Murder in the Library (2 page)

I drove up Cherry Hill Lane and parked in front of the Colonel’s house. The two story, white brick
house, spread out over two lots, hadn’t changed that much. One tree stood over
to the side, away from the driveway. Everything else was a wide, flat front
yard.

Up until then, life had
been good for the Colonel. As a young man, he had inherited a great deal of
money from his grandmother. This allowed him to do what he always wanted to do,
teach school, and help young people find their way. Lou and I were just two of
many the Colonel had helped over the years, but since we didn’t go on to
college, we never had him as a professor.

Eager to find out why
the Colonel had summoned us, Lou and I lifted ourselves from the car, walked as
quickly as two, recently well-fed men, could walk. Lou seemed to walk quicker
than I, even though I had been better fed.

I reached out, rang the
bell, waited for someone to answer.

“Well, Cy, Lou, what
brings you here?” asked Martha, the Colonel’s wife, as she opened the door,
admitted us to the house. Although now in her mid-seventies, the woman still
looked elegant, and her white, well-coiffed hair looked like she had just
returned from the beauty parlor.

“Just checking in with the
Colonel. It’s been a while since we’ve seen him.”

“I’ll say it has. What’s
been keeping you away?”

“Work and poor
planning.”

“Buck’s in the library.
Don’t let me keep you from him.”

Buck was the Colonel.
James Buckham Hardesty, and as far as we know, his students are the only ones
to have ever called him Colonel. To everyone else, he was Buck or Mr. Hardesty.

I knocked on the library
door. A few seconds later the Colonel opened the door. He removed the frown he
was wearing, but not quickly enough. I noticed and turned to Lou to see that he
noticed, too.

“Cy, Lou,” the Colonel
said as he stood between us and wrapped his arms around our shoulders, “so good
to see you, again. It looks like life is treating you well.”

The Colonel offered us
seats, seats he had already arranged in front of his massive desk.  It was the
Colonel’s meeting, so we let him direct it. We spent a few minutes reminiscing
about our tree house and school before the Colonel got down to business.

“Cy, Lou, I really
respect you boys, and what you’ve done for this community. You’ve made me proud
to be a friend. The Hilldale Police Department has never had two finer
officers. I don’t care what the others say.”

On that note, he
laughed, and we did, too.

“Boys, you’ve had a good
record, and we’ve had some good times together. Up to now I’ve never asked
anything of you boys, but I’ve got a problem, and I can’t think of anyone
better to turn to for help.”

I wanted to ask if it
was money or health related, but I knew the Colonel would soon share his
troubles with us.

“I’m not sure if you
boys have been in this library before, but let me tell you about it. This
library is my haven, my sanctuary. It’s where I spent all those years preparing
lessons for my classes, where I got my ideas for my inventions, wrote my books,
and many years ago, it’s where I did some work for the government. Then, as
now, the government expected secrecy and silence. I couldn’t then, nor can I
now share anything about the work I did for them, but that has nothing to do
with why you’re here. I only share that because the government insisted that I
include a safe room below, a surveillance camera at the door, and another
entrance or exit that no one other than I can use. You may have noticed the
camera just before you stepped into this room. It sets idle until someone comes
to the door. Then, it takes a picture of anyone who crosses its path. A
trapdoor lies under the large rug in the middle of the room, a door that leads
to a room under this one, but a room that has no other exit. The far end of the
bookcase over there,” the Colonel said as he motioned toward the bookcases on
the other end of the room diagonal from the door we entered, “is a hidden exit,
and on the other side is a secret entrance that can be used only by me, because
it takes my thumb and fingerprints for it to work. In other words, the room
we’re in is safe, and yet it’s not. Sometime yesterday, when all of us were
away from the house, someone left this piece of paper in the middle of the
floor, right between where your chairs are now placed.”

The Colonel handed us a
wadded up piece of paper. I opened it and held it so Lou could read it, too.

