Larceny at the Library Read online

  “Meg is our legislative director, and she’s assigned to liaise with the committee from our personal office,” I explained. “But I have another connection to the Library of Congress. My husband is Doug Hollingsworth, the newly appointed director of the scholarly center.”

  Janice hit her forehead. “Yes, of course. Doug told me about you when we chatted after his appointment. So glad to welcome you to the Library of Congress this evening. You certainly do have a lot of connections here.” While her voice and expression seemed genuine on the surface, I felt like the warmth was forced.

  I introduced Sebastian and explained that Meg and her guest would be arriving soon. “I heard that we’re waiting for a member of Congress to arrive. I didn’t think members were invited tonight.” I didn’t want to appear difficult, but if my boss found out she missed an exclusive viewing, she’d be annoyed. After all, she was the chair of the oversight committee with Library of Congress jurisdiction. It might seem petty, but Maeve Dixon suffered from extreme FOMO, otherwise known as “fear of missing out.”

  “Members of Congress weren’t invited tonight. Tomorrow is the big day, and Maeve Dixon is going to kick it off for us by introducing the Librarian of Congress.” She placed her hand gently on my shoulder. “Don’t worry, Kit. We’d never shortchange Chairwoman Dixon. We have one member of Congress who can’t make it tomorrow morning and he was quite eager to view the special display we have on tap. As a courtesy, we allowed him to attend the rehearsal this evening.”

  I pursed my lips. “Representative Henry Chang?”

  Janice laughed. “How did you know? Yes, Congressman Chang is quite the aficionado of history. I believe he has his own modest collection of historical items. He’s over here at the Library of Congress on a regular basis. Given his intense interest in our collections, particularly related to Lincoln and other presidents, we decided to offer him the opportunity to attend the preview.”

  My face relaxed. “No problem,” I said. “Thank you for explaining that to me.”

  I heard a female voice over my right shoulder. “Explain what?”

  It was Meg, who had arrived with Trevor in tow. The fashion mogul of Capitol Hill, Meg was decked out in a pretty black long-sleeved shirt dress, accented with a multi-colored scarf around her trim waist. Her sleek blonde bob shone underneath the soft lighting of the Jefferson Building.

  Janice reached over and gave Meg a half hug. “Thank you for attending, Meg. Who is your guest this evening?”

  Meg stepped aside to allow Trevor to join our growing circle. He was dressed in his typical attire: a dark blue suit, neutral red tie, a crisp white collared shirt, and horn-rimmed glasses. Trevor wasn’t going to win hunk of the year. Nonetheless, he had a certain smart D.C. smart guy sex appeal that made him reasonably attractive, particularly to a Capitol Hill audience. Before this past year, I would have never thought Meg would have given someone like Trevor the time of day. She usually went for the guy who could have become a Chippendale dancer if he’d chosen a divergent career path. But Trevor’s obvious devotion and maturity had resonated with Meg at the right time. Timing was everything in life.

  Meg linked her arm underneath Trevor’s. After he introduced himself, Meg added, “Trevor is a senior advisor to the C-A-O in the House.”

  That was Washington, D.C. lingo for the Chief Administrative Officer, who managed all the operations, technology, and facilities within the House of Representatives. Trevor had enjoyed a storied career in Washington, which began in the Senate as our co-worker. Then he’d become a defense lobbyist and a tell-all bestselling author. He’d finally settled into the relatively tame position with the Chief Administrative Officer, where he appeared to excel. Trevor was the master of details, and the CAO relied upon him to keep everything straight.

  Trevor patted Meg’s arm with his other hand. “Nothing quite as impressive as the work that’s done here,” he said, his eyes drifting to the ceiling of the Great Hall. “This structure is simply awe inspiring.”

  As if on cue, Joe Malden piped up. “When the ceiling was restored a few decades ago, they discovered it was inlaid with aluminum plating, not silver. During the period of construction in the 1890s, aluminum was much more valuable than silver. The six skylights were designed to match the patterns on the floor below.” He took a breath. “No expense or detail was spared. When the doors to the Thomas Jefferson Building opened, it signaled our nation’s arrival on the global stage of knowledge. The United States would no longer be dwarfed by the likes of London, Paris, or Rome.”

