Page 15 of The Librarians

His opening is nearly identical to Detective Shariati’s from the day before. But Hazel already knows that his interview will be conducted in a very different tone. She also knows that she will not cooperate to anywhere near the same extent.

She answers his inquiry. The edge of the desk cuts just under her bottom, not exactly comfortable, so she boosts herself up to sit on the desk.

This apparently jaunty position does not please Detective Hagerty. He taps the pen in his hand twice against the top of his desk. “You started working here only one day before this Game Night event.”

“That is correct,” she replies.

It occurs to her that if the police are in the dark, desperately seeking clues, this coincidence might not appear one hundred percent benign.

Sure enough, a small silence descends, as if the detectives too must ponder the likelihood of her stumbling into a job that throws her into the environs of not one but two suspicious deaths as soon as she starts working.

“Where was your previous place of employment, Ms. Lee, and how long did you work there?”

“This is my first job in the United States. I was born in Austin but lived in Singapore most of my life. And while I was there, I was a freelancer.”

Detective Hagerty leans forward. “Oh? What made you return to the US?”

Does the fact that she literally traveled ten thousand miles to take the job make her more suspicious?

“My grandmother is in her late eighties. She doesn’t have other relatives in town so I thought I’d come and keep an eye on her.

But while she enjoys my company, she doesn’t want me in her house 24/7.

In fact, she was the one who trawled through job listings on the city’s website, found this opening, and insisted that I apply. ”

She pauses a moment. “Would you like her contact information?”

Detective Hagerty contemplates her offer—he has a dour face and grim eyes, as if everyone he’s ever come across has disappointed him somehow. “We’ll appreciate her info, should it become necessary to speak to her directly later on. Will you give us your recollection of Game Night?”

Hazel has given Game Night a great deal of thought, but she takes a minute to sort through her recollection.

“I attended Game Night not as a library clerk, but someone who enjoys board games. Still, at first I restricted myself to helping out. It was only when Jeannette Obermann and another couple showed up that I was asked to join them for a game of Clue. We played but didn’t finish the game, but I don’t think anyone minded as it was a social event more than anything else.

Then the staff on duty took some pictures.

By roughly eight forty-five all the patrons cleared out of the meeting room.

I helped with the cleanup and was home by ten after nine, since I live less than two miles away. ”

Detective Hagerty gestures at Detective Gonzalez, who brings over a tablet that shows the group photos taken that night—Jonathan indeed sent the requested material ASAP.

But Hazel can only identify the librarians, Elise, Elise’s friend Ana Maria, Jeannette Obermann, and Ayesha and Ahmed, the Pakistani couple.

“Do the others not frequent the library on a regular basis?”

“Perhaps they do. But I’d worked at the library a grand total of two days by the time Game Night took place.”

Detective Hagerty takes back the tablet and turns off the display. “I assume you didn’t participate in the planning of the event?”

“Correct.”

“Ironic that Jeannette Obermann played a game about murder in her last public outing.”

A loaded statement. Hazel smiles. “To me it was less ironic than unsettling, as I was the one who played the killer in that game.”

The detectives exchange a glance. Are they surprised by her honesty? Or will they consider it a form of taunting?

She wants to tell them to relax. She isn’t some blasé killer out to lead the police on a merry chase, she’s just been…sleepwalking through life these past few months and can’t be bothered to react to their minor intimidation and negligible traps.

She is troubled about Jeannette Obermann—and Perry Bathurst. They struck her as people with things to do and places to be who would have been enormously upset if they’d known that they were about to die.

But Perry Bathurst likely fell victim to an accidental overdose.

And Jeannette Obermann—it’s not Hazel’s place to speculate on what might have led to her death.

Detective Hagerty tools his expression into one of stony impassivity. “What did you think of Ms. Obermann’s demeanor that night?”

“She seemed excited to be there.”

“What makes you say so?”

Hazel thinks for a minute, her knuckles against her chin. “She kept looking around. She talked as much as the other two patrons combined. She definitely had the best costume—or maybe I should say the best makeup for Halloween.”

Detective Hagerty, who hasn’t written down a single word, spins his pen with his squarish fingers. “Do you remember what she said?”

“Everybody at my table was new to Austin. The three of them talked about when and why they moved, the price of housing, and how they felt living in Austin, as opposed to visiting as tourists.”

Detective Hagerty begins to sound impatient. “What did Jeannette Obermann say on those topics?”

Behind him hangs a framed poster that states simply, in rainbow letters on an iridescent background, WE DO NOT POLICE WHAT YOU READ . The word “POLICE” hovers right above his head, which strikes Hazel as droll.

“She really liked Apple’s cafeteria,” she says solemnly. “She liked that there’s a Trader Joe’s within five miles of her apartment. But she worried that on a single income she’d only be able to buy a tiny condo, unless she was willing to drive an hour each way for work.”

Detective Hagerty frowns. What Hazel tells him is too generic, almost worthless for someone on the prowl for a killer. “What else did she say?”

“We didn’t play for that long. There were times when we discussed the rules of the game, and the other couple also talked about their lives.”

Detective Haggerty stares at Hazel. It is not pleasant to be the subject of his unblinking study, not because of any creepy or suggestive undertones but simply due to its sheer, unrelenting, possibly sociopathic intensity.

Without breaking eye contact, she pulls off the slim black band on her wrist and gathers her hair into a low ponytail. And if he persists, she plans to make a whole-ass decorative braid from the silk scarf around her shoulders while she stares back at him.

“Anything else you can tell us about her?” Hagerty finally asks his next question as Hazel reaches for the scarf.

She flicks a bit of nonexistent dust from the scarf. “When I left, Ms. Obermann was still sitting in her car. She was parked not far from me and there was enough light to see her costume.”

“Were you also able to see what she was doing in her car?”

“Looking at her phone, maybe—it didn’t seem that she was doing anything unusual.”

“It was late and the library was closed. You did not think it was unusual that she stayed in her car?”

Hazel shrugs. “I’ve sat in a parked car scrolling on my phone. I assumed Ms. Obermann was doing the same.”

Detective Hagerty’s jaw moves. “Were there any details—any at all—during her time at the library event that stood out for you? Did she pay special attention to someone or something? Say anything a little off? Appear nervous or afraid? Or did anyone else at the gathering strike you as being, doing, or saying anything out of the ordinary?”

Hazel shakes her head as she continues to withhold information. “At the moment, I really can’t think of anything else, unless you want to know about her favorite dishes at the Apple cafeteria.”

“You are sure about that, Ms. Lee?”

His voice edges lower, more menacing, which might have intimidated a woman of less privilege. She meets his gaze straight on and answers, with a perfectly clear conscience, “I’m sure, Detective.”

“Well, should you recall anything later, please do let us know.”

It sounds like a threat. She smiles as she accepts his card—and is done with her first adversarial police interview.

Her first in the United States of America, in any case.