Murder at the Library of Congress - Margaret Truman [39]
Nastasi hadn’t heard from anyone that Consuela and Michele Paul had had a tense phone conversation. But if you challenged a witness, it often resulted in a voluntary change of story.
Consuela took a deep breath before saying, “He hadn’t come to work the day before. He was supposed to be here. I questioned him about it. As usual, his answers were, well, let’s just say frustrating.”
“So you were mad at him yesterday.”
“Not any more so than usual,” Consuela replied, wishing she hadn’t.
Nastasi’s smile wasn’t genuine. “Ever think you’d like to kill Mr. Paul?” he asked.
“Of course not.”
“Would be natural,” the beefy, gruff detective said. “You must have had that thought now and then.”
“I’ve never wished anyone dead.” She sounded strong for the first time since the questioning began.
The detectives looked at her.
She started to cry.
“It’s okay, Dr. Martinez,” Shorter said, reaching and touching her arm. “Take it easy. These are just questions we have to ask. Part of the job.”
She used the handkerchief to wipe her tears. “I understand,” she said, “but please don’t think I might have killed Michele. I didn’t.”
There were a few moments of silence.
“Where were you last night?” Nastasi asked.
“I was at the party, of course.”
“After the party?”
“I went home.”
“Right away?”
“Yes. I mean, I stopped at my office to pick up a few things. My raincoat. A book. I’d left my purse there, too, locked up.”
Shorter asked, “Is theft a problem here at the library?”
“Not at all. I understand it used to be before the new security system was put in place. Locking up your purse is automatic, anywhere, any place.”
“Of course,” said Shorter.
“Who disliked Mr. Paul as much as you did, Dr. Martinez?” Nastasi asked.
Consuela sat up straight and back, as though the question exerted physical force. “You make it sound as though I hated Michele,” she said. “I didn’t. Yes, there were times I could have strangled him, if that’s what you want to hear. And yes, our relationship was tense at best. But I did not dislike him any more than many others did.”
Nastasi slapped the table and stood. “Now we’re getting somewhere,” he said. “Who are the others who disliked him, maybe enough to kill him?”
The questioning of Consuela Martinez lasted another twenty minutes. During that time she refused to name anyone who held a grudge against Michele Paul. As she was leaving the old Librarian’s office, Detective Shorter stopped her. “Who was he sleeping with?”
Consuela turned at the door. “Michele? I never asked.”
“You have some pretty attractive women working in your division, Dr. Martinez.” He consulted his notebook and read a series of names, including Annabel Reed-Smith.
“I suggest you ask them,” she said. “As for Mrs. Reed-Smith, she doesn’t work in the Hispanic division. She’s researching an article for our magazine.”
“Thanks for your time,” Shorter said. “We’d appreciate it if you didn’t discuss what we talked about with others.” The request was de rigueur. Of course she’d talk about it.
After she was gone, Nastasi turned to his partner and asked, “What’a you think?”
“She didn’t sleep with him.”
“You’re right about that. No love lost, though.”
“I don’t think anybody had any love to lose,” Shorter said. “Who’s next?”
“The rest of the people from her department. But let’s have another talk first with Lapin, the security chief. Besides, I want to get out of here for a while. Libraries give me the creeps.”
“Yeah? I like libraries.”
“And you weren’t brought up in a Catholic school with an ugly old battle-ax who passed for a librarian. She was a book guardian and sergeant at arms, always on me for making noise. She used to tell me to put my hand on her desk and she’d give it a shot with a book.”
Shorter grinned. “Must have hurt.”
“Yeah, it hurt. I never liked libraries ever since.”
“Scarred you for life.”
“You being funny?”
“Me? Hell, no. Just feeling your pain.”
Chapter 14
Annabel subjected herself to the strict security procedures at the entrance to Manuscripts and went to the only vacant reading desk,