“You know I did,” I said. “How come she kept all this secret?”
“I don’t know,” he said. “I just looked at it today.”
“But it’s clearly relevant to your case. You’re going to need it.”
He gave me a bitter half-smile. “In a perfect world.”
I felt chilled. “Meaning?”
“Apparently, she interrupted burglars,” he said with such sarcasm that I didn’t have to ask him if he believed it. He clearly did not.
“Who made this decision?” I asked.
“I don’t know,” he said tiredly. “It’s coming from the chief. We’re to wrap up the investigation in a hurry.”
“What about this?” I waved my hands at the files in the back. “Who gets this?”
“That’s the question, isn’t it?” he said. “Dolly was the last of the Langhams. We haven’t even looked for a will or contacted her attorney. I have no idea who inherits. I suspect it’s a bunch of charities.”
“This is her life’s work,” I said.
That bitter smile creased his face again. “Apparently, she had a lot of different life’s work. Folks around here would say her life’s work was her philanthropy, spending Papa’s money.”
I thought of the ledgers. “I wasn’t able to go through anything. I just located things. I’d like to come back—”
“I doubt that’ll be possible.”
“But you have no idea how much is here, what she has. I certainly don’t. I can’t even decipher most of it. I don’t read shorthand.”
“Ah,” he said, “the benefits of a law school education.”
I understood what he meant. If I had been a typically educated woman, I would have known shorthand. But I never was typical.
“I have some volunteers who can read it. Give us a few days in here—”
“I can’t, Miss Wilson,” he said. “You shouldn’t be here now. In fact, I came to get you out. The mayor is on his way, and I’m sure the television cameras will follow. I don’t want anyone to know you were even on the premises.”
“Great,” I said. “There’s more than I can carry.”
He unzipped that heavy police department jacket of his. “Give me some of it,” he said. “Quickly.”
I picked up my coat, and handed him the ledgers. I kept the two journals and all of the recent shorthand notes, shoving them inside my coat. We zipped up together, like co-conspirators.
Which, I guess, we were.
“Let’s go,” he said. He waited for me near the door, and as we stepped out, he turned off the lights. The room disappeared into a blackness so profound it made my skin crawl.
The library was empty. Still, I hurried through it, not wanting to stop this time. I waited at that door for Kaplan.