Twelve Angry Librarians

Marisue snorted with laughter. “The police would never be able to solve it. Too many suspects.”

Randi nodded. “Yeah, way too many. Every single person who ever went to school with him or worked with him.”

“I grant you he’s a colossal annoyance most of the time,” I said. “But what has he done that would make someone see killing him as a solution?”

Marisue shot Randi a pointed glance. “Tell you what, you fill Charlie in while I go get us some wine. If I’m going to talk about Gavin, I need fortification.” With that, she turned to make her way through the crowd toward one of the bar stations.

Randi eyed the nearly empty glass of diet soda I picked up. “Sure you don’t want something stronger yourself?”

“No, I’m fine with this. I have to drive home. I’m not staying in the hotel, and I presume you two are.” I downed the rest of my drink and set the glass down on the table.

“We are,” Randi said. “We’re sharing a room the way we always do. I have to say, this is a lovely old hotel. Dripping with Southern charm that makes this California girl feel like she ought to be seeing Scarlett O’Hara come sweeping around the corner just any little ole minute now.” She grinned when I winced at her attempt at a Southern accent on those last few words.

“Stick to being a California girl, all right?” I smiled at her. “Now, what all are you supposed to be telling me about Gavin?”

Randi scowled. “Did you know that both Marisue and I coauthored journal articles with him?” After I nodded, she continued. “I say coauthored, but Marisue and I each did most of the research for, and the writing of, our respective articles. Since we worked with Gavin at the time we did the research—in separate institutions, that is, me first in Colorado and then her later in Kansas—he decided that his name ought to go on the articles, too. Because we had to submit them to him before we could send them to the journal, and he edited them to improve them. Substantially enough that his name ought to be included.”

The bitterness in her tone didn’t surprise me. Gavin had obviously hijacked their work in each instance in order to give himself a free publication credit. I wondered if all the other articles and chapters on his résumé came about the same way.

“Why would you have to submit them to him first?” I asked.

“Said it was his responsibility as the head of the department to make sure anything published by one of his staff members was quality work.” Randi snorted. “Pure invention on his part. There was no such regulation in place. He simply wanted to horn in on someone else’s work and get a free credit out of it.”

“Didn’t you try to protest?” I couldn’t believe Randi hadn’t raised a stink about it. She was not the suffer-in-silence type.

“I tried to,” Randi said. “Our director at the time, however, thought the sun rose and set out of Gavin’s derriere, unfortunately for the rest of us. She refused to believe me. When she left abruptly after Gavin was there about sixteen months, a new director came in, and she didn’t like him at all.”

“What about Marisue? I’m sure you told her about this and warned her before she had to work with him.”

“I did,” Randi said. “But guess where my former director ended up? She couldn’t wait to get Gavin there, and poor Marisue found herself in the same situation as me.”

Marisue reappeared with two glasses of wine, one red, one white. She handed the red to Randi.

“Got the picture?” Marisue asked after a sip of wine.

I nodded. “Can’t say I’m surprised by Gavin’s behavior. I remember back in grad school, when we were assigned group projects, anyone who got stuck with him in the group complained that he did very little.”

“Enough to get by, that was all,” Marisue said. “He was in a group with me for one project. He did the absolute minimum, but he was the first to criticize anyone else’s work.”

“What I can’t figure out,” Randi said, “is why he thinks the world owes him a living? Why does he get a free ride while the rest of us have to work?”

“I can’t answer that,” Marisue replied. “He’s managed to get away with it for years, though.”

“He’s applied for my job,” I said. “I’m acting as interim while they search for a director. I don’t understand how he’s gotten to the level of library director with his last two or three jobs.”

Randi shrugged. “You got me. I guess because he looks good on paper, and he probably interviews well.” She emptied her wineglass.

“I think I know whom he uses as his references,” Marisue said. “They’re former supervisors of his who were either too naive or too stupid to see through him. He’s like a virus. He creeps in and takes over before you know just how awful he is.”

“Are you part of the search committee for your job?” Randi asked.

I nodded. “Yes, and I’ve already told the college president I can’t recommend Gavin for the position. For one thing, he changes jobs about every three years, and has done so for a long time.”