*******

Sledge is thumbing through some of the staffs’ time cards when Nic comes into the room.

You asked to see me, Detective?”

“Yes, please sit down. I’m sorry to have to put you through all this but you realize we need to make sure we get our information correct in our investigation.”

“Yes, certainly, I’ll be glad to help in any way I can,” Nic responds, acting as snooty as possible.

“I understand you discovered Mr. Gaylord this afternoon?”

“Yes. I was the first one to discover him. You see I was doing my usual work-related rounds and making sure everything was in its place when I discovered Mr. Gaylord in the compact shelving.”

“You mentioned this was something you did every day?”

“Yes, I’m always going to the basement, well, sort of, I mean, I make sure everything is in its correct place, I mean. I’m the Depository Assistant, so I want to make sure everything is looking good and in presentable condition for the public, you know.”

Sledge couldn’t help but detect a bit of defensiveness, bordering on self-promotion in her answers.

“I pretty much take care of all the depository business here at the library; in fact, if it wasn’t for the work I put into the depository we wouldn’t be getting accredited in the first place.”

“You said ‘getting accredited’; don’t you mean you hope you will get accredited?”

“Oh, I have no doubt we will; I’m sure Mr. Gaylord was going to guarantee that we would get the accreditation today.”

“What time did you find Mr. Gaylord in the basement?”

“Oh, about 12:30 or 1:00, I think.”

“Can you be a bit more specific about the time? What time did you leave your desk?”

“Oh yes; now I remember. I left my desk at about 1:00, having just come back from lunch. I then went immediately down to the basement to put some documents in the compact shelving. Yes, that’s what I remember.”

“Did anyone see you go down to the basement?”

Nic, feeling a bit uneasy and sensing that her story was beginning to unravel, says, “Yes, I think, John did. Kelly and I came back from lunch and John saw me go down the stairs. Yes, I’m sure if you ask him he’ll confirm that.” Nic starts to feel sick and begins to wonder if she’d be caught in her story. She thought I hope he doesn’t ask him.

“So when you found Mr. Gaylord in the shelving was he, how can I put it, was he dead? Was he moving? Did he say anything?”

“Oh, he was very dead. He didn’t say a thing and I knew right away that he was very dead.”

“You mentioned you came back from lunch at about 1:00 with Kelly, is that correct?”

“Yes, I believe so.”

“I’ve got a copy of your time sheet, you know, the one that records when everyone enters and leaves the building, and this one shows you coming into the staff lounge area at about 1:28. Is that correct?”

Nic is really feeling sick now. Yvonne might find out and she’d really be toast. “Ah, I believe that’s correct, I thought it was about 1:00 but I could be wrong. I’m so busy with all my work around her, I sometimes lose track of things.”

“I also show that Kelly came in at that time, too. Do you remember Kelly coming in with you from lunch, as you said before?”

“Yes, I mean, I believe so. I think it was John. It could have been Kelly but I’m really think it was John.”

“Thank you for your time, Nic; we’ll get back to you if we have any further questions.”

Nic rises and shakes Sledge’s hand--a very clammy shake--and gives him a squeamish smile as she walks slowly out of the Director’s office. She feels faint and dizzy and can’t get a grip on what her story should be. Just before she closes the office door, Detective Sledge asks her, “Nic, could you do me a huge favor and ask John if he could come in to answer some questions?”

“Why yes. I’d be happy to.” Sure she would.

Chapter Five

John Meadowlark strides into the director’s office with obvious purpose and zeal in his demeanor. John is a Public Service’s Librarian who’s very dissatisfied with his current occupation. He fancies himself as a writer and historian, yet his literary output left much to be desired. He made up for lack of scholasticism with a strong sense of self. There is more confidence in John than any person should have. John loves a challenge and loves to debate anything. In fact, he does debate almost anything, at any time--much to the chagrin of his fellow workers. He doesn’t get much work done, needless to say. This whole murder investigation is right up John’s alley. He relishes the idea of locking horns with a policeman and the thought of outfoxing him gives him goose bumps. He can’t wait to get his time with Detective Sledge.

John enters the Director’s office, without knocking and walks right up to where Sledge is sitting. “Hi, I’m John, you needed to see me?”

“You’re Mr. Meadowlark?”

“Call me John.”

“Please sit down, John. I’d like to ask you a few questions.”

“Anything; I’ve got all the time in the world.”

“So I understand you were on the reference desk when Mr. Gaylord arrived at the library this afternoon.”

“Yes, I was. I was explaining the finer parts of tort reform to a patron when Mr. Gaylord came to the reference desk and asked to see Yvonne--you know, the librarian Yvonne. I told him I’d be right with him and to have a seat. Do you carry a service revolver, Mr. Sledge?”

“Detective Sledge and yes I do. Is that a problem?”

“No, I mean, I was wondering if you have ever had to use it.”

“Mr. Meadowlark, can you tell me if you escorted Mr. Gaylord to the basement this afternoon?”

“Yes, I took him down there. Not that it mattered. I mean, what was he going to do down there? Dressed in his fine government suit and briefcase, he didn’t look ready to really work; I mean like the rest of us. These federal inspectors act like they are God and we should all bow down to them.”

“Did you have any kind of a quarrel with Mr. Gaylord in the basement?”

“Me? Heck no; I don’t have the time for these bureaucrats--why would I want to waste my time with them? By the way, did you have to go to firearms’ classes to carry your weapon?”

“Mr. Meadowlark, can you tell me if you saw Nic go down to the basement at any time this afternoon?”

“Nic, no; not that I remember. I mean she could have snuck down there. I mean, any chance to get some time to make a phone call, leave it to Nic--did you know we nick-named her “Nic.dot.com” because she spends all of her work time surfing the web? And if we called her out on it, we’d be accused of some racial insensitivity. I mean, who needs it!”

“So, you didn’t see her go to the basement any time today?”

“No, not at all.”

“Mr. Meadowlark, can you think any reason anybody should want to kill Mr. Gaylord?”

“Heck, I don’t know; isn’t that what you’re supposed to be figuring out?” Sledge feels his fist tighten as John continues. “I mean, I suppose lots of people might want him to, well at least be hurt, maybe. Take Yvonne; she just hates all men and would stop at nothing to make sure the depository stays here. And Kelly, she also hates men; I mean I’ve heard rumors that she did some dirty stuff in the Marine Corps to some men. Probably some sort of twisted equal-rights-feminist-male-bashing-thing-gone-wrong. Who knows? Hey, do you think I’d make a good Detective? I mean, I’ve got some pretty good ideas, huh?”

“Thank you, Mr. Meadowlark. Your answers have been a great help. One more thing, you told my officer this afternoon that you think you know why Mr. Gaylord was killed, and yet didn’t tell me why. Are you holding anything back?”

John feels a little caught off guard; his comment to the officers was a bit premature and a bit of a boast. He tries to formulate some sort of coherent response to Detective Sledge. “Yes, I think I said I was pretty sure that the murderer was here in the library, don’t you agree?”

“That’s not what the recording has you say. Mr. Meadowlark. Are you holding anything back that you should be sharing with me?”

John starts turning red and his right arm begins to tingle and twitch. “I meant that I think that…well…we’ll find out, you know. You’ll find out who the murderer is—that’s what I meant.”

“Thank you, Mr. Meadowlark, I have no more further questions.” John feels deflated, as if he’d missed his golden opportunity to shine in front of the detective. Yet as he walks out, he says, “Anything I can do to help, just let me know; I’m here for you.”

“Thanks,” Detective Sledge answers. He then asks, “Could you please tell Kelly that I’d like to have a few words with her as soon as possible?”

“Of course,” John responds, “I’m at your service.”

Chapter Six

When Kelly enters the office to be questioned, the first thing that strikes Detective Sledge is her beauty. She had long red hair, freckles, and blue green eyes. She looks like she could twist any man around her finger and he imagined her breaking many hearts of the men who happened to cross her path. “Please have a seat, Kelly. Do you know why I’ve asked for you here today?” inquires the detective.

“Well, I assume it’s because of the murder. All of us are completely stunned by what has happened today.”

“Did you know the Inspector?”

“Yes; he’s visited here before and some of the staff have gone out to lunch with him.”

“What was your impression of him when you went out for these lunches?”

“I thought he was a big flirt. Not only did he make suggestive comments to the waitress while staring at her breasts; he also kept grabbing my leg under the table.”

“How did that make you feel?”

“Like I wanted to clobber him. He treats women like dirt.”

“Some of the staff here has mentioned that you were a captain in the Marine Corps. That must have been very hard for you to fit in what was basically an old boy’s club in the 1970’s when you were in.”

Kelly answers frankly, “Yes indeed. There were some men who found it very repugnant to take orders from a woman. It was a battle every day trying to salve their bruised egos all the time.”

The Detective continues, “Sorry for this very personal comment, but did you date any officers or enlisted men while you were in the Marine Corps?”

“Well, we weren’t supposed to fraternize; it was really looked down upon,” Kelly responds defensively.

“So, you never dated anyone in the service?” the Detective continues to probe.

“Well, Kelly replied, “There was one man I thought I was in love with, but it didn’t work out.”

“Who broke up the relationship--you or the man?”

Kelly gets annoyed and says, “What does this have to do with the murder here today? Doesn’t a person have a right to a private life without somebody digging around in someone elses’ dirty laundry?” She continues, “Look--I didn’t have a personal relationship with the guy who got murdered today. I admit that I’ve been angry with men in the past, but I’d never, ever resort to murdering someone.”

“Have you ever filed a sexual harassment suit against any man?”

“No, Kelly responds, “My mantra is “to suffer and be still.” I learned that when I was taking a ‘Feminists’ Studies’ class. My teacher said that this phrase—“to suffer and be still”—was what these Victorian woman were trained to do. If they didn’t feel like having sex with their husband some night, they were told to ‘smile and think of England’, as if they were supposed to be baby-making machines for the common cause of spreading England’s power throughout the world. My teacher made it sound like the British colonialists saw it as a way to insure their future as a ‘master race’. It really makes me mad thinking about it.”

Detective Sledge could feel himself losing control of this interview and clears his throat to proceed. “Kelly,” he continues, “What are your responsibilities here at the library?”

“I am the Administrative Assistant and I am “second in command” of all that happens in the library.”

“I understand that you have been having some trouble with the chief architect of the building expansion?”