  Janice Jackson chuckled. “Joe, if you ever get bored with legal matters, I could hire you as a tour guide for our congressional V-I-Ps.”

  Lea Rutherford smiled slyly. “He’s certainly a man of many talents.”

  Joe promptly turned a shade of dark red. “I’d better check to see if Gustav needs help with setting up for tonight’s viewing.”

  “And I think I just saw Representative Chang arrive,” said Janice. “Please excuse me.” She scurried across the Great Hall to intercept the congressman.

  Meg whispered, “Does she mean Henry Chang?”

  “The Library gave him special permission to attend tonight because he can’t go tomorrow,” I murmured.

  Meg wrinkled her nose. “He’s a pest on the committee. Maeve finds him annoying. He’s only a freshman, yet he’s always clamoring for tickets to events at glamorous places.”

  “It’s Chang’s first term in Congress, so he’s eager,” I said. “And according to the congressional relations person, he likes American history.”

  “Janice Jackson,” said Meg. “She bends over backwards for Chang because she thinks he’ll help the Library of Congress on the committee.”

  “Isn’t that the name of the game, Meg? You understand how it works,” I said. “No surprise that she’d want to make him happy. Isn’t that the job of congressional relations in a federal agency?”

  Meg fiddled with her silver hoop earring. “I’m giving you the background so you understand what’s going on, Kit.”

  I smiled. “Doug gives me an earful about Library politics. But it’s helpful to hear it from a veteran like you.”

  Meg beamed. We’d been best friends for a while, but I was also technically Meg’s boss. It didn’t hurt to provide well deserved praise every once in a while.

  A trim, muscular African American man in his early forties emerged from the ceremonial office. In a demonstrative voice, he announced, “Please join us inside for a preview of our program. Unfortunately, you will need to leave your refreshments outside.”

  We dutifully left our drinks on the table and made our way toward the entrance to the office. Lea Rutherford appeared next to me. “Lea, who is the gentleman who just spoke?”

  “Gordon Endicott,” she said. “The head of the rare books and special collections division.”

  “It seems like he’s in charge of the situation,” I said.

  Lea nodded. “You’ve got that right. He’ll be a force to be reckoned with in the future. I have a feeling he doesn’t take no for an answer,” she said. “Gustav might have his hands full with him.”

  I leaned closer to Lea so I could lower my voice. “I get the sense that Assistant Librarian Gaffney throws his weight around quite a bit.”

  “There’s no weight to throw around.” She chuckled at her reference to Gaffney’s slight build. “But yes, you’re right. He has a lot of opinions about everything and he’s not afraid to make them known.”

  “I suppose his job is a tough one,” I said.

  “No doubt,” said Lea. “In my experience, most people think they can catch more flies with honey. That lesson is lost on Gustav Gaffney.”

  We’d reached the entrance to the ceremonial office, situated adjacent to the Great Hall. Library of Congress staff members, including Doug, Gaffney, and Endicott, were standing behind the Librarian’s ornate wooden d
esk.

  Gordon Endicott spoke. “Please, gather around so we can begin.” The crowd was small enough that everyone had a front row spot.

  Gustav cleared his throat. “Thank you for joining us today. Most of you already know who I am.” He peered around the room, reminding me of my middle school English teacher who tried to stare down students who didn’t complete the homework assignment. “However, I do not recognize all the faces before me, so I shall introduce myself formally. My name is Gustav Gaffney, and I am the Assistant Librarian of Congress.”

  My phone vibrated. Thank goodness I’d kept it on silent. If I’d interrupted Gustav, I might not live to tell about it. I pulled it out of my suit jacket pocket and glanced at the text message. Of course, it was from Meg.

  Is this guy for reals?

  I couldn’t risk typing back a long reply, but I did manage to send Meg the emoticon equivalent of a wink.

