Murder at the Library of Congress - Margaret Truman [85]
“You approached me, Cale, and asked for help in obtaining funds for those Las Casas diaries. I took immediate action. I started the ball rolling by having my staff draft a special spending resolution laying the groundwork with key colleagues should the diaries turn up. The fact that someone of Driscoll’s stature was involved added to my comfort level in pursuing it. Now, I turn on my TV and read my newspaper and see serious accusations being made against him, and, by implication, the library, and a murder in the wings.”
“If it bothered you, Senator, imagine my reaction.”
“Why was Driscoll sending money to Paul?”
“We don’t know,” said Broadhurst. “David might have been making use of Dr. Paul’s research to locate important collections or manuscripts or books. It hardly seems likely that pure research would be so valuable to a collector but … you never know. Hopefully, we’ll get a straight answer to that from Driscoll—once we catch up with him.”
Menendez sat back, his brow furrowed, eyes trained on an ornate chandelier hanging directly above his visitor. He said, “I know this is asking for speculation on your part, Cale, but is it even remotely possible that the money Driscoll was sending Michele Paul had something to do with his murder?”
“It’s inconceivable to me, Senator, but the murder was, too. That’s a personal view. David Driscoll and I have been acquainted for a long time, going back long before I became Librarian. You know as well as I do of his generosity to the library over many years, especially in the past ten years or so. That said—and I stress it’s my personal reaction to your question—I don’t know. I wish I did.”
Menendez said, “Again, I ask about the money. If Paul was being paid by Driscoll, that would be a serious breach of Paul’s responsibility to the library, would it not?”
“Of course,” said Broadhurst.
“Do you have any further information that others on your staff might be doing the same thing?”
A nervous laugh came from the Librarian. He didn’t know. “No. Michele Paul was undoubtedly an isolated incident, an aberration. Most librarians do not get rich, ethically or otherwise.”
Menendez ran his tongue over his lower lip, swiveled left and right, then came forward, elbows on the desk. “These Las Casas diaries and map are now tainted.”
“Tainted? They haven’t even been found yet.”
“With scandal. I’m sure you can understand the position I’m in. I can’t very well push for a resolution to release funds to buy them if they come through a now-sullied source like David Driscoll.”
Broadhurst shifted in his chair and exhaled audibly. “I never thought I’d hear the name David Driscoll and scandal mentioned in the same breath.” He sensed the meeting was about to end. “When I’ve had the opportunity to ask Driscoll why he’s been sending money to Paul, I’ll be better able to answer your questions.”
“When you have those answers,” Menendez said, “I want to be informed first.”
“Before the police?”
“First. In the meantime, I’m putting on hold any further consideration of funding the purchase.”
“Which is certainly understandable,” said Broadhurst.
“Before we break this up, is there anything else threatening to erupt at the library, something that might further contribute to what I’m sure you’ll agree is a brewing scandal?”
Broadhurst paused before responding. Should he mention the unknown person who’d been phone stalking the young intern in the main reading room? The drunk who’d been escorted from the Jefferson Building by library police, and who threatened legal action for violation of his civil rights? The recent technical snafu in the digital library project?
“Not to my knowledge,” Broadhurst said.
“Good.”
Menendez stood, opened the door, and summoned two of his staff into the office. All beautiful smile,