SOON YOU WILL DIE IN
YOUR SANCTUARY

“I checked the camera. I
checked the secret entrance. No one has entered this room, and yet, it was here
that I found this note, right where you’re sitting.”

“Is it possible that the
note has been here for a while?”

“No, I noticed it as
soon as I came in the room, but it doesn’t matter, Cy. No one else has a key. I’ve
run the video back and forth. Since the camera is one of my inventions, I feel
certain no one has tampered with it. No one else has been in this room for the
past three days until the two of you came in just now. Naturally, I’m worried.
I’m acting as if whoever wrote this means what he or she typed. And I want the
two of you to look into this for me.”

“Naturally we’re willing
to help, but we’ll have to ask you some questions. We need for you to answer
them as truthfully as possible.”

“Of course. I’m willing
to cooperate any way I can. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have called you. I’ve
anticipated some of your questions and have been thinking about who might have
done this.”

I studied the library as
I gathered my thoughts. True, it was a library. Thousands of books gave
evidence to that. But what a room. I’d seen a few homes not much larger than
the room we were in. I guessed the ceiling to be around twelve feet, possibly
higher. Bookcases climbed from the floor to the ceiling, and covered two walls,
the one behind the desk straight in front of the door and the long wall down
the side opposite the door.

Two movable ladders, one
on each wall, were connected to the bookcases and slid along when someone
needed to reach a book on a higher shelf. A cordovan leather couch faced away
from us toward a fireplace at the other end of the room. Polished brass studs
accented the couch and held it together. My guess is that the matching chairs
on which Lou and I sat normally bracketed the couch and faced the fireplace.
There were tables with brass lamps, floor lamps, and track lighting housed in
the opposite wall, but not a window in the room. Nothing gave evidence of where
the note had come from, but I didn’t expect to learn anything, because the
Colonel knew the room much better than I.

The Colonel gave us time
to get our bearings, waited for me to take over.

“Of course, Colonel, the
important thing is to find out who could’ve put this note in this room, and how
they could’ve done it. I’d think you would have a better idea than we would how
someone could’ve done this, so let’s start with who. I want a list of people
who’ve been in the house in the last six months. Why don’t you begin by telling
me who lives here now?”

“I’m only going to say
this once, Cy, because it’s your investigation, but I don’t think any of my
family is in any way involved, but I will answer any question you ask of me. Of
course there’s Martha and me. We share the master bedroom which is located
directly above this library and the living room you passed on the left when you
came in the door. All the other bedrooms are on the other end of the house. I’m
sure that you remember that we have two daughters. Our oldest, Darlene, died
when a drunken driver hit her when she was a senior in high school. The
youngest, Jill, and her husband, Frank, are missionaries in Africa. They had
two daughters, both of whom are currently living with us. Jennifer, the oldest,
is married and a senior at the university. Her husband, Scott, is a graduate
student. Our other granddaughter, Trish, has been with us for a year   and  
is   about   to   complete her freshmen year at the university. We also have a
young man staying with us. Tom Brockman is new to the area, and a teacher’s
assistant at the university.”

“Even though two of
those living with you’re family, I imagine you’ve spent little time with them
as they grew up. How well do you know your granddaughters, your
grandson-in-law, and the young man who’s living here?”

“While it’s true that
the girls were born in Africa, Jill and Frank returned to the states one month
out of the year, and they always spent two weeks of that month with us. We
spent time with the girls then. Also, once every five years, they were required
to spend the year in the states, so that gave us time to get caught up with
them then. I feel that we got to know our granddaughters as well as most
grandparents get to know their grandchildren who live at a distance. Besides,
Jennifer has been with us over four years. She is on schedule to graduate in
five years. She met Scott at the university, so we got to know him while they
were dating, and they have been married and living here almost two years now.”

“And what about Tom
Brockman? How well do you know him, and did you check him out before you
offered him a room?”

