Stiffs and Swine (29 page)

Gillian smiled indulgently at him. “Hailey didn’t want to have anything to do with Jimmy’s camper. She was looking for a quick and easy solution to be rid of it and the idea to donate it to the library just
blossomed
in my mind out of nowhere. If you were able to get a hold of someone who does custom work on recreational vehicles, such as Richter’s RV Sales & Rentals, then you could
transform
the camper into something much more beneficial …” She trailed off and allowed James to picture her meaning.

“As in a bookmobile,” James breathed, overawed at his sudden good fortune. “Yes!” His mind raced with excitement. “I could use the donations we’ve received for a new vehicle toward making the necessary alternations. That means we’ll only have to rely on Wendell’s old school bus until R. C. can work some magic on our new bookmobile.”

“Precisely.” Gillian sighed in contentment. “You see, James. There are no coincidences. We were all meant to meet these particular fellow beings and to walk away
changed
by our interaction with them. Everything that happened here was predestined.” She gestured theatrically at the ceiling. “It was
all
written in the stars.”

James looked back at the title in his hands. “I guess wishing on those twinkling balls of gas really does pay off.” He then touched his friend on the arm. “Thank you, Gillian. Hundreds of patrons will benefit because of what you suggested to Hailey. You saved our bookmobile program. It’s practically the heart and soul of our library.”

Gillian shook her head. “No, James.
You’re
the heart and soul of that library. And all of Quincy’s Gap knows it.”

Flushed with embarrassment, James tucked the title into his pocket. He checked his watch, his visions filled with the upcoming transformation of Jimmy’s luxurious RV into the most cutting-edge bookmobile in all of western Virginia. James interrupted Bennett’s conversation with Deputy Neely about the upcoming Virginia Tech football season by saying, “It’s time to hit the road, Bennett. I’m ready to go home.”

The Fitzgerald twins knew that their boss wouldn’t make it into work until close to lunchtime, and they had trouble going about their tasks with their usual amount of fervor due to their curiosity over exactly how the unpleasant events in Hudsonville had turned out. When James had phoned them at home to say that he would be late and that they would have to open the library, he had sounded elated. However, their boss had claimed that he was in too much of a hurry to explain the source of his good mood or provide more details about his plan to catch Martin Trotman engaging in illicit activities within the hallowed halls (or restroom) of the Shenandoah County Library.

Francis was the first to spot James’s old white Bronco pulling into the parking lot. James breezed in, clutching a Polaroid facedown in one hand and the battered briefcase from his days as a professor at William & Mary in the other.

“Gentlemen.” His face was beaming. “Gather ’round.”

“What’s that a photo of, Professor?” Scott pointed at the Polaroid.

James flipped the picture upright and the twins gazed at an enormous recreational vehicle. “I come bearing excellent news. This is Hailey, our new bookmobile.”

“Whoa!” Francis leaned over the photo until his heavy glasses slid down his nose. “How did you manage this, Professor?”

“It was donated to our library,” James answered. “I’ll tell you the whole story later. Right now, let’s get down to brass tacks over how we’re going to coerce our teenage criminal into confession. Show me your surveillance gadgets.”

Scott rubbed his hands together and elbowed his brother at the same time. “Bro, don’t we have the coolest job?”

Several hours later, once James had finally turned off the lights and locked the library’s front door, he slid into his Bronco and headed for Main Street.

“You must be as tired as me, old girl,” he said, affectionately rubbing the worn leather of the steering wheel, “But we’ve got one more thing to do before we go home.”

As James climbed the stairs to Murphy’s second-floor apartment, he felt a growing sadness at the realization that he was probably ascending to her door for the last time. He thought about how many summer evenings he had practically leapt up the stairs, taking them two at a time, in his eagerness to see his girlfriend. Today, he trudged up each one and even his knock was tinged with regret. As though sensing who stood on her front mat, Murphy took several moments to respond to his knock.

She opened the door slowly, a halfhearted smile of greeting on her face. “I thought I might see you tonight,” she said in a heavy voice. “At least you’ve come to tell me in person. I hate being dumped over the phone.” When James didn’t speak, she stared at him for a few moments, perhaps hoping that he would argue the reason for his visit, and gestured for him to come inside. “Would you like some wine?” she asked.

