Marjorie stood up and said, “All right, Alan. You still need some down time but I know that isn’t on your horizon. So you stay here and use the phone and I’ll run around for you. Call the lawyer while I go tell Sam what’s happening and I’ll try to corral Edie. She will not be happy. She thought we might be able to get him out on bail.”
“The only way to do that is if the prosecutor would consider a lesser charge,” said Carter.
“I’ll raise that with Hare,” said Lockem, picking up the hotel phone. Marjorie pecked him on the cheek and sailed out of the room, headed to the jail.
She expected to at least talk with Sam but was inexplicably denied. He was not available, according to the deputy on duty at the main entrance. Could she get him a message? The desk man shrugged and said he thought so. There was more delay finding an envelope. Marjorie knew the note would be read so she wondered at the guard’s insistence on finding an envelope for her note. Eventually a clean unused business size envelope was produced. Marjorie wrote a note to Sam and left the jail.
A drop in at the county records office yielded only more questions. The girl behind the long counter that divided the room down the center gave only vague answers. Yes, they stored all county records, court cases, land purchases, tax records and so on. Yes, Marjorie could look at some, but the director of the office was not in town at the moment and she had no idea how to access or find anything except the myriad of forms that stood in a neat row on the desk behind her. Since Marjorie didn’t need any forms, she left, empty-handed.
The public library was nearby, her next stop. The librarian was helpful, a marked contrast to the attitude of the deputy at the jail and the girl in the county records office. She located a history of the county and scanned it for references to Ketchum and his land ownership. The librarian brought her reference copies of historical documents that allowed her to trace ownership of the mountain properties affected and to learn how Jack Ketchum had eventually participated in the mountain partnership. Then she revealed that the library was storing all of Ketchum’s private papers. She explained that eventually the library staff would create a detailed log of all Ketchum’s papers. It was a big job and she didn’t feel any pressure so for the time being the papers were stashed in storage. For the moment, Marjorie turned to official documents. Those records were easily accessible.
It appeared law enforcement knew Ketchum well. There were several judgments against him, fines for property negligence, litter and overgrown vacant lots, fines for late real estate tax payments and several references to complaints by neighbors, many having to do with maintenance of his properties. After a couple of hours in the county files, Marjorie figured it might be harder to find someone who liked Jack Ketchum than to make a list of those he’d offended in some way. “He must have been lonely a lot of the time,” Marjorie mused. “Working alone in that apartment with those computers wouldn’t have helped.”
Marjorie had a long and intense private conversation with the director of the library. She took the position that she represented the accused through the office of his attorney, Jack Hare. While she had no official writ, her persuasive personality plus the librarian’s sympathies for Edie and her son helped. The result was she received limited access to six boxes of Ketchum’s most recent papers. She made a cursory examination of two of the six boxes. It was enough to raise her curiosity sky high. The afternoon passed.
She packed up her notes and walked back toward the hotel. Normally alert to her surroundings, she never noticed a man walking toward her who turned abruptly in mid-stride into the empty street and crossed. After she went by, he again crossed the street back to his original course and moved to follow her at a half-block’s distance.
“Any joy?” asked Lockem when she walked through the door to the suite. He was just replacing the telephone in its cradle.
“Some. I sure have a better picture of Mr. Ketchum. And a potentially useful source.”
“So tell, maybe there’s a link or a clue.”
“Clues, Mr. Super-sleuth, clues. How are you feeling?”
“Still not up to my usual snuff, but recovering. I talked with Hare. He was reluctant since he’d already been turned down for a change of venue, but he finally agreed to try again.”
“I tried to see Sam to bring him up to date but I couldn’t get in. No reason given.”
“Hmm,” Lockem frowned. “I don’t think the sheriff has jail responsibilities here in the county, but I’m not sure who does. Something to follow up.”
“Mr. Ketchum was not a nice guy,” said Marjorie, sitting down at the tiny desk. She unloaded her leather case and spread out her notes. “He had fingers in any number of projects. Most were building investments. That is, he bought and improved properties all over the county. There are some indications that he had interests farther afield, but for now I stuck with local county projects.”
“Not a nice guy,” echoed Lockem. “Meaning….?”
“Yes. Out of five projects that I closely examined, all had legal or financial problems. Or both. He fought with the zoning boards in some. He was late with payments. There’s correspondence, some really old, in which he insults county commissioners and others. I found letters from associates practically challenging him to a duel. The library is a rich source.”
“I wonder why?” mused Lockem.
“Why?”
“Why would all that personal stuff be in the hands of the library?”
“I knew you’d ask.” Marjorie smiled. “So I asked, since I had to wrestle permission to review the stuff anyway. After Ketchum died, his will specified that all his personal papers be donated intact to the local library. He put time restrictions on them. The librarian told me, sort of confidentially, that some town leaders tried quietly to get the papers destroyed or at least, when that didn’t work, one former commissioner wanted an opportunity to review the material before any of it became public.”
Lockem’s intent gaze told Marjorie he was paying close attention. “So you’re saying all his personal and business papers went to the library after his murder?”
“Yep. The librarian said after he was killed the cops went through his house and found a letter that identified his personal attorney. That attorney filed some kind of writ within hours of Ketchum’s death. He told a reporter he was just following explicit orders from his client.”
Ketchum told his lawyer he wanted everything, business and personal papers to go to the local library. A judge agreed and the papers were boxed up and are now stored in the basement of the library.”
“But why the library? What about access?”
Marjorie grinned. “Credentialed researchers only after one year. Following his death.”
“I would think the prosecutor or the cops or both would want to go through the papers to help build a case against Sam.”
“I thought of that, but you know, once Sam had been arrested the lack of an alibi, and circumstantial evidence found by the cops makes for a fairly credible case. The librarian did tell me there have been four requests for access.”
“All denied, I assume,” said Lockem.
“Yep. Nobody insisted, although a lawyer with legal grounds would get to see them.”
“Like Jack Hare.”
Marjorie smiled. “I can be persuasive as you know, so I was. You do realize this case is evolving into something larger than simple murder.”
Lockem nodded and stretched out on the bed. “I do indeed. Whoever killed the man may have done it for financial rather than personal reasons. And if we’re right about that, the tiny gossamer threads that lie tangled in our fingers may lead us across as yet unforeseen horizons.”
Marjorie smiled. “One of the problems that frequently occurs in murder cases is that the cops look for the motive, singular, while the perpetrator has often been in the grip of multiple influences.”
Lockem nodded his agreement. “We are complicated beings, influenced on all sides by forces large and small. So you’re agreeing with LeCarre, that we need to cast a wider net and examine the vic’s life all over again.”
“Yes. I’m going to spend all day tomorrow and maybe more that in a dank room in the basement of yon library.”
“Dare I ask how you finagled this access?” Lockem smiled placidly at his companion.
“You may,” said Marjorie, disappearing into the bathroom and closing the door behind her.