(1T) Real murders by Harris Charlaine

Author:Harris, Charlaine [Harris, Charlaine]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 0792707524
Publisher: Bath, England ; Chivers Press ; 1991.
Published: 2009-04-21T06:07:59+00:00

I usually enjoyed my tour in Circulation. I got to stand at the big desk to one side of the main entrance. I answered questions and accepted the books, taking the fines if the books were overdue, sliding their cards back in and putting them on book carts for transportation back to their shelves. Or I checked the books out. If there was a lot of traffic, I got a helper.

Today was a slow day, which was good since my mind wouldn’t stay on my work but meandered down its own path. How close my mother had come to eating a piece of that candy. How Mamie’s head had looked from the back. How glad I was I hadn’t seen the front. Whether the importance of being the finder of the body had given Benjamin a new lease on life after the death of his political ambitions. How pleased I was about going out with Robin that night. How exciting I found Arthur Smith’s blue eyes.

I yanked my thoughts away from this half-pleasant half-frightening stream of thought to exchange desultory conversation with the volunteer sitting with me at the checkout desk: Lizanne Buckley’s father Arnie, a 66-year-old white-haired retiree with a mind like a steel trap. Once Mr. Buckley grew interested in a subject, he read everything he could find about it, and he forgot precious little of what he read. When he was through with that subject, he was through for good, but he remained a semi-authority on it. Mr. Buckley confessed on this warmish sleepy afternoon that he was beginning to find it difficult to find a new subject to research. I asked him how he’s found them before, and he said it had always happened naturally.

“For example, I see a bee on my roses. I say to myself, Gee! Isn’t that bee smaller than the one over on that rose? Are they the same kind of bee? Does this kind only get pollen from roses? Why aren’t there more roses growing wild if bees carry rose pollen all over? So I read up on bees, and maybe roses. But lately, I don’t know, nothing seems to jump out and grab me.”

I sympathized and suggested now that warmer weather would permit him to take more walks, a new subject would present itself.

“In view of what’s been happening in this town recently,” Mr. Buckley commented, “I thought it might be interesting to research murderers.”

I looked at him sharply, but he wasn’t trying to hint about the involvement of Real Murders members in the series of crimes.

“Why don’t you do that?” I asked after a minute.

“The books are all checked out,” he said.

“What?”

“Almost all the nonfiction books about murder and murderers are out,” he elaborated patiently.

That wasn’t so startling, once I had time to mull it over. All the members of Real Murders—all the former members of Real Murders—were undoubtedly boning up and preparing themselves however they could for what might happen.

But someone might be boning up to make the happening occur.

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