Roy put down his cellphone, slightly confused. His brain wasn’t processing much though. He had only managed to get a two hour nap in between leaving the hospital and opening up the bar.
He had to make sure Paul was safe, and that William stuck to his word, and kept that nurse away from Paul. He had been so paranoid he hadn’t left till the nurse’s shift had ended.
A young woman, probably early thirties, sat down at the bar in the seat right in front of him. She wore a jeans that were just a little to tight, and a had a few to many holes in them, and a top that could barely contain her small, but full figure. She tossed her long brown hair over her shoulder, and gave the bar a once over.
"How can I help you?" He smiled. Just because the rest of the world was going crazy didn’t mean that his business had to suffer.
"What would a girl have to do to get hired around here?" She leaned forward, making sure her cleavage was on full display.
Roy nearly laughed. She obviously wasn’t from Spirit Lake.
"Well, that isn’t going to work." He leaned forward. "You’re not my type."
"I can be any type you want?" She was whispering. "What type do you like?"
He pointed towards the rather large, muscular trucker who had sat down at the end of the bar.
"I can change your mind." She was practically purring.
"Many have tried, and failed." He stood up. "So, let’s try your resume instead. Okay?"
She sat back, seeming to relax.
"Okay." She fixed her top, covering herself up a bit. "First off, the name is Roxanne Baker. Originally from Chicago. Worked in a few bars there. I’ve been a waitress, did some bartending. One guy even had me doing his books. I don’t want to do books."
Roy nodded. She seemed like she would be able to handle herself alright at the Hub. It wasn’t the most exciting bar in the world, but sometimes, if the mood was right, a guy would get a little fresh or a fight would break out. Roy handled things fine with the aid of the bat he kept under the bar, but he was a little worried about leaving someone as small as Roxanne behind the bar alone.
"Okay, then here’s your audition." He pointed to a table towards the back. It was full of mostly local guys. They looked big and mean, but were mostly harmless. The worst thing any waitress had gotten from them before was a grab on the butt and a cheap tip. "Get that tables order."
She glanced over, took in her target, got up and sauntered over. Roy watched as she worked the guys over. They were like putty in her hands. Roy was impressed.
She came back, placed the order. Two pitchers of the cheap beer and a cup of nuts.
"You make it there and back without spilling a drop, and you’re hired." He handed her the tray.
She winked, and turned, walking over the table, and nearly got knocked over by Julie as his cousin rushed towards the bar.
"That does not count!" Roxanne gave a yell as she put the tray down.
"It’s fine. You’re hired. Hit the rest of the tables, and we’ll talk pay." Roy had to yell over the crowd, which had decided it was just the right hour to get nice and loud.
Julie looked like a wreck. She was shaking, her eyes were bloodshot, and she kept glancing around the place.
"What’s the matter?" He didn’t wait for her to speak and placed a shot of whiskey in front of her. "Drink that. It’ll calm your nerves."
Julie nodded, downed the shot, and he watched as her face tensed up as the bitter burn of the liquid hit her throat.
"Someone’s trying to kill me." She pointed to the glass, motioning for him to fill it up.
"Wait, what?" He didn’t pour. He was a little to shocked at what he had just heard.
"Someone has been sending me these flowers, black roses. Morbid, I know, and last night I found one on my bed." She stopped, looking around the room, the panic returning to her eyes. "They got in my house and put it right there, on my bed. I woke up this morning, and I felt like hell. I mean real hell. I look at the flower, and it’s leaking this weird... black slime. I watched a bug touch that thing and die in two seconds. Someone left a poisoned flower in my room Roy! Someone wants me dead."
Julie spoke so quickly that Roy wasn’t sure he understood what she was saying. He wasn’t sure he believed it either.
"Did you go to the hospital?"
"No." She reached behind the bar and grabbed the whiskey bottle. "I feel fine now, but..." She poured and slammed another shot. "Where did you put my father’s journal?"
"I hid it. Why?" He was getting confused.
"Look, whoever is doing this to me doesn’t want me finding out anything about my mother. They keep leaving these notes telling me to stop searching." She leaned in real close. "I think whoever did this is the one who cleaned out my house, not my mother."
"So what’s so important about the journal?"
