Murder in the Aisles Page 3

Henry nodded. “I think it would be best if you continued with his work. I’m sure it’s what he would have wanted.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Keep me posted on your progress.”

  “Sir?”

  “Yes.”

  “I know you and Dr. Dresden were close. And…I’m very sorry.”

  His face flushed and his nostrils flared slightly. “Thank you. I’m sorry you’re the one who had to find him.”

  Felicia’s lips tightened.

  Henry exhaled a heavy breath. “Thank you. I’m sure you have plenty to do.”

  Felicia stood. “If you want to talk…” She let the statement hang in the air.

  Henry nodded numbly and made a show of cleaning his glasses with a pristine white handkerchief he’d taken from his jacket pocket.

  Felicia quietly left, shutting the door gently behind her. Lucy was still sobbing when she walked by. She wished she had words of condolence but her mind was already on the task at hand—finish what Dr. Dresden started and make him proud.

  She hurried to her office, passed several of her co-workers in the corridors, all of whom looked at her sympathetically as if her finding a dead body was reason to show her empathy. She didn’t want sympathy. She wanted to find out who did this.

  The moment she reached her office her phone rang.

  “Library of Congress, Research Department, Dr. Swift speaking.”

  “Gee whiz, by the time you get done with your spiel, I’ll forget why I called.”

  Felicia grinned and sat down, cradling the phone between her shoulder and chin.

  “If it’s not Elizabeth Taylor in name only,” she said.

  “Very funny, old joke,” Liz responded.

  Felicia teased about her name for as long as she could remember and Elizabeth wouldn’t hesitate to remind her there wasn’t a night that she went to sleep and didn’t curse her parents for saddling her with the name of the movie icon and wife of too many, which may account for her own lousy track record with men.

  “Enough of the pleasantries,” she said to her best friend. “Word on the street is that something untoward happened in the hallowed hall of books. What’s up?”

  Felicia cringed. News certainly traveled fast. But she should have known that Liz, being in the world of television, would have heard something. She sighed heavily and told her friend what happened.

  “That’s so awful. Are you okay?”

  “Fine. More annoyed than anything else.”

  “Annoyed? That’s an odd choice of words when one of your co-workers is found dead.”

  Felicia knew that Elizabeth thought she was borderline obsessive when it came to her work and that damned library. She often told Felicia that she acted as if she was the guardian of the Holy Grail instead of a bunch of books.

  “I didn’t mean it that way.”

  “Do explain.”

  “I can’t right now and I’d rather not over the phone,” she said, suddenly lowering her voice.

  “What’s going on?”

  “Let’s meet after work.”

  “Sure. I get off around six.”

  “I’ll meet you in Georgetown at the Meridian.” It was their favorite after-work spot. The drinks were inexpensive but strong, and the food was delicious. Plus, if they got really lucky the live band would drown out conversation.

  “See you then,” Liz said. “Gotta run.”

  Felicia hung up the phone. She swiveled her chair toward her computer and opened the files marked “PD Egypt.” For the rest of the morning she continued to compile data just as if Paul Dresden was still around. She was totally immersed in an article that she’d discovered when Emily poked her head in.

  “Hey,” she said.

  Felicia looked up from the journals and notes in front of her. She rubbed her eyes with the pads of her fingers. “Hey.”

  Emily stepped inside. Emily Windsor was, well for lack of a better term, homely. Her fire-red hair was always frizzy and she was constantly running her hands over it to control it. The splash of freckles across her pug nose looked more like a rash on her unbelievably pale skin than endearing. She had an odd pear shape and the red and green flowered dress she wore did nothing to enhance her figure. However, she had the most incredible green eyes, wide and luminous, and a smile that could melt your heart.

  She closed the door with such reticence that one would have thought she believed it was made of imported crystal instead of oak. But that was typical of Emily Windsor, Felicia thought—mousey and unassuming—but a damned good researcher.

