Twelve Angry Librarians

Nancy spoke first. “You’re reluctant to talk to him, aren’t you?” She didn’t give me a chance to answer and continued in a low tone. “That’s because you think he’s the killer, don’t you?”

“That’s it,” Cathleen said, speaking a little too loudly in her excitement. “But why? Why would Harlan kill Gavin? And poor, harmless Maxine? I don’t understand.”

“Keep your voice down.” Nancy glared at Cathleen, who mimed an apology.

I found myself in a quandary. I didn’t want to confirm these women’s guesses that I had decided that Harlan Crais was the murderer. But could I deny that I had and make them believe me? If Kanesha knew about this, she’d have my guts for garters, as the old saying went. I had to respond to them, but what was I going to say?

In desperation I said, “Look, I don’t know if he’s the killer. I can’t talk about his possible motives for the same reason I couldn’t tell you what Mitch Handler told me. For a couple of reasons, though, I can’t just go up to him and ask him whether he still has that bottle of water.”

“Then what are you going to do?” Cathleen asked. “If he still has it and opens it, he might not be as lucky as I was.”

“I know that,” I said, trying not to sound as aggravated and worried as I felt. “I have to have a minute to think about this. Please.”

Neither of the women spoke after that. They stood waiting, quietly, and I had a few moments to think about what to do. When all else failed, I reckoned, summon the cavalry.

I pulled out my cell phone and sent Kanesha a text: 911 found out Fong gave away couple bottles of water from his suite. One harmless; other one status unknown. Given to Harlan Crais. Right now at party in my sight.

I added the suite number and sent the message. I could only hope that Kanesha read the text and acted on it immediately.

“Who did you text?” Nancy asked.

“Deputy Berry,” I said. “I think she needs to handle this.” I didn’t take my eyes from the cell phone screen. Come on, Kanesha. The words ran like a litany through my head for at least thirty seconds. Then my phone buzzed: On it.

“Thank you, thank you,” I whispered. I took a couple of deep breaths to release some of the tension. I saw that the two women were watching me closely. “She’s on it,” I said.

“Thank heavens,” Nancy murmured.

“What will she do?” Cathleen asked.

“I don’t know.” Now I had my gaze focused on Harlan Crais. Would Kanesha call him? Send one of her men to the suite? Come herself?

Somewhere in the room a phone rang and continued to ring. It took me a moment to locate the source of the sound. It was the room phone. Even as I found it, Lisa Krause was answering it. She was too far away, and there was too much noise around us, for me to hear her part of the conversation.

After a moment I saw her scanning the crowd, then she moved in the direction of Harlan Crais. The phone was cordless, and she simply took it to Crais and handed it over. He appeared startled as he accepted the phone.

I watched, along with Nancy and Cathleen, as he alternately spoke and listened. After a moment he shrugged and handed the phone back to Lisa. He turned to the women with whom he had been talking, and a few seconds later he made his way to the door and disappeared into the hallway.

Lisa returned the phone to its cradle and once again scanned the room. When she saw me she came right over.

“Excuse me, ladies, but I need to talk to Charlie for a moment,” she said.

“No problem,” Nancy said. “I think we’re both about ready to go anyway. Thanks for the lovely party.”

“Yes, thanks,” Cathleen said. “I won’t soon forget this one.”

With that somewhat cryptic remark—cryptic to Lisa, that is—she and Nancy made their way out of the room.

Lisa didn’t appear to have paid attention to Cathleen’s words. Instead, as soon as the two women left us, she said, “What’s going on? That was Kanesha Berry on the phone, insisting that she had to talk to Harlan Crais immediately. How did she even know where he was?” She regarded me, obviously suspicious that I was somehow involved. I couldn’t really tell her the complete truth, so I told her part of it.

“I knew she needed to talk to him,” I said. “I texted her to tell her where he was.”

Lisa’s eyes widened. “Oh my gosh, does this mean she’s going to arrest him? Did you tell her he was the murderer?”

At least she had the sense to keep her voice down, I thought. Aloud I said, “No, I told her no such thing. I’m sure she has a few questions for him, that’s all. She doesn’t tell me when she’s going to make an arrest, you know.” I hoped that last sentence didn’t come out as snarky.

Lisa stared at me, the doubt obvious in her expression. “Well, if you say so. Anyway, I wanted to thank you for coming. Do you want to take any of the food or drinks with you? Looks like things are winding down, and there’s too much left to put in the tiny refrigerator.”