Checking Out at the Library

By Pamala Rush

 

Mark walked the aisles of the Malibu Public Library looking for a new mystery novel; something that he hadn’t read or lived. Country Coronary. No. Murder in All the Wrong Places. No. There had to be something new for him to read. Things had been slow lately at the hospital, and in his life, and he was getting bored. He was about to go talk to the librarian when he bumped into a tall, beautiful, young woman behind him.

"Excuse me," Mark said.

"No problem," she replied. "I’m in your way. Just trying to return some books to the shelf." She had her blond hair wound up on her head and she had a pair of wire rimmed glasses sitting on her nose.

As she slid a book back on the shelf, Mark decided to ask her, "I’m looking for something new to check out. Could you recommend something?"

The woman held out a hardback book in one graceful hand. "Tequila Mockingbird," she said. "The author is a detective for the LAPD, so he knows what to put in a good mystery story."

"You’ve read him?" Mark asked as he took the book from her and looked inside the cover.

"Many times," was her reply. "My father is a cop, so I have a bit of interest in it."

"We have something in common," Mark said with a smile. "My son is a cop."

The woman smiled and held out her hand. "I’m Dana Masters," she said.

"Dr. Mark Sloan," Mark introduced himself.

"Pleased to meet you, Doctor," Dana replied. "If you want this book, I can get it checked out to you now."

Mark looked surprised. "You’re the librarian?"

Dana nodded and smiled. "I get that a lot." Followed closely by Mark, she wound her way through the shelves of books to the checkout desk. She went around the desk and took the library card from him. "I try to look as much like a librarian as possible."

"It must be hard when you’re as young and lovely as you are," Mark commented.

Dana blushed. "Thank you Dr. Sloan," She said then handed him his card and the book. "I hope to see you again."

"I’ll have to come in more often," Mark said with a smile.

Mark was back the next day, as much for the company as for a new book. He had read the entire novel in bed the night before. When he told Dana this, she laughed.

"Many a night’s sleep have I lost because of a good book," she said. "Sometimes you just can’t put them down."

"I know what you mean," Mark said. "I don’t suppose you have the time to discuss it, do you?"

Dana looked around then nodded at him. "Sure," she said. "Let’s go into one of the reading rooms."

Dana told one of the other librarians, one who looked more like a librarian, where she would be, and led Mark into a small room with a couch and a comfortable chair. They discussed more than just the book. Dana mentioned Opera tickets and how she had no one to go with.

"Did you ask your father?" Mark asked.

Dana shook her head. "My father’s idea of fun is beer and a tractor pull," she said, bringing a smile to Mark’s face. "I like a good sports event myself, but I like the finer things as well. Champagne and opera being only a part of the cultured part of things I enjoy."

"I’m not exactly an opera person," Mark began. "But I’ll go with you if you want."

"Would you? Thanks," Dana said. "I’ll take you to dinner beforehand so the whole evening won’t be too shot."

"I don’t think the evening would be shot," Mark commented. "It’s not every night that an old fogey like me gets to go to the opera with an intelligent young woman like yourself."

Mark was humming as he tied his tuxedo’s bow tie when Steve came in. Steve watched for a moment with his hands in his pockets, looking over his father’s shoulder at the reflection in the mirror.

"Going somewhere?" Steve asked.

"Opera," Mark answered simply.

"By yourself?"

"No," Mark answered, turning around. "Is my tie straight?"

Steve looked and then nodded. "Who you going with?"

"The librarian from the Malibu library," Mark answered giving his son a disparaging look. "What is this the fourth degree?"

"Just curious," Steve said with a smile.

"Who’s the father and who’s the son?" Mark said.

"I was just curious," Steve said again this time with a shrug, then headed to the kitchen for some coffee.

"Curious?" Mark queried as he followed his son. "Or jealous?"

Steve had his hand on the pot. "Jealous that you know to meet women at the library instead of a murder scene? I really don’t think so."

"I’m just kidding, Steve," Mark said. "You should meet her. I think she’s more your type."

"Dad, I don’t think a librarian is really my type," Steve said as he filled his cup with coffee.

"She’s not what you’d think of a librarian as being," Mark said as Steve’s pager went off.

Steve shut it off, put down his coffee and picked up the phone. When he finished dialing he put it up to his ear. "Sloan here…. Where at… No, I’ll get it… I think dad might be interested… Sure I’ll bring him… Goodbye." Steve hung up and looked at his father. "There’s been a murder at the Malibu Library."

A lump formed in the pit of Mark’s stomach. "Did they know who it is?"

"Not yet," Steve replied. "They’ll have to run his prints."

"His?" Mark said with the relief evident in his voice.

Steve for his part ignored his father’s concern for the moment. "You coming?"

"Yes," Mark replied.

Dana stood at the end of the hall in the red silk dress she was supposed to be wearing to the opera with Mark Sloan. The police had quardened off the reading room where she had found the man’s body.

She had come to get the tickets that she had forgotten in her office and found the man lying on a couch in the reading room. She had thought he was sleeping, but when she tried to wake him up to tell him the library was closed and to go home, the book that had been lying on his chest slid off and fell on the floor revealing a bloody bullet hole in his chest.

She was so shocked that she stood over him for several seconds before calling the police. Now they were here with the medical examiner waiting for the homicide detective to arrive and she was pacing the big room at the end of the rows of shelves between the checkout desk and the hallway that led to the reading room. Finally, Mark came in the room dressed in his tux and followed by a younger man who looked a lot like him.

‘That must be his cop son,’ she thought as they approached.

"Dana," Mark began. "Are you alright?"

Dana nodded. "Shaken not stirred," she said.

"At least you’ve still got your sense of humor," Steve said then held out his hand. "I’m Steve Sloan."

