Like a Book in the Library

Chapter 1

Dellie inserted the old photograph into the small black corner holders of the photo album.  The photo showed the old library back when it was new, just opening to the public in the 1940s.  Balloons were tied to the front railings where a large ribbon stretched across the front doors.  The first library manager stood with several other city officials, all were posed to cut the ribbon.  Dellie sometimes found it hard to believe that the event took place more than 60 years ago, but a quick look around the old library told her that it wasn’t that difficult to see the old building saw better days.  She reached for another old photo when a slight beeping caught her attention.  She looked around, but couldn’t place the sound.  Dellie left the reference desk and started making a quick circuit around the small library. 

The five patron computers were occupied with busy patrons, diligently taping away at they’re social network pages while several more patrons stood around them like vultures waiting for an empty space.  The beeping wasn’t coming from there.  Dellie walked a few steps to the small Teen Corner, but no beeping was emanating from there as well.  She walked down the aisles looking into each row of books, but they stood mostly empty.  She heard the beeping become stronger, and was able to follow the sound.  She turned down the first row of non-fiction to find a man holding some weird device up to the back wall.  The device beeped madly as he swept it back and forth.

“Sir, Can I help you?”

“Do you realize you have a strong EMF in this area?  That’s amazing!” the man said, as he began checking his other devices.  “I also register a 10 degree difference in temperature!  That can only mean one thing!  Ghosts!”

“Or it could mean you are standing in a draft.”

“But that doesn’t explain the EMF!”

“This building has lousy wiring.  Most of the outlets haven’t worked right in years.”

“But the age and history of the building...”

“Look, mister, I know you mean well, but please put the ghost hunting equipment away.  It’s disturbing the customers.”

“Uh, oh, sorry.”  The man pocketed his equipment and wandered off.  Dellie rolled her eyes, it was always something with these people.

I can’t believe grown adults walk around and wave those things like they have all the answers, she thought.

Dellie went back to the reference desk only to find that a draft had blown half the photos on the floor.  She bent to pick them up and saw one from before the building was turned into a library.  It belonged to a small-town mobster known as Little Joey back in the 1920s and 30s.  He had ties to some of the larger crime bosses in the area.  The building itself was both his private residence and a speakeasy.  The stories told about what went on in this location during those times are legendary in the area.  The supposed deaths in the location brought out all sorts of characters, everyone from well-renowned historians to very amateur ghost hunters.  Dellie herself never saw anything that she would call ‘ghostly activity,’ but Dellie was quite the skeptical sort when it came to ghosts.

Dellie did however, enjoy the stories and the history of the building, which made putting together the photo albums all the more bittersweet.  She looked over at her small desk calendar.  In a month’s time, the old building will close for good and be torn down to make room for the new library.  It was hard to see history discarded like that, but the old building required too many repairs and too much money.  While there was an half-hearted attempt to save the old structure, most everyone in the community concluded that a new building was the better way to go, particularly since it offered more computers and free wi-fi service. 

The fight over one of the reference computers brought Dellie out of her daydream.  With a sigh and determined step, she broke the patrons up and kicked them out for the day. 

Maybe a new building will be nice, she thought.  It would definitely be better to have more space.  But what she really wanted and what she was really hoping to find was the hidden treasure that was supposedly stashed in the building.  With the money in that cache, Dellie could retire and live the comfortable life instead of babysitting grown adults who didn’t know how to take turns on a computer.

Dellie sorted through the photos again.  She told the manager that she was preserving history for when the building was torn down, but really she was collecting evidence.  She knew that the secret to the hidden treasure has to be in the stories and pictures left over from the building’s 90 years of life.  The way the building creaked and moaned, like it was trying to clue Dellie into its secrets, only spurred her search on.  She flipped through some of the old newspapers she copied from the microfilms.  They detailed Little Joey’s arrest and subsequent trial, but they all really focused on one thing; where was the money?  The police estimated that half of Little Joey’s money was missing.  They couldn’t find any trace of it being spent or given to someone and Little Joey took the secret to his grave.  The leading theory is that it was hidden in his residence.  And since no one in the library has found the money yet, it could only mean that it was still here, waiting to be discovered.

