Utilizing the convenient wooden rolling ladder as well as by foot, Leonard scanned the books titles in an effort to at least get a hint, a possible trail of some kind. He had a strong instinctive feeling that what he was looking for was hidden among one of these thousands of volumes. Lawrence had always been a veracious reader and Leonard had no doubt that his appetite had not diminished with time. In fact, he would not be surprised if the contents of every book here at some point had not been absorbed partially or fully into Lawrence's prefrontal cortex. The books were arranged in the meticulous order comparable to any public library. There were even dates labeled on the books indicating when they had been purchased, completed or partially read. The collection covered practically every genre, if not close to it. Leonard then remembered that Lawrence had a peculiar habit of aligning books he had read from right to left instead left to right and that arrangement was on the opposite wall from the one he currently investigated. Leonard proceeded to that side of the wall and saw that Lawrence's most recently read materials would be found further left. Leonard stepped to that far end of the wall guiding the ladder with him. He stepped on the ladder ascending to the top. There he started reading a myriad of titles from the first shelf in the same odd order: Basic Medical Biochemistry, Principles of Biochemistry, Biochemistry and Molecular Biology, DNA and Biotechnology, Science Projects, Harper's Illustrated Biochemistry, The Cell and Evolution: Evolution of The First Organism, Inside the Cell, numerous books on quantum physics and the great pyramids in Egypt, an eclectic collection of novels and short story books, The Great Thoughts –
The Great Thoughts by George Seldes.
It was out of place somehow, given the subjects of the other books and instead of being stored spine-displayed like the others, it was placed showing its vertical reams of pages. That made it stand out. Leonard pulled the red-colored hardcover book from its resting place. It was thick, over five hundred pages. he climbed down the ladder, went to a desk, sat and eagerly proceeded to leaf through the book page by page, even on occasion taking a few seconds to read some of the interesting, thought-provoking contents which it contained and at the same time he started to feel a strange ominous vibe….
Dobbs approached the front of the house, cautiously but also with just a little too much confidence given he had no idea exactly what situation he was about to encounter. But adrenalin junkies can often cross that fine line between courageous and stupid. He saw the soft glow of light on in a room from a second-floor window. No play of shadows. He peered inside the BMW. Nothing unusual drew his attention. He then quietly ascended the short steps to the front door. He looked back towards Kawalski who was signaling him dramatically to return to the car. Dobbs dismissed his frantic silent request by hand-gesturing to him 'to chill.' He approached the door, tiptoed to peer into the stained glass when suddenly the door opened. Dobbs jumped back, startled.
"Hay…" Dobbs uttered, nervously but quickly regaining composure.
"Can I help you?" Leonard inquired with calm firmness.
"Ah…., Dobbs stammered, "Sorry to disturb you at this hour. Is this the Harris residence?"
"Nope, Leonard said. "It is not."
"No?" Dobbs retrieved his cell phone, pretending to look for information on the factitious Harris family. "They must've texted me the wrong address somehow," he feigned. "Text Lexia. You know. Do it myself at times." When he looked up from the phone, though trying to be discreet, his eyes nonetheless darted searchingly the premises beyond the door, habit of his training executed at both a conscious and subconscious level that did not go unnoticed by Leonard.
"Really? Dobbs said. "You… happen to know them or of them by any chance?"
"Maybe," Leonard played along enjoying the agent's awkwardness. "What's the first name?"
"Uh…. Henry and Bess." Dobbs lied.
"Henry," Leonard repeated, thoughtfully. "Henry and Bess Harris. Mmm... nope. Sorry. Why not give 'em a call, now? I presume they're expecting you."
"Uh, yeah. I'll…" Dobbs was tentatively backing away now, "do that in the car. Thanks anyway. Sorry to have disturbed you." He turned to leave.
"Good luck," Leonard said after him as he stood in the doorway watching Dobbs awhile before closing it. Leonard knew the stranger was there to spy on him, another agent more than likely. He sensed also a second presence while they spoke, not as hostile an atmosphere as the one carried by that one that just left but a second agent. 'They sent a team this time,' he thought. He would deal with them later. For now, he wanted to focus his attention on finding what it was that was compelling him to search his brother's library and that thick red book.
