prick like that.
Another librarian, a busty, almost plump woman also in her early thirties, moved in and pulled up a chair-on-wheels from somewhere and sat behind the desk with Janet. The second librarian had on a bright pink blouse and darker pink slacks; her hair was very blonde and big and sprayed, and her makeup was loud. Fuckable, though.
“Janet,” she was saying, making no attempt to keep her voice down, “you have got to do something about that creep! ”
Janet shrugged. “I told him it’s over, Connie. I told him just now.”
“Do you think he heard you? You think he ever really listens to anything you say? Listen to me, sweetie. He is going to really hurt you, next time.”
Janet, who had swiveled on her own wheeled chair, to face her colleague, sighed and shook herhead. “Maybe....maybe he’s right. Maybe it was my fault.”
“ Your fault?”
She was shaking her head. “I shouldn’t’ve made him mad. I mean, I knew about his temper. When you touch a hot stove and get burned, you can’t blame the—”
Connie put her hand over Janet’s mouth and leaned in closer.
“Talk like that,” she said, “and I’ll send you to the emergency room.”
Then Connie withdrew her hand from Janet’s mouth and cupped her friend’s chin with that same hand and leaned in close. I had to lip-read now, but I got it. Probably I’d have got it just from the busty one’s compassionate expression and the other’s chagrined one.
“Do you hear what I’m saying, Janet?”
“I do. I do. I’m not seeing him anymore.”
“And if he hurts you—the police?”
A laugh that wasn’t a laugh. “What good would that do, in this town?”
Connie’s features were stone. “They have to write it up. And you can see a lawyer if you need to. There are ways to deal with jerks like Rick.”
She was right about that.
Connie said, “Word to the wise,” and shook amildly scolding finger, got up, and moved away, guiding the wheeled chair back to wherever the hell she got it.
A few moments later, Janet left the help desk and I followed her, a half room of shelved books between us, me seeing her flickeringly as I moved along, strobe style. Or maybe I was just getting punchy spending all this time around so many books.
Finally she stopped at a water fountain.
Nervously, she put something in her mouth—a pill?
She bent at the fountain and, when she pressed the handle to create an arc of water, her sleeve rode up a little, and revealed part of a purple bruise.
I shook my head.
Rick might have been somehow important or connected in this town (as the busty librarian had indicated), but that didn’t make him any less a brutal dunce. Takes a lot of awful people to make up this old world.
From another conversation Janet and Connie had, I got the drift that my target’s work day was drawing to a close, so I gathered my jacket from a chair at a reading table and headed outside into the cold, clean—if thin—mountain air.
Homewood reminded me a little of Boulder, Colorado, minus the heavy tourism. Thirty thousandor so had the privilege of living in this idyllic little burg, where mountains edged a sky so blue, clouds should’ve paid rent for the privilege. I felt lucky to have a contract take me to such pleasant if dull surroundings; it helped make up for having to kill somebody as harmless as Janet Wright seemed to be.
Dusk was settling when Janet emerged from the library with her friend Connie and another librarian, whose name was Don, my surveillance had gathered. A nerd.
From my rental vehicle—a blue Taurus (was that all these fucking rental agencies had these days?)—I watched as the librarians paused to chat and then go their separate ways.
Janet’s vehicle was parked on the street—I’d observed her going out and feeding the meter every two hours, during the six I spent in the library. She got into the little yellow Geo, mid-’90s vintage, started it up and pulled away, moving right across my line of
Another librarian, a busty, almost plump woman also in her early thirties, moved in and pulled up a chair-on-wheels from somewhere and sat behind the desk with Janet. The second librarian had on a bright pink blouse and darker pink slacks; her hair was very blonde and big and sprayed, and her makeup was loud. Fuckable, though.
“Janet,” she was saying, making no attempt to keep her voice down, “you have got to do something about that creep! ”
Janet shrugged. “I told him it’s over, Connie. I told him just now.”
“Do you think he heard you? You think he ever really listens to anything you say? Listen to me, sweetie. He is going to really hurt you, next time.”
Janet, who had swiveled on her own wheeled chair, to face her colleague, sighed and shook herhead. “Maybe....maybe he’s right. Maybe it was my fault.”
“ Your fault?”
She was shaking her head. “I shouldn’t’ve made him mad. I mean, I knew about his temper. When you touch a hot stove and get burned, you can’t blame the—”
Connie put her hand over Janet’s mouth and leaned in closer.
“Talk like that,” she said, “and I’ll send you to the emergency room.”
Then Connie withdrew her hand from Janet’s mouth and cupped her friend’s chin with that same hand and leaned in close. I had to lip-read now, but I got it. Probably I’d have got it just from the busty one’s compassionate expression and the other’s chagrined one.
“Do you hear what I’m saying, Janet?”
“I do. I do. I’m not seeing him anymore.”
“And if he hurts you—the police?”
A laugh that wasn’t a laugh. “What good would that do, in this town?”
Connie’s features were stone. “They have to write it up. And you can see a lawyer if you need to. There are ways to deal with jerks like Rick.”
She was right about that.
Connie said, “Word to the wise,” and shook amildly scolding finger, got up, and moved away, guiding the wheeled chair back to wherever the hell she got it.
A few moments later, Janet left the help desk and I followed her, a half room of shelved books between us, me seeing her flickeringly as I moved along, strobe style. Or maybe I was just getting punchy spending all this time around so many books.
Finally she stopped at a water fountain.
Nervously, she put something in her mouth—a pill?
She bent at the fountain and, when she pressed the handle to create an arc of water, her sleeve rode up a little, and revealed part of a purple bruise.
I shook my head.
Rick might have been somehow important or connected in this town (as the busty librarian had indicated), but that didn’t make him any less a brutal dunce. Takes a lot of awful people to make up this old world.
From another conversation Janet and Connie had, I got the drift that my target’s work day was drawing to a close, so I gathered my jacket from a chair at a reading table and headed outside into the cold, clean—if thin—mountain air.
Homewood reminded me a little of Boulder, Colorado, minus the heavy tourism. Thirty thousandor so had the privilege of living in this idyllic little burg, where mountains edged a sky so blue, clouds should’ve paid rent for the privilege. I felt lucky to have a contract take me to such pleasant if dull surroundings; it helped make up for having to kill somebody as harmless as Janet Wright seemed to be.
Dusk was settling when Janet emerged from the library with her friend Connie and another librarian, whose name was Don, my surveillance had gathered. A nerd.
From my rental vehicle—a blue Taurus (was that all these fucking rental agencies had these days?)—I watched as the librarians paused to chat and then go their separate ways.
Janet’s vehicle was parked on the street—I’d observed her going out and feeding the meter every two hours, during the six I spent in the library. She got into the little yellow Geo, mid-’90s vintage, started it up and pulled away, moving right across my line of
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