“Well, I was only trying to be helpful,” the librarian said in a defensive tone once she noticed that Rose had stepped near her.
Rose offered no reply. She peered out the door, watching the stranger as he headed down the sidewalk.
“Some people just have no manners,” the librarian added, stacking books on the cart beside her. Her lips were pulled in a straight, tight line and her face was flushed. “I was just trying to be helpful,” she said again. “But I guess it's true: Some people you just can't help.”
“Maybe he didn't want to have you looking at his papers,” Rose replied, thinking it was a simple observation. She had not considered that the woman might take it as an insult.
The librarian loaded a few more books on the cart.
Rose turned toward the sidewalk and noticed the ponytail hanging down the man's back, the tall, dark manner of his figure. She recognized immediately that he was the same stranger she had seen in the sheriff's office.
He halted his pace, stopped. Rose hurried behind the shelves before she could see him pivot around and peer in her direction.
“Hon,” the chatty librarian said to Rose, noticing her quick move behind the shelves next to the desk. “Is there something else I can help you with?”
Her tone was not so cheerful. She was facing Rose and had not seen the man turn and look back.
“Uh, I'm fine,” Rose said as she peeked around the corner to make sure that the stranger was now gone. She blew out a breath.
“Well, you could tell me if there are any other history books you might have.” She slid her hands down the front of her pants, then folded them across her chest, then dropped them by her sides. It was nervous behavior, and the librarian paid attention to it.
She studied Rose for a minute, putting down the books she held in her hands. “Do you have a library card?” she asked suspiciously.
“A what?” Rose asked.
“A library card,” she said again. “You'll need a library card if you want to check anything out.” The librarian narrowed her eyes at Rose.
“I'm not really from here,” Rose said, feeling like she was suddenly being reprimanded. Even though she had been in the library at West Memphis before, she had not taken the time to register or to get a card. Any book she had wanted to read, Thomas or Ms. Lou Ellen had checked out for her, using their library cards.
“I don't plan to check anything out, but I can look at your books here, can't I?” she asked. “I mean, without a library card?”
The librarian hesitated. Clearly, she could not stop a visitor from studying in the county building.
“There's a section behind the magazines about local history. Maybe there will be something for you to browse through.” She paused and then added sharply, “While you visit.”
Rose gave her a broad fake smile and walked over to the section the librarian had mentioned. She found lots of books about the river and about the Civil War, about agriculture and state politics. She flipped through some of them, finding nothing of interest.
After searching the entire area that had been recommended to her, she soon learned that there were no books about Native Americans. She glanced across all the shelves in the history area and then returned to the table where she had been sitting and working. She did not notice right away that anything was different.
She sat in the chair and glanced down, aware that the pages in the book she had been reading appeared to be turned to a different section than the one she had been studying. She thought she remembered what she had been reading when she had walked away, but she figured at first that maybe a breeze coming from the vents around her had blown across the book and turned the pages.
Then she realized that her ink pen was no longer inside the large reference guide but was now positioned next to her paper, which also seemed to have been disturbed. What had previously been five or six sheets stacked on top of one another were now scattered on top of the desk. Again, Rose considered air from a vent, but she searched around and didn't see any vents near where she was seated and she felt no draft around her.
Then she leaned against the chair and, without really thinking, stuck her hand in the pocket of her coat, which she had left hanging there. And that was when she knew someone had been there. The bracelet was gone.
She reached into the other pocket. It had only her keys in it. She jumped up and glanced around her seat, across the table, under the books and her paper. Her purse was still there, her wallet still inside. Nevertheless, it was obvious to her what had happened. Somebody had reached inside her jacket and stolen the bracelet.
She ran to the front desk. The librarian was not there. Rose assumed she was in the rear office somewhere, but she couldn't see anyone behind the glass partition. She spun around to see who was still present in the library. She saw the young woman with the child, the two teenaged boys at the computers. The older woman was gone from the magazine section, but Rose spotted her returning from the rest room. Like the others in the library, the woman acted as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred.
Rose faced back toward the desk and the office. “Excuse me,” she said loudly.
The two teenagers looked up from the computers. The women heard her, as well, but Rose didn't care if she was making too much noise.
“Hello,” she said, showing a fair amount of concern in her voice. “Are you still here?” she asked, leaning against the counter, trying to gain the attention of the librarian.
There was no reply. The others in the library only stared at her. Rose hurried around the desk and walked into the office. She saw a doorway leading behind the office. She headed toward it. She turned the corner and barreled right into the librarian.
“Good heavens!” the woman screamed. She backed away from Rose, trying to gain her composure. Then she quickly yelled, “You can't be in here!” She was obviously rattled by the surprising presence.
Rose peered behind the woman and saw a rear entrance and a staff bathroom. Both doors were standing open.
“Did you see anybody else in here?” she asked. She was certainly not concerned about trespassing in the staff quarters.
“What?” the woman asked. Now, no longer startled, she stepped closer to Rose. “I've been in the office.” She stopped speaking, assessing the situation, “Wait, I told you that you can't be back here. This is for employees only.” And she placed her fists on her hip. “Why are you here?” she asked Rose.
“Somebody stoleâ” She stopped and thought better of what she was saying. “I've lost something and I needed to know if you've seen anybody else come in the library.” She spoke in an agitated tone.
The librarian took in a breath and then blew it out slowly. She glanced above Rose's head and saw the older woman from the magazine section standing at the front desk. She raised her chin in her direction and then moved around Rose.
“You need to return to the desk. I will not answer your questions in this hallway.” And she jerked her head up and down and headed toward the side door to the office.
