Murder in the Aisles (15 page)

Mark buried his face in her neck and held her as tightly as he could. Her release sparked his own. He held her hard against him so that she couldn't move.

“Look at me,” he ground out.

Felicia's eyes fluttered open and she felt the rush and pulse of his climax as his groan vibrated through them both.

“Damn,” he muttered as Felicia's weight slunk against him. He held her, kissed her. “Damn,” he repeated.

Chapter Nineteen

“I think we were supposed to be discussing the case,” Felicia whispered into his neck.

“Hmm. Right.”

Felicia gripped his shoulders for balance and slowly eased off of him. He was still magnificently hard. But no way was she ready again. A new occurrence for her. She stood. Her legs were a little shaky, as if she hadn't walked on her own in months. She took the seat opposite him.

Mark still had on his shirt and his pants were down around his ankles. He bent and pulled his pants on and fastened them. Felicia sat with her legs crossed, naked as the day she was born, studying him. “You surprised me, Detective.”

“Is that good or bad?” he asked while he fastened his belt.

“I'm still trying to figure that out.”

Suddenly he grabbed her and pulled her to her feet. His mouth came down on hers and stole her breath away. “I wasn't finished,” he breathed hot against her lips.

Felicia's heart jumped in her chest.

Mark reached between her legs and toyed with her piercing.

She trembled. “Mark…”

“Where's your bedroom?” He slid a finger inside of her, making her cry out. “Where?”

“Upstairs.”

Mark took her by the hand and headed upstairs. He pushed open the first door and pulled her in behind him.

“We're going to do it right this time. Slow and long and easy.” He backed her up toward the bed.

Her bedroom had always been her domain, the place where she maintained complete control, but with Mark she didn't want to. She wanted him to soften her, to make her want him. She wanted to feel open and vulnerable. He seemed to instinctively know this and he meticulously granted her every desire.

He tugged his tie from around his neck and looped it lightly around her wrists before easing her onto her back on the bed and stretching her arms above her head.

Mark kneeled above her. “Keep your hands above your head.”

Felicia swallowed and nodded in agreement.

Mark leaned down, tenderly kissed her mouth with more intensity by degrees, until her pulse sped up and her breathing grew ragged. He lifted his mouth from hers and let his tongue and lips trail down to her neck, across her collarbone, down between the deep valley of her breasts. Felicia writhed beneath him. He continued southward, stopping for a moment over the flutter in her belly.

He took one of her legs, lifted it and kissed the back of her thigh. He draped it over his shoulder then turned to pay homage to the other side. Now with both her legs over his shoulders and her hands high above her head she was at her most sexually vulnerable point. He suckled her there first, tasting her and himself. His tongue flicked in and out, slid across her wet opening, teased the piercing until her body shuddered from top to bottom. Her thighs tightened around him. Her hips rose and fell on the bed while her head thrashed back and forth on the pillow.

Mark gripped her hips tighter, making her immobile and totally at his mercy.

Her sighs and moans grew with intensity and when she was right on the brink he entered her in one long, deep thrust.

“Ahhhhhh!”

Mark covered her mouth with kisses, pinned her wrists to the bed and rode her until they both dissolved into a million pieces.

Felicia stared up at the dark ceiling with the sheet pulled up to her waist. What the hell? This was supposed to be a bang-bang just to get the whole sexual tension thing out of the air. That's not what happened. She wanted to ask him what he was thinking, if he was all right? But she couldn't. That would seem like she cared. And she didn't. Or at least, she didn't want to.

Mark sat on the side of the bed with his head lowered. He scrubbed his face with his hand. “Listen, uh…”

“Don't start explaining and apologizing if that's what you were going to do. I'm a big girl. I know what I'm doing. It's just sex between consensual adults.” Her heart thundered.

Mark looked over his shoulder at her. “Yeah.” He cleared his throat. “Glad you feel this way. Look, one thing I have to say. I don't get involved with co-workers and people in my investigations.”

“Works for me. I don't get involved, period.”

Mark rocked his jaw and Felicia bit down on her lip to keep from whimpering.

She swung her legs over the side, got up, grabbed her robe from the foot of the bed and put it on. “Can I get you anything?” she asked and headed for the door.

“Uh, no. I probably should go.”

Her steps faltered for a second. “Okay. I'll be downstairs.”

When Mark came down about five minutes later, Felicia was curled on the couch sipping on a glass of wine. Mark walked over to her and sat down.