“Yes I have. It’s been one problem after another. He rarely answers my calls and it takes forever for his staff to come and look at the latest disaster in the expansion project.”

Detective Sledge pauses and thinks about her response. He then asks, “Where were you at the time of the murder?”

“What time exactly are you talking about and why do you automatically assume that I would know the time of death?”

“Try not to be so defensive,” Kelly, “I’m not accusing you of anything; I’ve asked everyone that question.” Sledge continues, “The time of death was around 1:30.”

Kelly answers that she and Nic went out to lunch at 12:00 and came back around 1:15 or so. Lastly, Detective Sledge asks her if she knows of any reason why Mr. Gaylord may have been killed. She replies, “I have absolutely no idea, but I can understand how someone might have been very upset over his abrasive manner.” Kelly says this with a disarming smile that leaves Sledge somewhat taken aback. He doesn’t know what to make of her. She seems both bossy and flirtatious at the same time. He finally composes himself and says, “Thank you for your assistance. Could you please ask the Public Services Librarian, Hung, to come and answer a few of my questions?”

“Yes, sir,” Kelly pauses and responds, “Oh, I sure hope you catch the creep who did this.”

Chapter Seven

Detective Sledge was working on some of his notes when he happens to look up to see a smiling Asian man sitting patiently in the chair opposite him. He starts slightly but catches himself. “Oh, hello. You must be Hung Tran.”

“Yes. I hope I wasn’t interrupting you, Detective?”

Sledge wonders how he came in so quietly and softly. “No, not at all. Thank you for coming in. I hope I’m not creating too much of an inconvenience for you. I just have a few questions I’d like to ask you about what happened today.”

Hung is a very quiet person. He is very kind and gentle in his demeanor and is always thanking everyone for any small gesture. He is a Vietnamese refugee who had come to the United States back in the early 1970’s after escaping the strict crackdowns on the monasteries in Viet Nam. Hung however, has a secret life away from the library which he never speaks of to his co-workers. During the Viet Nam War, both of his parents were killed and he ended up in an orphanage. When he became a teenager, he sought refuge in a monastery and became a monk. He formed strong friendships with other men in the monastery. Having to live in such tight quarters with other men and taking communal baths together often left him feeling ashamed and confused. “Am I gay?” he wondered. He struggled and prayed over his sexual orientation. He began feeling more trusting and safe when he met and fell in love with another man. This man became the center of his universe. Hung was so in love and serene with this man that after they finished making love, he often would imagine all of the smiling, happy faces looking down from the heavens and blessing the two of them. When the war was coming to an end, many of the monks began to leave Viet Nam, understanding that the Communist government would not look kindly towards such a spiritual vocation. Hung, and his lover, both planned to come to the United States to live and love together. In the growing chaos that ensued as Saigon began to fall to the communists, Hung and his lover became separated. They both promised each other that, should they become parted, they would somehow seek each other out in the United States. Regretfully, Hung left Viet Nam and came to the United States alone and with a heavy heart.

Detective Sledge says, “Hung, can you tell me where you were around 1:00 this afternoon?”

“Yes; I was working at the reference desk with John--John Meadowlark.”

“Did you see Mr. Gaylord come into the library this afternoon?”

“Yes; he came in about 1:15 or so and John took him downstairs to the basement to show him the microfilm collection. The collection is a major part of the depository and he wanted to take a look at it.”

“So you talked with him when he came in?”

“Yes; a bit; he asked me where he could find the Director regarding a depository meeting that was to be held in the basement.”

“Did Mr. Gaylord’s appearance or demeanor seem unusual to you in any way? I mean did he act out of the ordinary to you.”

“No; not that I remember, sir.”

“Can you think of any reason why anyone should want to kill Mr. Gaylord?”

“No, sir; I can’t think of any reason why anyone should want to do such a horrible thing.”

“Thank you Hung, that will be all for now. I may have more questions for everyone later.”

Hung stands up and shakes Sledge’s hand and with a slight bow, turns and leaves the office. Sledge sits down to go over his notes.

Chapter Eight

After Sledge finishes interviewing the staff, he meets Willis at a nearby Starbucks to go over their progress in the investigation.

“So what do you think so far sir?” Officer Willis asks him.

“It’s hard to say for sure but I think several employees had a reason to kill Mr. Gaylord. Kelly doesn’t suffer fools gladly and has some mystery about her past in the Marine Corps. Yvonne was depending on the depository continuing almost to the point of desperation. To you and me, murder seems like a stretch but who knows how desperate a person can get when they really want something. Plus, there’s something funny about that John character. I mean he does seem to be a blowhard, but he does have that anti-government past about him and all. Would he want to kill someone for it? I don’t know.”

“Sir, I spoke to some of the patrons who were here when the murder occurred. They didn’t hear any noises or screams. Apparently this place is pretty quiet most of the time. There are some homeless people who come and go from what they told me. Two people in particular seemed suspicious to me. One, a young man of about twenty five, and an older woman of about fifty. They both spend quite a bit of time in the visitors’ rest rooms, which happen to be near the basement stairs. I guess they can get loud and belligerent at times. The young man is known to throw tantrums every once in a while. He’ll take over the bathroom and angrily bark at anyone who dares to come in. I think some of our patrol cops have been called to check this guy out also. The woman is also a bit over the top. She’ll come in and take over some of the private, small conference rooms and scream at anyone who tries to even suggest that she needs to move on. She’s been known to make threats and throw books and other things at the library staff. They are all very afraid of her. It seems the only one here who can deal with her is the Asian guy, what’s his name-- Haung, Hag, Hang, or Hung, I think. The staff says he’s been able to quiet her and make her see the light. Not sure if it’s anything, but I thought you should know.”

“Very good, Willis. Nice work. Make sure we follow up with the uniformed guys and see if they have anything to add about these characters. There just might be something to them. Willis, I need to find out everything you can about Mr. Gaylord. Where he lives, where he’s from--everything. We’ve got to contact the next of kin, wherever they are. Got any questions?”

“No sir; I’ll get right on it.”

“Thanks, Willis. By the way, I watched the CCTV and it doesn’t show the area where the murder took place. There must be a blind spot. I told the Director and she was livid.”

“That’s rotten luck.”

“Tell me about it. Right now, I’m going to visit Ms. Brown, the Government Documents Assistant, who worked at the library for several years before she recently retired. We’ll see what her take is on all of this.”

Chapter Nine

Detective Sledge pulls up to a Craftsman Bungalow home in Old Town to interview Ms. Brown. Nice house, he thinks. After he knocks on the door, Ms. Brown opens it for him. His first impression of her is that she looks a lot younger than he expected her to be. She is wearing a pink sun dress. Maybe a little “too young” for her, but she pulls it off, he thinks. She has made iced tea for him, which he gladly accepts since the day is very hot and humid. The front room’s decorated beautifully and looks like it belongs in a museum. It reminds Sledge of the Greene and Greene houses or those designed by Frank Lloyd Wright in Chicago. The room could be right out of the pages of “Architectural Digest.” I wonder how a retired government worker can afford a beautifully appointed house like this? he asks himself. Just as he’s sitting down, a brown cocker spaniel comes flying into the room. The dog jumps up on Sledge’s lap and smothers him with kisses.

“Gumbo, get down,” Ms. Brown commands. “Go to your place.” The dog slinks off to the other room. “I’m sorry. He does get a bit overenthusiastic. He loves people. We spoil him too much.”

Sledge answers that it’s okay; he likes dogs, too. Then he settles down to begin questioning Ms. Brown.

“Do you know of any reason why Mr. Gaylord might have been killed?”

She responds, “No...it’s a horrible thing that happened. I can’t think of any reason why someone would want to kill him. And the way the he was killed--being smashed in the compact shelving—it must have been a terrifying way to die. Nobody deserved that. I don’t know if anyone told you, but a few years back one of the library’s employees almost died because the compact shelving malfunctioned. I was the one who heard her scream and called 911. Luckily we were able to open the shelves and get her out of there.”

Sledge continues, “Did Mr. Gaylord have any enemies in the library? I heard that he had rubbed some of the female employees the wrong way.”

“Is that what you heard? Interesting. I heard rumors that he was quite a flirt, but I never had any problems with him. To me, it seemed like he had some sexual identity issues, though. Some of the guys at the library felt that he stood a little too close to them whenever he’d come to town. There was even talk that he had visited a male prostitute to get spanked.”

“Where did you hear that from?”

“From John Meadowlark. I think that he may have been making it up, though. He also said that he thought our boss likes to wear leather and play sadomasochistic games. What a mind that man has. I think the whole idea is that he likes to be titillated.”

“How did the library staff get along? Were there the usual politics in the work place?”

“There were catfights and things could get a bit nasty. Mostly email wars. That kind of thing.” Sledge notices that the questioning has made Ms. Brown very uncomfortable. He senses that she is holding something back. She doesn’t seem to like being in the position of having to say unpleasant things about people—especially about her former colleagues.

“Even though I’m retired, I still see my friends from the library often. When all is said and done, the library’s employees are like one big happy family, with all of the ups and downs that go with it. I will say this for the staff: if anyone had any health or psychological problems, the employees and the management really were ‘there for them’. When my parents died, everyone from work came to the funerals. And none of them had ever even met my parents.”

“Why did you leave the library? You are pretty young to be retired.”

“I’m one of those lucky people who were able to have a guaranteed pension after I turned 50. If you read the local newspapers, you’ll find that these kinds of pensions are not too popular these days, to put it mildly. We paid into our retirement fund, but the newspapers don’t want to acknowledge that because they prefer to lead the public into believing that our cushy pensions are being paid on the backs of taxpayers. Of course, the newspapers only list the retirement income of the highest echelon of government employees as examples. But don’t get me started. I’m just glad that I left when I did, because I think there will be some big changes coming down the pipeline. Maybe, the age you can retire will move up. Something like that.”

Sledge answers, “Well, it’s been common knowledge for years that government workers have good benefits. My Dad used to lecture me about it, saying, ‘Get a government job or join the service; have some ‘financial security’. That’s why a lot of people apply for government jobs in the first place, I think. But, I guess there are people out there who prefer to think that somebody is getting something that they aren’t and it makes them angry. I have strong feelings about it too, Ms. Brown,” he says with a smile. “I’m proud to call myself a public servant.” Sledge realizes that he’s saying far too much about himself and not enough about the investigation. ‘I’m getting way too comfortable here chatting away with this pleasant lady in her beautiful home,’ he admonishes himself. ‘Get back to business!’