“You know me, Cy. I
thoroughly checked Tom out. He comes from a fine family. His father is a
doctor, his mother a teacher. He has given us no problems. One thing that has
helped us become a family to Scott and to Tom is that most evenings we eat
together as a family. Everyone is expected at dinner, unless they let us know
they have other plans. We don’t mind if someone has plans. We just want to know
so we won’t hold dinner.”

“You hold dinner?”

“Well, not really, but
Martha still wants to know that everything’s okay and everyone’s accounted
for.”

“None of them have
nine-to-five jobs. How many of these people are in and out of the house during
the day?”

“During the week they
are usually gone all day. Scott and Jennifer drive to school together. When
Scott’s not in class, he spends a lot of his time in the library, writing. Most
days their schedules allow them to eat together. Trish has classes every day.
Some days she gets out of class early, but most of the time she doesn’t come
home until 3:30 or 4:00. But she does get out at 2:00 on Tuesday and Thursday. Tom doesn’t want to be a bother, so he spends most of his free time in his
office, if that’s what you want to call it. I’ve been there a couple of times.
It looks more like a closet.”

“But any one of them
could find time sometime during the day to come home if he or she so chose?”

“I suppose so, but none
of them have made a habit of doing so.”

“No one has made a habit
of leaving you notes until now.”

“That’s true, Cy. By the
way, Cy, Lou, I’ve got an idea. I don’t know whether this will help or not, why
don’t I show you around, have Martha fix a little something to snack on, and
then we can come back and pick up where we left off?”

I was tired by the time
we got through with the tour of the house. Remind me never to go to the
Biltmore. I could never handle the tour. As we toured the master bedroom, Lou
whispered to me, “Cy, this bedroom is larger than my apartment.” I whispered
back, “Yeah, and get a load of that sunken tub. It even has steps on one side
to help you get out.” The right wing of the second floor was nothing but
bedrooms, six large ones. A trip down the steps revealed a finished basement,
which included a game room that most men would kill for. I wondered if either
of the men who lived in the Colonel’s house would kill him. I decided to
curtail such thoughts until after I’d met these men and focused my attention on
the tour. The main floor included a room for anything a person could think of
to do that the basement and second floor missed out on. After we finished our
tour, we understood why everyone was so eager to live with the Colonel. If Lou
and I hadn’t liked our privacy so much, we might’ve checked the upstairs rooms
for “Vacancy” signs.

We ended our twelve mile
hike in the kitchen, where Martha had just finished making sandwiches and hors
d’oeuvres.

“Buck, you haven’t
talked the boys to death, have you?”

“No, dear, we’re just
getting caught up. And since we have more catching up to do, do you mind if the
boys and I take our food into the library and finish up our talk in there?”

Instead of answering her
husband, Martha turned to Lou, whom she considered the quietest of the three.

“Lou, send me some kind
of sign if they end up talking you to death and you need to be rescued.”

We all laughed. Between
the four of us we managed to carry enough food and drink to the library to last
us until we could reach into our pockets and pull out a candy bar. If things
got desperate, I promised myself I’d share my candy with the Colonel. I brought
extras. I always do.

As I helped carry our
replenishments, I looked at Martha to see if she looked like someone who was
returning to the scene of the crime. I saw no guilt. I doubted if she knew why
we were there.

After devouring a few
sandwiches, I turned to the Colonel and resumed our conversation.

“Well, Colonel, if we
may, I’d like to discuss two other groups of people. First, think hard and tell
me who’s been in your house in the last six months.”

“I’ve been thinking
about that. We had a party at Christmas, but most of those people haven’t been
in the house since then. No one comes regularly, except for Joe Guilfoyle, my
best friend. Joe and I’ve a standard date every Monday afternoon at 3:00.”

“Has Joe ever been in
the library?”

“Sure. Most of the time,
at least in the winter, that’s where Joe and I hang out. When the weather
breaks, Joe and I head to the closed-in back porch, but it has only ceiling
fans, so when the summer heat hits us, we head back in to the air conditioning,
which usually means the library.”