“I'm going to say this once and then let it go.” He looked deep into her eyes. “You are beyond incredible and if we didn't have these non-commitment rules…” He brushed his thumb across her bottom lip, then leaned in and kissed her sweet and slow.

Mark got to his feet. “Good night. I'll be at the library in the morning to speak with Dr. Wallington.” He walked to the door. Felicia followed. Mark put on his coat and shoes. “Get some rest.”

“Drive safely.” She opened the door and Mark stepped out into the night without a backward glance.

Felicia closed and locked the door, turned off the lights and went to bed. She curled into her sheets and inhaled his scent.

* * * * *

On the drive over to the library Felicia continued to replay the evening with Mark in her mind. Clearly they crossed the line and if she'd thought that having sex with Mark would knock out the fire she was sorely mistaken. But the truth was neither of them was into commitment. She had more baggage than any man could deal with, more than she could deal with at times. So, the next time she saw him it would be back to business as usual. That's the only way it could be.

As usual, Felicia was the first to arrive. Her morning ritual at the library, at one time, was the spark that lit her day. Now, it was a constant reminder of what had transpired. She began her quick tour of the aisles and booted up the computers in the reading rooms before returning to her office.

The first band of early arrivals was beginning to filter in. Within the next hour the library would be humming with activity. Felicia spotted Lucy and was in the midst of stopping her to give her a heads up about Mark coming to see Dr. Wallington, but instinct kicked in and she kept the information to herself. She didn't want to explain how she knew and when. She waved and mouthed “good morning” instead.

Felicia was en route to her office when a blood-curdling scream echoed through the cavernous spaces and shot through her veins. She froze. Her heart hammered. The scream came again. Felicia ran in the direction of the wail—up the one flight of winding stairs, and down the corridor. She sensed others behind her but she didn't turn to look.

She followed the sound and the closer she came the higher the hairs on the back of her neck and along her arms stood.
No. Please no
. She stepped through the open door of Dr. Wallington's outer office and saw Lucy in a hysterical heap on the floor, staring at the very dead body of Dr. Henry Wallington.

Chapter Twenty

Yellow tape had been stretched across the doorway of Dr. Wallington's office. CSI members, detectives and the medical examiner were in the office taking pictures, examining the space and dusting.

Felicia stood with folded arms in the doorway and watched in horror as the nightmare unfolded. Her mind raced with possibilities. Clearly Dr. Wallington's murder was linked to Dr. Dresden's. This was no coincidence. Not to mention, Dr. Wallington had been murdered, judging by the huge gash on the back of his head. There was no way that the ME could write this off as natural causes. There was nothing natural about this. She ran her hands up and down her arms. There was a killer loose in the library and it could be anyone.

Her gaze moved slowly over all the moving parts in the room, specifically the interaction between the medical examiner and Mark Rizzo. It was obvious that there was something between them. It was in the familiarity of their body language, the way she looked up at him. Mark had barely given Felicia a cursory nod when he'd arrived and she wasn't sure if she was hurt or relieved.

An officer in plain clothes approached her, cutting off her direct line of sight to Mark. “I'm Detective Ed McKnight. I need to ask you a few questions.”

She blinked him into focus. “Yes. Of course.”

He pulled a weathered notebook out of the inside pocket of his jacket, flipped to a clear sheet then looked at her with a worn smile. “Name?”

“Dr. Felicia Swift.”

His eyes registered surprise but his face remained impassive. “When did you arrive today?”

They engaged is a short series of questions and answers until he snapped his notebook shut. “You were the one who found Dr. Dresden a few weeks back?”

Felicia swallowed. “Yes.”

Eddie nodded. His eyes rose and he glanced around. “Library,” he murmured. “Go figure. Thank you for your time, Dr. Swift. If we have any more questions you'll be contacted.”

“Of course.”

The eerie sound of a zipper sliding along its metal track cut through the room. Goose bumps rose on Felicia's arms. She blinked back the water that gathered in her eyes when Dr. Wallington's body, encased in black plastic, was loaded onto a stretcher.

Two white-jacketed members from the coroner's office wheeled the body away. The forensic team continued collecting samples. Instinctively, Felicia channeled each of their steps before they did it. She'd lost count of the number of scenes and sites that she'd visited and had been required to collect data and samples and catalogue it all, whether from curiosity or for documentation. They were good, she mused, but she was better.

“Excuse me.” Felicia stepped all the way up to the yellow tape and got the attention of one of the investigators. “I'm Dr. Swift. I'm not telling you how to do your job, but it snowed last night. Unless someone tracked a footprint this morning, there looks like a footprint near the bookcase.” She pointed to a faint outline in the carpet.