Dana shook the offered hand. "I’ve heard a lot about you," she said. "My father speaks very highly of you."

"I’m not sure…," Steve began.

"Steve, could you take a look at this," came a woman’s voice from the reading room.

Steve turned and made his way into the reading room followed by Dana and Mark.

"What did you find, Amanda?" he asked.

"Not much," Amanda said. "But I have a tentative I.D." She handed him a wallet encased in a plastic bag. "His name is Jared Miller and he is, or rather, was, a wealthy philanthropist."

Steve took the item and was looking at it as Dana nodded suddenly. "He donated a lot of money to the library so we could purchase the computer system. I’ve never met him, but I spoke to him on the phone once or twice."

Mark put his hand on the shaking woman’s shoulder as if to calm her. "When did you speak last?"

Dana thought about it. "A week ago, maybe two," she replied. "The library needs a new roof and he was going to pay to have a new one put on.

Mark nodded slowly and looked up at Steve.

"Could I get you to wait by the circulation desk?" Steve asked as he took her arm and led her away from the room. When it looked like she was doing as he had told, he let go of her arm and watched as she finished the journey on her own.

"Aren’t you a little dressed up for a murder scene?" Amanda asked Mark.

Before Mark could answer, Steve turned to him. "*THAT’S* the librarian?" he said. "She doesn’t look like a librarian." He eyed her attire and especially her figure.

She was dressed in a red silk gown that shimmered in the lowness of the room’s lights. It had spaghetti straps that showed off tanned, muscular shoulders and arms and hugged her body around her bust and hips. Her golden hair was down, but pulled back into silver combs giving a good view of what Steve thought were perfect earlobes with diamond studs in them. A shimmering pearl necklace hung around her slim neck. She wore red heels and held a shimmering shawl and a purse on a gold chain in her hands.

Amanda hit him. "Librarians don’t look like librarians all the time."

Mark had to put his two cents in. "She didn’t look like that when I met her, but she didn’t look like a librarian either," he said. "Did you send her away so you could talk about her?"

Steve shook his head. "I want to hear the particulars she might not want to hear."

"I don’t think the particulars would bother her," Mark said. "She told me that her father is a cop."

Steve glanced back at Dana again. "Maybe, maybe not. Amanda?"

Amanda shrugged. "He was killed with a .9 millimeter gun. Two slugs in the heart. I’ll know if there’s more when I do an autopsy."

"Did they find the murder weapon?" Steve asked.

"Not that I know of," Amanda replied.

Steve nodded and turned back to his father. "You do know that she’s a suspect," he told his father.

"I know," Mark replied. "But I also know that she didn’t kill anyone."

"She was here alone when the body was found," Steve went on. "She had opportunity…."

"But she didn’t have motive," Mark replied.

"Are you sure?" Steve said, but he didn’t seem all that convinced either.

"I guess you’ll have to talk to her down at the station," Mark stated.

"Are you willing to miss your evening at the opera?" Steve asked.

"If it means convincing you she had nothing to do with this," Mark began. "Then we’ll just have to go another night."

Steve came out of the interrogation room two hours after going in to question Dana to find his father leaning against his desk. Mark had untied his tie and unbuttoned the top two buttons of his tuxedo shirt to make himself a bit more comfortable.

"You’re right," Steve admitted. "She couldn’t have killed anyone."

"She’s a librarian, Steve," Mark commented jokingly.

Steve smiled slightly. "She couldn’t hurt a flea." Steve started to turn back to the interrogation room to release his former suspect and had made it to the door to open it. He was just opening the door when Police Chief Masters came storming into the room.

"What in the hell is going on here?" Masters said loudly. "Why have you arrested my daughter?"

As Steve looked puzzled, Mark looked inspired. "Dana Masters!" he exclaimed. "*You’re* her cop father!"

Dana, having heard the commotion, pushed the door the rest of the way open and looked her father in the eye. "I can take care of myself," she yelled back with fire in her own eyes. "I told you to leave me alone!"

"You are just like your mother," Masters said, trying to calm himself.

"How would you know?" Dana shot back as she stomped her foot. "You were never there!"

Steve moved out of the war zone as Masters and his daughter yelled back and forth at each other. "I wish I had known this information. I wouldn’t have brought her in."

"That she’s Masters’ daughter," Mark said. "Or that they were going to yell back and forth like that."

"Both," Steve replied.

Dana sat in the passenger’s seat of Mark’s car with her head against the window. She had wrapped her shawl around her shoulders during her argument with her father, and slung the gold chain strap of her purse over her shoulder.

"You want to talk about it?" Mark asked.

"My father or the murder?" Dana replied.

"Whichever is bothering you more," Mark answered.

Dana took her head away from the window and ran her hand through her hair. "I think it’s a toss-up," she said finally.

"Do you want me to take you home?"

"I really don’t want to go home yet." Dana checked her watch. "It’s too late for dinner, but if you still want to go to the opera, I’m willing."

Mark looked over at her. "Did you get the tickets?"

Dana pulled them out of her purse. "We should get there in time to see the second half."

Mark started the car. "Are you sure you don’t just want to go home?"

"I wouldn’t be able to sleep," Dana said as Mark backed the car out of the parking space. "And I would be alone." She paused. "I’d rather not be alone tonight."

"What about after the opera when I take you home?"

Dana looked over at him. "I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it."

Dana sat straight up from a deep sleep. She forgot what had woken her, then the strands of the nightmare began to come back to her. Sunlight streamed in the window, telling her that daytime had come while she was asleep. She looked around the strange room trying to remember where she was, then remembered Mark’s invitation to stay in his spare bedroom.

