Michael Guillebeau - MAD Librarian - You Gotta Fight for Your Right to Library

“Wasn’t so much that they had to come out, but that they needed to be heard by you. Really heard. I can let you ride along this once, but we’re not going to make a habit of it.”

“I understand. You’re the detective. You’re in charge.”

Another mile marker passed in silence.

“It’s just that I’d like to know what’s going on in my library,” Serenity said. “And because it happened in my library, I might know things that might help you. If you’ll listen to me.”

The glass-and-steel buildings of Research Park, home of rocket scientists, geneticists and other specialists whose titles would take a technical dictionary to decipher, had replaced the pine trees that used to separate the small town of Maddington from the city. Their architects might be proud of the buildings but they looked like high-tech prisons to Serenity.

“You’re not a cop. Plain and simple.”

“I’m a cop’s wife, and I took the auxiliary training years ago so I could ride with you when you needed me.”

“That was for little things.”

“Remember when we spent the night on the stake out? Remember what I did?”

His back stiffened. “I kept my eyes on the house we were watching the whole time.”

“Wasn’t your eyes I was interested in,” Serenity said. “And remember, I’ve got my own gun and my own training from Maddington’s finest, and my own carry permit.”

“Tell me you’re not carrying a gun.”

“Not today.”

More buildings slid by.

Serenity said, “Just trying to help.”

Joe grunted his thanks, but was silent the rest of the way downtown. He pulled into an “Official Business Only” slot in front of the old post office, which now housed the federal court and federal offices.

Serenity stepped out of the truck, waited for Joe, and tried to make small talk.

“I like these old antebellum buildings in Jericho and Maddington, back from when they were just two sleepy cotton towns.”

Joe said, “Be better off if all those German rocket scientists hadn’t come to Jericho in the fifties, building moon rockets and tech empires that turned Jericho and Maddington from honest little towns into corrupt feeding troughs for every kind of two-bit crook and bent politician.”

She looked at him. “We’re just full of sunshine and happiness today.”

He had been walking fast, which made her hustle to keep up with him. Now he stopped and stared at her.

“We’re here on a murder investigation, you know. A man has been killed.”

“Doesn’t mean you can’t keep the joy of Jesus in your heart.”

“You’re not even religious.”

“I’m a Southern woman. We invoke Jesus whenever we need to.”

She elbowed past him, quick-stepped, and held the courthouse door open for him.

They made their way through the guard and metal detector in the lobby, the guard in the FBI’s outer office on the third floor, and then the soldier stationed with an M15 who was guarding the inner offices. Finally, Rashad Tavana came out and gave Serenity a big hug.

“So,” said Serenity, “it looks like the FBI is keeping the world safe. Or at least spending a lot of money to keep the FBI safe.”

He smiled. “Got to start somewhere. Keep it safe here. We could even keep Maddington High School baseball games safe, too, if we could rein in you and my wife from threatening the refs.”

“They had it coming,” Serenity said. “And for the record, Pearl—your wife—was the ringleader and I was the follower.”

“Not the way she tells it,” Tavana said. “I kept elbowing Joe, saying ‘This is local. You’re going to have to be the one to arrest them if things get out of hand.’”

“And the fact that I’m here, and not in jail, is proof that Pearl and I never got out of hand.”

“And now both boys are out of high school, miraculously. Joseph still playing baseball?”

Joe shrugged and Serenity said “Yes,” and Tavana looked back and forth between them. After an awkward pause, he said, “So, Joe, I guess you’re here to come to work for the Bureau? Brought Serenity to negotiate your salary?”

“Got too much work where I’m at to try to move up to the big leagues,” said Joe.

“I keep telling you, the big leagues are where you belong.”

Tavana turned to Serenity. “You may not believe this, but your big, sloppy-looking dude is a helluva good cop. Got a way of finding out anything, getting anybody to tell him anything.”

“I believe it.”

“He’s too good to be wasting his time on small crimes in a small town.”

“Think globally, act locally,” said Joe. “Life in a city like Jericho—or a smaller suburb like Maddington—is where the rubber meets the road. Standing back behind federal laws and three levels of protection is not where I belong.”

Tavana shrugged. “That protection may be necessary, these days. Jericho’s got so much high-tech money flowing now that it’s turned into one of the most corrupt cities around, with the most corrupt politicians. Maddington’s turning into a dirty little city, too, although right now your politicians are too inept to be crooked. But the people who truly have the power aren’t.”

Tavana turned back to Serenity. “Did he tell you how his partner got hurt?”

Serenity turned to Joe. “Carl strained his back, is what he told me.”

“Strained his back after an ‘unknown assailant’ slammed an aluminum bat into it,” Tavana said. “City made him write it up as an accident, since the guy had friends at city hall.”

“And that’s why I can’t leave Maddington PD, Rashad,” said Joe. “I’m not going to let them win.”

“And if the bosses in Maddington don’t let you investigate the big dogs and prosecute anybody with money, how are you going to stop them? You need something bigger than what you’ve got to win this war.”

“Wars aren’t won by generals safe in a clean war room surrounded by armed guards. Wars are won by dirty grunts on the ground.”

Tavana nodded, “Well, let’s talk about something a little safer. Serenity, how’s the library?”

“Actually,” she said, “that’s what we’re here to talk about. Your dirty little city came into our library today.”

Joe said, “You know an agent of yours named Kendall? Worked with us on the Mangum case?”

Tavana turned serious. He walked to his chair, and sat down at his big walnut desk with his nameplate between the Hammers and himself.

“Former agent,” he said.

“Former everything,” said Joe. “Somebody put an ice pick in his neck this morning. In the library. Wondered if you had any idea what he was doing there in the first place.”

“I do not.” He paused. “I hadn’t heard. What do you know?”

“Not much,” Joe said. “Came into Serenity’s library this morning demanding to see their books. Said a local councilman named Bentley had hired him to audit the library’s accounts.”

“Bentley?” Tavana smiled, but just a little. “Couple of our guys call him ‘Yugo.’ Like, ‘Named like a Bentley, performs like a Yugo.’ What’s his interest in the library?”

“He doesn’t like me,” said Serenity.

“He doesn’t like anybody, from what I hear,” Tavana said, “but he doesn’t ask to see their books.”

“He thinks libraries should shrivel up and die. He shut off most of our funding, but we found a way to press ahead with an expansion with private donations.”

Tavana looked at Joe, then back to Serenity. “I can see how he might be curious. That’s a pretty big expansion you’ve got going there. Any big fish making those donations?”

“Various people. At this point, they’d like to remain anonymous.”

Tavana paused again. “So Bentley sent Kendall down to investigate the library, and the librarian killed him?”