Guess number one: They’d found out about Eddie.
Number two: Mitchell Koyne had offended a board member so badly that life as Mitchell knew it was about to end.
Three: Something had gone horribly wrong with the library’s roof and we had to lay off half the staff to afford to fix it. Would you like to be first, Minnie?
Four: They’d found out about Eddie.
Five: Someone had hacked into the library’s bank accounts and stolen all our money.
Six: Someone had hacked into the library’s lending records and was tweeting about who had read Fifty Shades of Grey.
Seven: They’d found out about Eddie.
My face was set as I walked into the wood-paneled conference room. I didn’t know if it was the lack of natural light or the darkness of the walls or the furnishings, but I was rarely at my best in a space that was so pretentious that it edged into irony.
Stephen had selected a large dark table, black leather chairs with high backs, and, yes, black leather blotters that sat in front of each chair. At the far end sat the white-haired Otis Rahn, the board’s current president. Stephen was at his right hand and Sondra Luth, the board’s vice president, sat to Otis’s left.
The other five board members were strung down along the sides of the table, with no empty chairs between them, making the end closest to me completely vacant. Which was strange, because Stephen usually sat on the end opposite Otis, and the empty chairs were usually randomly spaced.
As I looked at the formal seating arrangement, I got a very bad feeling. “Good morning,” I said.
Instead of the smiles and “Good Morning, Minnie” greetings that I normally got in return, I received a series of solemn nods, going from left to right around the table like a tiny library board version of the wave.
“Please take a seat,” Otis said, indicating the chair at the opposite end of the table from him.
I didn’t want to sit there. I would much rather have sat next to Linda Kopecky, retired high-school English teacher and avid reader of suspense novels, but I followed instructions and pulled out the chair.
Never before had I noticed what a nasty noise the casters made on the thick carpet. It was a soft, squishy noise as horrible in its own way as fingernails on a chalkboard. I sat, grabbed the table’s edge to pull myself forward, since my feet didn’t quite touch the floor, and folded my hands on the table, making me the ninth person in the room who was doing that.
I kept a pleasant expression stuck on my face, trying to appear the embodiment of the cooperative assistant director. The others shifted, looked at each other, looked at Otis, looked at Stephen, looked at their hands.
My feeling slid from Kind of Bad to Uh-Oh, This Is Going to Be Really Bad.
Stephen broke the silence. “Minerva, you know that the board is well aware of the incident that took place on the bookmobile the Saturday before last.”
My first instinct was to correct him—the incident, as he was putting it so delicately, had not taken place on the bookmobile. It had happened nearby. But I kept quiet and didn’t nod. I kept my gaze calm and steady. And, since he hadn’t posed a question, I didn’t say anything.
There was a short pause. When I continued to keep quiet, he went on. “As I told you earlier, Tammy Shelburt, sister to Roger Slade, is bringing suit against the library for negligence.”
“She’s hired one of the most aggressive law firms in the region,” Bruce Medler said. “They have an extremely high rate of success.”
I looked at him. Bruce was one of those guys with hair so short, he might as well have been bald. We regularly tried to top each other with bad puns, but just now I didn’t feel like telling him that writing with a broken pencil was pointless. And again, since there was no question, I remained silent.
“We’ve spoken to the library’s attorney,” Otis said gravely. “One of his recommendations to strengthen the library’s case is to accept your resignation.”
My skin suddenly felt a size too small for my body. There had to be something I could say to convince them that the advice of their attorney was absurd, but I couldn’t come up with a single thing.
Stephen cleared his throat. “I’ve told the board that the library will not function properly without an assistant director. The position is essential to operations. The board, however, has not yet taken a vote. This is why I called you upstairs.”
To what—speak in my own defense? I looked around the table. If eye contact, or lack of it, was an indication of how they’d vote, my chances were about fifty-fifty. I was starting to get an inkling of what sacrificial lambs might have felt like.
Sondra, the vice president, leaned forward. “Another of the attorney’s recommendations to strengthen the library’s case is the suspension of bookmobile operations until the matter is settled.”
I shot to my feet. “No!” As soon as I stood, I knew I’d made a mistake; strong emotions weren’t allowed in the boardroom—the wood paneling was supposed to keep them all out. Plus, I was presumed to be a reasonable and rational adult. Leaping out of my chair didn’t exactly paint a picture of a reliable assistant director. But it was too late. I was up and needed to make the best of things.
Laying my palms flat on the table, I took in a deep breath and released it. I’d been taught the technique at my self-defense classes and felt my brain click into gear. Which was good, because in many ways, this was self-defense. I was under attack, the bookmobile was under attack, and I needed to be smarter than I’d ever been.
I studied each of their faces, then said, “It speaks well of this board that there is concern regarding the tragic events that led to Roger Slade’s death.”
Heads nodded, and I nodded back, feeling like a bobble-head doll that wasn’t quite in tune with its fellows.
“The sheriff’s office and I have had multiple conversations,” I went on, “and they feel that they’re close to making an arrest.” Of what I felt had to be the wrong person, but now wasn’t the time to get into that.
“A careless hunter,” Bruce said solemnly.
“They couldn’t tell me.” I looked around the table. “But there was a discussion regarding the possibility of murder.”
A collective intake of breath stole most of the air from the room. Clearly, no one had once thought that Roger’s death could have been anything except an accident. Interesting.
“But,” I said, “there is no reason to punish the bookmobile for any of this. In the days since Roger died, bookmobile attendance hasn’t decreased and no one has called to cancel a stop. Matter of fact, I’ve had a request for an additional stop.”
I stood as straight and tall as I could, which wasn’t very, but since I was the only one standing, it worked out. “Garaging the bookmobile would deprive our patrons, the people who might need us the most, of access to everything that we offer.”
Spreading my arms wide, I gestured at the entire library, at the entire world. “Our mission statement is to provide materials and services to the entire community, not just the people who have the wherewithal to make it to this building.” I let my arms fall to my sides, hanging my head just a little. “Keeping our patrons from harm is, without doubt, the most important thing. But please think about how much harm it could do to deprive them of books.”
I sat down, already wishing I’d said something different. Of course, I couldn’t remember ever getting to use the word “wherewithal” in a sentence, written or spoken, so that was a tiny bonus.
At the other end of the table, the board members and Stephen had a short, whispered conversation. Otis looked down the length of the dark wood. “Minnie, thank you for your time. We’ll let you know when we make a decision.”
* * *
I walked back downstairs, my feet making Eddie-sized thumps on the steps. There was no way I was going to be able to get any work done until I heard from the board, so I grabbed the new ABOS coffee mug I’d picked up at the last Association of Bookmobile and Outreach Services conference and headed to the break room. If the next day hadn’t been Thanksgiving, I would have pawed through my desk drawer for change enough to get some chocolate from the vending machine, but maybe coffee would suffice.