Read Online Checked Out by Elaine Viets - Free Book Online

fists. At least her claws weren’t out.
    “And you know that our library cat, Paris, is an important part of our image,” Alexa said. “That calico is the spitting image of Flora Portland’s pet.”
    Helen wondered if Alexa used that pun on purpose.
    “Paris the cat is on our posters,” Alexa said, “and she goes to our French language programs. That’s why we call it ‘Paris in the Afternoon.’ Patrons love her.”
    “People are allergic to that stupid cat,” Blair said.
    “No one’s complained,” Alexa said. She seemed to grow calmer as Blair unraveled. Her dark brown hair was escaping its bun.
    “She’s sneaky!” Blair screeched, and Helen winced. She was still feeling the effects of last night’s mojito. “She brushed up against my pantsuit. I’ve got cat hair on it.”
    “That means she likes you,” Alexa said. “There’s a pet hair remover in the break room.”
    “I don’t like cats,” Blair said again. “That animal is supposed to stay in the back rooms and staff areas.”
    “Paris is working,” Alexa said. “She’s an important part of our ‘Go Green’ program, which you enthusiastically support.”
    “I fail to see what a cat has to do with recycling,” Blair said.
    “She’s our organic mouse catcher,” Alexa said. Helen thought she saw a trace of a triumphant smile. “No harmful pesticide chemicals, remember? Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to return to briefing Ms. Hawthorne.”
    “You’ve spent an hour giving that woman a tour of this library. If you’d let Seraphina volunteer, she would have started immediately. She was born in this town and grew up in this library. She knows Flora Park. Instead, you’ve wasted an hour.”
    Finally, Blair looked Helen in the eye. “Exactly what are you doing next, Ms. Hawthorne?”
    “Going to talk to someone pleasant,” Helen said. “Good afternoon.”

CHAPTER 10
    “W anna see my tattoo?” Gladys asked.
    “Depends on where it is,” Helen said.
    “Chill,” Gladys said. “It’s on my arm.”
    The librarian took off her yellow plaid suit jacket. She wore a short A-line skirt, white knee socks, and black suede double-strap Mary Janes.
    “Your yellow suit looks familiar,” Helen said. “I’ve seen it on someone famous.”
    “Iggy Azalea,” Gladys said. “She wore it in the video of ‘Fancy.’”
    “The Australian rapper,” Helen said. “Nice kicks. They’re Miu Miu, right?”
    “I like shoes,” Gladys said. “Another weapon in the fight against the frumpy librarian stereotype.”
    An expensive weapon, Helen thought. Those shoes cost more than three hundred dollars.
    “You get a lot of that?” Helen asked. “Stereotyping?”
    “All the time. My name doesn’t help. I loved Grandma Gladys, but when people see my name and my profession, theyautomatically think horn-rims, hair in a bun and dowdy clothes. My tatt takes care of that.”
    Gladys rolled up her sleeve and showed off her biceps: a grinning skull balanced on a stack of books. The eyeless skull wore horn-rim glasses. Underneath, it read
Bad to the Bone
in Gothic type.
    “That’s one badass tattoo,” Gladys said, admiring her body art.
    “I love it,” Helen said, and glanced at her watch. Ten forty. “I’m supposed to ask you for shelving tips before I go to lunch at eleven,” she said.
    “We keep the returned books on these carts behind the circulation desk,” Gladys said. “I check them in and the computer automatically records the fines and lets me know which books are on hold. Right now, we have a run on the new John Grisham mystery. We only have twelve copies.”
    “How does a small library afford twelve copies of one bestselling hardcover?”
    “We’ll buy one or two for the collection and rent the rest from a company called McNaughton,” Gladys said. “Then, when the demand is over, the books go back and we aren’t stuck with all those extra copies. Lots of libraries use some version of this.
    “We’re a reading room, so we