  Emily cleared her throat and folded her hands demurely in front of her. “I uh, didn’t want to bother you but I, uh, wanted to check on you and see how you were doing.”

  Felicia nodded. She was clueless as to what else she could possibly say about this horrid situation to the stream of concerned but mostly curious staffers who had intermittently come through her door throughout the morning. And since she certainly couldn’t say what was really on her mind, she’d opted for a sad smile.

  “I know this may sound insensitive but what did you, uh, see when you, uh, found him?”

  The average person would have flinched when being asked to recall the experience of finding the dead body of their colleague first thing in the morning. Most would have been too shaken to go on with their day. But Felicia was anything but average.

  She folded her slender hands atop the file folders on her desk. “I was in the process of my routine morning check of the aisles.” A snapshot image of Dr. Dresden’s lifeless body flashed in her mind. “At first I thought it was a pile of clothing left behind by the cleaning crew last night. But obviously it wasn’t.” She focused on Emily, took in her outfit.

  Emily shifted her body weight. “What are the police saying?”

  “They say it’s an apparent accident. He must have gotten dizzy and fallen from the top of the ladder.”

  Emily tilted her mop of red hair to the side. “You don’t sound as if you believe that.”

  Felicia’s lips pinched into a tight line of concentration. She’d spewed her theory to an allegedly experienced detective and he’d shot her down. There was certainly no point in sharing her suspicions and having them spread like influenza through the staff.

  “I have no reason not to believe them. Do you?”

  Emily’s face flushed. Her long red lashes batted over her eyes so rapidly they could cool a room. “Uh, no, of course not. I was just wondering.” Her smile flickered around the edges like a bulb ready to blow.

  Felicia studied Emily for a moment. The red in the dress is too bold for her pale skin. “Well, I’m sure the police are on top of it.” She pushed out a long breath.

  Emily nodded. “I’d better get back to work.” She turned for the door.

  “We’re still working on Dr. Dresden’s project, so please continue documenting the data.”

  “Of course.” She slipped out as quietly as she crept in.

  For several moments Felicia stared at the closed door. The events of her day marched across her line of vision like dutiful soldiers. She knew she was right about Dr. Dresden. She felt it way down in the pit of her stomach. And if that handsome asshole Mark Rizzo wasn’t going to do anything about it, then she would.

  Chapter Five

  Mark sat behind his cluttered desk writing up his report on the death at the library. Cut and dry, he kept telling himself as he pecked his way through the report on the computer keys. Yet, even as he tried to convince himself of his belief, he couldn’t help but wonder how much validity he could place in Felicia Swift’s assertion that it was not an accident.

  His thick fingers paused over the keys. Visions of Felicia’s exquisite legs crisscrossed in front of him. “They sure don’t make librarians like they used to,” he muttered.

  “Say something?” his desk partner
asked.

  Mark glanced up. Eddie McKnight had been on the detective squad since—well, since the beginning of time. He was the oldest guy on the force and for some reason he was still collecting a salary instead of a pension. The bottom line was Eddie had a nose for digging out information that escaped everyone else. And losing him to a leisurely life of fishing and Medicare wasn’t something that Captain “Hardass” was ready to deal with.

  Mark leaned forward. His dark brows drew together as he rocked his jaw back and forth while he decided how silly what he was about to say was going to sound.

  “Got a call this morning about a dead guy over at the library.”

  Eddie bobbed his gray head. “Yeah, heard something about that.”

  “Anyhow, I figure it’s pretty open and shut, ya know. Old guy falls off a ladder and cracks his head, ya know.”

  Eddie nodded. “But that ain’t all, I take it.”

  Mark rocked his jaw again. “See there’s this broad…a woman, a librarian—”

  Eddie chuckled. “Figured there had to be a woman involved.”

  Mark scowled. “It’s not like that.”

  “Not yet, but go ’head.”

