Checked Out

by Elizabeth Spann Craig

  “Was there anything else that held Mary back?” I asked. “Like Roger?”

  Fred smiled. “You have been looking into this. But what else could you expect from a reference librarian? You’re right—Roger got the promotion Mary felt she deserved. And honestly, truth be told, I thought Mary deserved that promotion, too. Roger was also difficult to work with. Mary had been there longer and had a better track record than Roger did.”

  “Can you explain why Mary may not have gotten the promotion?” I asked.

  “Roger told some sort of madcap story about Mary. I don’t even know what it was, but it could have been anything—that she was accessing sensitive files? That she was pilfering a little on the side? Whatever it was, it not only kept Mary from getting the well-deserved promotion, but it resulted in her being fired from the firm,” said Fred. “And she did not take that well. As a matter of fact, I’d have thought Mary might have killed Roger. But now it doesn’t make sense that Mary was murdered, as well.”

  I glanced at the clock. “If you’re going to get all your work done, I’d better let you get started. But thanks, Fred, you’ve been a big help.”

  I started walking away and then Fred gave a little yelp, which made me turn around. He was looking at Fitz with an astounded expression on his face. “A cat!” he said, in the same tone one might use to say ‘a baboon.’ Fitz was brushing against Fred’s pants leg and curling around him.

  “Sorry,” I said, wincing. “We acquired a cat since the last time you were here. Do you not like them?”

  “I do,” he said weakly. “I love animals, of course I do. It was just a surprise, that’s all. Kitty-kitty?” He reached down a tentative hand and Fitz jumped up on the table to curl up like a centerpiece next to Fred’s laptop.

  I walked away smiling as Fred became the latest victim to be sucked in by Fitz’s charms.

  The next hour was completely consumed by a patron who was trying to locate some long-lost relatives without a computer at home. This was harder than it seemed because the last name of the people the patron was trying to find was Smith. Fortunately, by the end of the hour, I’d had some luck, and she walked away smiling.

  Luna walked up to my desk and gestured for me to follow her. I did and saw Fitz in the children’s area, sprawled out in a child’s lap as the child read to him.

  Luna said, “This cat isn’t for real! I’ve heard of kids reading to dogs, but kids reading to cats?”

  “We need to take pictures of this,” I said.

  “Because no one will believe us if we talk about it,” muttered Luna.

  Wilson walked up to see what we were looking at. His face lit up at the sight of Fitz and the little boy with the book. “Pure marketing gold,” he said. “Look, Ann, you need to be taking pictures when you see scenes like this. We need content that will keep our community engaged.”

  “Fitz was already a hit on social media when we started the naming contest. Now that people have met him, it’s good to keep updating his library activities online,” I said.

  Wilson said. “Fine. I do have one big concern and I’m open to ideas on how to handle it.”

  “I’m vacuuming a couple of times a day,” I said quickly.

  “Not the allergies. I’m worried about the bottom line,” said Wilson.

  Luna said, “Of course. Who’s paying for all this?”

  I frowned. “Paying for all what?”

  “Fitz’s food and litter and stuff. Fitz looks like he’s the kind of cat who might have a good-sized appetite,” said Luna.

  I looked over at the cat who was now licking one of his paws while perking his ears as the child read Thomas the Tank to him. “Well, a patron brought in a slew of stuff to get us started. Although, you’re right, I didn’t really think of a long-term plan for his expenses.”

  Wilson said, “Ideas?”

  I was still thinking about Wilson asking me to take pictures of the cat. “How about a calendar?”

  “What? A calendar?” asked Wilson, brow furrowed. Luna said, “That’s perfect! We’ll all take cute pictures of the cat and we’ll make them into a calendar. It’s easy and shouldn’t cost much. Maybe we can even get the printer to give the library a discount or even give it to us for free if we put an ad for them in the back. Then we can use it as a fundraiser to buy supplies for Fitz.”

  “It’s not the end of the year, though,” said Wilson, frowning.

