Twelve Angry Librarians

“From what Lisa Krause told me, Gavin was not exactly the sharing type,” I said. “I’d be surprised if he gave any of them away, other than maybe to Maxine Muller. I suppose she could have simply helped herself to one without his knowing about it.”

“Possibly,” Kanesha said. “Her death could be accidental, but for now I’m treating it as murder.”

“Any leads yet on the source of the poison?” I knew I was probably trying her patience with all these questions, but I figured I might as well see how much she was willing to share with me.

“Nothing solid yet,” Kanesha replied.

“I got an idea from a presentation I heard earlier today at the conference, about liaison programs in libraries,” I said. “I did some digging online, looking at all the people who were at Gavin’s party, trying to find out what their roles are on their respective campuses.”

“Trying to find out if any one of them is a liaison to the chemistry department on their campus,” Kanesha said, sounding slightly amused. “I’ve been looking into the same thing.”

“Then I guess you won’t need my list,” I said in a light tone.

“No, but I appreciate the thought,” she replied. “I have someone following up on those particular leads, and once I have more information I’m going to be talking to anyone who has any kind of connection with a chemistry department.”

“I can imagine how anxious you must be to trace the source of the poison,” I said. “Frankly I get chills whenever I think about the fact that the killer may still have more of it.”

“That’s why I’m trying to solve this case as quickly as possible. I don’t want anyone else to die,” Kanesha said. “Thanks for the additional information. I need to act on it now, though. I’ll talk to you later.”

I was used to abrupt ends to conversations with Kanesha. She had a tremendous task to accomplish, and I understood that. I wished there were more I could do to help. I didn’t want anyone else to die, either, but that was a possibility as long as the murderer remained at large.

I realized I’d forgotten to ask Kanesha if they knew how the killer had gotten the poison in the bottles. I presumed it was done without opening the bottle. Otherwise surely a person would have noticed that the seal was broken when he opened the bottle to take a drink. I supposed that a person in a hurry—like someone in the middle of a talk in front of a large group of people—might not notice and would simply open the bottle and drink before going on with the talk. That could explain what happened with Gavin.

What about Maxine Muller, though? Would she have noticed that her bottle wasn’t sealed properly? She might have been too distracted to realize it. She no doubt had a lot on her mind at the time she took that fatal sip. Another thought occurred to me, that the killer could have poisoned Maxine’s bottle after she’d opened it. But that hardly seemed likely.

The killer must have managed to get the poison into the bottles without removing the twist caps. How could it be done?

Struck by a sudden idea, I hurried back to the kitchen. Diesel came with me this time, and I heard him in the utility room, scratching in his litter box, when I opened the fridge in search of a plastic drink bottle. I had a water pitcher with a filter, so I usually didn’t have bottled water. I did, however, have a couple of bottles of diet soda. I pulled one out to examine.

I took the bottle to the sink and switched on the light there. I looked closely at the bottle, turned it around a few times, while I thought. My idea was that the killer could have used a syringe to penetrate the plastic and insert the cyanide. Of course that would depend on the form that the cyanide was in and whether it could be inserted in such a manner.

The bottom of the bottle was the likeliest place to do it. People didn’t usually examine the bottom unless there was a leak. How could the killer then have sealed the bottle to prevent a leak and avoid having someone see that the bottle had been tampered with? Perhaps superglue would do the trick. I had a tube of that on hand, but I didn’t have a syringe with which to experiment. An ice pick would work, but I decided not to try it. I didn’t want to make a mess, and I invariably got that glue on my fingers whenever I used it. I put the bottle back in the fridge. My theory was likely workable, I decided. The experts would figure it out.

Diesel padded out of the utility room and meowed at me. Loudly, several times.

I knew what that meant. I followed as he turned to go back to the utility room. His dry-food bowl held only a few pieces of the crunchy bits he loved. I added more to it, then took his water bowl over to the sink, rinsed it, and filled it with fresh water.

“There now,” I said. “Everything okay?”

Diesel stared up at me and meowed. He turned and walked out of the room. Mission accomplished.