Dobbs climbed back into the car. "Whew. What a rush."
"Whew," Kawalski said, "what a major jackass. You may have blown our cover. We were advised to stay twenty feet away from him. You practically hugged the guy."
"Calm down, Kawalski. Nothing threatening about him. I'm still here, aren't I. In one piece. He's clueless," Dobbs bragged.
"Oh, yeah? How do you know? How do you know you're not the one that's clueless? There must've been good reason why they advised us on keeping a distance from him."
"So…," Dobbs said, "want to call it in?"
Kawalski looked at Dobbs with disgust written in his expression. "Fuck you," he said. Next time you pull that crap I will."
Meanwhile on the drive home there existed a second scenario Jack had not contemplated, until now: Maybe Lawrence's death was made to look as if he choked on a piece of candy. This way the agency or whoever was involved would avoid the risk of having to bribe the medical examiner in a potential career-ending conspiracy. Not that those involved would be empathetic about the good Doctor's career. It was just convenient to not have a loose end hanging around that if pulled could unthread the whole damn blanket. Doctor Newsome appeared genuinely upset not just at Jack's subtle accusation of being complicit in a cover up, but more so at the fact that Jack even mentioned his unexplained suspicion that Lawrence had been murdered. Jack was not however completely satisfied. There was one more person he was interested in talking with, but that would have to be another time. For now, he still had an hour's drive home, and he was exhausted. Besides, he started feeling guilty about leaving Dorothea alone at home on the day and night of their son's burial. He stepped a little harder on the accelerator.
Inside the motel room Boris removed his jacket as Michele' sat on the bed, looking the small room over. She saw a mirror on the wall over the dresser. She stood up and walked over to it to once again admire herself fully indulging her narcissism. Boris placed two bottles of water on the dresser beside the bed and bottle of Vodka. He opened the Vodka.
"I see you're planning a long evening," Michele' commented, moving intimately close to Boris.
"I hope so," Boris said. "You mind?" He indicated the vodka bottle.
"Enjoy," Michele' encouraged.
Boris unscrewed the vodka, poured the colorless liquid into a cup filling it halfway. Michele' reached for a bottle of water and with his free hand Boris held her around the waist and pulled her to him with gentle aggressiveness and kissed her lips. She reciprocated. It was a short engagement but intense, especially on Boris' part. "You taste like flowers, my dear" he whispered. Dorothea smiled, as she uncapped the water bottle and drank it empty. Her thirst on more levels than one was peaked and insatiable.
"I… have a concern, Michele'."
"Your condoms." she said, backing away, disappointed.
"No... no," Boris protested. "I have. it's not that. I… don't want this time we spend together to be our last."
"You want promises already, Boris?" Michele' stepped closer to him.
"I want to see you again," he said.
Michele' tossed the empty water bottle in the trash can by the dresser Boris put his cup down on the bedside table and embraced her. Her fingers played in his hair. "If I make that kind of commitment to you, Boris wouldn't it lend to take away from the time we're going to spend together tonight?"
"Perhaps," Boris said, planting kisses on her neck, as his hands searched her back to unzip her dress, "it will lend to make the night even more special by a promise of tomorrow." He pulled away from her as her dress dropped to the floor and she now stood before him only in her bra and panties. He was enchanted even deeper by her raw beauty. "I am not doing this just to please myself."
"So, you plan to indulge my pleasure also," Michele' said.
"That is my primary objective," Boris committed. "It would please me to please you."
Michele' looked Boris from head to toe. "You're different yourself, Boris." If that's how things turn out, then maybe I will consider your request."
Boris reached for cup, gulped down the rest of its contents and tossed it away, as he pressed himself against Michele', they kissed passionately, hungrily and both of them backed toward the bed, as Boris, with help from Michele anxiously tore one another's clothes off.