Twelve Angry Librarians

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

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

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

TWENTY-NINE

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

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

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

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

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

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

Where r u? Need u at the party.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I walked over to the bar and found a can of diet soda in a large basin full of ice and drinks. I found a napkin on the bar to wipe excess moisture from the can, and then Diesel and I walked over to one of the armchairs. He stretched out near my feet while I opened the can and took a sip.

I knew I should be more sociable and join Lisa and the women with her, but at the moment I wanted to sit and think, at least while the room was still relatively quiet. I needed to consider what I had learned from my conversation with Marisue and Randi.

Bob Coben had suddenly emerged, at least in my mind, as the chief suspect in the murders. That bothered me, because he had stepped forward quickly after the altercation I had with Gavin on Thursday, offering to support me if Gavin tried to sue or cause any other unpleasantness. The next day, however, after Gavin’s shocking death, I had overheard Coben in conversation with Harlan Crais. From that I’d gathered that Coben thought Gavin had kept him from getting a better job. Given what I’d learned about Coben’s plans for a PhD and the need for money to pay for that degree, I figured he must have been deeply angry with Gavin.

Angry enough to kill him? That I didn’t know, but I wondered how tempted Coben might have been, working in the chemistry lab, knowing that one solution to his desire for revenge lay so close within his reach. The means was there, but did he avail himself of it?