  “We could make a 15-month calendar or something,” said Luna with a shrug. “If I know this cat, and I’m starting to think I do, then there will be at least 15 opportunities to get an adorable picture of him.”

  Wilson snapped his fingers. “Okay, you sold me. I think it’s a great idea. Let’s make it happen.” And with that edict, he hurried away again.

  Luna said, “On a totally different topic, I did have another question for you. Who’s that guy over there? The patron who’s always here?”

  I looked over back into the adult section of the library near the fireplace. There was a man there, a senior citizen who was wearing a suit and reading The New York Times. Fortunately, he was holding the newspaper low enough so I could see his face—most of which was covered by large spectacles that gave him an owlish appearance. “That’s Linus Truman,” I said.

  Luna said, “He’s been here every day. Most of the day.”

  I said, “He’s been here for years. Always perfectly dressed. If you try to talk to him, you’ll get a small smile and a polite grunt of acknowledgment. He has a pattern to his days. He starts out with the local paper and ends up with The Times. In between, he reads fiction, usually classics, then nonfiction, usually biographies. He leaves at noon on the dot for lunch and comes back exactly 45 minutes later.”

  Luna stared at the oblivious Linus through narrowed eyes. “I’m kinda fascinated by him.”

  “Are you?” I asked, frowning doubtfully. Then I realized I’d become immune to being fascinated by Linus because he was almost a fixture. He did the same thing each day, and he didn’t visit with the librarians. We all gave him a respectful distance because he clearly wanted to be alone . . . didn’t he?

  “All I know is, if I wanted information on anything, he’d be the guy I’d go to,” said Luna in a decisive voice. “Think about it—he reads all day. We’re librarians and we can’t even read all day.”

  I’d considered this before. I was very envious of Linus Truman in many ways. I’d have loved to do nothing but read in a library all day. I sneaked a peek at my book whenever I could, which was usually at breaks and lunch until I made it back home. But all day? That was a luxury not afforded to thirty-somethings.

  “What’s his story?” asked Luna.

  I shook my head. “Story? I think his story is that he spends all day every day in the library quietly reading.”

  “Yes, but why? Does he have a family? Is he trying to get in the Guinness Book of World Records for number of books read in a year or a lifetime? What does he think about all the things he reads?” asked Luna.

  I said, “Honestly, I have no idea. Linus doesn’t exactly engage in conversation with me, although he’s certainly polite. The only reason I know his name is because of his library card.”

  Luna wagged her finger at me. “Ann, this is another mystery. We need to find out more about Linus.”

  I snorted. “I don’t think Linus Truman had anything to do with Roger or Mary. I’m not sure I have the time to investigate anything else.” I paused. “Although I strongly suspect he was the patron who left an anonymous note saying the cats belonged to Elsie Brennon. He didn’t want to tell me they did, so he jotted down a note, instead. But I’m sure it’s him.”

  I froze. Anonymous notes. Surely, he wouldn’t have had anything to do with the last one that came in. I glanced over at him again, impeccable in his suit and shook my head. He couldn’t have.

  Luna said, “I’m going over to introduce myself. After all, I don’t know any better, being new, do I?”

  I looked at Linus in his su
it and tie and carefully polished dress shoes and then at Luna with her piercings and tattoos and questionable taste in attire. The two couldn’t possibly be more different. “Good luck with that. Like I said, he goes out of his way to keep to himself. I’ve seen him give other patrons the cold shoulder. He’s very good at freezing people out.”

  “Which is exactly why I’m perfect for this assignment,” said Luna breezily. “He’ll realize I’m brand-new here in the library and that I don’t realize he’s a committed loner. Also, it’s very hard to hurt my feelings. Besides, part of my job is to introduce myself to the patrons, isn’t it?” asked Luna.

  I nodded.

  “I’m heading over now,” said Luna.

  I couldn’t help watching. It was like seeing a train wreck happen in real time. I had to admit I was curious as to how Linus would react to this intrusion. Everyone had pretty much left him alone to his own devices at this point. I hadn’t even seen Fitz over there yet, but that was probably because he was so entertained with the kids over in the children’s section.

