by Jacie Floyd
“You get paid in produce, swine, and breakfast at the diner?”
His mouth turned down in a frown. “Save your receipts. The foundation will pay for your meals until you’re settled in your house and have access to a kitchen.”
“And when that will be?”
“Soon. I’ll check on the floors before I go back to the hospital.”
“Okay, when you put it like that, I can see how my floors wouldn’t be your first priority.”
“Everything’s my first priority.”
She couldn’t help rolling her eyes at him. “You know you’re not God, right? You can’t handle everything. No matter what you or this town might think.”
“Tell that to the residents of Sunnyside. They have great expectations of me.”
“Very Dickensian of them.”
“My contract with the town has definite Dickensian overtones.” He raised his hand to stop her as she opened her mouth to question him. “My first seven years of practice. My complete and undivided attention seven days a week, twenty-four hours a day. A percentage of any earnings I accrue when I discover the cure for cancer and end world hunger, and of course, my first-born child.”
She scrunched up her nose. “Is any of that for real?”
“More than you might think.”
About a dozen people in work clothes waited outside the library when Zach and Harper arrived. Despite the suspicious glances thrown at her, she wouldn’t have been surprised to hear a twenty-one gun salute go up when they spotted Zach.
He greeted everyone with a handshake, a pat on the back, or a wave, and fended off a few questions about the boys in the car crash. When he called for attention from the top of the steps, they turned eagerly in his direction.
“Well, this is a hell of an introduction for our new librarian.” Zach shook his head and crossed his arms. “I won’t kid you, the library’s a mess. I’ve asked for your help this morning on behalf of the town council so we can get this place fixed up before she decides to run screaming back to Chicago. Gentlemen, this is Harper Simmons, and she’s tougher than she looks. Harper, do you have anything you’d like to say before we get started?”
She smiled and waved as she stepped up. “Thanks for coming to get the library back in order. It’ll take more than this mess to run me off.” A couple of refugees from Duck Dynasty strolled up to join the group as Harper stuck close to Zach’s side. “When we’re finished with this project, it will be a wonderful facility for you and your families to use and enjoy. Meanwhile, if anyone has any information on how it got into this state, please let me or Zach know.”
Her request was met with skeptical or blank faces from the men. In fact, the only men who didn’t look bored were the ones leering at her. Given enough time, she could handle either attitude. But she was pleased to have Zach’s support to get her off on the right track this morning.
“Or drop a bug in Jimbo’s ear,” Zach suggested. “Now, let’s get to work. I’ll hang around as long as I can, but I need to get back to the hospital, so it will be Harper giving the orders. She knows what needs to be done, and she’ll give out the assignments. Since she’s new in town, she may not know who’s good at what yet, but she’ll figure it out quick enough. She’s the boss. If you’ve got a problem, take it up with her.”
Some of the more macho cavemen sneered. Chauvinism was clearly alive and well in Sunnyside, Illinois.
Zach unlocked the door to the library and pulled her inside. While the workers filed in behind them and grumbled about the state of the interior, the doctor pulled a spreadsheet out of one of his pockets. “This is a general rundown on most of the workers, what you can expect from them, and what tasks they will or won’t be good at.”
“When did you do this?” She looked in amazement from the spreadsheet to Zach and back again.
“This morning, when I got home from the hospital. After I slept for a few hours and had a shower.”
She continued to stare at him in disbelief.
“What? It’s not a big deal. I like to be organized.”
“I can see that.” She tried not to smile at the obvious. “I guess you also ran a marathon, re-roofed your dad’s house, and baked a cherry pie, too.”
“God, no,” he said on a shudder. “We re-roofed Dad’s house last summer, and I couldn’t bake a cherry pie if my life depended on it.”
“Good to know.” At least there was one thing beyond his abilities. If she wasn’t careful, she’d be like the rest of the town and start assigning superpowers to his every-day actions.
“If you run into problems you can’t handle, go to Liam Bowman. He’s a buddy of mine and a general jack of all trades. Not real chatty, but you can count on him. His name’s at the top of the list. I asked him to shore up that broken stair railing before he did anything else.”
Despite Zach’s reluctance to leave, the library had to take second place to real life-and-death situations. Although he’d originally intended to stay and help all morning, he’d been preoccupied since his first phone call at the diner.
After providing more insight into the names on his spreadsheet, he scrawled his cell phone number at the top. “In case of emergency.”
“Medical?”
“God, no. Call nine-one-one for those,” he said with what Harper thought were ominous undertones. “If I’m not back in time to go with you to the council meeting, the Administration Building’s directly across the street. Room 216. Everybody knows where the meeting will be, so just ask Liam or one of the other guys if you want a guide.”
“I can manage on my own.”
“I’m beginning to see that about you.” He smoothed a stray tendril of hair behind her ear in a move that got to her in more neglected places than it should have. “Some council members might turn up to view the situation first-hand. Don’t let them intimidate you. And don’t try to intimidate them.” He turned to go but swung back around as he pulled something from his pocket. “And here’s your set of keys to the library. Try not to lose ‘em.”