The investigator gave her a sidelong glance. “Yeah, thanks.” He turned back to what he was doing.

Felicia huffed. She looked beyond the dividing line and spotted Detective McKnight. She signaled to him and he made his way over.

“Yes, Doctor.”

Felicia repeated her observation to Ed.

“Hmm.”

Then she added, “The custodians vacuum all of the offices every evening. Whoever made that print was here
after
the custodians.”

Ed squinted at her.

“I know what I'm talking about, Detective.”

Ed glanced over his shoulder then back at her. “I'll make sure it's looked into.”

“Thank you.”

“In the meantime I'm going to have to ask you and the rest of the staff to clear the area. If you could take care of that…”

Felicia nodded, then turned toward the handful of staff members who hovered behind her. EMS had treated Lucy for shock and had taken her to the local hospital. The staff that was present was frozen in place, tears streaming down their faces.

“The detectives and the forensic team need to do their work,” Felicia said with quiet efficiency. “I'm asking everyone to return to your work area. Please.”

The building was scheduled to open in an hour. That couldn't happen. Felicia snapped into gear and began doling out instructions. Within moments everyone reluctantly drifted back to their workspaces.

Felicia was about to do the same. There were calls that she needed to make. A restraining hand on her arm stopped her in her tracks.

“We need to talk,” Mark said and Felicia wasn't sure if he meant personally or professionally.

“Of course.”

“Somewhere private.”

Her stomach tightened. “We can talk in my office.”

Felicia pressed her lips together and led the way to her office. They stepped in and Mark closed the door behind them.

Mark ran his tongue along his bottom lip, then slung his hands in his pants pocket. “I don't need to tell you that this is no accident and neither was Dresden.”

Felicia folded her arms and swallowed down the words “I told you so.”

“Looks like you were right all along. We have a multiple murderer on our hands. We're going to have to shut down the building for today, review all the logs and security cameras. There's no way that this stays out of the media. I'm bringing in Steven Hollis for questioning.”

“What do you need me to do?”

He covered the distance between them in two long strides. “I want you to be careful. If it's not Hollis, it's definitely someone who works here.” He paused, lowered his voice and held her arms in his hands. “I know you've been doing your own investigating—thanks—but this is serious and you could inadvertently stir the hornets' nest.”

“I haven't directly involved anyone,” she said in her defense. “And I haven't asked any specific questions.”

“You know what I mean.” His gaze dropped to her lips.

“I guess you and the medical examiner work together often.”

He might have flinched for a second but it was so fast she couldn't be sure.

“Part of the job.”

Felicia took a step back. “Well, I need to speak with the staff and the board needs to be notified before they hear it on the news; not to mention the members of Congress.”

“I'll let you get to it. I have a suspect to chat with.” He hesitated as if he had something else he wanted to say. Instead he backed out and walked away.

Felicia felt physically deflated. For a moment she simply stood there staring at the door, then drawing in a breath of resolve she turned, rounded her desk and lowered herself into her chair. She had work to do as well.

* * * * *

It was another half hour before Mark and Eddie left the crime scene and took the drive across town to the address that they had for Steven Hollis.

“So, what are you thinking?” Eddie asked as he adjusted the seat back to accommodate his long legs.

“Hollis looks good for it. Or at least looks the best for it at the moment.” He considered the information that Felicia had dug up on the fake websites and poets. He still couldn't piece together how it figured in or benefited Hollis in any way. But the bottom line was, Hollis was at the center of the storm.

Twenty minutes later they pulled onto Missouri Avenue N.W. and eased down the naked tree-lined street until they reached his address. Mark found a space two doors down from the house in question. The detectives got out, assessed the street then walked back to the Hollis home.

“Good cop, bad cop?” Eddie teased.

“I'm the good cop,” he said, pointing a gloved finger at his chest.

Eddie shrugged. “Works for me.”

They climbed the three steps to the front door. Mark rang the bell.

Several moments later the front door was pulled open.

“Can I help you?”

“Are you Steven Hollis?”

The man took off his glasses and looked from one detective to the other. His blue eyes put one in the mind of the waters of the Caribbean. He was average in height, with dark wavy hair and looked to be getting a bit soft around the middle.

“Who are you?”

“Detectives Rizzo and McKnight,” Mark said. They pulled out their identification and held it up for his inspection.

“What can I do for you?”

“Can we come in?” Eddie asked.