  I saw Luna plop down in a chair across from Linus and Linus glance up in surprise, stiffening a bit. Then Luna reached out her hand and Linus reluctantly shook it. Luna leaned back in her chair and proceeded to chat in an animated fashion while Linus stared at her in amazement. That’s when a patron came up and asked me if I knew how to find information on the school districts in a state they were about to move to.

  Sometime later, Luna sidled up to me again as I was pulling a few requested books for the holds shelf. She said, “He’s really just a sweetheart, you know.”

  I said, “I presume you’re talking about Fitz the cat and not Linus. Linus appears to be anything but a sweetheart.”

  “He’s just had a hard time, that’s all. He said when he retired, he wanted to keep up a routine.”

  I said, “Well, coming to the library every day definitely qualifies for that.”

  Luna said, “It didn’t start out that way. He and his wife moved here from some other town and they set up their own routine. They’d read newspapers in the morning and then do some gardening before lunch. In the afternoons it was puzzles with sandwiches. And so on. But then his wife died unexpectedly, and he’s been trying to find his way since then.”

  I sighed. “That makes me feel sorry I didn’t try harder.”

  Luna said, “But I’ve seen you with patrons—you have a great way with them and you’re always friendly and helpful to everyone. I’m sure you gave it a try.”

  “I suppose there are only so many times I can get a one-word or no-word response to good morning,” I said. “After that, I think I’ve mostly just smiled at him when I’ve seen him. He’s sort of become a fixture at the library as much as the circulation desk or the computer room.”

  “Well, you can think of him differently now. As a resource,” said Luna.

  “A resource? For what?” I asked.

  “For anything. That guy reads all day long.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  THAT NIGHT I WAS THE one to close up. I never really minded it. There’s something nice about being in there alone with tons of books for company. And now, of course, with Fitz. He seemed tired too, despite all the napping he’d done during the day on various patrons’ laps. He was curled up on his cat bed with his tail curled around his nose. I gave him a few long rubs and heard his deep-throated purr as he lazily opened one eye to look at me before letting it drop down again.

  This time I felt the same frisson of fear that happened at my house last night. I shrugged it off, irritated. I could sit at home behind closed doors 24 hours a day, but what kind of a life was that? I didn’t want to allow the note writer to make me feel worried about living my life.

  I was making a quick round to make sure everything was ready for lights-out when I discovered a patron asleep in the quiet section, a pile of books in front of him. I coughed a few times, lightly, and then produced a louder and more serious-sounding cough when he continued gently snoring. He awoke with a start and gathered his books together, dropping one or two on the floor in his panicked retreat. Then I continued my sweep with renewed vigilance, hoping I wouldn’t discover anyone else lurking in the stacks. Seeing no one, I vacuumed the library really quickly for cat fur. Fortunately, Fitz, although not a huge fan of the vacuum, seemed to accept it with equanimity. I locked the doors and turned off the lights.

  When I got into my car, I reviewed my food options at home. They were decidedly lacking. There was some leftover salad from a couple of days ago with the best ingredients picked out, a mac and cheese from yesterday’s lunch, and some sandwich-making stuff (and I’d had sandwiches for lunch today). I decided I would splurge and go out for dinner. It hadn’t been the easiest of weeks and I’d been pretty good with my food budget . . . aside from springing for Chinese food with Nathan.

  I knew just where I planned on going, too. I remembered Roger’s sister, Heather, was a waitress. Furthermore, I remembered I’d seen her in a particular restaurant before. The restaurant Quittin’ Time was not exactly haute cuisine, but it was good solid food and you could get a meat and three vegetables for a reasonable price. Besides, I wanted to follow up with her on the fact she’d been spotted at Roger’s house on Friday afternoon.

  Quittin’ Time had been around for decades. It was a family-owned restaurant in its third generation. Although the linoleum on the floors had seen better days and the vinyl covering the booths was torn in spots, the place was always immaculately clean and the service was always prompt and friendly. And, even if Heather wasn’t working, I’d still be able to walk out of there with my tummy full and have some leftovers for another meal.