“No, thank you.” James looked around at the neat, familiar living room. He had always felt comfortable in Murphy’s home. He liked her sense of orderliness and how she had decorated each room using neutral tones. Her beiges and creamy coffee colors were highlighted with bright splashes of the primary hues in the pillows, table runner, and still-life paintings she bought from local artists.

Looking over her place, James suddenly became aware that he didn’t want to go back to living in his boyhood bedroom. He’d like a place of his own, where he could listen to music without hearing his father’s blistering commentary on every song, where he could choose what show to watch on television, and where he could entertain his friends without clearing it with Jackson first.

Murphy had disappeared during James’s musing. She now returned from the doorway of her spare bedroom, which also served as a home office, with a shopping bag in one hand and a rectangular box in the other. She dropped the bag by her feet and held the box out to him, as though it was a valuable offering.

“This is the book. The first one, that is,” she added sheepishly. “You can read it if you like.”

James kept his hands down at his sides. “It’s too late for that, Murphy.”

Murphy placed the box on a table, tears forming in her eyes. “I’m sorry. I guess I wanted it all. The paper, the book, and you. But it didn’t work out how I hoped it would.”

“It could have.” James felt anger stirring but fought to quell it. This was not the time to assign blame. They had moved beyond that point now. “You should have trusted me, Murphy. We never stood a chance once you told me about the book. You should have explained what you were doing before you signed a contract.”

“I should have?” Murphy was doubtful. “Are you telling me that you would have supported my work, knowing that I was writing about you and your friends?”

James shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe I would have read some and protested about certain things. Maybe I would have begged you not to submit the manuscript for publication. I don’t know what I would have done, and now we’ll never know, because you didn’t trust me. Without trust, there’s no point in us being together.”

Murphy fell silent and then reluctantly nodded. “I know.” She picked up the shopping bag and handed it to him. “This is just some stuff you kept around here. I almost stole your
Best Country Duets
CD,” she teased morosely. “But I can get my own copy.”

Digging the CD out of the bag, James set it on the coffee table. “It’s yours.”

“So … are you going to talk to me anymore?” Murphy asked after a brief hesitation. “I mean, I don’t want you to say the
we can be friends
line, but are we going to be civil? Friend
ly
, at least?”

“Of course. We’re Southerners, remember?” James joked and then took a step toward her and gave her a tender kiss on the cheek. “There are no hard feelings, Murphy. I still want you to succeed in all you do. I don’t know how I’m going to feel about that book when it’s released, but I’ll deal with that when the time comes. That’s the best I can offer right now.”

“Fair enough.” Murphy squeezed his hand and walked him to the door. Part of him longed to wipe away the twin tears racing down her chin, but he let them fall undisturbed. “Good night, James Henry,” Murphy whispered and then closed her door.

James sat in his Bronco for a moment, grieving the loss of the happiness he had felt with Murphy Alistair. He stared up at her building, at her bedroom window, and at the sheer, white curtains that billowed in the breeze like a pair of tethered ghosts. When the light came on in the room, James started his engine and drove into the night.

By Friday afternoon,
James and the Fitzgerald brothers did their best to appear as though the evening shift at the Shenandoah County Library was business as usual. Scott and Francis had outdone themselves in regard to wiring the men’s restroom with a tiny camera. Scott, who wired the camera to a computer set up in the custodial closet, was now manning the “control center,” and Francis was shelving books. The twins had played rock, paper, scissors to determine who had to sit in the lightless closet on surveillance duty and who got to replace stray books. Francis, who had his paper cut by Scott’s scissors twice in a row, lost with grace.

The regular crowd of high school seniors had returned, including nerdy Harris and Martin’s short-skirted female assistant, but along with these two regulars, James noticed that there were half a dozen college-aged kids he had never seen before and a few additional twentysomethings milling about the magazine section.

Harris had stationed himself at one of the computers in the Technology Corner and was trying to appear innocuous. James watched with interest as Francis walked over to the young man and calmly whispered to him behind his shoulder. Harris’s eyes snapped open in alarm, and then he gathered his things and stood, briefly shaking Francis’s hand on his way out. When Francis turned to James and issued a contrite shrug, James sent him a thumbs-up, letting the twin know that he heartily approved of giving Harris a chance at a clean slate. After all, both the Fitzgerald brothers and their boss knew what it was like to be a bookish and shy high school boy desperate to be accepted by the popular crowd.

