Twelve Angry Librarians

“I first met Gavin Fong in graduate school in Texas, a little over twenty-five years ago.” From there I went on to tell Kanesha why I had disliked him then, and I told her about the incident involving my late wife. “Fast-forward to the present, and this conference. Also, the search for a permanent library director at Athena College. Gavin e-mailed me, basically demanding that I support his application for the job, or else he would tell President Wyatt about that incident back in grad school.”

Kanesha reached for a pad and pen and began to jot down some notes. Next I told her about the incident between Gavin and me yesterday. I hesitated, however, to tell her about the attack on me last night. It could be construed as a motive for getting back at Gavin by poisoning him.

Best to tell her everything, I decided after a moment. “There’s one other thing. Last night someone waylaid me in that alley beside the Farrington House. I was walking through the alley to the parking lot after stopping in to see Helen Louise. Someone struck me from behind and knocked me out for a moment.”

“Did you get a look at your assailant?” Kanesha asked, her eyes narrowed.

“No, but I had seen Gavin Fong peering in the window at Helen Louise’s place not long before I left. I’m pretty sure he followed me back to the Farrington House and attacked me.”

“How badly were you hurt?”

I shrugged. “Not badly, really. Scraped hands, a bump on the head, and a bruised shoulder. No concussion, thankfully. I guess I have a hard head.”

Kanesha snorted. “I’ll say you do.”

I decided not to take offense at that. I knew I had tried her patience on numerous occasions with my stubbornness.

“You went home right afterward?” she asked.

“Yes. Stewart and Haskell were there when I got home, and Stewart kept a check on me during the night to make sure I was all right. I stayed home until I had to leave this morning for a meeting on campus. From there I went straight to the hotel for the conference. I did not see Gavin until we went into the ballroom for the luncheon. I was at a table near the doors with two librarians I know, and he was all the way across the ballroom. Never went near him before he collapsed and died.” After a pause I added, “And I didn’t go near him after that, either.”

By now I had a headache, and I desperately needed a bathroom. I wondered how much longer she intended to keep me here. I did have a question for her, though, and I wondered if she would answer it.

“He died very quickly, from what I could tell, after drinking from that bottle, because he seemed fine up till then,” I said. “What do you think it was? Cyanide?”

Kanesha stared at me for probably ten seconds before she responded. “Possibly, but we won’t know until the appropriate tests have been done.”

I wondered how easily available cyanide was these days. Did they still use it in rat poison? If so, how much rat poison would you have to put in a bottle of water for a lethal dose? And wouldn’t it taste funny? I would have to ask Stewart these questions later. As a chemist, he ought to know.

Another question popped into my mind. “Are you going to close down the conference?”

“No. The ballroom is going to be off-limits for a while, but we will want to be able to question everyone. Best to keep them busy with the rest of the program while we investigate.”

“Good.” I was about to ask whether she was done with me, at least for now, so I could find a bathroom. She forestalled me with another question.

“Do you know anyone—besides yourself, that is—who had any personal animosity toward the deceased?”

I wanted to laugh, but I didn’t think Kanesha would find it appropriate. “I think it might be easier to find someone who didn’t. He rubbed almost everyone the wrong way, as far as I know.”

Kanesha wrote in her notebook. “Let me rephrase the question. Do you know anyone who had motive to kill the deceased?”

“No, not really,” I said. “Until this week I hadn’t seen the man, or heard from him, since grad school. I know various friends of mine from those days worked with him over the years, and they might have shared things about him in letters or e-mails. I don’t recall anything serious enough to make a person want to kill Gavin, however.”

“Are any of these friends who worked with him attending this conference?” Kanesha held her pen ready to write.

“Actually, there are two. Marisue Pickard and Randi Grant.” I would have to let them know I had to give their names to Kanesha. “There may be other people at the conference who worked with him. There is one woman who actually seemed to like him. Maxine Muller, I think the name is.” She was the one who probably told Kanesha that I attacked Gavin.

Kanesha nodded. “I’ve talked with Ms. Muller. Anybody else?”