  The hostess got me settled into a booth and handed me an old laminated menu. When the waitress came by, I smiled. It was Heather Walton. What’s more, the restaurant wasn’t nearly as busy as it usually was, so I’d actually have a chance to talk to her.

  Heather greeted me with surprise. “Well, hey there! I didn’t expect to see you here.”

  I said, “Usually I’m more of a lunch person, although I’ll occasionally splurge for supper.” Then I added after some thought, “Technically, I don’t eat out all that often. But I enjoy it when I do.”

  Heather nodded. “I know what you mean. How are things going? You doin’ okay after everything that happened?”

  I said, “I am. But how about you?” I paused. “I don’t know how long it takes for . . . well, for the police to wrap things up, but is there a funeral coming up for Roger? I’d like to attend, if so.”

  Heather gave me a big smile. “That is just so sweet of you! You didn’t even really know him. The police have wrapped up, as you say, although it was just yesterday they released Roger. The thing is, he always said he wanted to be cremated, so we’re going to follow his wishes.”

  “It’s good he actually stated what his wishes were. So many people, especially young people, don’t do that,” I said.

  Heather said, “True. Of course, he was really just talking off the cuff. He had no idea we would be in this position.” She blinked hard. “Sorry. Sometimes it just gets to me. I mean, he wasn’t the easiest guy sometimes, but he didn’t deserve this. He was too young—it wasn’t his time. Anyway, my mom and I are going to plan a memorial service, but it might be a while: Labor Day weekend or something. We wanted to pick a time when more of my mom’s family could fly in to attend.”

  “And you’re holding up okay? And your mom?” I asked.

  Heather shrugged. “Mom’s okay, I think, although it’s been hard on her. Maybe at her age she’s almost gotten used to saying goodbye to friends and family. For me, though, it’s a funny thing. Sometimes I’m fine and I’m so busy I don’t even have time to think about my brother at all. But sometimes, out of the blue, I’ll start crying—like over nothing. I was in the grocery store and saw a brand of cereal Roger and I used to love when we were kids. Man, we fought over that cereal! He always seemed to get the last helping.” Her eyes grew misty thinking abo
ut it.

  I said, “I think grief is like that. It just ambushes us sometimes.” I paused and then slowly asked, “Living in a small town is pretty tough sometimes. I hate to mention this, but I thought you might want to know someone mentioned you’d been spotted at your brother’s house Friday afternoon.”

  Heather looked startled and then snorted. “I shouldn’t even be surprised. Everybody knows everything in a small town. Yeah, I was there. I didn’t want to tell the cops that because I figured they’d totally shift all the blame to me and I didn’t do anything. I’m my mom’s only caregiver and I didn’t want to get arrested. I only stopped by to remind him that our mother’s birthday was in a few days and that she wanted to see him.”

  “Was he there?” I asked.

  “Nope. Never even answered his door. And I knew better than to call him and leave a message—he never checked his messages from me. I guess he just didn’t ever want to be put out or have to change his schedule for his family.”

  “Is that why you were going by his house again when I saw you? To try again to remind him?” I asked.

  “That’s right. I just figured the police wouldn’t understand.” Heather glanced around the room to make sure none of the customers needed a water refill or the check.

  I said, “Did you hear about Mary Hughes?”

  Heather’s gaze sharpened as she looked back at me. “Yes, I did. The cops have talked to me about that, too. And I’m sorry, although I didn’t know Mary.”

  “You’d never met her?” I asked.

  “No.” Heather shook her head, looking away. Somehow, I didn’t quite believe her. “I told the police the truth. That I didn’t know Mary. And that I was at home sleeping when she was murdered because I’d been working late the night before and had to close up. I’d wished I had some idea who might have killed Mary, but I’d no idea. After all, like I said, I didn’t know her.” She paused. “Have you decided what you wanted to eat?”