She pulled herself out of the bed and pulled on the hem of the T-shirt that Mark had given her to wear from Steve’s clean clothes basket in the laundry room. Running her hands through her tangled blonde hair, she went into the nearby bathroom and did part of her morning routine. Looking in the bathroom mirror, she rubbed the sleep from her eyes, pulled her hair back from her face and peered at her own tired face.

Finally she shook her head. "I need a cup of coffee," she murmured.

She made her way through the beach house to the kitchen where Mark stood over the stove, cooking breakfast and humming a cheerful tune. Dana’s stomach growled at the smell of sausage and eggs.

"I don’t suppose you could spare a cup of coffee for the poor waif that followed you home last night," Dana said. "Could you?"

Mark smiled and handed her a piping hot mug of the bitter liquid and she sat down on one of the stools by the island. The smell of coffee mingled with the breakfast smells as she drank it black. "Hungry?" Mark asked her.

"Famished," she replied as Mark set a plate of food in front of her and handed her a fork.

She set down the coffee and dug into the meal as Mark sat down next to her and began to eat his own meal. "Feeling better?" he asked her between mouthfuls of egg.

"Much," Dana replied. "Those pills you gave me worked great."

"The library isn’t going to open today," Mark said. "Steve said they shut it down to look for clues."

"I thought they might," she told him.

"Today’s my day off," Mark said. "We could go do something…"

Dana looked him in the eye with a sly smile. "Like going to the library and checking things out?"

"If you think you can handle it."

Dana sat up straighter. "My dad used to go over autopsy reports with my mom over the dinner table. I think I’ll be OK."

"I’ll swing you by your place so you can get some fresh clothes," Mark said as he finished his breakfast and took his plate to the sink to rinse it.

"Very thoughtful of you," Dana said as she handed him her own empty plate. "I’ll go get changed."

As she got up from her seat and turned, Steve came up the stairs looking for a key amongst those he had in his hand. "Dad, I’ll be down at the lib…" he looked up. "What is she doing here?!"

"I didn’t want her spending the night alone," Mark told him. "So I brought her home with me."

"Dad, I don’t think…," Steve began before Dana interrupted.

"That’s right, you don’t think," she said as she breezed past him headed for the guest room.

Steve watched her go and turned back to his father. "Isn’t that my shirt?"

Mark tried not to laugh. "Yes it is," he said.

Steve debated on what to say next. "Nice legs," he decided on.

"Well, well, well," Tanis Archer said as Steve came into the library. "Look who finally drug his sorry butt out of bed."

Steve ignored Tanis’s comment. "What are you doing here, Archer?"

"Chief Masters wants this case taken care of as soon as possible," she replied. "Something about his daughter being involved. I didn’t even know he *HAD* a daughter."

"Neither did I until last night," Steve replied. "She’s the librarian who found the body."

"A librarian? She must be a dog."

"Actually, she isn’t," Steve told her. "She’s drop dead gorgeous. But I’ll spare you the details."

"Thanks," Tanis said with an almost snarl.

"They find anything?"

"Like, oh I don’t know, the murder weapon?"

"Archer," Steve said exasperatedly. "I’m not in the mood."

"What burr do you have up your butt?" Tanis asked.

"You remember the chief’s daughter? The librarian?"

"What about her?"

"She spent the night at my house last night," Steve told her. "Dad invited her."

"When did you find this out?"

"When I ran into her in one of my shirts this morning," Steve replied as he watched one of the officers come towards him. "You got something?"

"Yes sir," the officer said then held out a gun in a plastic bag. "The murder weapon."

Steve took the offered weapon. "Where’d you find it?"

"Wrapped in a paper towel in the women’s restroom," the officer said. "If Ms. Masters hadn’t found the body last night, the janitor would have thrown it out with the trash and would we have had fun trying to find it then."

"Thanks for your commentary," Steve said. "Anything else?"

"No prints except Masters and no other clues at all."

"You finished?"

"Pretty much," was the answer to Steve’s question.

"All right, get me the report as soon as you can," Steve said, excusing him.

"Now, where were we?" Tanis asked with an evil grin.

"I think you were on your way to the office to make a report to the chief," Steve said. "While I get this to ballistics."

"I was hoping to hear more about Ms. Masters night at your place," Tanis joked as she began to turn away.

Steve grabbed her arm and stopped her. "You’re not going to tell him about this, are you?"

"I was thinking about it," she said. Steve looked at her as if pleading for his life. "But I won’t," Tanis finished with a smile. "You are really paranoid, Sloan."

"How do you think I made it this far," Steve replied as he released her.

Tanis rolled her eyes and walked off in time to meet Mark and Dana coming in. Steve watched as the spoke for a minute. Dana smiled and shook Tanis’s hand then laughed at something she said before they parted. Steve shook his head and looked down at the gun in his hand. He was still examining it when Mark and Dana joined him.

"What are you doing here?" Steve asked without looking up.

"What am I usually doing at a murder scene?" Mark asked.

Steve looked up at them. "I mean with her."

"I won’t touch anything, I promise," she said.

Steve took a good look at her. She was dressed in gray slacks and a baby blue sleeveless blouse. Her hair was in two French braids down her back and she held her hands behind her.

"See that you don’t," Steve said as he turned to leave.

"Did I say something he didn’t like?" he could hear her say.

"I think it’s just that your father is his boss," Mark replied.

"Some father he made," was the last thing Steve heard before he left earshot.

"I take it you don’t get along with him very well," Mark said.

"He was gone all the time," Dana said. "Then he expects me to be a part of his life."

"Maybe you should," Mark said. "Regrets are really hard to get rid of."

"Maybe," Dana replied. "We going to take a look?"

Mark looked at her. "After you," he said as he held out his arm.

"You are too kind," Dana said with a slight English accent as she stepped forward.