“Would you like some more iced tea?” Ms. Brown asks.

“No, thank you. I’ve taken up enough of your day already. Thank you for answering my questions. And thank you for your hospitality.”

“It was my pleasure. Let me know if there’s anything else I can do for you. I really hope you find the killer, Detective Sledge.”

“Have a nice day, Ms. Brown,” he says as he walks out the door. Why do I feel like she’s hiding something? he asks himself. How did I develop into this cynical person who doesn’t trust anybody? I guess it comes with the job.

*******

His cell phone rings as he is leaving her house, and his boss tells him that she wants him to fly to Maryland to interview Gaylord’s family and coworkers. She’s arranged a flight for him that leaves in the morning.

That night, as he is walking down from the master bedroom, he loses his footing mid-way and tumbles down the stairs, landing with a loud thud. His wife runs down the stairs to see what happened.

“Oh, my God. Are you alright?” she asks.

“I don’t think I can stand up. Can you get me the ice pack?”

He’s had problems with his knees before, so there is always one in the freezer, ready to go.

He lies on the floor for twenty minutes, holding the ice pack to his knee.

“I feel really pathetic,” he tells his wife.

“Maybe we should get you to the doctor’s?”

“He’s gone home by now.”

“I’ll take you to the emergency room, then.”

“Don’t be silly. It’s just a sprain.”

“Okay, then. Try to stand up. Let me help you.”

He tries to stand and feels a sharp pain shooting up in his leg. “I can’t stand,” he tells her.

“We’re going to the hospital, then,” she insists.

Chapter Ten

The 747 lands heavily on the runway in Baltimore as the rain pounds on the airplane fuselage. Willis has a death grip on his armrest. When he heard that Sledge fractured his knee in two places and needed to stay off his feet for a few days, he inwardly groaned when he was told that he’d have to go in his place. He was in the service and flew around the world many times but has never been comfortable flying. The two rum and cokes don’t do much to calm his nerves either.

As the plane taxis to the gate, everyone in the plane begins to stand--much to the chagrin of the crew. “Please, will everyone remain seated until the plane is secured at the gate!” the stewardess snaps over the intercom. The chiding catches everyone by surprise as if they were school children being scolded by an angry teacher.

A passenger who’s standing to retrieve his stuff drops his bag and computer into Willis’ lap sending his notes and bag flying. “These idiots should be busted!” Willis mutters under his breath. “Why me?”

*******

Willis finally makes it off the plane and out into the terminal. Just outside the gate he is greeted by a man in a plain suit, dark sunglasses and a sign that reads “Officer Willis”. Who is this? Willis thinks.

The man approaches him and says, “Are you Officer Willis?”

“Yes, that’s me; who wants to know?”

“Easy fellow,” the man returns. “I’m Agent Brewster, FBI. William Brewster. You can call me Bill. Sledge asked me if I could help you out with your inquiries. We go way back. Spent some time in the service together. Man, did we have a time together. Anything you need while you’re here, just ask.”

Brewster catches Willis off-guard. He feels a bit upset that Sledge thought he needed to have a chaperone. This was his big chance to show he could do some real police work by himself. Boy, I guess he thinks I’m just not ready.

Brewster senses Willis’ feeling and says, “Don’t worry, pal; Sledge thinks the world of you, don’t take it personal. This is your case, just think of me as a resource. I’m here to help. Sledge has always been like this. You’re not alone.”

“I’m sorry,” Willis says. “I guess I was just caught a bit off guard after the flight and all. I’m not used to flying and the weather was awful.”

“Get used to it. It’s supposed to be like this for days.”

Willis collects his bags and he and Brewster are met at the curb by another FBI man in a plain, unmarked car. “Meet Agent Simkins,” Brewster says. “He’s going to help us; I mean help you, get all the information you need on this Gaylord fellow. Sledge emailed me all the information he had on him and Simkins was able to get you quite a folder of stuff from our databases.” Brewster hands Willis a large manila envelope marked “Gaylord” as the car pulls away into the rainy streets of Baltimore.

“Where they got you staying?”

“I’m at the Motel 6 on Washington.”

“Ooh, sounds like you guys are on a budget, eh?”

“Yeah, things are tight in the department. They’re trying to save every last penny, even limiting our range time, you know, only so many bullets even.”

“Jeez, it’s too bad. Ever think about working for us? With all the Homeland Security money rolling in, we’ve got whatever we ask for. Pretty nice gig.”

“It’d be really nice to have all the stuff you guys have. Hell, if we could just get some up-to-date computer systems, I’d be happy.”

“Feel like something to eat?”

“Nah, I’m going to have an early night, I want to get started on digging through all this information here. Thanks a lot for the help.”

“Any time, Willis. We’re here to help. Here’s my number. Call me anytime if you need anything. We’ve got eyes and ears into stuff you can only dream of; so, should you get stuck, give us a ring. Have a good night and good luck with your case.”

Willis grabs his bag and dashes into the motel lobby, dripping wet.

The motel room was basic and sparse. The department was certainly not spending excessively. Willis could hear the constant roar of jet engines taking off and landing from his room. The motel was near the airport and what little soundproofing it had barely made a difference. Dropping his bags on the bed, he phoned the department to let them know he made it to Baltimore.

“Lucy, this is Willis. I made it to Baltimore in one piece.”

“Wow…Baltimore, Maryland?”

“Yes, Lucy. Baltimore, Maryland. Remember you got me this tickets right?”

“Oh sure. Don’t make fun of me. I just forgot. How was your flight?”

“Piece of cake. No problems at all. I’m used to it. All that flying in the service. It’s raining pretty hard here though.”

“Sorry to hear about that. Do you need to talk to anyone?”

“Is Detective Sledge in?”

“Let me check. Hold on a sec.”

Willis sits on hold listening to the department’s public service messages while the rain began to come down harder. He hopes he wouldn’t screw this up. Meeting with the FBI guys and getting all the information from them on Gaylord seems to raise the importance level of things a bit higher for him. This could be a chance for him to shine; he hopes he won’t let them down.

“Willis? How’s it going? How was your flight?” Sledge breaks in.

“It’s going well. The flight was fine and I’m digging into some information on Gaylord right now.”

“Did you meet Brewster?”

“Yes sir I did. Says he knows you and that you go way back.”

“Yeah, Brewster and I were in the Corps way back when. We had ourselves a time, we did. Got into some situations in the desert. Brewster saved my life more than once.”

“Wow, I had no idea. He gave me an envelope full of information on Gaylord. I had no idea they had so much information about people.”

“You’d be surprised what they have, Willis.”

“That’s what Brewster said.”

“So what’s your schedule look like?”

“I’m going to see Gaylord’s two sisters tomorrow morning. Then I want to talk to his coworkers at the Government Printing Office. Finally, I’ll take a look at his apartment. Hopefully I can get some more information about this guy for us.”

“Sounds good, Willis. Let me know if you need anything from us. I want you to get some good information for us on this case. I have a feeling there’s a lot we don’t know yet that you’ll pickup there.”

Willis feels his stomach churn and his throat close up a bit from the pressure of expectations. “I’ll find out everything there is to know about him. You can count on me, sir.”

“Great. Well, I’ve got to go now, I’m checking with an old buddy on one of the library employees, Kelly, who used to be in the Corps. Seems she might have a bit of a past that we need to know about. In the meantime, don’t work so hard. Enjoy a bit of the nation’s capital. It’s quite a historical place you know.”

“I’ll see what I can do, sir.”

Willis hangs up thinking, when the heck would I have time to visit Washington D.C.? They only gave me two nights here and put me in this cheap motel. He lies back on the bed and opens the envelope Brewster gave him. He spends the rest of the night reading and absorbing as much as he could about Gaylord. He falls asleep to the distant roar of jet airplanes taking off.

Chapter Eleven

The next morning, Willis awakes to a knock on the door.

“Room service,” a voice pleads.

“Room service, Mr. Willis.”

“Hold on, I’ll be right there.”

Willis stumbles out of bed searching for his pants. Pants on, he opens the door to find Agent Brewster doing his best room service imitation.

“Thought you might like a little breakfast.” Brewster holds out some coffee and bagels with cream cheese.

“Boy, you had me there. I didn’t think Motel 6 had room service. Sorry for the mess, I haven’t gotten unpacked yet. I spent my entire night reading the information you put together on Gaylord. It’s really something all the information you have on people.”

“Everyone is on the radar after 9/11. I hope it has something that will help you.”

“Actually, it raises more questions for me than it answers. But hey--that’s police work right?”

“Ain’t that the truth? This fellow has quite a bit of mystery about him; even compared to people we’re used to dealing with. A real odd character. I have to admit that part of the reason we’re helping out on this one is that the agency Gaylord worked for was one that was very close to the FBI in ways I cannot reveal. There are people in the Bureau who would like nothing better than to have this case closed as quick as possible and without any fanfare, if you know what I mean?”

“Wow, I had no idea. I guess this is bigger than I thought.”

Willis feels the pressure of the case start to ratchet up. Why in the world was the FBI so interested in this person and or the Law Library? Why did they care?

“So what are your plans today?”

“I’m going to start with talking to Gaylord’s sisters this morning. I’m hoping to visit the Government Printing Office and see if I can get any information about him there. Tomorrow I want to visit his apartment in Baltimore. The guys in the department promised me I could see it before they remove everything.”

“So do you need a lift anywhere this morning, Willis?”

“Ah, no thanks. I’m going to grab a rental.”

“Can we at least drive you to the car rental?”

“Sure, why not.”

*******

While Brewster spreads out the bagels and slathers cream cheese on them, Willis gets dressed and ready to go. The day looks stormy and grey. The paper says there is a 70% chance of rain. He tells Brewster, “I have a question about Gaylord from the material you gave me. I noticed that he had numerous run-ins with the law, mostly fights and bad behavior in bars.”

“Yes, we noticed that, too.”

“My question is, ‘How could he get his GPO job with all that on his record? I mean, it doesn’t make sense.’ The government shouldn’t have hired him, right?”

