“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.
Gail smiled fondly at the snorer wearing the newspaper. “Ah—I forgot, one of our faithful patrons who frequents this room is here tonight. No matter—there’s another spot we can use!”
She led us off through the shelves again, zig zagging to the opposite side of the library. She stopped at a giant bay window—which showed the inky night—and sat down on a blue overstuffed chair.
There was a couch, a matching chair to the one Gail had taken, and a coffee table arranged between the three.
Binx and April immediately claimed the couch, leaving the chair for me, but I didn’t like the idea of sitting down even if this was for a casual interview. (Occupational hazard from my slayer days.)
Instead, I awkwardly stood at the open end of the coffee table.
“There we are! Now, ask me whatever you like,” Gail said.
“Do you mind if I take some notes?” I pulled my cellphone out of a pocket.
“Not at all. Go right ahead!”
“T-thank you.” I opened my notes app, and felt my awkwardness fade away as my work mode switched on. “I knowthe building was closed, but do you have any idea how the fire started?”
“None.” Gail shook her head, making her oversized dangly earrings—stacks of books shaped out of clay—bob. “We have security cameras, but they’re all pointed at the entrance and emergency exits. We reviewed the footage this morning, and you can see when the fire starts—it casts light on the dimmed entrance—but that’s it.”
It must have caught on fire fast for there to be a visible difference… unless that was just when the fire got big enough to notice?
“How was the fire department notified?” I asked.
“A patron who lives close enough to see the library from his house got up to let his dog outside and saw the fire, so he called the fire department. I shudder to think what would have happened if he hadn’t seen it!” Gail theatrically shivered, but the worry that clouded her kind brown eyes was real.
I tapped away on my cellphone. “Nobody reported seeing anything else?”
“No.” Gail said. “At least no one has said anything yet. It’s possible someone might come forward since the newspaper did an article about the fire today. Unless… did the supernaturals hear something?” Her gaze flickered from me to Binx and April.