"Well, you must have thought it was important enough. You hid it." She poured another shot. "So did my father. It was important enough to him that he created a little hole for it in the wall. I think they might have missed it when they first went through my family’s stuff."
"I’ve been reading it, and I have to say, there isn’t much there. Just a lot of bitter stories about how much your father hated people."
"Keep it safe, okay?" Her eyes locked on to his. "Do it for me. I may just be going crazy, but if I’m not, and that journal is important, then I can’t let it end up with the wrong people."
Roy nodded.
Roxanne walked back up to the bar, eyeing Julie as she placed her order.
"Sorry about earlier." Julie smiled, her face turning red.
"Don’t worry about it." Roxanne gave a little nod. "I’m from Chicago. I’m used to it."
-*-
The first thing Carla saw when she opened her eyes was Harvey looking down at her. The next thing she saw was stars as the pain in her head kicked in full force.
"What the hell happened?" She checked the back of her head. She wasn’t bleeding.
"I don’t know." Harvey helped her stand. "I was about to come down to help you out, and then you screamed. I came down here, and... " He pointed to the papers thrown all over the room, ripped to shreds.
Carla could see the volume cover lying loose on the floor. Someone had destroyed 1928.
"What happened?" Harvey looked like he was about to wet himself. "I mean, are you okay?"
"I’m fine. Got a nasty bumpy and bruised ass, but I’m fine." She reached back, and could still feel the piece of paper in her pocket. She let out a sigh of relief. "We have to clean this up."
She started walking, but made sure that her shirt was covering the little sliver of white sticking out of her back pocket. She didn’t feel like getting mugged again.
Carla started picking up papers and tossing them at the large garbage bin next to the copy machine.
"Who did this to you?" Harvey was helping, and moving a lot faster than she ever could.
"I have no idea." She stopped, sitting down. She could feel a small wave of dizziness come over her. "It all happened so fast, and it’s kind of dark down here."
"Should I call the police?"
Carla shook her head. She had what she needed, and the volume could probably be replaced. They kept more copies over in town hall, although she was guessing that the article about Moira Clawson would be missing in those volumes.
How could a bunch of old, and now probably dead, widowers be a threat to anyone?
She stood, then sat down again quickly, the room spinning a little bit.
"You should go to the doctor. You hit your head pretty bad." Harvey stopped, placing his hand on her shoulder.
She wasn’t exactly thrilled that the boy was touching her, but she couldn’t deny that his hand helped her from not falling over.
"I’ll have William check it out when I go check on Paul." She stood, slowly this time. "I’m going to go upstairs and sit in the office for a bit. Think you can handle this?"
Harvey glanced around the basement. He had already gotten half of the papers up already.
"Yeah, no problem. Go rest, but don’t go to sleep."
"I’ll remember that."
Slowly Carla made her way up the stairs, but she couldn’t help glancing back at Harvey. He was watching her, his face a blank slate.
A chill ran down Carla’s back.
"Is something wrong?" He smiled as he spoke, letting out a little laugh at the end of his question.
"No. Just nerves I guess." Carla made her way up the rest of the stairs, and into the main library.
She suddenly didn’t feel so safe with Harvey around. Something about the boy seemed kind of off today. She didn’t know what, but something about him worried her right then.
She stopped. She was just being paranoid. Someone had attacked her, and now everyone was a monster, out to stop her from telling the world about a woman who started a support group for widows and widowers.
Psychos needed to get the damn priorities straight.
Carla stepped into her office, and her breath caught in her throat.
There, on top of her papers, was a long stem black rose.
She ran over, grabbing the flower. She was not going to let this go on. When would they stop? When she had a dozen, or when she was dead?
She ran to the back door of the library and flung the flower into the giant blue dumpster. Even there the flower felt to close.
She went back, checking her desk for a note. There wasn’t one this time. She was sure there hadn’t been one on the flower. Did they just want her to know that they were here, and that they were the ones who attacked her?
"Carla?"
Harvey’s voice nearly sent her flying to the ceiling.
"What’s up?" She turned, trying to hide her nerves, but her hands were shaking to much.
"I’m all done in the basement."
"That was quick. Just man the desk for a while, okay? I’ll handle returns later." She walked over and began closing her office door. "I just need a few moments alone."
The door clicked shut, and Carla flipped the dead bolt.
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