In the small reading room there was a small red blood stain on the couch where the victim had been and an outline marking where he had been found. Dana stopped and stared at the spot. "You OK?" Mark asked.

"I’ve seen picture that my dad brought home when I was a kid," she said softly. "But I’ve never seen a real live murder scene." She glanced at Mark. "No pun intended."

Mark pulled a pair of rubber gloves on his hands and began to sift through the books on the stand near the couch. Dana looked over his shoulder as he did so. "Is there anyone in the library that Mr. Miller was familiar with?"

"If he was familiar with anyone, I’m the one it seems he was most familiar with," Dana told him. "At least that I know of."

Mark picked up another book. "Did he come in often?"

"No more than any of the other patrons," was the reply.

Mark finished with the books on the shelf and pushed his hands down into the couch between the cushions. Upon finding nothing there, he checked the chair only to find a small gold pocket watch stuck down into the mechanism of the recliner.

"Is that yours?" Mark asked Dana as he held it up.

Dana shook her head. "I’ve never seen it before."

Mark opened it up to find initials inside. CTR. "It might be important to the case and it might be something that’s been here for awhile."

"I could look through the records for the library cards and see if there is anyone with a card that has those initials," Dana suggested.

"It would be worth a try," Mark replied. "I’ll finish in here, you go ahead."

Dana walked back out to the checkout desk and turned the computer on. By now the team of police searching for clues was gone and the library was empty and quiet. Dana tapped some keys for the computer to do a search for the given initials and watched the screen. She was so intent on what she was doing that she didn’t see Mark come up behind her.

"At the very least we’ll find the owner of the watch," he said as he looked over her shoulder.

Dana jumped and turned to face him. "Don’t do that!"

"Sorry," Mark said with a smile. "I didn’t mean to startle you. Did you find anything?"

Dana turned back to the computer screen. "CTR. Clifton Tanner Riker is the only name that fits the parameters."

"Do you have an address?"

"Yes," Dana said. "You think we should call you son?"

"Let’s find out if the watch is his first," Mark replied.

"Whatever," Dana shrugged as she printed out the information on one Mr. Riker.

Mark tapped on the door of the address they got from the computer and stepped back to wait with Dana who had slipped a dark blue sweater on over her shirt The house was one of the nicer ones on the beach at the other end of Malibu from Mark’s. After a minute of waiting, the door opened and a man stood there. "Can I do something for you?"

"Are you…" Dana looked at the printout. "Clifton Tanner Riker?"

"That’s me," he said. "What do you need?"

Mark held the watch up encased in a plastic bag. "Is this yours?"

Riker looked down at the watch in Mark’s hand. "Why yes," he said in surprise. "Where did you find it?"

"At the Malibu Library," Dana answered. "I’m the…"

"Of course," Riker interrupted. "The librarian. I didn’t recognize you without your glasses." He reached for the watch only to have Mark pull it away.

"I’m afraid we can’t give it back to you just yet," Mark said before the other man could protest. "Until the police have had a chance to talk to you."

"What are you talking about?"

Dana spoke up. "There was a murder at the library last night," she told him. "This was found in the cushions of a chair in the room where the murder took place."

"We just want to make sure that it’s not going to end up being evidence in the case," Mark put in.

"By the way, where were you between about seven and nine last night?" Dana asked.

"Are you accusing me of…?" Riker began.

"No, no, no," Mark said. "The police will probably be asking you the same questions." He paused a second before going on. "Do you know Jared Miller?"

"I’m familiar with him, but don’t know him well," Riker said. "Why? Do you think he was involved?"

"We know he was," Dana told him. "He was the victim."

Riker’s looked at them in shock. "You’re kidding."

"I’m afraid I’m not," Mark said. "Could you please be available for questioning if the police should need to talk to you?"

"Of course," Riker said. "I’d be happy to."

Steve waited as the housekeeper unlocked the door of the large Malibu home belonging to Jared Miller. He went inside to see that a row of stairs went down from the door as a couple of pathways that could only be described as balconies circled the room’s upper half. A crystal chandelier shimmered in the sunlight which was coming from the windows that covered the whole wall opposite the front door. A pair of French doors was in the exact center of the glass wall and the room was decorated with lavish but comfortable looking furniture.

As Steve followed the housekeeper down the stairs, he heard the door behind them open again. He turned to see Mark and Dana come into the house. "It looks like we’re just in time," Mark commented.

"Dad, why have you been letting her tag along?" Steve said with exasperation in his voice.

Before Mark could answer, Dana came down the stairs to stand next to Steve. "Do you not like me because my father happens to be the chief of police… and your boss?" she asked and before he could answer, went on. "He may have been the catalyst that helped create me, but he hasn’t acted like a father in a very long time. He was always too busy with work."

"He got rewards for his hard work didn’t he," Steve said grimly.

"Yes," Mark agreed. "The job as Chief of police and alienation from his own daughter."

Steve looked up at Dana with a shake of his head. "OK, come on. But don’t touch anything."

"I won’t I promise," Dana said as she crossed her heart with one index finger.

Steve smiled at the gesture and turned back around to peruse the room once again. The three split up to examine the room’s furnishings. Steve looked at a row of photographs on a table while Mark perused the room and Dana looked around the furniture. On the table next to the couch was a watch like the one that Mark and Dana had found in the library.

"Mark, look at this," Dana said pointing at the watch. "It’s identical to the watch we found in the library."

"What are you talking about?" Steve asked as he joined them.

Mark pulled the other watch, still in the plastic bag, out of his pocket. "We found this in the chair in the reading room," Mark said. "I forgot about it. We found the owner and questioned him, briefly."

Steve gave his father a look and picked up the watch from the table. "The watch could have been there for weeks," Dana said.