“You would tend to think so. Let me let you in on something that you won’t find in his official records. Gaylord was unruly and did cause a lot of problems for the D.C. police. He seemed to be on a hair-trigger sometimes according to what we’ve been able to find out. I don’t know what caused him to snap so often, maybe PTSD from Nam, maybe something else. Despite his behavior, he got that job mainly because he had someone in his corner--his father. His dad was an Annapolis grad and was good buddies with someone very senior in government. They were both in the same class at the Academy. Seems Gaylord was given an ultimatum; they’d give him the job if he stopped all his reckless behavior. I can’t tell you much more than that but I think that answers your question.”

“So he got a sweetheart deal?”

“Yeah, and you didn’t hear it from me.”

“From the looks of things, the deal worked.”

“Yes, he seemed to have sorted things out. No arrests or bad behavior since. Finish your bagel and let’s go. Don’t you have a car to rent?”

“Oh man, I do. Thanks.”

Willis scarfs down a bagel with a gulp of coffee. He grabs his coat and bag and follows Brewster down to the lobby where Agent Simkins is waiting to take him to get his rental car. They jump in and head toward the airport to get Willis his rental. Willis still can’t get the military problem out of his head while they drive through the streets.

“Would you like us to come with you to talk to the sisters?”

“No, but thanks a bunch, you guys have been a great help. I think I’ve got this one. I’ve got your number, if I need any help, I’ll give you a call.”

*******

Willis dreads meeting Gaylord’s next of kin--his two sisters. They are both single ladies who live together in a house in Georgetown--the ritzy neighborhood in the Nation’s Capital. Both women are professionals: one is a librarian and another is a lawyer. Willis feels intimidated by them already, and he hasn’t even met them yet.

At a prearranged time of 10:00 a.m., he knocks on their door. The lawyer, Violet, is a large, imposing woman who looks like she suffers no fools. She invites him inside and asks him if he’d like any coffee or water. Willis has a very dry mouth, so he gladly accepts her offer of a glass of water. He had already notified them by phone of their brother’s death, so the two sisters have had some time to get over the shock of his brutal murder.

The other sister, Phyllis, comes into the front room to join Willis and Violet. She is wearing her glasses on a beaded chain around her neck, reminding Willis of “Marian the Librarian”. She speaks very softly as she asks Willis if they are getting any closer to figuring out who killed their brother. Willis responds that the law enforcement team is still gathering information. Violet says, “Ask us anything at all that may prove helpful to this investigation.”

Willis first asks them if they have any idea who might have killed their brother. Phyllis passionately responds, “We can’t think of anyone who would do such a ‘dastardly deed’.”

Willis inwardly chuckles at her response, thinking that only a librarian would use the words “dastardly deed.”

She also adds, “It is so difficult for me to imagine that this would happen in a library, of all places”. She sees libraries as “hushed reading rooms” where people can have the peace and quiet to do their reading and research.

Willis asks both of them if they knew of anyone who held a grudge against their brother. Violet impatiently responds, “As my sister just told you, we have absolutely no idea who might have done this!”

“Calm down Ma’am; I’m just doing my job.” He next asks if they had noticed any unusual behavior or activities that their brother was involved in during the last few years.

Both sisters look at each other, thinking, should we really open up that Pandora’s Box? They give each other a silent signal that they will “spill the beans” about their brother if it will help solve the mystery of his death and lead to the arrest of the “evil person” who committed this horrible crime.

Phyllis is the first to speak, knowing from past experience that Violet tends to “fly off the handle” whenever she gets stressed out and angry. This is going to be very difficult to divulge the family’s dirty linen, the sisters think. In a soft and measured voice, Phyllis tells Willis that their brother was never the same after he was drafted and told to go to Viet Nam. He was very upset that he would have to risk his life fighting in a war he didn’t believe in. He knew of friends coming home from the war suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder. One of his closest friends committed suicide when he came back from the war. The sisters had received very few letters while their brother was fighting in Viet Nam. The last one he wrote said that his tour of duty was over and he was on his way home.

Gaylord didn’t come home right away, after all. For several years, the sisters received no correspondence from him whatsoever and became increasingly afraid and anxious, desperately making inquiries as to his whereabouts. Nobody knew what had happened to him. When he finally did arrive back home after the fall of Saigon, he refused to talk about where he had disappeared to during all of the time he was missing. Violet was very frustrated with him for keeping it a secret. She remonstrated, “If you can’t tell your family, who can you tell?”

Willis asks the sisters about their brother’s employment history after he came back from the war. Violet says, “He didn’t work; he did nothing but drink and get into bar fights. We were totally disgusted and disappointed with him.”

Phyllis interrupts her sister saying, “We knew that he needed some space and healing before he could get back to his old self.” Both sisters agreed that their parents would be rolling over in their graves if they’d known how their only son had been squandering all of that Harvard education. They were both relieved when he finally got a job at the Government Printing Office.

Willis continues, “I understand that he was living in Baltimore before he came to Colorado to inspect the library. When was the last time you saw him?” The sisters reply that they hadn’t seen him for about a month. Willis tells them that he plans to go look at Gaylord’s apartment tomorrow, and asks them if they knew of anything at his home that might be helpful to the investigation. When they answered that they didn’t know of anything, he gives them his card and tells them to call him if they can think of anything further.

Chapter Twelve

Willis makes his way through the D.C. traffic to the Government Printing Office. He pulls up to the security gate and greets the security guard. He’s armed too.

“Hello, I’m Sergeant Ronnie Willis. I’m here to speak to some GPO employees about a crime we’re working on.”

Willis proudly flashes his badge.

“Do you have a blue permit card?”

“Blue permit card? Ah, no, I spoke with the director, Carole Seton, a few days back and she said to just come on by. Nothing about a blue permit card.”

“I’m sorry Sergeant Willis, you’ll need to park your vehicle over there and then obtain a blue permit card from the security office up over the ridge there.”

The guard points to an office building off in the distance.

“Please pull ahead and make a U-turn to exit towards the security office.”

Willis pulls his car over to the security office parking lot and goes inside to get his permit. He approaches a desk and speaks to a D.C. Security Officer. “Hello, can you tell me who I can speak to about getting a blue permit card?”

“You’re speaking to the right person. Can I have your name?”

“Yes, Sergeant Ronnie Willis.”

“Let me check. Did you say Willis, with two els or one?”

“That’d be two.”

“OK, I see your name right here. Looks like someone knew you were coming.”

“Must be Carole Seton, I spoke to her days ago.”

“No, it doesn’t look like she reserved your card – I can tell if it’s someone inside the agency by the way it’s coded. This one is coded from outside the GPO.”

Who reserved the pass then? Willis thinks. “No bother, just glad to have a pass ready. Where do I need to sign?”

“Just right here and the badge is all yours.”

He hands Willis a blue ID badge.

“Wear this visibly wherever you go in the GPO.”

“Do I need to return the badge when I leave?”

“Yes, please. There’s someone here 24/7. Just drop it by and anyone can take care of it for you.”

Willis returned to his car and proceeded back to the security gate. Seeing his blue badge, the security guard waved him through.

Chapter Thirteen

The Government Printing Office is huge. The whole area reminds him of the Walmart stores back home. He finds the lobby entrance and is able to park in a visitor’s parking section. As he enters the building, he is greeted by a U.S. Marshall who informs him that all his belongings are subject to a search.

“But I’m a sworn peace officer.”

“Sorry sir, this applies to everyone.”

Willis empties his pockets and removes any metal he can find. He steps under the metal detector and it rings noisily. The Marshall waves him over and gives him a once over with the wand.

“You’re ok sir; you may proceed.”

“Can you tell me which way the personnel office is?”

“Down that hall there. Second door on the right. You can’t miss it.”

“Thanks.”

*******

Willis finds the personnel office and approaches the reception area.

“Can I help you?”

“Yes, I’m Sergeant Ronnie Willis. I’m here to see Carol Seton.”

“Sergeant Willis?”

Willis turns in the direction of the voice. “Sergeant Willis, I’m Carol Seton. You found me.”

Carol Seton is a tall, dark woman. Her voice and manner are self-assured. She is one of those people who takes over a room when they enter it. She has a warm, firm handshake and a demeanor that made you feel right at home.

“Hello, I’m Sergeant Willis.”

Willis blurts out suddenly feeling silly for having said it.

“Of course you are! I’ve been waiting here for you since 1:30. Did you get stuck in traffic?”

“No; actually I had to get a blue pass--this card here.”

“Oh that. Sorry for the inconvenience. I forgot to mention that when we spoke the other day. I should’ve had one ready for you when you came. Sorry for that also.”

“No problem. There was one waiting for me when I arrived. Someone knew I was coming.”

“Hmm, you’re more popular than you think. Come this way; let’s go down to my office where we can talk.”

Willis follows Carole down through a maze of corridors and security checks until they reach her office.

“Excuse me for saying this, but I’m surprised at all the security here. I mean, this is the GPO not the CIA. Why all the checks?”

“Amen. All this stuff here belongs to the people, yet you need a security clearance to see most of it. Honey, you’ve got to realize this is Washington D.C. Everything changed on 9/11. Everything is a target for everyone. We’re worried about the terrorists blowing us up. We’re worried about old fashion espionage.”

While Carole spoke, Willis couldn’t help but notice the diplomas from Harvard, Wharton and the U.S. Air Force on the wall.

“Why should we have to secure government guides on soybeans for Pete’s sake? You got me, Sergeant. So what can I do for you?”

“As you know, I’m here investigating the murder of one of your GPO library inspectors, Mr. Sean Gaylord.”

“Yes, I remember our conversation. You mentioned that you’d like to ask us all some questions about Mr. Gaylord. So you really think he was murdered?”

“Yes. I do, ma’am.”

“Please detective, call me Carole or Mrs. Seton. Just not Ma’am.”

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Seton. Yes; we do think he was murdered from the evidence we have so far. I can’t reveal very much about the case except that we believe Mr. Gaylord was murdered. Can you think of any reason that someone would want to murder him?”

“Lord, no. Honestly, I barely knew the man. I do know from his personnel file that he was a good worker and that he carried out his duties as requested and on time. It doesn’t look like we had any problems with him.”

“Did he have any problems with any of the GPO staff?”

“None that I’m aware of. What I know of Mr. Gaylord comes from the personnel file. How he behaved outside the workplace is another story.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Seton. I appreciate your help and candor. I’d like to see if I might talk to his supervisor, Mr. Gonzalves. Do you know if he is in his office?”

