“I was wondering if we could speak to someone from the library staff about the f-fire?” I had to consciously push my shoulders down so I didn’t hunch up like a turtle.
“Oh, of course. I’ll get Gail—she’s the head of the circ staff. You just hold on one moment, sweetie.” The older librarian smiled at me and sashayed off, her mumu swinging with each step until she disappeared down a corridor that took her into a walled off office area.
The sweater clad junior librarian smiled at us. “Gail told us about the fire at a circ staff meeting this afternoon—it sounded terrifying.” She shivered. “My heart would have stopped seeing the flames so close to our building!”
Her inviting smile told me it was my turn to say something, and this was a good opportunity to start digging.
“I’m aware the fire was put out before it spread to the building, but I hope it didn’t cause any structural damage?” I gripped my belt with my hands—I figured that was better than wringing them like I wanted to.
“Nope.” The librarian shook her head. “The city already had a contractor come out and check on the wall—no damage. You can go look out—well, maybe wait until the day, I don’t know that you’ll be able to see anything now that it’s dark outside. But there’s a clear line—the fire stopped a foot or two short of the building.”
“How lucky,” I said.
“Here we are—Gail! These are the folks from the Curia Cloisters,” the older librarian proclaimed as she led a shorter woman, who was maybe in her mid-fifties, with short brown hair and friendly brown eyes.
“Yes, we’re here to do a follow up on last night’s fire,” I said. “My team and I were in the neighborhood at the time so we followed the firetrucks to the fire. My supervisor instructed me to check in. Tonight,” I awkwardly added.
The new librarian—Gail—didn’t mind my awkwardness. She ducked out around the circulation counter, greeting us as if we were old friends.
“Hello—welcome back to the Magiford Public Library! I’m glad this time it’s for a happier occasion.”
“Yes. Um.” I shifted awkwardly. “We were sorry to see the damage to your landscape yesterday.”
“Ahhh, yes,” Gail agreed. “Our entire peace garden is gone—which is a shame. We’d just added all the plants this year after a fundraising push, and we’d worked with a landscaper to focus on native plants that would be beneficial for local wildlife—particularly butterflies. It was quite difficult as many native flora that the butterflies prefer are plants traditionally considered weeds—oh, sorry, I’m rattling on! It’s an occupational hazard.”
Gail smiled brightly at us—I was just glad she didn’t seem spooked by my mask. “The gardens may be gone but at least the building and the collection wasn’t harmed, and almost all the statues survived!”
She seemed to expect a reply, so I hurried to chime in. “Right. Absolutely.”
I looked back to see if April or Binx looked at all inclined to add to the conversation. Binx’s eyebrows were still lowered with unhappiness, and April wore a mild smile and wouldn’t look at me.
That’s a no.
I hurriedly turned back to Gail. “I was wondering if I could ask a few questions about the fire.”
“Certainly—here, follow me. If we go back through the shelves, there’s a cozy spot where we can sit and talk.” Gail beckoned, then led the way through a well-organized formation of tall bookshelves—all of which stretched taller than I could reach.
Binx and April fell in line behind me. The deeper we went into the shelves, the quieter the library got. The occasional beep from the machines used to check out books grew muffled, replaced with a hushed silence of reverence that was interrupted occasionally by the sound of a book being pulled off a shelf or the crinkle of a page turning.
Gail led us out of the stacks and along a wall, pausing when we reached a hexagonal shaped room that was molded around an enormous gas fireplace and stone mantel.
It was their periodical room with racks of newspapers and magazines pressed against the wall and plush green couches arranged in the center. A man wearing bright blue robes was splayed out over one of the couches, a newspaper tented over his head. The newspaper hid his face so I couldn’t see much besides gray hair and the bottom of what had to be a very long gray beard. The paper rattled as the reader inhaled and then exhaled the loudest snore I’d ever heard. His hands resting on his chest were knobby and skinny.