Murder at the Library of Congress Read Online Free PDF Page B

Michele read a paper Kelman had written and berated him in front of a group of people, told him he was a pathetic excuse for a scholar or something like that. No, worse than that. They aren’t fond of each other.”
    “So I’ll be a human buffer zone.”
    “Sorry, but it’s the only space available, at least in Hispanic. If you’re uncomfortable, I can call Wayne Brennan in Scholarly Programs and see if he still has space.”
    “No, thanks, Consuela. I’d rather be right here in Hispanic. We’ll all get along just fine.”
    “Good. By the way, that desk in the hall belongs to one of our interns from Maryland U. Delightful gal. She splits her time between here and the main reading room. I’ve got her cataloging Cuban newspapers. We collect fourteen of them.”
    “Fourteen newspapers published in Communist Cuba?”
    “Fidel, the benevolent dictator and champion of free speech. Sure I can’t get you coffee to kick-start your project?”
    “Thanks, no. I’ll start bringing a thermos tomorrow.”
    “That locker with the padlock is yours. Lock your laptop, purse, notes, anything else in there. It’s secure. Ever since they instituted the new security system, we haven’t had any problems.”
    “That’s good to hear. I’ll unpack my briefcase and get set up. You say we’ll go to Manuscripts after lunch?”
    “Right. And maybe you’ll have better luck than I’ve had with Michele about the interview. He might be partial to tall, shapely redheads.”
    Annabel settled at the desk and spread out the supplies and papers she’d brought with her. Her excitement level had risen. Although she’d done research at LC over the past few years, those had been short bursts lasting only a few days. Mostly, she’d used the main reading room, where the volumes she sought were housed, including thousands of books on Hispanic-Portuguese subjects that were circulated to the general public.
    But this was different. She was settling in for two months, a chance to really get to know more of Las Casas’s relationship to Columbus, and she hoped to add something useful to the debate over whether the Spaniard had, in fact, written his own diaries about Columbus’s first three voyages. If she could accomplishthat through her research, and the article she would write for Civilization , she would have made a worthwhile contribution. She wasn’t seeking to actually find the diaries, if they even existed in the first place. Others had spent their entire professional lives attempting to do that, without success. But if she could pull together all the snippets of information, and all the rumors over the centuries, into a coherent case that the diaries did, in fact, exist, she’d be more than fulfilled. Make a case that continuing to search for the diaries wasn’t a wasted exercise. The lawyer in her speaking.
    Her contemplation was interrupted by thoughts of her husband, speaking of lawyers and things worthwhile. Mac had been totally supportive of her plan to leave the day-to-day operations of the gallery to others, and to devote months to writing the article. His support wasn’t surprising, of course. He’d backed every move she’d made since they met, offering advice when asked but leaving the decisions very much up to her. He was, she thought, the most decent and loving person she’d ever—
    “Sometimes you get lucky,” she said quietly as she picked up the phone and dialed their number at the Watergate.
    “Mac?”
    “Hello. Adjusting to your new life as an academician?”
    “I think so. Consuela has given me a wonderful little cubbyhole on the balcony overlooking the reading room. I feel like I’ve been here forever. I’m going to the manuscript division after lunch to take a long, hard look at Columbus’s Book of Privileges.”
    “Sounds great. Even privileged, you might say. Like me, marrying you.”
    “Mac?”
    “Yeah?”
    “Are you okay?”
    “Am I okay? Of course I am. Why would you even ask?”
    “You sound