Twelve Angry Librarians

Cathleen bridled at that, and I was afraid they were going to get into an argument if I didn’t intervene. “When Coben left, there were just five of you still at the party.”

Cathleen gave Nancy one last speaking glance before she said, “Yes, that’s right.”

“Anything unusual happen from then until you left the party?” I asked.

“Not that I can recall,” Nancy said. “We were ready to go ourselves, and I think Harlan was, too. I said something about being tired and ready for bed, and Harlan chimed in. Said he was pretty exhausted, too.”

“Gavin was a little annoyed, I think,” Cathleen said. “But he didn’t make a big fuss like he usually did at one of his forced gatherings. He liked to keep everyone there as long as possible so he could torture us more.”

“No, he didn’t make a fuss.” Nancy frowned. “That was a bit odd, and then he did another odd thing.”

“You mean the food,” Cathleen said, and Nancy nodded.

“What about the food?” I asked.

“There was quite a bit left over,” Cathleen said. “And it was good stuff, too. I guess the hotel catered it.”

“It wasn’t the usual cheese tray Gavin picked up at the local discount warehouse, that’s for sure,” Nancy said.

“No, thank goodness.” Cathleen eyed the food that remained on the table near us. “In fact it was pretty much the same as this.”

I wasn’t sure where this was leading, and they were taking too long to get to the point. I tried not to sound irked when I asked, “So what was it about the food that was odd?”

“Oh, just that usually Gavin made sure nobody took any of the leftovers with them,” Cathleen said.

“He always wanted to keep them for himself,” Nancy said. “That’s how cheap he was.”

“This time, though, he told us to help ourselves to whatever we wanted, even his precious bottled water,” Cathleen said.

The mention of bottled water startled me. “Did any of you take food and water with you?”

“I took some food. I love those pinwheel-looking things with the cream cheese and spinach,” Cathleen said. “So I took several of those, and a couple of those little Greek pastry things with the spinach inside. What are they called? I can’t remember.”

“You mean spanakopita?” I asked. “I love it, too.”

“Yes, that’s it,” Cathleen said. “So I took that and the other. I love spinach, in case you couldn’t tell.”

I looked to Nancy, and she shook her head. “I don’t care for spinach, and I wasn’t particularly interested in any of the other stuff. I didn’t even take any of Gavin’s precious water.”

Nancy laughed suddenly. “Maxine was always like a squirrel around a table full of nuts, though. She stuffed several napkins full of food into her knitting bag, along with a bottle of water.”

“Yes, she did,” Cathleen said. “You’d think the woman hadn’t eaten in days. I took a bottle of water, too, and so did Harlan.”

My heart started racing. I worked to keep my voice steady when I asked Cathleen whether she had opened the water bottle.

She looked at me strangely, then nodded. “Yes, I drank it yesterday. Why, did you think it was poisoned?”

THIRTY-TWO

I nodded in response to Cathleen’s question.

“Oh, my good heaven, you did think it might be poisoned,” Cathleen said, suddenly looking a bit green. She shuddered. “But why? Why would you think the water was poisoned?”

Nancy stared at me, obviously confused. “Did you think the killer poisoned more than one of Gavin’s water bottles?”

“He—or she—poisoned two of them, at least.” They obviously didn’t know how Maxine Muller died.

Nancy’s eyebrows shot up. “You mean Maxine?”

“Yes,” I said. “The killer might only have poisoned a couple of them, although I’m not sure why he’d need to have poisoned more than one.”

“Because Gavin never shared with anyone,” Nancy said. “The killer could have, with almost overwhelming certainty, counted on the fact that Gavin, and Gavin only, would drink the poisoned water.”

“Exactly,” I said. “But there were at least two poisoned bottles. So why poison a second one? And maybe a third or a fourth?”

Nancy paled suddenly. “Thank the Lord I didn’t take one of those bottles. What happened to the rest of them?”

“I imagine the authorities have them now,” I said. “I suppose they will test all the remaining ones, that they know about, of course.”

Cathleen seemed to have recovered from her earlier shock. “Somebody needs to talk to Harlan, then, since he took one of the bottles. Maybe his was clean, though, like mine.”

“Either it was, or he hasn’t opened it yet,” Nancy said with a certain grim humor. “Charlie, maybe you’d better go ask him.”

“Yes, you should,” Cathleen said.

Given that I was pretty sure now that Harlan Crais was a double murderer, I wasn’t all that keen on approaching him. If he were the killer, I reasoned, he would know which bottles were poisoned. If he weren’t, though, he could be in danger if he’d somehow been given a poisoned bottle. What should I do?

I realized that both women were now watching me closely. They exchanged a glance, then focused on me again.