Mark wandered off as Steve opened the watch up and found the initials JMM inside. "JMM?"

"I believe that’s for Jared Morgan Miller," Mark commented as he pointed to the man’s degree hanging on the wall. It hung next to a photograph which Mark looked at closely. "Dana," he said as he waved her over. "Do you recognize anyone in this photograph?"

Dana looked closely at the picture, which seemed to be of a group from a Fraternity boys. "Well, there’s Jared Miller," she said pointing. Next to him was… "That’s Riker!"

"I think he wasn’t telling us the whole truth," Mark said.

"Maybe," Steve said looking at his father. "But can the police question him this time?"

Mark smiled and looked at Dana. "I guess we could let them do part of the job," Dana said with a cocky grin. "That is what they’re there for."

Steve shook his head chuckling.

The next day Dana was back at the library and it was open. With her glasses perched on the tip of her nose, she checked a stack of books out to a young woman with a smile then turned to the next person in line only to find that it was Steve. Her smile broadened. "Hi," she said. "What are you doing here?"

"I was taking a look around," Steve answered. "Could you give me a tour?"

"Sure," Dana said as she removed her glasses and slipped them into her dress pocket. "Is there anything in particular you want to see?"

"The exits would be a good place to start," Steve said.

"Is this something to do with the case?"

"Something like that," Steve said as he looked around. "I’ll explain when we’re in less public surroundings."

Dana shrugged and led Steve back to the fire exit in the back of the rows of books. He took a look then asked some questions. "Does this door open from the outside?" Dana shook her head. "Is there an alarm that goes off when the door is opened?"

"Yes, there is," Dana replied. "It goes off to let us know when it’s opened because it’s the only fire exit on this end of the building."

Dana led him to the back exit that the employees used. When they got there, they were alone enough for Steve to explain the idea to her.

"The cameras on the front door showed no one coming in or going out around the time Miller was killed," he told her. "I want to check the other doors for other clues or possibly prints."

"This door is used by the employees," she said. "It goes out to the employee parking lot."

"I’ll have them checked just in case," Steve said.

"That won’t help if the killer is one of the employees," Dana said.

"I know," Steve replied. "I take it this door is locked when no one is here."

"I lock it myself before I leave for the night," Dana said then led him into her office.

"That’s all of the exits, I take it."

"Pretty much," she replied as she leaned on the desk.

Steve came closer than Dana had expected, leaving her to try to find her breath. "Is there anything else?" Dana asked when she finally caught her breath.

"No," he replied. He had an unusual look on his face and he was studying her face as if looking for her reaction to what he was doing.

When he touched her cheek, Dana swallowed then smiled up at him. He breathed in her ear and she was sure he would have kissed her neck if there hadn’t been a knock on the door.

Steve stepped back and took a deep breath as Dana stepped forward to answer the door. "Dana, I think you should see this," the woman standing there said.

Dana glanced back at Steve and he followed them down the hall. "What is it Millie?" Dana asked.

Millie kept looking back at them. "I was putting the books on the shelf in the back near the fire door when I saw someone lean on it. I started to warn them about the alarm, but the door swung open and the alarm didn’t go off."

"What do you mean it didn’t go off?" Dana asked.

"Something must be wrong with it," Millie said as the reached the door in question.

Steve pushed on the door carefully and it swung open without the customary alarm. "I take it you don’t know how long this has been like this," he said as he looked at the two women.

Dana shrugged as Millie spoke. "It could have been malfunctioning for weeks," she said. "But… I thought it might be important in your investigation anyway."

"I’ll have my people take a look at it," Steve said. "Where’s the alarm?"

"Up there," Dana pointed at the box near the top of the door.

Steve looked around and grabbed a step stool that the librarians used for putting books away. He stepped up on it and carefully opened it up. "The wire’s been cut," he announced then put the cover back on. "I’ll have the guys print both the door and the box, but I doubt we’ll find anything."

"Did they find anything?" Steve asked Tanis when she gave him the fingerprint report for the library as he sat at his desk.

"No prints on the box," Tanis said. "Except the ones you put on there when you opened it. There was a half print on the outside of the door near where the handle would be."

"Is it a match to anyone at the library?"

"No," she said. "But it could have been somebody passing by."

"With only part of one fingerprint? They had to have been wiped."

"Good point," Tanis said with a tight smile.

Steve looked at the file, but he didn’t seem to be looking at it as much as he was through it. "Dime for your thoughts?" Tanis asked.

Steve looked up at her. "Dime?"

"Inflation," Tanis explained. "So, what’s up?"

"Nothing that a cold shower won’t fix," Steve replied.

"Let me guess," Tanis said. "Dana Masters."

"You read me too well," Steve said.

"She’s cute," Tanis said. "Your type, too. But I don’t know what the chief would think about it."

"Think about what?" came Masters’ voice from behind Tanis.

Steve came out of his chair like a shot. "Strawberry jelly doughnuts," Tanis said as she hid a smile.

Masters knew she was lying, but let it slide. "You have anything yet?"

"I was just leaving to talk to someone who might be a suspect," Steve said. "You want to come along?" He was expecting the chief to say no.

"Yes," Masters said without pause. "You drive."

He stalked out with a very surprised Steve and Tanis watching in his wake. "Tanis do me a favor?"

"What?"

"Shoot me now."

Steve had given him a full report, not including his encounter with Dana, on the way to the house of Clifton Riker. Steve knocked on his door and stepped back to wait until he answered.

The door swung open and an older woman in a blue dress with an apron answered. "Can I help you?"

"Is Mr. Riker in?" Masters asked.

"I’ll get him for you," The woman said and the waiting started again. Finally, a man came to the door.

