Part 12 (1/2)
”Oh,” I said, confused. ”Thanks for the suggestion. I'll have to talk to her.”
I wondered why Ms. D. would have stopped teaching History to take a job in security. Definitely an interesting career move. Plus she'd never mentioned it before. Granted we weren't all that close, and I'm sure it wasn't the type of information you really wanted to broadcast, but still.
”Here we are.” The man stopped in front of the reference section. ”There should be one copy available. It's leather-bound, maroon, I think.”
He bent to check the t.i.tles, but I knew after my quick scan that the book was not on the shelf. I shouldn't have been surprised.
”Hmm, I'm not seeing it. Someone might be using it within the library, or maybe it was an error. But I can hold a copy for you when it becomes available.”
Time was one of the many things I really didn't have a lot of at the moment, but it was worth a try. ”Um, yeah, that'd be great. My name is Kate. Kate Lowry.”
He wrote my name down in a small notebook and asked if he could help me with anything else. Before I could speak, the librarian who had been giving me the once-over at the desk stalked toward us.
”Thanks, Charles. There's a young lady who needs your help at the reference desk. I can take over from here. Kate, is it?”
”Actually, I need to look through some old newspapers.” I didn't trust her, but she was being forced on me, so I'd have to be flexible.
”May I ask what you're looking for?”
”I'm just...um...researching Pemberly Brown during the seventies for a paper.”
She c.o.c.ked her head slightly to the side. I wondered if she was equally concerned with every library patron's information searches. If that was the case, her job must have been exhausting.
”Let me take you to the newspaper archives on the microfilm machine. You'll find what you're looking for down there.”
”Show me the way,” I said as the librarian led me toward a stairwell. Just as we were about to step down, a voice broke through the otherwise silent s.p.a.ce.
”Hey, Kate!” The sound came from behind a huge stack of books.
The librarian stopped in her tracks and shushed the voice, throwing a stern look in my direction. I couldn't suppress a groan when red curls emerged over the stack.
”Oh, hey, Seth.”
”What're you doing here?”
”Research.” I hoped he'd disappear back behind his pile of conspiracy theories.
”On what?” I really should have known better. After all, this was Seth Allen.
”Um...on a long-lost cousin of my dad's. It's extra credit for World History if I research someone in my family tree,” I lied, rolling a single pearl of Grace's necklace between my fingers. ”She went to PB in the seventies.”
”Want some help?”
I was about to decline his offer, but then I remembered that my search involved something called a microfilm machine and I reconsidered.
”Yeah, I guess.”
The librarian stood at the top of the stairs tapping her foot-she sure meant business. ”Ready?” she asked.
We nodded and followed her down the winding staircase to the bowels of the library. A quick wave of nervousness washed over me when I recalled my last experience with a library's bas.e.m.e.nt, and I silently thanked Seth for being nosy enough to want to help.
Two lonely microfilm machines sat tucked into a corner next to drawers overflowing with microfilm rolls. It looked like the place where old school filmstrips went to die.
”Have a seat,” the librarian said.
I sat in front of one machine, and Seth pulled up a chair.
”Have you ever used one of these before?” she asked.
”No,” I responded.
”Yes,” Seth chimed in.
”Oh, good,” she said handing me a huge roll of film labeled, ”The Cleveland Plain Dealer: 1970 to 1975.”
Without thinking twice, I handed the roll over to Seth. He expertly loaded the film and pulled up the first article.
”Oh, and Kate?” the librarian asked from the foot of the stairs. ”I hope you find what you're looking for.”
”Um, thanks,” I said, but she had already started walking back up the stairs. ”What was her deal?” I mumbled.
”What? I thought she seemed nice.” Seth glanced back toward the stairs before slyly pulling a bag of Cheetos from his jacket pocket. ”Please tell me you've tried Google already,” he said while messing with the focus k.n.o.b.
”What do you think I am? An idiot? I couldn't find anything. Trust me, the library was a last resort.”
”Okay, okay. Let's just start. What're we looking for?”
”Anything related to an incident on Pemberly Brown's campus. Technically an a.s.sault.”
”I thought you said this was a project about your dad's cousin, family-tree research.” Seth looked me dead in the eyes, the corners of his mouth stained with orange powder.
c.r.a.p.
”Oh, yeah, um...I'm working on that project too. But first I'm researching a paper for my Women's Studies cla.s.s about the history of a.s.sault against women at PB.”
”Oh, okay.” Seth pushed the b.u.t.ton and the print became a blur, and I let out a huge sigh of relief. I couldn't believe Seth was buying this c.r.a.p. Maybe love really was blind.
Seth whizzed and whirred his way through 1970.
”Anything?”
”Keep going. I'll tell you when to stop.”
By the time we got to May 1971, an hour had pa.s.sed. This wasn't going to be as easy as I had thought. By July my eyes had glazed over, and I was pretty sure that even if I did see something having to do with Pemberly Brown, I wouldn't realize it.
But then the machine made a strange clicking sound, and even though Seth turned the k.n.o.b, the film was stuck.