Determined to get her tasks underway, she didn’t stand and watch him stroll out of the library and down the steps with that Masters of the Universe stride he had down so well. Even though she really wanted to. But she did allow herself a peek or two.
Squaring her shoulders against the task in front of her, her heart broke all over again to see the devastation in the bright morning light. Everything looked much worse than it had the night before, but that only made her more determined to get started.
The Library Director’s office on the second floor was uninhabitable, but she preferred being in the thick of things anyway. She set up her command post at the circulation desk on the first floor just past the main entrance, in front of the grand sweeping staircase with the railing that some guy with a magnificent body was shoring up. Everyone coming and going passed by her, and she could easily maneuver upstairs or down, as needed.
The volunteers became noticeably less agreeable with Zach’s departure. In this group of hardworking Midwesterners, most people were honestly there to help. But a few slackers had simply come to gawk at the new kid in town and catch up on the latest gossip.
Several of Zach’s friends showed up just because he’d asked or they owed him favors. A couple of aimless teenagers with nothing better to do wandered in but mostly texted on their cell phones, checked out the graffiti, and didn’t contribute much. When she tried to approach them to discuss the talents or technique of the graffiti artist, they remembered they had more pressing places to be.
The most valuable helpers were a couple of laid-off construction workers with skills to tackle the more pressing repairs. Everyone was put to work, whether they liked it or not.
A few people stood out from the crowd. Liam Bowman, the number-one name on Zach’s spreadsheet, was dark, brooding, very tense, and intensely good-looking in a fallen angel sort of way. He gave Harper’s body a frank appraisal. Appreciation lurked in his dark eyes, but not desire. Any desire he might have
felt in the past seemed to have been put permanently on hold. Like he didn’t have the energy for it anymore.
When Harper asked him what he did when not pressed into volunteering at the library, he told her. “I manage the strip joint out on the highway. Maybe you noticed it when you came into town yesterday.”
“Hard to miss Live! Nude! Girls!” She spread her hands out billboard-style while she quoted the square building’s neon sign.
She had noticed it, of course, but was surprised to hear he worked there. Based on assumption only, she would have guessed the manager of a strip joint to be kind of a sleaze. Or a hound dog. Maybe overexposure to the female body had dampened his interest to it.
“If you’re uncomfortable with my latest career-opportunity, just say the word, and I won’t stay, but I have four things going for me.”
“What?”
“I worked all through college doing construction work, I’m usually free during the day. Zach trusts me, even though he shouldn’t. And I’d like to help.”
“If Zach trusts you, so do I.” She didn’t examine why that was true, it just was. “I can use your help, but your current employment sounds like an interesting story.”
“It’s a long one, filled with lust, greed, stupidity, amazing success, and devastating failure. Not all that unique, and we won’t go into it today. There are plenty of others who’ll be happy to fill you in on the sordid details anytime you want.”
“Doubtful. I’m not exactly part of the popular clique here anyway.”
“Me, either. The guys like me fine out at the club. But here, they’re embarrassed to know that I know what they do during their off-hours. And the wives turn up their noses at me like I’m hog swill.”
It was true. The other workers acknowledged him only slightly more than they acknowledged her. And even though she didn’t mean to listen to the gossip about his recent return to town, she couldn’t help but overhear bits and pieces.
After achieving obscenely great financial success on Wall Street, Liam crashed and burned in a tabloid-worthy scandal of money and drugs that cost him his marriage, his bank account, his job, and his reputation. Broke and broken, he’d barely escaped having criminal charges brought against him before coming home to lick his wounds and try to pull his life back together. From the look of his edgy exterior, Harper guessed it was an ongoing struggle.
Meanwhile, he quietly and efficiently accepted the tasks Harper assigned him and kept on eye on the workers around him.
The second most memorable person was Hugh McMahon. Memorable, but not in a good way. Harper’s spidey senses tingled with distrust when he leered at her. “No need for you to mess up your manicure, Ms. Simmons. You can leave this mess to me, and I’ll get it set to rights in no time.”
“Why would I do that?”
Puffing out his chest, he presented her with an alligator smile, all pointy teeth and insincerity. “My construction company will be doing the major renovation work here.”
“Is that right? Says who?” She knew Hugh’s type. A conceited blow-hard who pretended to be friendly, but would lie to her face or stab her in the back first chance he got.
“The town council.” He looked around smugly. “It looks like it’ll be a bigger job than anybody expected.”
He rocked back on the heels of his unsullied work boots, and she was tempted to push him over onto his backside. If he mentioned anything about her not worrying her “pretty little head” about the details, Harper would do it.
“I appreciate your offer.” She returned his smile with one that rivaled his in lack of warmth. “I’ll discuss this business of a contract with your construction company with the council. They don’t have the authority to hire someone without my agreement, and I’m required to see a variety of the bids and appraisals before a decision is made.”
He looked at her with pity. “Just how many bids do you think there will be in a town this size?”
“The terms of the grant state that five bids are required.”
“If you get five, you’ll be getting them from any yahoo with a hammer and a couple of relatives pretending to be employees. That’s not what you want, missy. I’m the biggest and best construction company in the area. I have the most equipment and the biggest crew.”