"Is there something I can do for you?"

Steve flashed his ID as Masters showed his. "I’m Steve Sloan, Homicide. This is Police Chief Masters."

"Is something wrong?"

"No," Masters said. "We just want to talk to you about the murder at the library."

"Because my watch was found in the same room as the murder took place in, you think I did it," he said. "I don’t have to talk to you."

"You can do it here of we can take you down to the station," Masters said. "It’s your choice."

"Was Miller’s death so important that the police chief himself has to investigate?" Riker said angrily. "Or is this just a way to intimidate me into going with you?"

"It was my choice…," Masters began when Steve interrupted.

"We don’t have time for a debate," he said. "If you don’t answer our questions we’ll just have to take you downtown."

"On what charges?" Riker demanded.

"No charges," Masters responded.

"We could find something to charge you with, of course," Steve put in. "Like. ‘accessory to murder’?"

"Now wait a minute…," Riker said before Masters interrupted him.

"If you want to chat here then chat."

He looked back and forth between the two men then let out a sigh. "Come on," he said then disappeared into the house.

Steve looked up at Masters. "Try not to act like an angry father please sir."

Masters gave Steve a look and walked into the house.

Boxes were stacked around the living room so Riker explained. "I’m moving to San Francisco."

Steve ignored the comment and looked at Masters. He nodded, giving control of the interrogation to Steve.

"You told me father that you didn’t know Jared Miller very well, yet we found a picture of his fraternity and you were in the picture," Steve said.

"Just because we were in the same fraternity doesn’t mean that I knew him very well," Riker returned.

"Even though you were sitting next to him in the picture?"

"Looked pretty friendly to me," Masters put in.

"So I knew him," Riker said. "Doesn’t mean I killed him."

"Your watch was found in the chair near where he was killed," Steve pointed out.

"I was in there a couple of days before," he stated. "I lost it then."

"Why wasn’t it reported to the librarian?" Masters asked.

"It was," Riker said. "I told the head librarian the next day and she said she’d keep an eye out for it."

"That’s not what she says," Steve said.

"She wouldn’t lie about something like that," Masters put in.

"How would you know?" Riker demanded. "Been cuddling up with the sex kitten?"

Masters face turned red and Steve could swear he saw steam coming out of his ears. He had a volatile situation on his hands and he had to squelch it.

"I don’t think so," Steve said. "She’s his daughter."

Riker took a step back in shock.

"Why did you call her that?" Masters asked him as he tried to push away his anger.

"Gossip," Riker said as he took another step back. "You know how gossip can be."

Steve stepped between them and continued his line of questioning before things went too far out of hand. "Where were you two nights ago between the hours of seven and eight o’clock?"

"Here," Riker said. "Packing."

"Did anyone see you?"

"Yeah," Riker stated. "Just about everyone in the neighborhood. The lights were on and the curtains had already been taken down."

"I’ll be sure to check that," Steve said. "That’s all for now, but I don’t want to you go to San Francisco until the investigation is finished."

"Whatever you say," Riker said as he eyed Masters.

In the car on the way back to the station, both men were silent. Finally Steve cleared his throat to speak. "Sir?"

"What is it, Lieutenant?" Masters asked.

"Next time this suspect gets questioned…" he trailed off.

"What?"

"I think you should let Tanis go," Steve said.

"The neighbors corroborated his story," Tanis said. "But they couldn’t corroborate the time."

Steve shook his head. "Did any of them see him go out?"

Tanis shook her head. "No one saw him go out all night."

Steve shook his head. "It looks like we might have to look elsewhere for our killer," he said.

They were sitting in the conference room of the precinct going over the evidence. Unfortunately, the evidence seemed to be pointing at the wrong person.

"Were we able to get the video from the camera at the library?" Steve asked.

"Yes, but if the alarm to the fire door was malfunctioning, he could have gone in that door without being seen," Tanis reported.

Steve rubbed his eyes. "Has the report come in on the partial print?"

Tanis looked uncomfortable. "Yes it did, but you aren’t going to like it."

"What?"

"It matched the chief’s daughter."

"That’s not what I wanted to hear," Steve said.

Dana closed the door behind the last visitor and locked the door behind them. "I need a cup of…," she began when Millie gave her a steaming hot cup of the brew. "You are an angel."

"I have to leave early," Millie said.

Dana snorted. "You just don’t want to clean the reading rooms."

"OK, so I don’t want to clean the reading rooms," Millie said. "Someone was killed in one a couple days ago."

"Go," Dana said. "I’ll take care of it."

Millie started off towards the back entrance before turning around. "I owe you one."

"Just go!"

A minute later she heard the back door close. She downed the rest of her coffee and tossed the paper cup before heading into the reading room where Mr. Miller had been killed.

The kids had been in there and there were thin, hard-backed children’s books everywhere. She piled them up in a stack as she gathered them, but inadvertently kicked one under the couch. With a groan, she went after it. Her fingers hit it and scooted it further back, so she lifted the skirt and looked for it visually. She saw it and reached her hand for it but her pinky bumped something cold, hard and metal. Pulling the book out and transferring it to her other hand, she looked to see what she had discovered.

It looked like an empty lipstick tube only smaller. Dana dug into her pocket for a tissue and grabbed the item with the tissue. She leaned back and sat on her knees to look at the item. It was a shell casing, 9mm if she knew anything about guns, which she did having a cop for a father.

Mark answered the phone to hear Dana’s voice. "Mark, is Steve home?"

"I’m afraid not," Mark responded. "What’s wrong?"

"I found something that the police team missed," she said. "It was way back under the couch."

"What is it?"

"The shell casing from the bullet from the gun," she told him. "It’s 9mm."

"That sounds right," Mark said. "Did you touch it?"