  ;)

  Afraid Gaffney might rap my wrists with a ruler for misbehavior, I returned my attention to behind the desk and studied the Assistant Librarian. Slender with a long, dour face, the remaining wisps of gray hair on his head indicated he’d never see sixty-five again. Dressed impeccably in a three-piece vested charcoal suit, I got the impression Gustav Gaffney was a serious man who got the job done, but probably wasn’t collecting too many happy hour invitations. This wasn’t a man who cared about winning popularity contests.

  Gaffney kept talking. “This evening, we will preview the display we will provide tomorrow to members of Congress and select guests of the scholarly and library community. Of course, we do have one member of Congress with us this evening.” He paused and motioned with his hand to an Asian man standing next to Janice Jackson. “As I understand it, Representative Chang is a collector of American history artifacts and an Abraham Lincoln aficionado.”

  Chang nodded, but didn’t say anything. That was uncharacteristic of a politician. Usually, they took any opportunity to offer remarks. Maybe Chang hadn’t gotten used to his job as a congressman yet. On the surface, he seemed like a fish out of water. From what I could recall, he hadn’t been a politician before coming to Congress and seemed way more interested in what happened a century ago than what was going on inside the Capitol today. Other history buffs had occupied key positions in Congress, such as former Speaker of the House Newt Gingrich. Love him or hate him, Newt’s head was focused on present day politics, not the past.

  “Now, we will turn to the newly appointed director of our scholarly center, historian Douglas Hollingsworth.” Gaffney motioned for Doug to assume the floor.

  “Thank you, Gustav. First, I’d like to tell you a little about this room, which served as the official office of the Librarian until 1980. There have been many kings, queens, presidents, prime ministers, and heads of state who have visited earlier Librarians inside this room.”

  Doug took a breath before continuing.

  “As you may know, Abraham Lincoln was born on February 12, 1809. Tomorrow, we will celebrate the anniversary of Lincoln’s birth by reenacting one of the greatest discoveries ever made within the walls of the Library of Congress.”

  Doug paused and looked around the room. He had everyone’s attention. “On February 12, 1976 inside this office, the Librarian of Congress at the time, Daniel Boorstin, opened a box during a well-attended press conference containing a very important set of Abraham Lincoln artifacts, namely the contents of his pockets the night he died.

  “The most interesting fact about these set of items is that they were lost for nearly four decades here at the Library of Congress,” said Doug. “Boorstin became the Librarian of Congress in 1975. One day, he walked into the closet inside this office.” Doug paused and pointed to a door only steps away from the desk. “Inside, he found a package marked for the Librarian of Congress. Boorstin pulled off a layer of wrapping and discovered the box was marked as the contents of Lincoln’s pockets the night he was assassinated.

  “Librarian Boorstin was initially skeptical, but it was verified that the items inside the package were indeed authentic. A few months later, the public reveal was held on Lincoln’s birthday to share the items with the public. Soon thereafter, they went on display at the Library of Congress so that visitors could experience the discovery.” Doug smiled as he concluded his short speech.

  “How did the items end up at the Library of Congress in the first place?” asked Lea Rutherford. “Why not a museum?”

  Doug adjusted his glasses. “We can only speculate, but we know that the items belonged to Lincoln’s son, Robert Todd Lincoln, for many years. His daughter, Mary Lincoln Ishum, donated the items, along with the Lincoln papers, to the Library of Congress in 1937.”

  “Why was the package misplaced for so long?” asked Representative Chang.

  “That’s a mystery,” said Doug.

  Gustav Gaffney interjected. “But the good news is that it’s no longer lost, and we have come together to recreate Librarian Boorstin’s finest moment as he shared the collection with journalists and scholars.”

  Gordon Endicott spoke. “Nonetheless, we don’t quite trust the collection to reside inside the closet in an unprotected package to recreate the Boorstin unveiling.” He walked over to the closet and opened the door. “We have invested in a state of the art biometric safe for this occasion.”

  We turned our gaze to the inside of the small room. Inside was a grey steel box the size of a mini-fridge.

  Gaffney joined Endicott. “This safe can only be opened using fingerprints. It ensures the contents cannot be stolen due to a safecracker. It has been fastened to the floor using our strongest enforcements.” He attempted to move the safe, which didn’t budge an inch. Given Gaffney’s slight build, was he really the best person to demonstrate the safe’s security?