  “Anyhow, seems she really knew this doctor—the dead guy—and she swears it couldn’t have been an accident.” He flipped open his notes. “Said the doc was a linguist and wouldn’t be caught dead in the aisles of astronomy and astrophysics.”

  Eddie leaned back in his seat. “What do you think?”

  “Like I said, old guy gets dizzy and falls. The investigator on the scene said pretty much the same thing. I still need the official report though.”

  “The one thing a detective learns to rely on is his gut instinct. Go with it. If you have a feeling something ain’t right, nine times out of ten, it ain’t.”

  Eddie slid his glasses up on his wide nose and snapped open The Washington Post, flipping to the sports pages. “Besides, it will give you a chance to get to know this librarian.” He winked and resumed reading.

  Mark got up from his seat and snatched his coat from the back of his rickety chair. “If the captain is looking for me tell him I went to the morgue.”

  Eddie barely glanced up from the paper. “Sure thing. And, uh, tell Elaine I said hello.”

  Mark hustled around the maze of desks and file cabinets, then jogged down the wooden steps and outside. A fierce slap of icy cold wind cracked him in the face.

  “Shit!” he spat and drew his coat collar up around his neck, which did little to fend off the blasts of arctic air.

  It was days like this that he longed for the hot, sandy beaches of Miami or anyplace above freezing. He got into his unmarked car and turned the heat on blast.

  Mark cruised down Massachusetts Avenue until he reached 1910. From the outside, the building looked innocent enough. But even after years of serving on the force and having visited the morgue more times than should be allowed by law, this joint still gave him the willies. He was convinced that there must be a special kind of gene that was needed to work on dead bodies every day. At least that was his opinion and the bone of contention between him and Elaine Burke.

  He’d met Elaine on one of his earliest cases. He was new to his job and she was new to hers. Elaine was nothing like what he’d conjured up in his head. He’d imagined some big beefy type with an accent and thick ankles. He was dead wrong—no pun intended.

  She was a stunning blonde bombshell for lack of a better term. Sea blue eyes that you wanted to swim in all night long and even beneath her pristine white smock a blind man could see she had the body of Venus and a smile that got him rock hard every time she flashed it. The sex was so indescribable he’d been tempted to give up his philandering ways and make an honest man of himself.

  But their respective jobs got in the way. He couldn’t shake the visions of her cutting people open and examining them under a microscope with an eerie detachment. And Elaine felt that he became too involved with his cases to the detriment of their relationship. “When I leave work at the end of the day, I leave work. You don’t. You carry your cases around with you like a limp.”

  Their sizzling fling lasted all of ten months.

  As Rizzo badged his way past the security guard and headed down the long cool corridor he wondered for the zillionth time if things could have worked out between them.

  “Hey, Sylvia, she in?”

  Sylvia turned from her computer screen and peered at him over the top of her glasses. Her brandy-colored eyes widened.

  “Mark. How are you?”

  “I’m good. You?”

  She shrugged her wide shoulders covered by a multicolored shawl. “Why complain?” She leaned closer, her heavy black right brow rose. “Business or pleasure?” she asked in a conspiratorial whisper.

  “Business.”

  She puckered her red lips and shook her head. “Young people. You never know what’s good for you. Why don’t you tell her how you feel?”

  Mark’s eyes crinkled at the corners as he chuckled. “’Cause I’m tired of getting kicked in the shins.”

  Sylvia made a clucking sound with her tongue. “What’s a little pain when love is involved?” She waved her hand. “Go on in.”

  He leaned down and pecked her plump cheek. “Thanks for trying, Sylvie.” He strode past her, tapped lightly on the partially opened door.

  “Come in.”

  Elaine took off her glasses as Mark crossed the threshold. A delicious smile lifted her mouth. “Mark.”

  “Elaine.” He unbuttoned his wool coat but didn’t take it off. He crossed the room and sat down.

  “What can I do for you?”

  Elaine was never one for small talk. Always straight to the point, he thought. He spread his thighs, leaned forward and rested his arms on them.