"I picked it up with a tissue," she answered. "Something my dad taught me."

There was silence on the line. "Are you really that mad at your father?" Mark asked her.

"I don’t know," she replied. "I wish he had been there more often when I was a kid."

"Any child who has a parent who works as hard as yours did feels that way," Mark said. "Let your father be there for you now."

"Thanks, Mark," Dana replied then went back to the subject that she called for. "You think Steve is at the station?"

"Probably," Mark replied.

Steve was going through Dana’s bank records when someone came and stopped across from him. He looked up to see Dana standing on the other side of his desk. He lay the file down without thinking and looked up at her. "What can I do for you?"

Dana pulled a crumpled tissue out of her pocket. "I found this way back under the couch in the reading room where Miller’s body was found."

Steve took the casing carefully and looked down at it. "How on earth did you find this way back under the couch?"

"I kicked one of the kids books back there and bumped the casing with my hand when I went after it," Dana said.

"Did you…"

"Touch it?" Dana said. "I’m not an idiot. I picked it up with the tissue."

Steve reached in a drawer for a plastic bag to put it in. While he was ducked down behind the desk Dana leaned forward to watch and saw her name on the papers that Steve had been perusing before she came in.

"Why do you have my bank statements?" she asked as she picked them up.

Steve came up with the bag. "If I told you that, it would…"

"You think I killed Jared?" she asked incredulously as she tossed the file back on the desk next to the casing. "What’s my motive? Or is that what you’re working on?"

Steve stood to try and calm her, but she walked out without waiting.

"Oh boy," was all he could think to say.

"Motive," Dana murmured to herself. "What could the motive be?"

She paced in the small studio apartment that she called home the day after her unfortunate encounter with Steve. "Finances, of course, but it has to be more specific than that." She paced two more times. "Maybe Riker didn’t like the fact that Jared gave his money to charitable places and they had an argument and he killed him." She stopped pacing. "Then why would he bring a gun if it was done in a moment of passion?" She resumed her pacing. "Riker’s story is so full of holes you could pour water through it. Why can’t Steve see that?" She paused again. "Maybe he did and just wanted to check all of his bases." She resumed pacing again. "And feel the wrath of his boss…I don’t think so." She shook her head. "Why was he looking at my bank records?"

Her thoughts were interrupted by the telephone, so she stopped to answer it. "Malibu public… uh sorry, forgot where I was. This is Dana."

"It’s your…," Masters paused to try to figure out how to identify himself.

"My father?" Dana asked. "I was kind of hoping you’d call." She sat down on the couch.

"Why?"

"Because a friend told me that I should give you a second chance," she said. "And I think he’s right."

The line was so quiet for so long that she thought he had hung up. "You still there?"

"Yes," he replied.

"How about some lunch later?"

"I have plans for lunch, but I could meet you later this afternoon," Masters said. "At around one."

"That sounds great," Dana said. "I’ll see you then."

After hanging up she sat back with a smile then groaned and said, "Why didn’t I tell him about the check Steve did?"

A knock at the door had her mumbling about interruptions while she was trying to think. She opened the door and instantly knew why she hadn’t said anything. Steve stood there with a bouquet of flowers and a sorry look on his face. Dana’s heart melted.

"I’m sorry," Steve said.

"For what?" she asked, pretending to be mean.

"For investigating you," he replied.

"I take it you didn’t find anything," she said.

"Not on you," he replied. "Can I come in?"

She waved him in and took the sorry excuse for flowers to put in some water. Steve looked around the room which was a combination kitchen, living room, library, office, and artist studio. To his left up two or three stair was a curtained area which he assumed was the bedroom and a door to the right of the curtain was probably the bathroom. Steve finished his perusal as Dana finished with the flowers and invited him to sit on the couch..

"So what did you find?" she asked as she joined him there.

"We found prints on the casing you brought me," he said. "They exactly match the gun and the bullet that killed Miller."

"And?"

"And they belong to Clifton Riker," Steve finished.

"I knew it," she said. "You got a motive?"

"Not yet but we’re working on it," Steve replied.

"Have you arrested him?"

Steve looked slightly uncomfortable. "We can’t find him."

Dana sat up. "Did he go to San Francisco or something?"

"Not according to the driver of the rental truck he hired," Steve replied. "The neighbors say that they don’t think he’s gone yet either."

She leaned back in the couch again. "You think we can find him?"

"What do you mean we?"

Dana looked over at Steve and he smiled. Lost in a sudden moment, he leaned in and kissed her. Her arms automatically reached up to run themselves through his hair. His lips moved to nibble on her ear briefly before he kissed her neck. Then he pulled away and stood up leaving her breathless on the couch.

"I’d love to stay but I’ve got to get back," he told her. "I mean it. I would love to stay."

"I realize that," she said as she looked up at him. "And I’ve got to get to work, too."

"Then I’ll see you later?"

Dana got up from the couch. "Most definitely."

Dana had been thinking about it all morning and finally decided to go through her own files on Riker. He had given money for various projects at the library until a few weeks ago. Abruptly, he stopped. She called a friend at the bank where the checks had come from only to find that he had absolutely nothing in his account.

"Marcia he has to have something," Dana said.

"He did," Marcia said. "Stocks, bonds, savings, checking. Everything. A couple of months ago he made some bad investments and lost everything."

Dana was puzzled. "What about Jared Millers accounts?"

She could hear Marcia tap on her keyboard. "Because of his death, his accounts have been frozen," she said. "But they’re empty too. As of about the same time. His accountant has been here to check on Miller’s finances." She paused. "I’ll tell you something if you can keep it a secret."

"What is it?"