Speakeasies became big during the Prohibition years.  They were typically run by mobsters, such as the library’s former owner.  A product of their time, the idea of a speakeasy as a hidden getaway for folks to gamble and drink almost seems quaint and romantic by today’s standards. 

Most speakeasy establishments at the time were equipped with hidden passages, rooms, and sub-basements all in an effort to hide bootleg liqueur and illegal gambling.  The library building housed several hidden rooms, most had long since been opened up to be easily accessible.  Some of the hidden passages were turned into storage space.  The upstairs residence was now office space and meeting room space.  Considering how close the library was to the river, there was no real basement let alone a sub-basement.  Considering some of the construction that took place during the building’s conversion into a library, it’s not entirely impossible that the money was found and quietly pocketed.

Dellie refused to believe that the money was already gone.  She just needed to look a little closer.  She reviewed her notes.  Little Joey liked to keep to himself and his favorite room in the house was the upstairs study, what is now the library manager’s office.  Of course the current library manager, Joe, likes to spend all his time in there as well.  She was going to need to get him out of there if she wanted a chance to search the room.  Dellie was still thinking up various ways to get the manager out of his office when she realized that the day had worn down and it was closing time. 

She rounded up everybody out the door and did her final sweeps to make sure the library was empty before she locked up.  As she was rounding the corner she came found the ghost hunter gentleman again.  He didn’t notice her so Dellie stood back a little to watch him.  He tapped on some of the baseboards, stopping every few times to hear for hollow passages.  Every so often he’ll make a notation in a small spiral notebook, then continue on in the same manner.  He came close to the spot where Dellie first found him.  Instead of pulling out his ghost hunter equipment, he pulled out a small blueprint of the building. 

Dellie narrowed her eyes at him.  She knew what he was doing.  Like so many people before, he was looking for the mobster’s hidden treasure.  Well it wasn’t his to find!  That was her treasure and this was her library.  Dellie quickly raced forward and slammed the man’s head into the wall.  The man barely made a sound as he was knocked unconscious.  She dragged the man toward the back fire door.  Thankfully, the city decided not to install an alarm on the door so it did not make a noise when she opened it.  She pushed the man out the door and quickly locked the door again.

“Hey Dellie!  What’s taking so long?  Are we locked yet?”  Rick called.

“No, a patron didn’t want to leave easily.”  Dellie said.

She hurried to finish locking up.  The rest of the staff, only five of them, were already standing by the staff entrance ready to leave.

“He must have been trouble if it took this long to get him to go,” Joe said.

“Some people just don’t want to respect the closing time,” Rick laughed.

“Yeah, lucky we have Dellie here to enforce the rules,” said Mary.

“Ha, ha, I’m ready to go now, let’s get out of here,” Dellie smiled.

The winter sun had long set and the chill promised another cold front was moving through.  The staff disbursed to their cars, parked a street over since there was not enough parking spaces by the library.  Dellie lingered behind, watching her co-workers get in their cars and leave.  She doubled-backed to the library and its emergency entrance.  The man was still unconscious on the ground.

I can’t just leave him here, he’ll know it was me who did this to him, Dellie thought.  Her eyes drifted to the river.  It was deep enough and fast enough.  Her stomach twisted at the idea of doing something so horrible. 

It’s not in my nature, she thought. I’m not some kind of monster.  She dragged the man by his arms to the edge of the retaining wall.  If he wakes up he could swim to safety. She pushed him over the edge.  The body made a sickening crack as it hit the shallow river bank.  Dellie stared down, but it was too dark to see.

Chapter 2

         The stocky, dark haired detective stared down at the body laying in the river.  It bobbed and dipped as the recovery crew tried to secure the body to bring it back up.  The man laid on his back staring straight up back at him.  The crisp morning air made the detective shiver and drink his coffee for warmth.  He stared behind him at the library.  The derelict building just stared back, swaying on its foundation.  He felt like he was being mocked.

