“It’s the perfect time,” Percy said. “This business. What that woman did. It breaks my heart.”
Liesl tensed at his tone, at his accusation. She waited for one of the important heads to chide him, to steer him away from the topic of Miriam. None did.
“It breaks my heart for Chris too,” the writer said. “But she was a sick woman. Wasn’t she sick? That’s what I understand of the mess.”
“She offed herself. Is that what you mean?”
“What a terrible way to put it, Percy.” She swatted his arm. Playfully, it looked to Liesl. As if it were a playful thing. “She was a troubled person, and it’s terrible for the library, of course. But what can you do? She was clearly having a difficult time, and that is how it manifested. A grasp for money. A cry for help.”
“A scream for help,” one of the group chimed in.
“So you’re all saying I should feel sorry for that woman? After what she did?”
“Have a little compassion, Percy.”
“Call me uncompassionate.” Percy wiped the back of his hand against a slightly sweating forehead. “But I don’t have a lick of sympathy for that woman. After what she did. I think the thefts, everything that was going on, I think that’s what killed Christopher. Don’t you think she killed Christopher?”
Liesl shut her eyes and reflexively bit her lip to keep from speaking up, as she’d been conditioned to keep from speaking up against people with money who she might have to ask for favors.
Percy waited for the group to agree.
“What she did to him,” Percy said. “It breaks my heart.”
“Percy, Christopher has been unconscious through all of this,” Liesl said. Not an admonishment. A reminder.
“Oh, Liesl,” Percy said. “A great man like that. You don’t think he could feel all this in his bones?”
“Can I borrow Liesl for a moment, folks?” Francis said, appearing in the circle. His eyes were puffy from wine and tears. It was perfect stage makeup. It added depth and character. It made Liesl want to stroke his face. She was on her fourth chardonnay. She nodded to the group and let Francis lead her away.
“What is it?” Liesl said. Her muscles became looser the further she walked from Percy. “Do the caterers need something?” She froze for a moment. “We’re not out of wine, are we?”
“You just looked like you needed a rescue,” said Francis.
“Oh, God bless you.” Liesl looked around the crowded room. President Garber had his back to her. Percy was waving his hands and proselytizing. If she was going to slither out, now was the time.
She grabbed a bottle of wine by the neck. “Fancy some fresh air?” she said. “It would do us both some good.”
“Fresh air,” said Francis, “is exactly what we need.”
They slipped out of the reading room. It was immediately cooler, but she kept leading him. In one of the private study carrels she saw a donor she recognized, a pharmaceutical executive in her forties, with her back pressed against the glass and her skirt pulled up around her stomach, some unseen suitor presumably under the desk. Funerals were a funny thing.
In the corridor that connected her old office with Christopher’s, she stuck a key into the lock of the emergency exit, deactivating the alarm. They stepped into evening and at the last moment, Liesl took off her shoe to leave the door propped open. The rain had stopped falling. They sat on the top step of the small staircase that led from the fire escape to the library’s loading dock. They could hear nothing of the roaring conversation inside. Liesl stretched her one bare foot out down the steps, hoping the rough cement wouldn’t ruin her pantyhose.
She handed Francis the bottle, and he yanked the cork out with his teeth. That made them both laugh, as did the realization that they hadn’t brought glasses and had no choice but to drink the chardonnay straight from the bottle. Francis handed it to Liesl to allow her the first swig. A gentleman. Her neck was rubber and her vision was blurry and the air was cool, but Francis’s shoulder against hers was warm. Somewhere, John and Hannah were eating noodles and talking about Hannah’s thesis.
“You don’t even like chardonnay,” Francis said.
“Just for tonight, I love chardonnay,” Liesl said.
“Did you see Max? Snogging with the fellow from the philosophy department in the stairway.”
“The philosophy department?” Liesl said. “Max was always a passionate supporter of the humanities.”