“What do you talk
about?”

“Oh, usually, what
happened in the world of sports over the weekend. Plus, Joe and I are avid
mystery readers. We both love a good whodunit, so we talk about the ones we’ve
read, how we would have done it if we were the murderer, and we recommend other
good mysteries or authors to each other.”

When the Colonel
mentioned a good whodunit, I thought about our newest hobby, and I began to
smile.

“What’s so amusing, Cy?”

“Oh, when you said
whodunit, I got to thinking about our new hobby.” I pointed at Lou, then to
myself to let the Colonel know who “our” was. “Have you ever been to the Scene
of the Crime bookstore?”

“Oh, course. Everyone
knows that’s the best place to find a good mystery.”

I thought of the Scene
of the Crime and all their good books, which took me to the people we’d met
there, and then for some reason my thoughts migrated to computers, Hershey,
Pennsylvania, and the candy bar burning a hole in my pocket.

“Colonel, do you mind if
I eat a treat I brought with me?”

“If you boys are still
hungry, I can have Martha fix us something else.”

“Oh, no. It’s just that I’ve
a craving for Hershey Almond bars, and Lou loves M&Ms.”

“Go ahead. If you make a
mess the maid will clean it up.”

“Do you really have a
maid, or are you speaking of Martha?”

“No, really, we have a
couple who comes once a week, on Thursday. She cleans and her husband does yard
work, carries out the trash, and fixes anything that might need it.”

“Is either of them ever
in the library?”

“Oh, yes, but never
without me present.”

“Tell me something about
them.”

“Their names are Earl
and Myra Hoskins. I’d say they’re in their early sixties. They work together,
have five clients. They work at a different house one day each week. Our day is
always Thursday. I say always. All the families know each other, so if anyone
wants a different day they check with one of the other families to see if
someone is willing to trade. You know, like if someone has a party planned, or
something like that. In case you’re wondering, Earl and Myra came to us highly
recommended and have been with us for seven or eight years. Not the kind of
people I’d think would leave a note. Besides, they weren’t here today.”

“How do you know?”

“Well, neither of them
has a key. One of us is always here to let them in. Besides, they were cleaning
someone else’s house today.”

“Speaking of keys, tell
me everyone who has a key to the house.”

“Everyone who lives here
has a key. No one who doesn’t.”

“Back to the Hoskins for
a moment, are they the kind of people who might talk about you or your house to
others?”

“I don’t think so. They
don’t talk to us about anyone else. They just come in and do a good job. That’s
the reason they stay as booked as they want. I don’t think either of them would
have anything to do with the note.”

“It looks like you have
a long list of people who wouldn’t do this. Any idea who might?”

As soon as I asked the
question, I was sorry that I did. I knew the Colonel was more anxious than I to
cooperate. I raised my hand to let him know he didn’t need to answer.

“I’m sorry, Colonel. It
just seems like your world is filled with all these nearly perfect people.”

“Probably so, but I’ve
got a list of not-so-perfect people, too, only it’s a short list.”

“We’ll talk about them
in a minute, Colonel, unless your not-so-perfect person falls into this next
category. What about people who come to your house occasionally, people you
don’t think about? Like the mailman, repair men, people like that? People you
wouldn’t normally think of as being in your house.”

“Let me see.”

The Colonel reached into
his desk and pulled out a calendar. This allowed me to reach into my pocket and
pull out my candy bar. Most of it remained. I’d eaten one bite before I took
off to pick up Lou, and then a second bite a few minutes ago. I looked for a
luscious almond surrounded by chocolate. I didn’t want to eat two nuts in one
bite, nor take out my knife to slice off a piece. I took a bite, looked over at
Lou. He was all smiles, having just shaken a few M&Ms from his package to
his mouth.  Lou isn’t a one M&M at a time kind of guy. Besides, he rips his
package open with his teeth. I can’t blame him. I had a wife for a few years to
refine me. Lou’s never had anyone but me. Well, now he has a girlfriend, but
she got in too late to refine Lou. Lou and I looked around and spotted the
Colonel looking at us. He shook his head and smiled.