  “A case, a body came in this morning. Older guy. Dr. Dresden.”

  “Yes, I haven’t had a chance to do the autopsy. He’s on schedule for tomorrow. I had to verify there was no next of kin.” She frowned as she folded her petite hands atop the files on her desk. “Something I should know?”

  For a moment Mark was distracted by that cute little wrinkle between her sleek brows. He adjusted his tie.

  “More like something I need to know.” He told her what he knew so far.

  “I see. Well, I’ll be running all the standard tests. If anything comes up of course, I’ll tell you.”

  “I was hoping that you could put a rush on it.”

  “Really?” The frown deepened. “Any particular reason?”

  “If it wasn’t an accident, then it was murder. The longer it takes me to find that out, the more time the perp has to cover his tracks.” He went on to explain Felicia Swift’s suspicions.

  “Hmm.” She reached for the phone and depressed one of the buttons. Her gaze stayed focused on Mark. “Lenny, the case that you brought in this morning from the library. Head trauma. I need you to pull him out and get him prepped. Thanks.” She let go of the button. “As soon as I know something I’ll give you a call.”

  “Thanks.” He hesitated, started to get up then stopped. “So, how have you been?”

  “Good. Busy—unfortunately—but good. And you?”

  He shrugged. “Can’t complain. So, uh, you seeing anyone?”

  Elaine laughed lightly. “No one special.” She leaned forward and zeroed in on him with those eyes. “Not many men can deal with what I do for a living.”

  The dig didn’t escape him. He rocked his jaw and gave her a half-baked grin. “We had a good thing, me and you.”

  “Yes, and had is the operative word. It would have never worked. You know it and so do I.”

  There was that kick in the shin. He pushed up from his seat. “Good to see you again, Elaine. Give me a call when you have something.”

  As Mark drove back to the station, his thoughts sh
ifted between maneuvering the icy, snowbound streets, seeing Elaine again and the growing feeling in his gut that Elaine was going to find something more than a simple fall from a ladder.

  * * * * *

  The pall that had fallen over the staff at the library was visceral. The usual buzz and hum of everyone floating through the administrative offices had been reduced to whispers and hushed conversations. It was driving Felicia crazy.

  She decided to take a short walk around the building.

  The massive reading room with its horseshoe seating and yawning cathedral ceiling that seemed to reach for heaven, held in place by the grandiose pillars reminiscent of ancient Rome, was virtually empty. Generally by the lunch hour the research tables and the counters were lined with people. Today she could count them.

  One of the library’s regulars, an older woman, who was researching the number of Africans who’d been enslaved and ultimately helped to develop the nation’s capital, came up to her.

  “Good afternoon, Mrs. Whitaker. Pretty rough day for you to be out.”

  “I figured the weather would keep a lot of people away and I’d get more work done.” Her dull brown eyes crinkled at the corners. She looked left, right, then at Felicia and lowered her voice. “Is it true that Dr. Dresden died?”

  Felicia swallowed. “Yes, it is.” The staff had been advised by the police not to discuss it with anyone until the autopsy was completed.

  Mrs. Whitaker’s birdlike hand flew to her chest. “Oh, my! How awful. I thought I was mistaken when I heard something about it on the radio.”

  It was on the radio? “Yes, uh, it’s very sad and a big loss for all of us.”

  “Heart attack?”

  “I really don’t have all the details myself.” Which was true, she reasoned. Suspicions didn’t equal facts.

  “Well, do let me know about arrangements. I’d like to pay my respects. He was always so very kind to me.”

  Felicia patted her shoulder. “I certainly will. Now you be careful out there.” She hurried off, her mind on the fact that Dr. Dresden’s murder—death—was being broadcast on the news. But maybe he would get the attention that he deserved, she thought. Unless the news did what it was known for, which was spinning the facts. Especially if Detective Rizzo had anything to do with it.