“Sure. Let me get him on the phone right now.”

Willis couldn’t shake the feeling that Mrs. Seton was holding something back and maybe not telling him everything she knew. Certainly she couldn’t know everything about everybody who worked at the GPO but there was something in her manner that wasn’t right.

“Mr. Gonzalves will see you now. His office is down at the end of the corridor, second to the last office. He’s waiting for you.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Seton. It has been a pleasure speaking with you. Thank you for your time. He’s my card in case you remember anything that might be of help to us in this case.”

Mrs. Seton stands up as Willis leaves the office; she doesn’t say a word.

Chapter Fourteen

“Why, you must be Sergeant Willis. Art Gonzalves at your service. Please sit down.”

“Thank you.”

Mr. Art Gonzalves was a large man of about 40 years. Dark haired and tired looking, he was a curious combination of Vietnamese and Italian parents. Many years of sedentary government work combined with apparent loads of junk food had taken its toll on him. His desk was littered with empty Starbucks cups and he had a plethora of electronic gadgets at his disposal. Computers, phones, monitors, his desk resembled a NASA flight control center, albeit a lot more messy.

“Sorry for the mess, Sergeant. I’ve just gotten some new phones for our inspectors and I’m putting them through their paces making sure they work as expected.”

“I expect you know why I’m here. I’d like to ask you a few questions about the death, or murder, of one of your inspectors, Sean Gaylord.”

“Yes, the whole Gaylord business – what a tragedy. Why, he was just here not four days ago sitting in that very seat. He was telling me about his plans to travel to your area and how he was going to evaluate the GPO library there.”

“Do you remember anything odd about your last conversation? Anything that stood out?”

“No, actually it all seemed so routine. Gaylord did these certification visits all the time. He visited GPO libraries several times a year. Nothing seemed unusual in this one.”

Willis could see Gonzalves had a copy of Gaylord’s personnel file on his desk, amidst the coffee cups and computers. As he talks, he slowly pushes it off to the side as if something might jump out of it unexpectedly.

“You see, it was Gaylord’s job to inspect and ultimately certify or not certify our GPO satellite libraries. The libraries had to meet a certain criteria level before they were officially certified as GPO libraries. Gaylord’s job was to ensure that GPO libraries met those standards.”

“Did you ever have cases where a library did not get certified?”

“Why yes, we’ve had a few that missed the mark. Three this year.”

“Were they, I mean the librarians, very upset with losing their certification?”

“Oh yes. They value the prestige and bragging rights they get from being the chosen depository library in their area.”

“Has anyone become, how can I say, visibly upset when they didn’t pass the certification?”

“Yes, yes indeed. We’ve had people cry, sob and throw things at us. One library even threatened us with a lawsuit.”

“A lawsuit?”

“Yes, a lawsuit.”

“Do you happen to know whether or not the library where Gaylord was murdered was going to be recertified?”

“I don’t know. Gaylord was to make his inspection the day he was murdered. I can tell you though, from looking at his notes about the law library, they were very eager to make sure they were going to be recertified and they wanted to be sure that they had everything taken care of for Mr. Gaylord. They were planning to take him to dinner to go over any issues that might arise during his visit. I’ve got the phone message with the restaurant name and time on it. Looks pretty fancy doesn’t it?”

“Sounds a bit like a conflict of interest going to dinner, doesn’t it?”

“I suppose it does on the surface. This is actually pretty common for our inspectors to do. They encourage meetings with the library staff to explain what is expected of them and what they should be aiming for.”

“How about sandwiches and chips in the conference room?”

“We do that, too. Whatever the library wants—is what we say.”

Willis feels he’s hit a nerve. It looks to him that this whole system and Mr. Gonzolves had grown too fond of the way things were. This sense of power and what they had to offer seemed to ooze from GPO staff.

“I believe our inspectors are firmly above the law in all their actions.”

Willis feels that things are getting personal with Mr. Gonzalves. He needs to get control of the interview back.

“I’m sure you’re absolutely right, Mr. Gonzalves. I didn’t mean any disrespect. I’m sorry, but there are questions I just have to ask. This is a murder investigation and we don’t want leave any stone unturned. Can you tell me if Mr. Gaylord had any issues with his coworkers? Did he get along with everyone?”

“Yes, I think he got along with most everyone. From what I could observe, he was pretty much a loner. He kept to himself. But he did socialize with our group and the other inspectors from time to time.”

“You don’t remember any altercations with anyone? Any fights or strong words used?”

“No, I can honestly say that I haven’t.”

“OK, thank you Mr. Gonzalves. You have been very helpful.”

“No problem. I hope I’ve been able to help. It was such a tragedy what happened to Gaylord. I can’t imagine the grief and misery his family must be enduring.”

“I’d like to speak to Richard Masters if he’s in.”

“Yes he is. I’ll see if he’s in his office.”

Gonzalves clicks something on his computer to see if Masters is in.

“Yes, I can see that he’s in his office. I’ll call him and let him know that you’re on your way. He’s just two doors down on the right.”

“Thank you Mr. Gonzalves. I appreciate the time and your help.”

Chapter Fifteen

Willis heads down the hallway towards Richard Master’s office. His door is closed and Willis knocks.

“Come in; it’s open,” Masters responds.

“Hello. You must be Richard Masters; I’m Sergeant Ronnie Willis, Denver PD. I’m here investigating the death of Sean Gaylord. I appreciate you taking the time to see me.”

“Not at all, call me Rick. Please, sit down.”

Rick Masters is graying, late-fiftyish man, with a pencil-thin mustache. He’s dressed sharply in a crisp button-downed shirt and tie. He has the look of someone who aspires to be in a position much higher than he is. He carries himself as if he’s in charge of things around the GPO. His desk and office are clean and tidy. Everything in its place. His desk has two computer monitors with screen savers of automobiles. His bookshelves are full of model cars of all types. The books in the cases didn’t show much wear at all. They look impressive but do not look used. Above his desk is a prominently framed Honorable Discharge from the Army.

“Mr. Masters, I understand that you are a GPO inspector just like Mr. Gaylord was. Is that correct?”

“Yes, we are, or were, on the same level although I’ve been here quite a bit longer. I’ve been doing this for over fifteen years now.”

“Did you know Mr. Gaylord very well? Did you socialize with him at all?”

“I knew Sean fairly well; we’ve been neighbors here in the office ever since he started. We’ve gone to training together and even travelled together. I wouldn’t say we were best friends, I mean, I’m not like Sean in most ways.”

“In what ways exactly?”

“Well, his personality was different from mine. I don’t think he appreciated the finer things in life, like fine automobiles, fine wine and the like. We could relate somewhat on the GPO level but outside of that we were different.”

“Did you and Mr. Gaylord ever go out together at night?”

“No. I mean we never went out alone, if that’s what you mean!”

“That’s not what I meant. What did you mean, Mr. Masters?”

Mr. Masters gets up and shut the door to his office, looking both ways down the hallway before closing the door. “I meant, we never socialized--just us two. Like I said, we were different sorts of people. He liked different things than I did. We attended dinners with other staff members and also while travelling to depository libraries. Never just us.”

“You seem pretty adamant about the fact that you two never went out alone. What was so bad about Sean that you would feel so strongly about his company?”

“Now, don’t get me wrong. Sean was a nice guy. We were different types of people, that’s all. I’m as opened minded as the next guy but I’m just not like Sean in certain ways.”

“What ways, Mr. Masters?”

“The word around the office, and don’t quote me on this, was that Sean was a bit, how can I say, light in the loafers, if you know what I mean. He and I never had any issues but I’ve heard stories that after a few drinks, he became another person.”

“What sort of person?”

“The sort of person who likes, well, likes the company of other guys.”

“Did you ever witness any anger or violent behavior around Mr. Gaylord when he became this other type of person?”

“No, no; I never did but I’ve heard stories from other employees that he got a bit too friendly with other male inspectors.”

“Just other male inspectors?”

“Well, actually he had a reputation with female inspectors too. I think he swung both ways, if you know what I mean. He liked to party was the word around here. He was a pretty hard worker but I think he liked to cut loose at any chance he had.”

“So you’re not aware of any ‘incidents’ with any GPO employees relating to his behavior? Did he get into any trouble that you’re aware of?”

“None that I’m aware of.”

“Can you think of any reason why anyone would want Mr. Gaylord dead?”

“No, no; none at all. Maybe he had some issues with management. Heaven knows they can create some problems. I just think that Sean didn’t have the smarts and experience to navigate the GPO waters and get ahead in a successful way. He sometimes didn’t seem like he was comfortable here. I’ve been here for a long time and I know what goes on around here. You’ve got to get to know people and know just how to work with them if you expect to get ahead. It’s a skill that I’ve developed over the years and I think Sean could have learned quite a bit from me had he taken the time. It’s just a shame. Just a shame.”

“Did Sean have a ‘significant other’ that you know of? Did he have a girlfriend?”

“Not that I know for sure. He often said he’d never go ‘steady’ with anyone. He didn’t want the attachment for some reason. He’d get fired up just talking about it.”

“Was anyone sweet on him that you knew? Male or Female?”

“Not that I know of; man, that’s beyond my pay grade. He liked to party and have people around him but I never saw anyone that looked to be of that type.”

“OK, Mr. Masters, I thank you for your time and your candid answers to my questions. You’ve been very helpful.”

“I hope I’ve made a difference. I know quite a bit of what goes on around here so please don’t hesitate to call or email me if you have any more questions about the GPO and Sean. I’m your guy. Think of me as your GPO ‘mole’.”

“Thank you Mr. Master, I will keep that in mind. One more question, I see that you were in the Army, looks like during the Vietnam War.”

“Yes, I was. Proud to have served during that rough time for our country.”

“Where were you stationed? Did you see much action?”

“I was, well, ah, I was a Supply Officer. I spent my time state-side making sure that our troops got the supplies they needed to kill the Cong.”

“Well I’m sure they all appreciated your work. Without you, they wouldn’t have been able to carry on. Thank you, Mr. Masters. I’ve got your number. If I have any questions, I’ll give you a call.”

Willis headed back down the hall towards the lobby. He has a bit more information about Sean Gaylord and feels that the picture of this man was starting to come into focus.