“Still boys, aren’t
you?”

“You got that right. So,
what did you find, Colonel?”

“This calendar includes
anything that has happened this year that isn’t a part of our normal routine. I
was right about events at the house, nothing since Christmas, but we had a
plumber in, and the pest control was by three times to spray for ants. First
time we’ve ever had ants in the house. And I can’t believe we had a problem
with them before summer. Anyway, they’re gone now. And you mentioned the
mailman. He has stopped in a couple of times with a package that’s too large to
fit through the slot in the front door, but I don’t think he’s ever come any
farther than just inside the front door.”

“I assume the pest
control guy was in the library.”

“No, Martha told him
that we’d never spotted any ants in the library. He said he’d do better if he
could spray the whole house. We said we’d try it our way first, and if that
didn’t work we’d let him in the library.”

“Did he seem anxious to
get in the library?”

“Not any more so than
any other room.”

“Did you ever see him?”

“No, Martha always
helped him, tried to follow him as much as possible.”

“Are those all the
people you can think of?”

“Well, we bought some
new furniture last month. That was delivered.”

“Were the men in here?”

“No. I doubt if they
know I’ve a library. The only special things about this place are that it is
where I spend a lot of time, and that I’ve the only keys to the place.”

“If it’s not someone who
lives here who’s doing this, he or she is doing their best to make it look like
it. It would be so much easier to slip a note through the mail slot in the
front door.”

“Yeah, but I must say,
Cy, that wouldn’t scare me nearly as much as what was done. To think that
someone has access to my library, and I have the only keys.”

“Any possibility that
the note has been in here for a while, and when you opened the door, it blew to
the floor?”

“This desk is the only
place close enough for it to blow from, and, as you can see, I don’t keep a lot
of things on my desk. I would have noticed it for sure.”

“Well, let’s move on.
Tell me about your neighbors. Are you on good terms with all of them? Any of
them ever come over?”

“I get along with all my
neighbors. Sometimes we socialize with some of them, but no one’s been over
this year.”

“Are there any you’ve
had any problems with?”

“No, we’ve been lucky.
We speak to everyone. Everyone speaks to us.”

“Any possibility that
someone’s jealous because you have the largest house on the street?”

“If so, I’m not aware of
it.”

“Do you have any new
neighbors?”

“The newest one is Bob
Downey, next door, but he has been there for a couple of years or so.”

“What can you tell me
about him?”

“Speaks when I see him,
but mostly keeps to himself. He’s retired. Business I think.”

“Is he married?”

“No, he lives there
alone.”

“I know his house isn’t
nearly as large as yours, but why would he buy such a large house at his age.”

“Well, I said he’s
retired, but I don’t think he is much older than the two of you. Maybe even
younger than you.”

“So, who else can you
think of? What about anyone who’s threatened you?”

“I can only think of a
couple of people. Three actually. All of them were when I was at the
university, before I retired. But that was a few years back. I would think if
anyone wanted to do anything to me, he would have done it back then.”

“Some retaliate right
away. Others wait until the person has forgotten about the incident, in order
to increase their chances of getting away with it. Tell me about these people.”

“Well, one was a
colleague, Michael Belding. He blames me for his not getting tenure at the
university. He’s still in town, teaches at the high school. I’ve run into him a
couple of times over the years. I can tell by the look on his face that he
still blames me. The only others I can think of were students. Both blamed me
for their not getting into the graduate program. One was a male, Daniel
Terloff. The other was a female, Carla Bauerman. I always figured Terloff might
have been the one who drove by and threw an open bucket of paint against the
house one night, but I never was able to prove it. Both of these cases happened
in my last year of teaching, but that was several years ago.”

“Sometimes people carry
hatred a long time, Colonel.”