         “Tell me you have something, Jasp,” the detective said.  A small, middle-aged man turned to him and shook his head.

         “I'll know more once we get him out of there and back to the lab, Detective Pratt,” Jasp said.  “But with the cold water and low temps, it'll be hard to pin down a time of death.”

         “Yeah, I know, but I need something to start with,” Detective Pratt said.  He nodded at Jasp and turned to head into the library.  The branch manager called earlier to report the man in the river.  Sadly, there was nothing to do for him but fish him out, he had long been dead.  Might as well question the staff, the detective thought.  Something tells me this is going to be a strange case. He entered the building hoping to escape the chill only to find that it was just as cold inside as it was outside.

         “Don't you have heat in this place?” he grumbled.

         “It doesn't work right, the building is so drafty that it just doesn't even pay to run it,” a petite, brown haired woman said.  She stood off to the side, staring out one of the windows that overlooks the river.

         “And you are?” Detective Pratt asked, staring at her ample form that hid in her conservative dress.

         “Delphina Bruce, but everyone calls me Dellie,” she half-smiled. 

         “Delphina?”  He couldn't get over that name.           

         “Mom was a romance novel junkie, I'm afraid I'm the victim of one too many Harlequin romance novels.”  Dellie smiled a bit bigger this time around.  “Sad about the man in the river.  But this building has a way of dragging down people.”

         “What do you mean dragging down people?”  Detective Pratt asked, he liked her smile and wouldn't mind getting to know her better.

         “Something always seems to happen here,”  she said.  “He's not the first to die on this property or near the building.  I have a whole book full of stories of people who died here or supposedly died here.”  She wrapped her sweater tight around herself, crossing her arms in front of her bosom.  The detective was sad to have his view of her chest obscured.

         “So there really are stories about that.  I mean people really died here.”

         “Yes, it's well documented.  Many well respected historians have written articles and books about the building's history, mostly about its most famous owner, Little Joey.  It also brings out the loonies.”

         “The loonies?”

         “Ghost hunters, psychics, spirit communicators, you name it, we've had them crawling all over this place.  Just yesterday I had to kick one out of the library for walking around with their beeping gadgets.”

         “Any other trouble yesterday?”

         “Just the usual, grown adults typically act worst than the children and teens.  It's quite disgusting.  They fight over the computers, fight over parking spaces, fight over the last best seller on the shelf...”  Dellie shook her head.  “It's enough to make you crazy.  Whatever happened to civility?”

         “Don't know,” Detective Pratt said.  “But I'm sure it got dumped in the river much like my poor victim out there.”

         Dellie gave a shiver and pulled her sweater tighter.  She swallowed hard, like she had a  lump in her throat and blinked back some tears.  She looked at the detective and for the first time really noticed how good looking he was.  She smiled a little and gave a small nod.

         “I have to get back to work.” she whispered and hurried away.

         That was interesting, the detective mused.  She either knows something or is very empathetic.  Possibly the latter, she seems too mild-mannered to attack a man and toss him in the river.

         Detective Pratt headed deeper into the library.  He stopped and asked one of the clerks where the branch manager was.  After heading up a creaking staircase and passing the meeting room he found a solid oak door with the manager's nameplate on it.  A brief knock and the door opened to an exquisite office.  The one wall was filled with built-in dark wood bookcases, the floor looked like original hardwood flooring, and the desk that occupied most of the room was ornately carved and stained to match the other dark woods.  The large picture window overlooked the river.  From here, the detective was able to see the police and rescue crew still hard at work processing the scene below. 

         It was an impressive office that hardly seemed fit for library branch manager.  Most of the furniture looked like it would be more at home in a museum or some CEO's top floor office.  The impressive effect was spoiled by the amount of clutter that covered all the surfaces.  Books, papers, magazine, catalogs were all haphazardly stacked on any available surface.  Some were already spilling onto the floor.  It was hard to see how anyone could work in there or find anything.