Chapter Sixteen

After Willis makes a quick stop for lunch at McDonald’s, he drives to Baltimore in order to see Gaylord’s apartment. Upon removing the police tape that is blocking the entrance, Willis’s first thought of Gaylord’s home is that it looks like a showroom on a model home tour. It is very tastefully decorated, but has a cold feeling about it. Willis thinks it could’ve belonged to anyone. He can find no framed family pictures, nor any CD’s or DVD’s. The bookshelves contained beautifully embossed copies of the Classics from the Franklin Mint which look like nobody has ever read any of them. He is surprised to find no home computer; he must have only used the one at work. Gaylord’s desk has a pad of stationary and an expensive looking fountain pen. The stationary has red roses across the top of each page. It looks too feminine for Willis’s taste. Did this man write letters instead of e-mails? Willis wonders. If so, where was his correspondence kept? Did he write letters that were never sent? Willis also notices some commemorative stamps with pictures of Walt Whitman on them. I wonder if he reads poetry, Willis thinks.

The kitchen is spotless and looks like it was rarely used. The refrigerator has a block of Parmesan cheese and an unopened bottle of Columbia Crest Chardonnay. Willis could only find two boxes of food in the cupboards. One was a box of Fiber One cereal and the other a box of Wheat Thins. Other than that, it looks like Gaylord mainly dined out or had fast food. Willis cannot find any “junk drawer” for various odds and ends, like everybody else he knows has.

Willis goes next to inspect the bedroom. The wardrobe closet contains clothing that is fastidiously assorted according to layered outfits. The shirts have matching ties on the same hangar. His sock drawer contains no mixed-matched or leftover socks—Willis thinks of his own drawer at home which always seems to have a few lonely socks that didn’t match any of the other ones. Gaylord’s underwear and T-Shirts were folded meticulously in two other drawers.

Willis has never seen a murder victim’s house so devoid of clues. Gaylord seemed to have led a monk-like existence. I don’t know what Sledge is going to think about this, he says to himself. He’s probably going to assume that I’ve overlooked something important.

*******

As the plane begins its descent into the Denver airport, Willis goes over everything in his head about Gaylord. The more he tries to make sense of the man and his life, the more questions arise. He certainly knows more about where he spent his life. He knows who he spent his work time with. He cannot, however, get rid of the gnawing feeling that he’s missing something about Gaylord. He seemed such a man of mystery; a man who purposely hid details about himself and his everyday life. What was it about this guy that would cause someone to murder him?

Chapter Seventeen

Willis arrives at work early the next day. He’s still on east coast time. He’s always been a morning person and this suits him just fine. He gets caught up on his email and the various memos and paperwork left over from three days out of the office.

“Good morning, Ronnie!” Sledge bellows as he limps into the office with his leg in a cast.

“Good to have you back. How was your trip? Was your flight okay? Did you find anything good for us?”

“Good morning, sir. I’m glad to be back home. I’m not much of a traveler. Did enough of that in the service. I like being home. I think I have a pretty good picture of Gaylord after all. The more I found out about him, the more questions I had, though. He was quite the odd character.”

“How so?”

“Well, he just didn’t seem to fit anywhere, easily. I got the feeling that during his life, wherever he went or worked, he seemed to be out of place. The odd man out always. He was raised in a pretty privileged world. His dad was in the Navy, a graduate of Annapolis. They lived all over the world on the Navy’s dime, it seemed. He always went to the best schools. He was the eldest child—the only son. He has two sisters.”

“Are his parents still alive?”

“Only his father. His mother died when he was very young. Not sure what kind of impact that may have had on him. From what I could gather from his sisters, he didn’t get along with his father. They had a tough relationship. I think he felt like he could never please him. He rebelled more as he grew older. Joined the Marine Corps and went to Vietnam. I’m sure that really bugged his dad. It’s like he did it just to get back at the old man or something.”

“How was his service? Did he see action?”

“I think so. He was in Vietnam for one tour, but didn’t actually leave until the fall of Saigon. Not sure what he was up to. His sisters lost contact with him during that time and are not sure what became of him. Sometime later, he shows up in Baltimore.”

“Wow, this guy really was a mystery man. How did you get all that information about his military record?”

“Brewster.”

“Oh yes; good old Brewster. I forgot. Sorry to have sprung him on you without telling you. I hope he wasn’t too overbearing.”

“Nah, he was pretty helpful actually. He got me quite a bit of information; see this stack? This is everything about Sean Gaylord that you’d ever want to know. Kinda scary isn’t it what the FBI can put together?”

“It sure is. Brewster thrives on this kind of stuff. I was glad he was able to help you out.”

“Sir, I do have to say that he seemed more than just helpful. I dunno, it seemed like he was really, really curious about how I was doing. I mean, I’m still green in some ways but I ain’t no doofus. He made me feel like he was looking over my shoulder every day. Was he always like that?”

“Well, he is a bit caffeinated, I suppose; but I wouldn’t worry about it. It’s my fault I guess. I just wanted you to have the best information possible.”

Sledge starts to think about it more and begins to feel the same as Willis. He has known Brewster for many years, and after talking with him on the phone, he got the feeling that Brewster was maybe more interested that he should be about this case.

“I spoke to his coworkers at the GPO. He seemed to be a hard worker but had quite the romantic tendencies. I think he was gay, sir. Still in the closet, you might say but nonetheless, very possibly gay. He was known to make moves on the ladies too. Not sure what that means, maybe he’s bi? I don’t know. His sisters didn’t discuss it and I didn’t want to bring the issue up with them. They’ve been through so much I wasn’t sure it had any bearing on anything.”

“Wow, I’d say it could, Willis. Did anyone see any violent tendencies on his part or on those of his coworkers? Maybe he pushed somebody too far?”

“Not that anyone would admit to sir. I asked his supervisor the same question and he said his record was clean. I had his personnel file from Brewster and it showed clean as well. Doesn’t look like there were any upset lovers in his life.”

“Did you get a chance to see his apartment?”

“Yes. The Baltimore PD was very helpful. They kept the place yellow-taped for me so I could see it before I flew back. This is another weird thing about this guy. His house was like a model house tour; without much of the character. It was clean and tidy; almost too clean and tidy. No music, very few books, very much like a monk’s existence. There wasn’t much warmth or character in the place. I didn’t find any computers or a television. The books he had didn’t look well read. His refrigerator was almost empty. This guy was a real mystery sir. I spoke to his landlord and he said Gaylord made no noise at all. Always paid his rent on time. Left early in the morning and came home late at night. Said he was the best tenant he’s ever had.”

“Well I think you did a great job, Willis. Sometimes you’ll think you didn’t get much information but later it will start making sense. You’ll see. It always comes off this way. I think that it’s time to revisit our friends at the Law Library.

Sledge and Willis make plans to meet at the Law Library in order to ask the staff a few more questions. They call the Director to ask if they can use the conference room again. She seems a bit put off, but agrees to rearrange her schedule so that the room will be free. They would like to talk to Nic again, since she is the one who found the body.

Chapter Eighteen

Once Nic is seated in a chair in the conference room, Sledge begins, “Nic; tell us again about how you found the body.”

“Well, as I told you before, I took the elevator down to the basement to file some microfilm. Immediately after I got out of the elevator, I noticed that the heavy book tape dispenser was on the floor, which seemed odd to me at the time. I mean, who would be so inconsiderate as to be leaving that where someone could stub their toe or trip over it. It’s as heavy as a brick and you could really injure yourself. Maybe even go on Worker’s Comp. OSHA might even have to get involved.”

Sledge asks, “Have you ever filed a worker’s comp claim?”

Nic is annoyed. “What does that have to do with this case?”

“Nothing personal. Just a simple question.”

“Well,” Nic answers, “it’s no secret that this is a toxic workplace and lots of us here have suffered work-related injuries. An elderly lady, Beatrice, who works here almost got squished in the compact shelving herself. You’d think the library would have learned something from that disaster. I can’t believe that it’s happened again. This is outrageous.”

“How did this happen with Beatrice?”

“Well…she was shelving some books and Kelly pressed a button a few rows away. The sensors didn’t pick up the fact that Beatrice was already standing inside one of the rows and the shelves started squeezing together. Luckily, Kelly was able to stop the movement in time, but Beatrice screamed, was really scared and was sore from the compression. She told me, “I thought that I was going to die, and it was okay.” Only a little old lady like Beatrice would say that she’s okay with dying. I would’ve sued the library.”

Sledge and Willis look at each other with raised eyebrows as Nic continues.

“And that’s not the only incidence of equipment malfunctioning around here. There was another freak accident. Yvonne was in the elevator and, as she was getting out of the doors, she bent over to pick up a piece of paper she’d dropped and managed to get her head stuck between the two doors.”

“Ouch!” Sledge says.

“No kidding. And Yvonne hasn’t been the same ever since. Between her brother and sister dying on top of everything that happened to her in Chicago, she’s a bit of a “nut case.” Oh…I shouldn’t be saying this. She is my boss, after all.”

Sledge smiles at Willis and says, “We won’t tell anyone. What do you mean by ‘what happened in Chicago’?”

“Well, I don’t know the whole story, but rumor has it that she pulled a knife on her husband because he was trying to rape her. It was a big scandal and she had to leave the state.”

“That’s interesting. But probably doesn’t have anything to do with what happened to the Government Printing Office inspector.”

“That’s true,” Nic says, sounding a little disappointed.

“Well, that’s all for now, Nic. Thank you. Could you ask Kelly to come in; we have a few questions for her.”

Sledge notices a smell like peppermint gum as Nic walks out the conference room. “Did you smell that?” he asks Willis.

“Yeah, I did. Maybe she smokes those clove cigarettes that some of the kids are into these days. What do you make of ‘Yvonne’s scandal in Chicago’?”

“I’m going to have to make a few calls to our friends in the Chicago Police Department.”

Chapter Nineteen

Kelly knocks on the door and comes gingerly into the conference room.

“Hello again, Kelly,” Sledge says.

“You gentlemen wanted to see me?” Kelly asks, with a disarming smile.

“Take a seat, Kelly,” Sledge says. “We’ve been looking into your history in the Marine Corps and found out that you got into some trouble that led to your discharge from the Corps.”