She held open the door while Rose walked through. Then she closed the door behind them. Rose hurried through the other door and around the desk. She glanced over and saw the woman who had been reading the magazines waiting for assistance. It was clear to Rose that the librarian was not going to be helpful to her. In fact, Rose thought that the librarian could possibly even make things worse, so she returned to the table where she had been working.
She checked everything again. She retraced all of her steps, thinking that maybe she had put the bracelet in her pants pocket and that it had dropped out when she went to see the stranger the librarian had been talking to.
She walked through the stacks, searching to see if there was anyone new in the library who might have entered when she wasn't watching. She stood behind the computers and watched the two boys who were playing games and who seemed not at all interested in the woman staring at them.
She went around to the children's section, deciding finally that there was nothing odd about the woman reading to her child. And the older woman, who had gathered her things and was standing at the front desk talking to the librarian, seemed completely harmless.
Rose noticed that both of the women had turned and were watching her as she rambled about, trying to figure out what had happened to the bracelet. They turned around and began to whisper to each other, but Rose didn't care if they were talking about her. All she could think about was the piece of jewelry that she had taken and that had now been taken from her.
She headed to her place at the table and sat down. She leaned forward in the chair, searching again under the table and around where she had been sitting. She lifted the books from the desk, shuffled the papers. There was still nothing. She glanced around the library again, this time studying the rear entry, which was straight down the aisle from where she was sitting. The leaves of a plant next to the door were swaying from side to side, as if the door had only recently been opened and closed.
Rose watched the plant until it stopped moving, and when she sat back, her arms hanging at her sides, she reached into the pocket of her jacket again and wrapped her fingers around the bracelet. She understood as she held it in her hand that in the short time she had run around the library trying to recover the jewelry, it had been returned.
EIGHT
“Well, what do you mean it was stolen?” Ms. Lou Ellen was staring at the bracelet the younger woman had placed on her kitchen table. She poured Rose a cup of tea and sat down across from her. Her new companion, the three-legged dog, lay at her feet under the table.
“It was gone,” Rose replied. She had left the library and driven straight to Shady Grove. Mary was in the office, working on reservations, so Rose had stopped at Ms. Lou Ellen's to talk to her. She was, after all, the only one who knew that Rose had taken the jewelry.
“But dear, it's right here,” she said calmly.
“I know. That's what's so weird. He stole it and then he returned it.” She sounded exasperated.
“Who, dear?” The older woman sipped from her cup of tea.
“The tall, dark stranger,” Rose replied. “The same one I saw at the sheriff's office. He followed me to the library and he sneaked in and stole the bracelet, and then he put it back in my pocket.”
Ms. Lou Ellen leaned in toward her friend. “Are you getting enough rest?” she asked in a concerned tone. “You know, most adults do not get enough sleep. An average woman needs at least eight hours a night. And an above-average woman, which I believe includes the likes of both you and me”âshe pointed first at herself, then at Roseâ“needs nine.” She reached up and squeezed the younger woman on the arm. “Do you get nine hours of sleep, dear?”
Rose shook her head. “I know, it sounds crazy.” She placed her elbows on the table and then dropped her chin in her hands.
“How did he know I had the bracelet? Why would he take it for only a minute? Who is he and why has he shown up now?” She sat slumped in her chair.
“Drink your tea, Rose. It has chamomile in it. It will help soothe your nerves.”
Rose took her cup of tea and drank a few sips. Then she returned the cup to the saucer and picked up the bracelet to examine it again. She slid her legs under the table, disturbing the dog. He yelped and moved closer to the older woman's feet.
“Sorry, Mr. Perkins,” Rose said to the dog when she realized that she had kicked him.
“Call him Lester Earl,” Ms. Lou Ellen said. “He never liked formalities.” Then she reached down and petted the dog on the head. “Except from his wife. He liked it when I called him âmister.'” She winked at Rose.
The younger woman continued. “I just know that when I returned to the library table and reached in my pocket, the bracelet was not there. And then after I ran around searching for it and got back and felt for it again, it was there.” Rose was still sorting through the events that had occurred only a short time earlier.
“Well, what were you doing before you realized that it was missing?” Ms. Lou Ellen asked. “Go over it all again with me.”
“I got a couple of books from the reference section and then I found a table in the back, a table where I was sure no one could see me. When I first sat down, I started reading.”
Rose considered her activity at the library. She suddenly recalled some of the facts that she had learned. “Did you know that there were people living here in the Mississippi valley at the same time Solomon was the king of Israel? Or that there was a place in northeastern Louisiana called Poverty Point, where sometime around the year 1500
B.C.
it was probably the biggest and most prosperous place in North America?” Rose paused.
Ms. Lou Ellen nodded. “The place with the bird mound,” she replied.
Rose seemed surprised.
“That would be from my last husband, the history professor.”
The dog whined from beneath the table.
“Oh Lester, he was long after you.” And she petted the dog again. “Anyway, I'm sorry for interrupting. Continue, dear.”
“Okay, so I was reading from the books I had taken,” she said, then became sidetracked again. “We did some pretty horrible things to the Indians when we got here.”
Ms. Lou Ellen nodded knowingly.
“Anyway, I heard the librarian talking to a man, and for some reason I was intrigued by his voice, so I started listening to their conversation.” She paused.
The older woman raised her eyebrows, “Eavesdropping,” she said in a whisper. She placed her index finger to her lips.
“Yes, I was eavesdropping,” Rose confessed. “I got up to see the Indian guy and I watched him walk away. I recognized him from before, when I had seen him at the sheriff's office.”
“The tall, dark stranger,” Ms. Lou Ellen inserted.