         “Hello? Mr. Sullivan?” Detective Pratt called.

         “Yes, I'm here,” called a voice from under the desk.  A head covered in white hair that gave the man a distinct impersonation of a dandelion popped up and looked over at the detective.  “Come in, Come in!  I just dropped something.”

         How can you tell, the detective thought as he stepped into the room.

         Mr. Sullivan got back up and placed some papers on his desk.  He was chubby man with a raspy voice and thick glasses.  He sat down and motioned for the detective to do the same.  The detective discreetly moved a stack of books from one of the chairs opposite the branch manager and sat down.

         “Mr. Sullivan...”

         “Please call me Joe.”

         “Sure, Joe, I'm Detective Pratt.  Can you tell me how you found the body?”

         “I came in early today, around 8:30, I usually get here closer to nine.  When I pulled up there were a bunch of ravens, or are those crows, well those blackbirds that like to hang around all the time were gathering over by the retaining wall.  I could see that they were interested in something so I walked over to see what.  We've had problems with illegal dumping in the past, I mean nothing like this...” he gestured vaguely to the window with his hand.  “But some people don't really care about things like the environment.  Anyway I looked over the side and there he was just staring back up at me.  It was the creepiest thing I've ever seen.  I mean I was a Corpsman in the Navy and seen some stuff so I'm not squeamish, but that felt like a scene out of a horror movie.”

         “Anybody else around at that time?”

         “No, the staff usually comes in around nine to set up for the day, the library opens at ten.”

         “What's the total number of staff here?” the detective asked.  He scribbled notes on his pad, ready to take names.

         “Well, let's see, there's myself, Dellie the reference librarian, Rick one of the circulation clerks, Mary the other circulation clerk and Micha the children's librarian.  We're a pretty small group here.”  Joe said as he glanced at the clock on the wall and fidgeted with his pen.

         “Hmmm, was everybody here last night at closing?”

         “Yes, we all lock up the building and walk out to our cars together for safety.”

         “Nobody hanging around the building after closing?”

         “I think Dellie had a difficult patron who didn't want to leave.”

         “Really?  Did she say anything else about that?”  Detective Pratt made a note to question Dellie about the straggler. 

         “No not really, but that's not too odd.  A lot of people treat us as their personal office and supply store,”  Joe tapped his pen faster on the desk.  “They often believe we should stay open longer just for them.  Dellie's pretty tough, she's not afraid to kick people out.”

         The detective stared at the pen beating a swift rhythm out on the desk.  The man looked antsy, like he had a million other things to do that day than answer questions.  His behavior coupled with the neglected work that was strewn about his office raised the detective's suspicions. 

         What's he hiding, the detective thought.  His awfully distracted by something other than this crime.  I know a lot changes is happening here, maybe the stress is effecting him.

         “A lot of changes going on here,” the detective asked cautiously.  “How is the staff handling everything?”

         Joe looked up.  The question took him by surprise.  He scrunched his eyebrows together as he thought about the past few months as the library got ready for closing and rebuilding kicked into high gear.

         “Everybody is handling well I would say,” he said after a minute or two.  “There's a general buzz in the air and many people are excited about getting a new library building.  It promises to be state of the art and LEED certified.”  The manager smile proudly as if announcing he was the parent of a healthy bouncing baby boy to the detective.

         Detective Pratt nodded.  “That's good to hear.  I know this is a stressful time for everyone.  Right now I'm just trying to sort out who this guy might be.  I suppose you didn't have any problems yesterday?”

         “You'll have to ask Dellie.  She handles most of those problems first before sending them my way.”

         “Thank you, I think I'll go do that now.”  The detective stood up.  Joe seemed happy to have the interview done with.  He smiled and quickly showed the detective to the door and all but slammed it behind him.  There was an small, but audible, click as the lock was slid into place.

         Well, that's interesting, Detective Pratt mused.  He turned and headed back downstairs to find Dellie.  It seems she held the answers to some of the puzzle that was this investigation.