Kelly becomes very upset, saying, “What’s that have to do with anything? I was honorably discharged. I acted in self-defense. Two guys were harassing me in a bar. Some marines just can’t handle the idea of a woman officer. They were drunk and hurling all this abuse at me and at women, in general. All I was doing was trying to unwind with a beer and a game of pool with a friend. They wanted our table and started criticizing every shot we made. Saying that it was a man’s game and we should leave. One of them grabbed my pool cue and tried to yank it away from me. I pushed him away and got jumped by his buddy. They both attacked me, so I picked up my pool cue and started swinging. I hit one of them so hard that he almost died. To make a long story short, there was an investigation and I was asked to leave the corps.”

“Do you have any animosity towards men in general?” asks Sledge.

“Not at all. I like most men.” Kelly smiled.

“What about Gaylord?”

“Oh; he was just a jerk. That’s the extent of my feelings towards him.”

Sledge asks, “Do you think Yvonne may have been angry at Gaylord?”

“I have absolutely no idea. You’ll have to ask her yourself.”

“She called in sick today. Could you please ask John to come see us?”

“Certainly. I’ll go get him.”

After she leaves the room, Willis asks, “What do you think of her?”

Sledge answers, “I can’t see her drinking and swinging a pool cue at anyone. She seems so dainty.”

Willis jokes, “I think she’s taken you under her spell.”

“I imagine that happens to her all the time with guys,” Sledge answers.

Chapter Twenty

John Meadowlark briskly walks into the conference room. “You rang,” he lamely jokes, doing his best “Lurch” impression.

“Have a seat, John. We’ve been doing some background checking and we came across a picture of you at a Tea Party rally. Isn’t this you?” Sledge asks as he shows him a newspaper clipping.

“Yes. I’m a Libertarian, you know. I believe this country has gotten way off course, especially since the last election. This county needs to get back to its roots. I’m a Revolutionary War re-enactor, you know.”

“No; we didn’t know that.”

“Yes; I believe in a strict interpretation of the Constitution.”

Sledge interrupts, “Yes; we’re hearing you, Mr. Meadowlark. What concerns me is this sign you’re holding in this picture that says, ‘The tree of liberty must be refreshed from time to time with the blood of Patriots and Tyrants.’ Sounds pretty radical.”

“Hey—that’s a direct quote from Thomas Jefferson. We need to get back to the America that our founding fathers envisioned.”

Sledge responds, “Do you really think violence is the answer? Have you ever felt so angry with the Federal Government that you might resort to bearing arms and rebelling?”

John answers, “It’s just a metaphor. I didn’t mean for you government types to take it literally. I mean, I don’t even own a gun, for God’s sake.”

“Did you ever feel anger towards Mr. Gaylord, who is an employee of the Federal government?” Sledge asks.

“Well, I think the government is way too bloated. Lots of federal jobs could be eliminated. We’re bankrupting our children’s future, you know.”

Sledge interrupts, saying, “But, in my understanding of the depository program, the Public (which includes you) has the right to know what its government is up to. I’d think you’d be happy to have all this information available. You know, transparency and accountability and all that.”

“Yeah, yeah. I agree with you on that. As far as Mr. Gaylord himself, I have no bone to pick with him. He’s just a regular guy trying to make a living, like the rest of us, you know.”

“Okay,” Mr. Meadowlark. Thank you for sitting down with us today.”

“Anytime, gentlemen. Anytime.”

After Mr. Meadowlark leaves, Willis asks Sledge what he thinks. “Do you think he’s capable of murder?”

“No; I think he’s just a blowhard. He’s not the person we’re looking for.”

“Is there anyone else we need to speak to sir?”

“No, Ronnie. I think that’s it. Did you get any information about those homeless folks from the uniformed guys yet?”

“Oh man; I forgot to follow up. I asked the beat cops before I left to see if they had anything for me. They said they’d go through their notes for me. I’ll talk to them when we get back to the station.”

“OK. That’s it for here.”

As Sledge and Willis head down the library stairs, Sledge’s phone blares out.

“Great phone ring, sir.”

“Real funny, Ronnie.”

He answers is phone and says, “Hello. Sledge here.”

“Mark? I need to see you and Ronnie in my office this afternoon. Will that be a problem?”

“No ma’am. No problem at all. We’re on our way back right now. Is five minutes too soon?”

“That will be perfect. See you both then.”

“Damn,” Sledge moans.

“Who was that that sir?”

“The boss lady. She needs to see us now. Is there anything I need to know about your trip that you haven’t told me yet, Ronnie?”

“No, sir. Am I in trouble?”

“Can’t say. Maybe both of us are in trouble.”

Chapter Twenty-One

Willis and Sledge arrive at the police department and head for Captain Wilson’s office. Captain Sandra Wilson is the only female captain in the department. In her late forties, Captain Wilson is tall and athletic. A lifelong marathon runner, she looks lean and mean behind her large captain’s desk. Her bookshelves are studded with trophies from athletic competitions and intra-departmental competitions. She’s usually the first one in in the morning and the last one to leave at night. She’s had to earn her stripes in this male dominated department and it helps that her family comes from police stock. Her father and grandfather were police officers and both of her brothers work for the FBI.”

“Good evening, boys. Please sit down.”

Willis and Sledge sit in the two seats in front of Captain Wilson’s desk. The seats are intentionally lower than the Captain’s for psychological purposes. You feel your place on the departmental totem pole when you’re in her office.

“So how’s the investigation going on the government inspector’s death?”

“Very well, ma’am.” Sledge answers. “We’re making some good progress and feel we’re getting closer to figuring out who’s responsible.”

Sledge listens to himself say these words, even though he doesn’t really believe them.

“Good, Sledge. So how soon can we expect to get some results?”

“Well, Sergeant Willis just returned from Maryland and has some very good information on Inspector Gaylord which is helping us in our inquiries.”

Willis squirms in his seat. He can feel the captain’s gaze on him and hopes to God she doesn’t ask him any questions.

“We’re hoping to have the murderer ID’d in a day or so.”

Willis can’t believe what he’s hearing.

“Good. I’m going to let you in on something about this case and trust you understand that it’s not to leave this office. Correct?”

“Yes,” Sledge and Willis answer in unison.

“As I’m sure you know, I’ve got some connections with the FBI here as well as in DC and I want you both to know how important this case is to them. That’s all you need to know for now. Just know that more eyes are on this case than just ours.”

Great, Sledge thinks. No pressure now.

“This case is very high on our radar here. The chief and the local FBI folks want to get this thing solved right away and want you both to know that you can have anything you need at your disposal. Just say the word.”

How about a clue? Willis thinks with a smile.

“Is there something you’d like to add, Sergeant Willis?”

“Ah, no ma’am. We’re on it and you can trust us both to get to the bottom of this.”

Sledge grimaces at Willis’s nervous comments.

“Captain, we’re going to make sure we get this thing done. Count on it.”

“I am. You both can go now; remember what you heard and didn’t hear today. I’d like an update by tomorrow afternoon, say at this same time? Will that work?”

“Yes ma’am. We’ll be here.”

Sledge and Willis slink out of the captain’s office and walk down the stairs to their offices. In the stairwell, their colleagues are smiling and ribbing them about being called to the woodshed.

“Did it hurt much, boys? Is mama mad?”

“Ha Ha, guys. Your turn is coming,” Sledge tells them.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Back in their office, Willis sees an envelope from the patrol sergeant.

“Sir, it seems that the homeless people lead goes nowhere. The patrol guys assure us that they are harmless; a bit nuts, but harmless.”

Sledge tells Willis that when he called the police department in Chicago, they knew nothing about any marital problems of Yvonne and her ex-husband’s. He feels that it’s a dead end. “I just don’t think that Yvonne is guilty of this murder. It’s just a gut feeling that I have.”

Willis eagerly agrees with what his boss is saying.

Sledge continues, “I’m feeling like this investigation is going nowhere.”

Willis tells his boss, “I gotta admit: I’m totally stumped.”

As they are talking, the phone rings and Brewster is on the other line. Sledge puts the call on speaker phone so that Willis can listen, too.

“How’s it going, boys?” Brewster asks. Both Sledge and Willis look sheepishly at each other.

Sledge responds, “We are a bit at loose ends. Something’s been bugging me. I still can’t understand why the FBI is so interested in this case. Is it because Gaylord worked for the federal government?”

Brewster does not respond immediately. He’s trying to weigh how much information he wants to tell his old friend without getting himself in hot water later. “Alright, Sledge. I’m trusting you to be discreet about this since we both go way back. I know this sounds like ‘top secret’ and straight out of a movie; but the library’s position in the Civic Center is right smack in the middle of both the Federal and State buildings. It gives the folks at Homeland Security a unique opportunity to monitor phone lines and Internet chatter. We don’t want another Oklahoma City terrorist attack. The feds have dubbed this operation ‘Freedom’s Ear’.”

Sledge and Willis are astonished. Sledge asks if Gaylord was moonlighting as a “mole.”

“Yes, he was,” Brewster replies. “At least until he met his maker. Now you know why so many eyes and ears were on this case. We have got to solve this thing ASAP before anyone finds out about ‘Freedom’s Ear’.”

Sledge asks Brewster if the library’s Director knows anything about this. Brewster responds, “Of course she does, since she agreed to have the monitoring equipment built into Library’s roof.”

“Anything else you’d like to share with us?” Sledge asks with an attitude.

“Well, that’s all I can say for the moment.”

Sledge says, “It looks like Willis and I will be pulling some all-nighters.”

Brewster responds, “Good luck, guys. I have total confidence in you.”

Chapter Twenty-Three

The next morning, Willis stumbles out of bed and throws on some clothes. He logs into his computer and sees an email with a red exclamation point in the subject line next to the words “This could be important.” It’s from Phyllis Gaylord.

He immediately calls his boss and they agree to meet at the police station.

******

He walks into Sledge’s office and tells him, “She’s attached a picture. I haven’t looked at it yet. I was waiting to see it with you.”

Willis logs into his email and brings up the message. When he opens the attachment and they see the picture, their eyes widen and they can’t believe what they’re seeing.

Sledge says, “We’re going to the library, Willis. I think we’ve got our guy.”

*******

Sledge and Willis arrive at the Law Library a little after nine and ask to see the library’s Director.

Once they are situated in her office, Sledge says, “Thanks for seeing us on such short notice. We’d like to see if we can get your staff together for a few questions, say in about 20 minutes?”

“Why yes; I suppose we can arrange that. Where would you like them?”

“How about the lunch room?”

“I’ll get everyone there in, say 30 minutes?”

“That will be fine.”

