Murder at the Library of Congress - Margaret Truman [77]
Annabel waited until Dolores was gone before saying, “You’re not going to believe this, but Sue found this envelope in the Aaronsen Collection.” She handed it to Consuela.
“What’s in it?”
“Computer discs labeled LAS CASAS. There are five of them. I took a look at what’s on one.”
“Aaronsen? As I recall, that family’s interest was exclusively on slavery tracts and pamphlets from the West Indies, nineteenth century. Las Casas?”
“I don’t know anything about the Aaronsens, Consuela, but I do know that the disc I looked at is filled with notes about the diaries.”
“Fascinating.”
“I also think …”
“Yes?”
“I also think the notes might have been written by Michele Paul.”
Chapter 30
Broadhurst’s attempt to reach David Driscoll that morning had been frustrating in the extreme.
“Mr. Driscoll is out of the country, Mr. Broadhurst,” the man who answered the phone at Driscoll’s Los Angeles estate said.
“Do you know how I might reach him?”
“No, sir.”
“When do you expect him back?”
“I don’t know that.”
“Please leave a message that I called.”
“Yes, Mr. Broadhurst, I will.”
David Driscoll’s whereabouts remained unknown for the rest of the day.
Broadhurst hadn’t been the only one interested in contacting David Driscoll that day.
“Mr. Driscoll’s office.”
“Hi. This is Lucianne Huston, NCN, News Cable Network. Is Mr. Driscoll there?”
The secretary in Driscoll Securities’ chairman emeritus’s office said, “I’m sorry but he’s not, Ms. Huston. Is there something I can help with?”
“Probably not. I’m working on a story about what the economy will look like in the year two thousand. Leading financial experts are giving their forecasts, and I was anxious to include Mr. Driscoll.”
“I’m sure he’d be pleased to participate, Ms. Huston, but I’m afraid he’s out of the country.”
“Back to Mexico again?”
The secretary laughed. “Yes, as a matter of fact. I enjoy your work on television very much.”
“Thank you. I suppose you’ve been following my coverage of the murder at the Library of Congress.”
“Some of it. A terrible tragedy. Mr. Driscoll was extremely upset when he heard.”
“I’m not surprised. His support of the library is well known.”
“A real passion with him.”
“When is he due back?”
“He didn’t say, although probably in a day or two. He seldom stays there long unless he’s traveling with his wife.”
“Will he be checking in with you today?”
“I don’t think so. He spends very little time here. He’s retired, you know.”
“I hope I’m that active when—and if—I ever retire,” Lucianne said, injecting a laugh for effect. “I’ll just have to try again.”
“Please do. It was a pleasure talking with you.”
Lucianne hung up and dialed Baumann’s office at NCN in Miami.
“Bob, Lucianne. I’ve been trying to reach Driscoll but he’s in Mexico.”
“I’d be more comfortable if you had a statement from him, Lucianne.”
“I don’t need a statement from him. My source with the police here in D.C. is solid gold. No doubt about it. Driscoll was sending this Paul person money and lots of it over the years, including a hundred grand the day before he was murdered. I want to go out to L.A. this afternoon and be there when Driscoll returns.”
“How long will that be?”
“A few days at the most. Driscoll’s the key to this story, Bob. One of the country’s filthy rich paying off a murdered researcher, for whatever reason, at the Library of Congress. Smells. Driscoll’s rumored to have been waving money around the rare books and manuscripts underground looking for lost diaries by Las Casas. Researcher is hit at his desk. Security guard is shot in Miami during the theft of a third-rate painting that’s delivered to—where else?—Los Angeles. The lowlife who stole the painting is gunned down by police in—where else?—Mexico. Another Hispanic researcher at LC, as it’s affectionately called, disappears eight years ago, no trace. Was Driscoll paying him, too? Did Driscoll do more than just give these guys money?”
“Like what?”
“Like maybe kill them, or have them killed to keep his payments quiet.”
Baumann whistled into the phone: “Payments for what?