Sometimes we act really dumb in the search for acceptance
, James thought. And though he wasn’t looking to punish the wayward teens, James wanted them to learn a lesson they’d never forget so that they’d stop using illegal and potentially dangerous drugs.

It didn’t take long for the noise level inside the library to rise to the point where the older patrons began to cast searching looks in James’s direction. Mrs. Waxman, who refused to take the evening off and miss all the excitement, made a cursory sweep through the magazine section, frowning and shushing as she breezed by. The teens quieted momentarily and then resumed their raucous banter with renewed vigor as the elderly librarian returned to the information desk.

Finally, when James feared that Martin was truly going to spend the evening absorbed in the library’s September issue of
Bon Appétit
, Martin whispered into the ear of the giggling blonde seated beside him and sauntered off to the lobby. This was the point at which James would know whether his guess as to Martin’s destination was correct. The young man could linger in the lobby, or he could turn, as James supposed, and enter the men’s restroom. Nodding briefly to Francis, James pretended to busy himself on the computer at the circulation desk, but all he did was scroll up and down Yahoo!’s home page while his heart thumped loudly in his chest. Seconds later, one of the college students also left the magazine area, and James waited impatiently, reading the weekend’s forecast several times over. It looked like much-needed rain was on its way.

At last, Scott emerged from the janitor’s closet and slipped behind the circulation desk. “I saw the deal, Professor. Martin handed that other kid a snack-sized plastic baggie and the guy gave him some money. Martin pocketed the money and then made a mark on a piece of paper. Looks like he’s got several people waiting to buy from him tonight.”

“Could you tell what was in the baggie?” James whispered.

Scott shook his head. “Not exactly. The film quality’s too grainy, and it was kind of small. I couldn’t even see how much money Martin took in.”

“My beloved library is being ill-used.” James scowled. “That’s one young man who could get mighty sick off those drugs if it’s the same laced stuff Donny Trotman hoped to buy from Jimmy Lang. Time for part two of the plan. Alert Francis and Mrs. Waxman.”

Scott walked purposely toward Francis and handed him a book to be reshelved. The book was
Old Yeller
, and it was code that part two was taking place. Francis then handed Mrs. Waxman a copy of
Spot Goes to School
to be returned to the children’s section. Mrs. Waxman issued a satisfied smile and bustled off. James watched his devoted employees as he dialed Lucy’s cell phone number. She answered immediately and promised to come right over.

It was at that moment that James saw the college student who had been Martin’s first customer return to the magazine section. He elbowed one of his buddies, took the magazine from his hands, and sank into the upholstered chair his friend had vacated. He looked quite pleased with himself.

“Hurry, Lucy,” James muttered as Martin’s second customer headed for the bathroom.

Scott lingered for a few minutes at the Tech Corner and then disappeared into the closet again. James abandoned the circulation desk and dashed into his office, just in time to see Lucy’s sheriff’s cruiser pull into the parking lot. Something about the sight of her in uniform, opening the rear door so that all three of her monstrously large German shepherds could exit the car, flooded James with relief. Lucy said she knew exactly how to handle the situation at the library, and James had complete faith in her.

Lucy led her dogs straight into the library, bypassing the restrooms, and met James at the circulation desk. They exchanged casual small talk and James did his best not to try to gauge the reaction of the cluster of students in the magazine section who were now sharing a space with a member of the local law enforcement and her enormous canines.

“These guys have been out on patrol and are super thirsty,” Lucy said, her voice well above a whisper as she gestured at Bono, Benatar, and Bon Jovi. “Do you have a bowl or something I can use for water?”

“Sure thing,” James gave his scripted answer. “In the custodial closet out in the lobby. You can fill the bowl up in the restroom. I’ll show you.”

“Thanks,” Lucy said, and she turned away, the dogs trailing her with bright, eager eyes and open mouths. All three of them seemed to be smiling in anticipation, their pink tongues hanging over a row of pointy teeth.