  Doug must have read my mind. “The safe isn’t going anywhere. I watched the Architect of the Capitol install multiple bolts earlier today,” he said. “Apparently, when thefts occur, safes are typically not opened on site. Instead, they are removed from the premises and then cracked after hours of work.”

  Well, if the Library of Congress gig didn’t work out over the long term, maybe Doug had a future as a cat burglar. I suppressed a smile as the theme from the Pink Panther ran through my head.

  Gaffney bent down and placed his finger on the keypad of the safe. Moments later, the door opened.

  “For security purposes, the fingerprints of only two people will operate the safe,” said Janice Jackson.

  Gaffney cleared his throat. “Myself, as you’ve just seen. Of course, the other person is the Librarian of Congress. She will open the safe tomorrow during our official reenactment.”

  Gaffney stepped aside as Endicott reached into the safe, wearing white gloves. He pulled out a red velvet tray with a number of items on it. Everyone craned their necks for a closer look.

  Gaffney clapped his hands. “Please, no need to crowd around. We’re a small group this evening. Gordon will place the contents on Librarian’s desk and explain each item.”

  Lea Rutherford’s description of the Assistant Librarian seemed dead on. In the absence of his boss, he’d certainly assumed the role of the alpha male in the room. He called the shots and the rest of the world knew it.

  Endicott was now positioned directly behind the desk. “First, we have a handkerchief.” Pointing to it, he explained. “His name is embroidered in red, as you can see.” I craned my neck. Sure enough, in tiny scarlet stitch, the words “A. Lincoln” adorned the handkerchief.

  Beside me, Sebastian muttered, “That’s too cool.”

  “Notice Lincoln carried two pairs of glasses with him and a pocketknife, as well,” said Endicott. He signaled to the next objects on the tray.

  “But perhaps the most curious item in the collection is this,” said Endicott, pointing to a rectangular piece of paper. “This is a Confederate five-dollar bill. Lincoln had it in
side his wallet the night he died.”

  Trevor couldn’t contain his curiosity. “Why would the President of the United States, the commander in chief of the Union Army, carry a Confederate note?”

  Endicott motioned for Doug to take the question. “We don’t know for sure, but the capital of the Confederacy, Richmond, had just fallen into Union control. Lincoln had recently traveled there, and it might have been passed along to him during that trip.”

  “As a souvenir?” asked Representative Chang. He was leaning on the desk, his body moving dangerously close to the treasures. Gordon Endicott winced. If it had been anyone but a member of Congress, I’m sure he would have received a sharp rebuke.

  “Perhaps,” said Doug. “We can’t know for sure. It’s certainly the most infamous item in this collection.”

  “Finally, even Abraham Lincoln was concerned about what the press said about him,” said Endicott. “He also carried several newspaper clippings with him about the Union cause during the last days of the Civil War.”

  Doug added, “I might add that the articles were favorable commentaries on the President.”

  “I guess even Abraham Lincoln was human,” said Meg, almost to herself.

  She must have spoken loud enough for Gustav Gaffney to hear. “Exactly right, young lady. At the Library of Congress, we feel this collection greatly humanizes our sixteenth president. He carried everyday items with him, which demonstrates he was much more than a myth. He was a living, breathing person. That helps Americans relate to Lincoln, even today.”

  Meg beamed. She might have liked that the Assistant Librarian signaled out her comment as insightful. It was even more probable she appreciated the “young lady” comment. In her late thirties, Meg was starting to become age sensitive, particularly amongst the youthful culture of Capitol Hill, where the median age of a congressional staffer gravitated around the mid-twenties mark.

  “There’s also a watch fob, a wallet, a button with the letter ‘L’ on it, a glass lens cleaner, and a case for his glasses. Please, feel free to take turns walking around the desk so you can inspect the items,” said Endicott. He motioned for Doug and Gaffney to move over so that the rest of us could get a better look. Doug obliged and positioned himself on the periphery. Gustav Gaffney didn’t budge.