Steven hesitated a moment, then stepped aside to let them in. He didn't take them any further than the short foyer. He folded his arms across his narrow chest.

“Now, what is this about?”

“Can you tell us where you were last night, say between the hours of eight and eleven?” Mark asked.

“Why?”

“Because we asked and we want to know,” Eddie snarked. “We can do this here or down at the station.”

Steven's cheeks flushed. “You still haven't told me what this is about.”

“It's about a murder, Mr. Hollis,” Mark offered.

The man's blue eyes widened in genuine alarm. His thin lips parted, but at first no words came out. “A murder!” he finally sputtered. “You couldn't think that I would have something to do with a murder.”

“Honey…”

All eyes turned in the direction of the inquiring voice. A petite blonde, dressed in a t-shirt that hugged her full breasts and bared her taut stomach and a pair of very faded jeans, appeared in the archway leading into the living room. She was wiping her hands on a black and white striped towel. She walked barefoot to Steven's side and looked accusingly at the uninvited guests.

“What's going on?”

“This is my wife, Marie. Honey, these gentlemen are detectives. They came to ask me about a murder.”

She slid her arm around his waist. “What? What murder?” She glared at Mark and Eddie.

“There was a murder last night, ma'am,” Mark said.

“Again I need to ask you where you were, Mr. Hollis?” Eddie asked.

“I was…” He frowned for a moment. “I had an appointment with my agent last night. We had drinks around seven, seven thirty. He left and I hung around for a while, watched the game from the bar.” His gaze roamed as if he was trying to locate the pieces of his evening. “And then I came home.”

“What time was that?” Eddie asked.

Steven turned to his wife. “I woke up when I heard you come in,” she said, hesitation threading her voice.

“What time was that, ma'am?” Mark asked.

“Hmm, about midnight, possibly a little earlier.” All bravado had disappeared in her tone.

“It's best if we do this down at the station, Mr. Hollis,” Eddie said. “Why don't you get your coat.” It wasn't a question.

“Is this really necessary? I told you where I was.”

“Actually we have some other questions we'd like to ask and it's best done at the precinct.”

“Am I under arrest?”

“No,” Mark said soothingly.

“I'm coming with you,” Marie said.

“Ma'am, this won't take long. Best if you stay here,” Eddie advised.

Her pleading eyes leapt to Steven's. “It's okay, sweetheart,” he assured her. “The detective said it won't take long. Right, Detective?”

“Hopefully not,” Mark said.

Steven released a breath, turned and opened a door in the hallway. He took out a dark brown overcoat and a checkered scarf. He slipped on his coat and then went to stand in front of his wife. Eddie stood close enough to overhear anything that might be important—like details of Steven's whereabouts. Steven kissed his wife and promised to be back shortly.

* * * * *

The administrative staff and the members of the board, along with the communications team, had talked strategy for nearly three hours. The rest of the staff had been sent home. The library was closed to the public and would be until further notice. The dilemma of what to do about a replacement was complicated at best.

There had only been thirteen Librarians of Congress since the implementation of the position in 1802. It was a position by appointment made by the President of the United States with confirmation by the Senate. The Librarian of Congress didn't have a term length. They stayed in their position until they died—until now it had always been natural causes. In addition, because it was an appointed position, there wasn't anyone that could simply move up and step in, not even the Deputy Librarian.

The Communications Director with input from the Board of Directors had put together a letter to the president and the Senate majority leader, detailing the events and how the library was responding. Although the letter was carefully crafted to shine a favorable light on the late Dr. Wallington, they all knew of the undercurrents that had been ongoing for more than a year. The complaints on how Wallington had run the library, his lack of vision and his mishandling of the need for mass technological improvements had been bones of contention in many circles.

Felicia wondered, as she slowly made her way back to her office, if Wallington's death was related to the troubles that he'd been having over the past year and a half. Was that enough of a motive to kill him? Perhaps if the person had an inside track on whom the replacement would be.

There was no question that the Librarian of Congress was a very powerful position. The new Librarian would assume considerable powers. This person ran the largest library in the world with thousands of staff of its own, but also oversaw the Copyright Office. This gave them the power to declare what was a copyright violation and what wasn't. And the new Librarian could hold a potentially evolutionary part as they could be the first Librarian to truly embrace the Internet as a centerpiece to the library's mission. That and a six-figure salary for life is a big incentive.

Felicia considered the scenario but that plotline didn't account for what happened to Dr. Dresden. Unless Dr. Dresden's death was all a setup leading to Dr. Wallington's murder, a murder to make them think that they were connected.