"The accountant said that most of Miller’s money is in an account in New York where he couldn’t touch it," Marcia said. "His living expenses and charitable contributions came out of it. The accountant said that he had a way of losing what he got. Everything from gambling to investing. You name it, he probably lost money on it. If it hadn’t been for him inheriting his money, well he would have been living on the streets instead of that great house in Malibu."

"I’ve seen it," Dana said. "You think he might have talked his good friend Clifton Riker into going into it with him at one time?"

"You can count on it," Marcia said. "Riker had to sell everything off in order to move to San Francisco. And the house he’s moving into is his parents second home."

"Sounds like he might have been angry enough to Murder him," Dana said.

"Maybe," Marcia said. "I’ve got to go."

"Could you do me one more favor?"

"What is it?"

"Fax this stuff over to Steve Sloan at the police station?"

"Will do," Marcia agreed.

"Thanks Marcia," Dana said.

"Anytime."

"How did she find that out?" Riker asked Janine over the phone.

"Marcia told her," Janine told him. "I over heard every word from my desk. I’m right next to her."

"I’ll have to take care of this and Miss Dana before I can come get you baby," he cooed into the phone. "Don’t worry about a thing."

"Why are the police going to arrest you anyway?"

"They think I killed Jared," he told her. "You know I wouldn’t do that. Jared was like a brother to me."

"Yeah right," Janine said. "And I’m like your sister."

Steve finished looking at the information that Marcia had forwarded at Dana’s request. Dana had found the motive he was looking for. All he had to do was find Riker.

His phone rang and Steve picked it up. "Sloan," he said.

"Detective Sloan this is Marcia," said the voice on the line. "I just faxed you the stuff about Riker."

"I can’t explain right now, but I picked up the phone and hit the wrong button. I started to push the right button when I realized the guy on the line was Riker," she explained. "So I listened in. He said something about taking care of Dana so I thought I’d better call you."

"Thanks a bunch," Steve said then pushed down the button that hung up before releasing it and dialing a number. "He’s after Dana," he told Chief Masters. "I’ll meet you downstairs."

"I’ll be there," Masters said. "Call Archer in on this one."

After another quick call, Steve hung up the phone, grabbed his jacket and was gone.

Steve and Masters walked towards the library’s rear entrance with the purpose of protecting Dana. Before they got to the door, Dana came out looking down at the keys in her hand. A few cars away they could see Riker with the gun in his hand so they moved faster. He saw them so he took a couple of shots at them. Dana dropped to the ground as the two men drew their guns and took cover.

"Where is she?" Masters asked Steve.

"Behind the red convertible," Steve replied.

Masters took a peek around the end of the car, only to be shot at. He hated the stand-off with his daughter in the middle and being helpless to do anything, but there was nothing he could do to protect her from here. Moving closer was out of the question with Riker taking pot shots at them when they peeked out.

When Dana screamed, both Steve and Masters came out from behind the car with their guns pointed at Riker, only to find that he held Dana around the neck with his gun pressed against her temple. To Steve, Dana looked calm, but to her father, she was a wreak.

"Drop your weapon and let her go," Steve commanded.

"Not until I get out of the country," Riker said. "We’re going for a little ride on down into Mexico."

It was a stand-off with Dana’s life on the line. Steve let his eyes dart around, trying to find a way for Dana to escape her predicament, but he could find none. Chief Masters did, however, and he moved very slowly to Steve’s side.

"When she’s clear, shoot him," Masters said softly. Steve glanced over at him with a puzzled expression but moved to comply. "You’ll get away for now," Masters said to Riker. "But I’ll be after you for the rest of your life if you hurt my daughter." He paused then spoke to Dana. "Dana, just remember what I taught you."

Steve saw understanding pass through Dana’s eyes a split second before she fainted. Unable to hold the sudden dead weight of Dana’s body, Riker dropped her and started to aim his gun at the two police officers. Steve was faster and shot the gun out of his hand. It landed with a clatter near Dana so she scooped it up and was on her feet before Steve realized that she had been faking the fainting spell.

Riker grabbed his hand and swore as he went after Dana and the gun she held in her hand. He didn’t get Dana or the gun but instead got a kick in the groin for his trouble. Dana stood over Riker, trying to catch her breath from the sudden movement.

Steve and Masters joined Dana standing as Riker squirmed and groaned from his place on the ground. Steve pulled out his cuffs and handcuffed Riker before pulling him off the ground to a standing position. He stood to watch as Dana hugged the stuffing out of her father.

"I’m glad you’re OK," Masters told her.

"Me too," Dana replied then pushed him away.

Tanis Archer joined them in time to lead Riker away as she read him his rights. "You have the right to remain silent," she said as she led him to the car where she finished the Miranda and put her hand on his head to help him in.

"You don’t look OK to me," Steve said as he brushed the dirt from his hands on his jeans. He pointed to her head and the small cut that was bleeding there.

She touched the spot and saw the blood on her hands as Masters handed her a handkerchief from his pocket. She held it to the wound to help stop the bleeding. "I must have done this when I fell," she said.

"Speaking of," Steve began. "Where did you get the idea to do that maneuver? It was brilliant."

"Dad taught it to me," she said as she looked at the person of whom she was speaking with a smile. "Seems it’s one of those unexpected things they don’t think you’ll do."

"It was well executed," Steve told her. "For the most part."

"Better a cut in my head than a bullet through it," she replied then jabbed her father in the ribs.

He held out his hand. "Good work, Sloan," he said then kissed Dana’s cheek and walked away.

Dana giggled with a shake of her head. "That’s all you’ll get out of him," she said.

"I think I know that by now," Steve said as he put an arm around her shoulders. "Now do you want to tell me why no one has ever seen him eat?"

"I don’t even know if he does," was Dana’s answer. "I’ve never seen him eat either."