She handed Doom the checks.
Doom whistled. “You’re turning into a pretty good Robin Hood. A week ago, we’d have killed for this—sorry, figure of speech. But do we really need this now?”
“Not in Special Projects.”
Serenity went into her office. For Whom the Bell Tolls was still on her desk.
She sat down and turned to the computer on her side table, but something about the book at her elbow bothered her. The title referenced John Dunne’s poem, the need to stand for something more than your own little island, and focused on Hemingway’s Robert Jordan’s fight in a civil war against fascists in a country a thousand miles from his own safe home.
So this was her fight, such as it was. With books and dollars instead of bullets, at least for now. She looked at the computer screen. The first thing was the list of books requested by patrons and librarians. Usually, she ordered the few she could afford that had the most votes.
Serenity looked at the window with the Special Funds balance, selected all the books on the list and clicked “Order.” Then she clicked all the recommended books from the Library Journal. After, she sat back, smiled, and felt as if she had shot a brigade of fascists.
She next took a sip of her coffee and opened her email. Scanned the list until she found the email she wanted. Mr. Andalusia Jones. She opened his email, and surprise, he told her he had made another generous contribution to the Special Projects fund. Creative writing time, she thought. She replied,
Dear Mr. Jones,
On behalf of the people of Maddington, and our library and myself personally, I thank you for yet another generous contribution. Maddington is a stronger and better city for your generosity, and I think your late wife would be extremely proud of you.
She sent the email off and saved it, along with the original email, to a file documenting contributions to the Special Projects fund.
Sitting on her desk was a cheap smartphone she’d bought for cash at a convenience store. She smiled at it and said, “Your turn, Mr. Jones.”
When she came up with the idea of an imaginary Mr. Jones who made daily contributions to the library, to add some credibility she pictured an image of him: a small man with big round glasses, looking like the bank examiner in It’s a Wonderful Life. He would be a sad, rich man who had lost his wife recently—a wife who had loved the library as much as Serenity. She opened the phone’s email and typed.
Ms. Hammer,
I have made another deposit of…
Serenity looked at the amount Doom had rolled into the Fund yesterday and typed it in.
…in memory of my beautiful wife…
Serenity paused and remembered the name she had made up.
…Joanie today. I have more money than I can spend now that she is gone, and I know she would want some child to benefit from books as much as she did. Thank you for giving me the opportunity to honor her memory. You and your staff are true heroes and I thank you for your magnificent efforts.
She hit send. Boom. A bomb dropped on Franco himself and all of his fascists.
Joy and Doom drifted into her office and she glanced at her watch. Time for their staff meeting already.
“Okay, we’ve each got a million people waiting for us. Let’s get going. Problems first.”
“Yeah,” Doom said. “Guy came by and said we might have a problem with our electric power, now that we’re seven stories, and that it’s going to be almost impossible to solve it in time. Also mentioned that he was good friends with John Henessey at the power company, who could solve it. Said that he could talk to him. Then he mentioned that Henessey needs ten thousand dollars so he can run for district attorney.”
Joy said, “Let’s do that through a contractor.”
Serenity said, “So, we pay this ‘consultant’ ten grand and our problems go away?”
“Sounds like it.”
Joy said, “Not that anyone’s asking anymore, but as long as we pay the consultant for work done, and we don’t know what he does with it, we’re still on the good side of the law. Barely. Maybe.”
Serenity nodded. “And Henessey will be in the pocket of the consultant.” A long pause while Joy and Doom looked at her. “But if I go to Henessey directly with twenty thousand dollars, we’ll have a new friend and maybe the gratitude of the next district attorney.”
“And be on the other side of the law.”
“The law is what people enforce.”
Joy shrugged.
They finished going through the items and Joy and Doom left.
Serenity looked at the book again and thought how much fun the battle was right now. But she knew that, at the end of the book, the fascists came for Robert Jordan. And in the end, all that mattered was how hard you had fought.
She heard a tap on the door and looked up. There was a small man with big round glasses and a cheap suit standing in her doorway looking at her with no expression.
forty-two
wrestling with joy
SERENITY SAID, “Mr. Jones? How can you…”
The man standing in Serenity’s doorway blinked behind the round glasses, his eyes magnified and slightly bug-eyed. “No. Name’s Kendall.”
Serenity breathed easier. While she was opening her mouth to welcome him, he said, “Councilman Bentley hired me to have a look at your books.”
She shut her mouth. And her computer.
“We can’t…” she said. “Well, we can’t let just anyone into the books of the city’s library. Besides, without specialized training, I don’t think you’d understand—”
“Well,” he said. He had a way of talking where only his mouth moved. The rest of his body froze like a statue. “I used to work for the FBI, back in Texas and some here, before I retired and went out on my own. Forensic accounting. Called in when people thought there was a crime. Reckon that’ll do?”
“Well, uh—”
“If not, I’ve got a letter from Councilman Bentley.” He reached into his jacket and Serenity saw the gun on his hip.
“Mr. Kendall.” She stood up and put her hands on the desk. “We do not allow firearms in our libraries.”
“Told you, ma’am. I’m retired FBI.”
“Retired. Only active law enforcement may bring a gun in here.” She glanced over her shoulder to be sure her new-found AK-47 didn’t show.
He stood staring at her for a moment. Probably. Hard to tell with those glasses.
“Guess this ain’t Texas,” he said.
“Guess it’s not.”
He turned to leave, and then turned back. “Be back soon as I lock this up.”
“We’ll be ready for you.”
Just before Kendall got to the library front door, he turned stiffly and looked back at her like he expected to catch her at something. Serenity was standing in the doorway of her office, waiting. After a second, he turned and left. As soon as the door closed behind him, Serenity ran to find Doom, who was sitting at her desk in the open area of the library, just outside the door to the server room.
“You need to get to the server,” she said.
Doom looked up from her desk.
“Can’t. The late pregnancy group is meeting with a nutritionist in there.”
“It’s a beautiful morning. Tell them, as a treat, we’re going to let them meet outside at the tables under the oak trees. Good for their soon-to-be babies. But you need to get to the server, now.” She glanced back at the main door and saw it was still closed.
“Why?”
“Bentley has sent an auditor. He’s gone to his car, but he’ll be back. I’ll stall him as long as I can, but you need to create a set of books for him to look at without the Special Projects fund and print it so he doesn’t have to get on the computer. Make it as complicated as possible. And hurry. Call my cell phone and let it ring twice when you’ve got it.”