The Director picks up the phone and speaks to Kelly, asking her to please call everyone for a quick meeting downstairs.

“Who’ll watch the desk?” Kelly asks.

“Have some of the extra help take over for a few minutes. This shouldn’t take long.”

Sledge and Willis wait in the lunch room. A faint odor of stale coffee permeates the room.

“I could use some coffee. My brain is just barely staying alive,” Willis says.

Slowly everyone gathers in the lunch room, looking anxious and sheepish in the presence of two police officers. Sledge and Willis smile back. The room is quiet as the Director comes in and closes the door.

“I believe everyone is here.”

“Thank you, Director. I appreciate the help on such short notice.” Sledge answers.

“Detective Willis and I have a few more questions and with any luck this will be the last you see of both of us.”

The staff nervously laughs.

“We’ve been doing quite a bit of work since Mr. Gaylord was found murdered in the basement. We’ve followed a lot of leads and spoken to a lot of people relating to the case. The more questions we asked, the more questions we had. That’s the nature of police work I suppose. In all honesty, each one of you has some reason, or motive, to want harm to come to Mr. Gaylord. Yvonne was very intent on getting the library certified and was very passionate to that end. You and Mr. Gaylord had several conversations in the days leading up to his death about what you could do to keep your certification. You wanted this so bad that you appeared to be able to stop at nothing to achieve it. And when your conversations with Mr. Gaylord did not go as you hoped and you felt the possibility of not being recertified, you became more, should I say, desperate didn’t you?”

Yvonne says nothing.

“On top of that, Mr. Gaylord’s behavior towards you as a woman was just about the end for you, wasn’t it? Did he not treat you with his familiar disdain and chauvinism? And isn’t it also true that you almost killed your ex-husband for similar behavior?”

Yvonne’s eyes widen as she turns red, and slowly says, “That was a personal matter, with my ex, and it is ancient history. Yes; it’s true that Mr. Gaylord was a chauvinist but I’m a professional person and I care very deeply about this library. I was not going to let someone like him get in the way of our great library! Yes, I felt contempt for him but I would not kill him, no matter what happened earlier in my life.”

“Yes, I know you wouldn’t,” Sledge answers.

She shoots him a dirty look wanting to say, did you really have to bring up that part about my marriage and embarrass me in front of all these people?

“Kelly, you were also someone with very similar feeling towards Mr. Gaylord, weren’t you.”

“I don’t know what you mean, Detective Sledge.”

“Didn’t you have ‘issues’ with certain male officers while you were in the Marine Corps? Didn’t you in fact get discharged for almost killing a male officer for his ‘behavior’?”

“Hey, he had it coming. Nobody treats me, let alone anyone, that way and gets away with it. I should’ve killed him after what he did, but didn’t. That shows great restraint on my part, don’t you think?”

“That’s not what the military report shows. You laid this guy out with a pool cue. He was in a coma for months.”

“He put his hand up my skirt after about 5 beers. He had it coming.”

“A pool cue? You could’ve killed him.”

Upon hearing this, her coworkers stand a few inches away from her.

“He deserved it. I played the game for 5 years holding back and taking abuse and then I’d had enough. I couldn’t take it anymore. I should’ve laid all his buddies out too. The women treated me like a hero in that bar.”

“Too bad that didn’t get in the report. You had some pretty similar motives with the way Gaylord treated you.”

“He was harmless. Yeah, he was an asshole like the rest of them but I couldn’t see smacking him. He wasn’t worth it.”

The staff looked on in horror and amazement at Kelly’s attitude and choice of words. This was like watching a movie to them.

“Mr. Meadowlark, you also had some bones to pick with the government, didn’t you? Didn’t you see Mr. Gaylord as emblematic of all that’s wrong the government? You’ve been seen at neo-Nazi rallies that espouse open warfare and death to the government, am I right?”

“Oh no. I’d never do that; I don’t feel like that. I liked Mr. Gaylord, I really did.”

“So the posters on your desk and the rallies were all for show?”

“Well, no…I mean well…they don’t mean I’d kill the guy! Sure, I think the government should be more constitutional but I’d never kill him!”

The staff starts to smile now as Mr. Meadowlark digs himself in deeper. He began to resemble a nervous penguin, swaying from side to side unable to get his bearing to stay straight.

“You can’t really think I’d want to kill him do you?”

“No, Mr. Meadowlark, we don’t. Honestly, it took us no time to find that out.”

Sledge turns his attention to Hung who is quietly sitting with his hands clasped almost in a prayer shape.

“Now Hung, we haven’t talked too much about Mr. Gaylord, is that true?”

“Yes, I believe so, sir. We’ve only spoken a few times about this whole affair.” Hung’s hands clasp tighter.

“You also said that you had never met Mr. Gaylord before,” he says and pauses for effect before continuing. Then he looks Hung straight in the eye and says, “Now, Hung: What would you say if I told you that I had proof that you do indeed know him. That you know him quite well. Maybe this will jog your memory.”

Sledge holds up an 8 x 10 print copy of the photo Phyllis Gaylord sent that morning. The photo is of Mr. Gaylord with a monk; both with their arms around each other. On the back is written, ‘I’ll be waiting for you, with love’. The monk in the photo was clearly Hung. There is an audible gasp in the room.

“Mr. Tran, do you have anything to say about this?”

Hung stands up and through his tears began to speak. “It’s true; that is me in that picture. We were in love.”

The room is completely silent except for Hung’s quivering voice.

“I loved him and I thought he loved me. We spent several precious months together at the monastery. We were devoted to each other and he promised we would always be with each other, no matter what.”

“So you met Mr. Gaylord at the monastery in Vietnam?”

“Yes; we met and fell in love immediately. Those were the happiest days of my life. He said he loved me. He promised!”

Everyone in the room is hanging on each word he says.

“He said we would meet again after the fall of Saigon. We were to meet again in the United States. I came home and waited for him. I waited and waited but he never came. I began to think he was killed and my heart broke over and over.”

Hung rises and begins to pound the table as he speaks.

“He promised me! He promised me!”

“What happened when he came to the library?”

“That was the first time I’d seen him since Vietnam. All those years and there he was at last. I saw him and couldn’t believe my eyes. I was so stunned that I couldn’t move. I stood frozen at the desk. Mr. Meadowlark took him downstairs. I took the elevator and saw Sean in the basement. I ran to put my arms around him but he pushed me away. I couldn’t believe it. I asked him why he would treat me so bad after all our time and love together. He pushed me away and told me I was a ‘queer’ and that he didn’t love me at all. I was so mad at him then. I ran to him and pounded on his chest with both fists! We fell to the ground and he began to choke me. He had such rage in his eyes. He choked me so hard that I could barely breathe. As I laid there I found a heavy book tape dispenser nearby and hit him on the head with it. He fell off of me and into the compact shelving. As he fell, his leg hit the switch and the shelves began to close with him lying in them. There was nothing I could do. I was helpless. I didn’t want him to die! I didn’t.”

“Yet you didn’t do anything to help him did you, Mr. Tran?”

“It all happened so fast. There was nothing I could do.”

“Or there was nothing you would do. He hurt you deeply and you became enraged, didn’t you? You wanted him dead; he rejected you.”

The rest of the staff becomes increasingly tense and visibly pulled back to the safety of the walls. Hung becomes more agitated as Sledge speaks.

“You left Gaylord there to die and you went back to your desk as if nothing happened. How could you do that?”

“I don’t know…I don’t know... I was so mad and upset with him. I wanted him to feel the pain and loss I felt missing him for so long. He promised me he would return and I believed him! He said he loved me and I believed him! He lied to me!”

Hung begins to bob back and forth as he speaks, looking at his coworkers directly in their eyes. They’d never seen Hung look like this. He’s acting so unlike himself. He is so animated. The staff is transfixed.

“Mr. Tran, I’m afraid you’re going to have to come with us,” Willis spoke.

At that moment, Hung breaks and runs from the room. Sledge and Willis chase him as he heads up the stairway leading to the roof. The emergency alarm rings out as Hung opens the door. As Sledge and Willis came out the roof door, they see Hung perched on the edge of the sloped roof, the new addition to the library. He seems to be in a transfixed state, both hands are together close to his mouth as he quietly says his prayers.

“Mr. Tran, please don’t make this difficult. Please come off there and come with us.”

As they approach Hung they hear him speak, “May all beings everywhere plagued with sufferings of body and mind quickly be freed of their illnesses. May those frightened cease to be afraid, and may those bound be free.” He then jumps off the roof and is killed instantly.

“What was he saying?” Willis asked Sledge.

“That was part of the Buddhist Prayer of Peace. I remember it from a book my father sent me from Vietnam.”

###

Thank you for reading “Death Among the Stacks: The Body in the Law Library.” If you liked what you read, would you please rate us at the retailer where you bought this novel? Thank you.

Would you like to read more books that have librarians as main characters? If so, check out “Watchin’ the Detective: A Mystery Dinner Romance” and “Honeymoon in New Orleans”. All of our books are available at Amazon, iTunes, Barnes and Noble, Google Play, Kobo, Smashwords and Oyster.

Books by Louise Hathaway:

The Tustin Chronicles: A Detective Santy Mystery

The Murder at the Abbey: A Detective Santy Mystery

Honeymoon in Savannah: A Detective Santy Mystery

The Body on Ortega Highway: A Detective Santy Mystery

England in the Footsteps of its Literary Giants

Chasing My Roots: New World Finally Meets Old World

High School Reunion: You Can Go Home Again

Honeymoon in New Orleans

The Missing Bachelor Farmer: A Nancy Keene Mystery

The Ghost in the Plantation: A Nancy Keene Mystery

The Buried Treasure on Route 66: A Nancy Keene Mystery

The Stolen Mask: A Nancy Keene Mystery

Watchin’ the Detective: A Mystery Dinner Romance

The Forgotten Sister: A Sequel to Pride and Prejudice

Nonsense and Sensibility: A Modern Austen Variation

The Following are my literary essays:

Nags, Sluts, and a Deep-Breasted Soulmate from the Shining City: Thomas Wolfe’s Women in “The Web and the Rock”

Marriage in Pride and Prejudice

The Oedipus Complex in D. H. Lawrence’s Sons and Lovers

Please visit our blog at: http://louisehathaway.blogspot.com

About Louise Hathaway:

https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/lhathaway