Library until decency returns. Sign below if you support removal of the Godless literature currently being promoted.” Alicia Meales’ signature was the first, followed by 112 others, including Gary Wohnt, Elvis Aron Presley, and Ima Pigglicker.
“Jesus. Where’d you get this?”
“I’m the mayor of this town, and I got my finger on the pulse. You’all’re lucky we’re friends so I can look out for you. I’m passing this on as a heads up, but it’s just one of three going around town. It’s burning up the streets in Clitherall. People can’t sign it fast enough.”
My hands shook in anger laced with fear, both emotions amplified by the tragedy of this morning. How dare the Meales try to tell people what books they could and couldn’t read, and turn librarians into censors! Could they force me to take down the banned book display? Without a generous endowment from Tom Everts, who owned the lumber store and several other businesses when he was alive, this library never could have been built, but we counted on state funding for day-to-day operations. Well-stocked libraries with decent hours were an endangered species in today’s political climate. Was I about to get the library in big trouble? “Can I keep this?”
“It’s all yours, darlin.’ ”
I folded the petition carefully, pushing my finger tightly along the creases. My voice cracked as I asked my next question. I knew it was Lucy in that ditch, but I couldn’t bear to say her name out loud. “What do you know about the dead girl in Clitherall?”
Kennie drew up tall, making a squeak-whoof sound that I prayed was only leather on leather. “How do you know about that?”
“A little birdie told me.” I don’t know why I said that. I hated that phrase.
“Since Gary has found God, it takes a little longer for me to get my information, but you’re gonna find out soon enough. She was that girl you had working here part-time. A real sweetie by all accounts, about to start her senior year. Lucy Lebowski. She had been missing since cheerleading camp the night before.”
“Do they know who killed her?”
“They’re interviewing her coach, the girls who saw her last, but they don’t have anything solid right now. Why? You gonna solve another murder?”
I was suddenly reluctant to tell Kennie I was moving and so wouldn’t be around long enough. “Not if I can help it.”
“Whatever. Be sure to stop by my house later. I have a new business proposition for you.”
I nodded absently. When she left, I went online, feeling jittery and insignificant. I needed to erase the picture of Lucy’s corpse from my mind, and I wanted to distract myself from the dangerous and irrational anger I was feeling toward the Meales’ petition. Sure, the petition sucked, but I knew if it wasn’t for the stress of Lucy’s murder, I would be able to put it in perspective.
I had to stay in the library, so to get my mind off things, I settled for researching a passive-aggressive, anti-church recipe for the column the week after next—Devil’s Food Cupcakes with Sinfully Rich Frosting. It was aimed specifically at those who believed I was promoting “Godless literature.” I typed up the recipe and sent it off to Ron, who would probably pop a zipper when he realized I was turning something in before deadline.
As I clicked the “Send” button, I thought about my teen years, something I had been doing a lot this month. My last up-close and personal encounter with organized religion had happened in high school. My mom had turned to the church, as many women in abusive relationships do, and been advised to stick it out for the betterment of her family, as many women in abusive relationships are. I was certain that if her minister hadn’t told her that her marriage was a test of her strength and faith, she would have left my dad. Probably he still would have died a stupid death, but it wouldn’t have been so heart-wrenching and immediate to me. I wouldn’t
“Jesus. Where’d you get this?”
“I’m the mayor of this town, and I got my finger on the pulse. You’all’re lucky we’re friends so I can look out for you. I’m passing this on as a heads up, but it’s just one of three going around town. It’s burning up the streets in Clitherall. People can’t sign it fast enough.”
My hands shook in anger laced with fear, both emotions amplified by the tragedy of this morning. How dare the Meales try to tell people what books they could and couldn’t read, and turn librarians into censors! Could they force me to take down the banned book display? Without a generous endowment from Tom Everts, who owned the lumber store and several other businesses when he was alive, this library never could have been built, but we counted on state funding for day-to-day operations. Well-stocked libraries with decent hours were an endangered species in today’s political climate. Was I about to get the library in big trouble? “Can I keep this?”
“It’s all yours, darlin.’ ”
I folded the petition carefully, pushing my finger tightly along the creases. My voice cracked as I asked my next question. I knew it was Lucy in that ditch, but I couldn’t bear to say her name out loud. “What do you know about the dead girl in Clitherall?”
Kennie drew up tall, making a squeak-whoof sound that I prayed was only leather on leather. “How do you know about that?”
“A little birdie told me.” I don’t know why I said that. I hated that phrase.
“Since Gary has found God, it takes a little longer for me to get my information, but you’re gonna find out soon enough. She was that girl you had working here part-time. A real sweetie by all accounts, about to start her senior year. Lucy Lebowski. She had been missing since cheerleading camp the night before.”
“Do they know who killed her?”
“They’re interviewing her coach, the girls who saw her last, but they don’t have anything solid right now. Why? You gonna solve another murder?”
I was suddenly reluctant to tell Kennie I was moving and so wouldn’t be around long enough. “Not if I can help it.”
“Whatever. Be sure to stop by my house later. I have a new business proposition for you.”
I nodded absently. When she left, I went online, feeling jittery and insignificant. I needed to erase the picture of Lucy’s corpse from my mind, and I wanted to distract myself from the dangerous and irrational anger I was feeling toward the Meales’ petition. Sure, the petition sucked, but I knew if it wasn’t for the stress of Lucy’s murder, I would be able to put it in perspective.
I had to stay in the library, so to get my mind off things, I settled for researching a passive-aggressive, anti-church recipe for the column the week after next—Devil’s Food Cupcakes with Sinfully Rich Frosting. It was aimed specifically at those who believed I was promoting “Godless literature.” I typed up the recipe and sent it off to Ron, who would probably pop a zipper when he realized I was turning something in before deadline.
As I clicked the “Send” button, I thought about my teen years, something I had been doing a lot this month. My last up-close and personal encounter with organized religion had happened in high school. My mom had turned to the church, as many women in abusive relationships do, and been advised to stick it out for the betterment of her family, as many women in abusive relationships are. I was certain that if her minister hadn’t told her that her marriage was a test of her strength and faith, she would have left my dad. Probably he still would have died a stupid death, but it wouldn’t have been so heart-wrenching and immediate to me. I wouldn’t
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