Lucy paused for a minute at the open door of the closet, but it was long enough to her to witness the exchange between Martin and his second customer. Unfortunately, one of the dogs saw something exciting out the front door and issued a single, resounding bark. On Scott’s computer screen, the two young men looked at one another in apprehension. The customer hastened to exit the restroom while Martin retreated into a stall. His friend gestured for him to hurry and they both left the bathroom, coming to an abrupt halt before the black muzzles of three snarling hounds.

“Hello, gentleman.” Lucy raised her eyebrows and allowed her dogs a few additional inches of leash.

The college student looked terrified, but Martin did his best to maintain his customary look of nonchalance.

“Do you smell something?” Lucy asked her dogs and they barked in a unified response. Lucy narrowed her eyes at the two boys standing before her. “You wouldn’t be carrying anything my K-9 officers would be interested in, now would you?”

The college student paled but remained silent.

“Like a bone?” Martin scoffed.

Lucy gave the dogs even more slack. The college student inched backward toward the restroom. “N-no,” he whimpered, his eyes never leaving the three sets of flashing white teeth aimed directly at his crotch.

“Let’s just see about that, shall we?” Lucy released one of the dogs completely from its tether. “Seek, Bono, seek.”

The shepherd with the blackest coat made a beeline for the college student. After sniffing up and down the legs of his pants one time, the young man shrieked like a little girl assaulted by a spider and then plunged his hands into his hooded sweatshirt, which bore the Greek letters of a fraternity, and tossed the plastic baggie he had acquired from Martin onto the ground. “Here! Get him away from me! Get him away!”

Lucy took a step forward and reclaimed Bono. She made no move toward the package on the floor. “You,” she ordered the college student. “Go back and sit with your friends. Tell them no one is free to leave without my say-so.”

As the shaken young man scuttled back into the library, Martin shoved his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket. “You can search me, lady. I’m clean.”

Ignoring him, Lucy opened the restroom door and gestured for Martin to follow her inside. She then held her finger out to James, indicating that he should remain in the lobby.

James immediately jerked open the door to the janitor’s closet so that he could see what Lucy planned to do, but was surprised to see that Scott’s computer screen was filled with snow. “What happened?” he asked anxiously.

“Ms. Hanover told Martin to pull the camera out of the ceiling.” Scott replied in shock. “What is she doing in there?”

“I can’t imagine,” James answered and began to pace around the lobby.

He didn’t have long to wait for Lucy, however, for she re-emerged from the bathroom just in time to greet Deputy Glenn as he strode through the front door. “The goods are under the ceiling tile above the second toilet,” she told him. “Martin’s inside. He’ll show you.”

Donning his sternest expression, Glenn brushed by Lucy and stormed into the bathroom. A minute later, he led Martin out. James noticed that the teen was handcuffed and seemed close to tears. His head was bowed and his tread was so reluctant that Glenn had to practically drag him from the lobby to the front door.

“What did you say to Martin in there?” James asked Lucy once Glenn and his captive were outside.

“All I did was have him rip down the camera,” Lucy said with a smirk. “Then, I told him there were no witnesses and my dogs were very, very hungry. He told me he’s been selling pot and fake IDs all summer and that his cousin Donny was his supplier. He also told me that there’s very little real pot left in those bags because Donny was unable to provide him with a fresh supply. Apparently, Martin’s mixed traces of pot with tea leaves, tobacco from the inside of cigarettes, and some of his own Ritalin.” She shook her head. “What an idiot! Good thing we got the stuff before anyone actually smoked it. They could have gotten really sick!”

She stroked the heads of her dogs. “Listen, I’m gonna speak to the rest of the kids in there,” she said. “But at the end of my little lecture, I’m gonna let them go. We’ve got nothing on them, except for the two who paid Martin, and we can only question them if Martin gives us their names.” She turned to Scott and put a hand on his shoulder. “You did a fine job with this setup, Scott. You and your brother are mighty talented. You tell Francis I said so, will you?”

Scott’s cheeks flushed with pleasure. As he watched Lucy enter the main room of the library, he cast a sideways glance at his boss. “She’s so cool, Professor.”

James watched his friend march toward the magazine section. “I’ve always thought so.”