“If we’re hiring a crew based on the Bigger is Better Theory, then I look forward to working with you after reviewing your proposal.”
Every time she came upon Hugh after that conversation, he pretended he was busy directing a group of guys. But they were all just holding up walls with their shoulders instead of putting forth a reasonable effort. They grumbled loudly every time she assigned them to task.
After an hour, most of his cronies had faded away, but Hugh stuck it out until two middle-aged men entered the library along with a younger man in uniform. Harper recognized two of the men from her Skype interview with the town council. Shaking their heads at the mess, they stopped to chat with Liam under one of the bigger, more colorful graffiti murals.
Chapter Seven
Upon closer inspection, the graffiti looked more polished, edgy, and less random than Harper had first thought. Maybe the distinctive style was a clue to the perpetrator even though she couldn’t detect a particular tag for the scenes. Surely someone who could paint like that had made a name for him- or herself in the area.
She thought about it while observing the interaction between Liam and the other three men. She witnessed the confident, relaxed, and smiling side of Liam, on equal ground with the others. When he waved them in Harper’s direction, Hugh McMahon slipped out a side door.
Well-made clothes always drew Harper’s eye, and the larger of the two men in civilian clothes knew how to dress. His collared shirt and pants were tailored to fit his extra-large body. Even his shoes were made of good Italian.
The smaller man had on well-worn jeans and a chambray work shirt with the sleeves rolled back. He had a short-clipped, no-nonsense haircut under a ball cap with a tractor logo on it. Wire-rimmed glasses didn’t hide the smile lines at the corners of his eyes. His square shoulders and perfect posture reminded Harper of the few military men she’d known. Despite his casual attire, he exuded an air of authority.
The uniformed guy was mid-thirties and muscular. He removed his uniform cap before speaking. “You must be Harper Simmons, the new librarian. Welcome to Sunnyside.” His hand was calloused when she shook it, firm and strong. “I’m Sheriff Jim Bowman. This is Mayor Mick Willoughby and town council member, Bert Marshall.”
“A pleasure to meet you in person,” she said to the Mayor and Bert and then turned back to the Sheriff. “I understand there’s a new baby at your house. Congratulations!”
“Thanks.” He rubbed his hand over tired eyes.
“A girl, right?”
“Yep, Maisie Rose. My wife and I sure hit the jackpot. She’s an angel, even if she did keep us up most of last night.”
“I hear that’s a hazard with newborns.” Harper admired the man’s unabashed enthusiasm for his child. “I hope I get to meet the baby and your wife soon.”
“You will. We plan to take her to the Fourth of July Festival and show her off for a little while,” he said and then turned to business. “I ran into Zach last night, and he filled me in on the situation here. I’ll need to ask some questions and get a statement from you when you have a few minutes.”
“Now is good, unless Mayor Willoughby and Mr. Marshall need to speak to me first.”
“We aren’t too formal around here. Feel free to call us Mick and Bert, please,” the Mayor said.
She flashed a smile of pleasure at the request. “I’d be happy to, if you’ll call me Harper.”
“Absolutely,” Bert agreed. “We’ll do it. You’re about the same age as my daughter, and it seems weird to use a title instead of your name.”
“But we’re not here to get in your hair,” the Mayor said. “After Zach called last night, Bert and I agreed to take a look around before our meeting today. You do
what you need to do, and we’ll see you at noon.”
The two men slapped Jimbo on the back and headed off on their own.
For someone who’d been up all night with a crying baby, the sheriff’s report was accurate and complete. Harper didn’t have much to add. He agreed that some of the damage had a personal vibe to it, but he didn’t know who was being targeted or why.
“I’ll figure it out, Miss Simmons,” he assured her. “Meanwhile, I’ll send a copy of the report to the town council so the insurance claim can be filed. I guess you’ll need a copy for your benefactor, too.”
“Yes, I will. But, Sheriff, do—”
“You might as well get used to calling me Jimbo, ma’am. Everyone around here does.”
“Thank you, Jimbo, and I’m not too used to answering to ‘ma’am,’ if you’d rather call me Harper.”
Looking up from his notes, he nodded. “Sure thing.”
“Before you go, I wanted to ask if you know which kids around here are graffiti artists? Are you familiar with their tags? Some of this looks too sophisticated for casual spraying. And most painters have their own distinctive style.”
He gave her a poker face. “It sounds like you know a bit about the subject.”
“In Chicago, many people consider graffiti an acceptable urban art form.”
“Do they now?” He pushed his cap back and scratched his forehead. “Around here we call it defacement of property.”
“That’s what I call it, too, when it’s sprayed all over the walls of my library. But under different circumstances, there have been many museum exhibits showcasing some of the artists ‘work’ in larger cities.”
Scowling, he scanned the walls. “I doubt we have an accomplished artist at work here.”
“Right, but it does point to a hobbyist with talent and experience. A couple of artists gave a demonstration at the library where I worked, and I learned that many stylists have their own distinctive style and a personal signature they call ‘tagging’. That might be helpful in tracking down this artist.”
