Monument to the Dead by Sheila Connolly

piece of information that might be important: Adeline’s death doesn’t look like suicide,
     and it at least suggests that the other deaths might not be. He thinks it’s murder,
     but he still doesn’t have enough to open an official case.”
    “Well, at least we know that our work here might be good for something,” Marty said.
     She stood up abruptly. “I’m going to go distract myself by bothering Rich in the processing
     room.”
    Shelby stood up as well. “Then I’ll go pretty up my spreadsheets. Will you be passing
     them on to Agent James?”
    “He said he’d be here later this afternoon to pick them up. Thanks, both of you. Good
     work.”
    I went about my usual business for the rest of the day—appalling how much paperwork
     was involved in running an institution—and James called about four to say that he
     was running late, and would I mind waiting until six? I told him that was fine.
    Shelby stopped by shortly after his call to give me the spreadsheets. She dropped
     into a chair and said, “Well, I’ve learned a lot.”
    I sat back in my chair. “I can imagine. I won’t claim I knew half of what you put
     together. It does seem kind of incestuous in Philadelphia, doesn’t it?”
    “Sure does, although I’m sure it’s just as bad in other cities. It’s all about who
     knows who, and there’s a lot of horse trading that goes on. You know, I’ll give to
     your cause if you’ll give to mine.”
    “Isn’t that the truth? I guess it’s kind of like a local aristocracy. So I have to
     work that much harder to make people open their checkbooks.”
    “Marty is part of it, though,” Shelby said thoughtfully. “Do you think she
should
be scared?”
    “I don’t know, Shelby. In the more than five years I’ve known Marty, I’ve never seen
     her scared of anything, but I think you’re right—this has her rattled. Give Marty
     a tangible problem and she’s all over it. But this? It’s harder when you don’t know
     if, or from where, an attack is coming. But she’s a single woman who lives alone.
     So I’d rather she was on her guard, just in case.”
    “Amen. And here I thought this would be a nice cushy job.” Shelby stood up. “Well,
     I’m heading home in a little while, unless you need me for something else.”
    “Go! I’m going to stick around and hand your information to James.”
    Shelby grinned. “I think you should go back to his place and go over them in detail.
     Maybe a bottle of wine would help.”
    I won’t say the same thought hadn’t crossed my mind. “I’ll see you in the morning,
     Shelby.”

CHAPTER 9
    Once the third floor had emptied out, I went downstairs to wait for James. I watched as Front Desk Bob gently ushered out a few lingering
     patrons who had just one more item they had to look at right now. I sympathized: many
     people couldn’t make too many trips here, and it was frustrating to have so many resources
     and so little time to use them. We were doing the best we could, making documents
     accessible online, but it would never be enough. Most of the visitors had no idea
     who I was, as I smiled and nodded when they went out the door, clutching their precious
     notes. When the rooms were emptied, Bob looked at me. “You need me to stay?”
    I shook my head. “No, you go on. I’m waiting for someone. I’ll lock up.”
    “See you tomorrow.” Bob disappeared toward the back of the building, to make sure
     everything was secure in the rear.
    Normally I found the silence of the empty building soothing. The thick walls of the
     Society building effectively muffled noises from the outside world, even though the
     street outside was a busy one. It seemed so hard to imagine murder and mayhem in this
     stately space, but I had learned the hard way that even here, some less than pretty
     things lurked. I’d come face-to-face with a couple of them. Sometimes I marveled that
     I could handle coming into work each day.
    Because I loved the place, of