Gayle Trent Read Online Free PDF Page B

know, comforting about it, I guess. Sunny caught sight of the aquarium, squealed “cool,” and raced over to it for a closer look. I approached the circulation desk because I had bigger fish to fry. Get it? Sometimes I can be witty as all get out.
     
    A woman with gray-streaked hair and old-timey cat’s-eye glasses was behind the desk. I didn’t even know they made those things anymore. “May I help you find something?” she asked.
     
    “I certainly hope so,” I said with a smile. “I’m looking for Flora Adams.”
     
    “I’m sorry,” the woman said, looking down at the desk. “I’m afraid I can’t help you.”
     
    “Doesn’t Flora work here?”
     
    “She did.” She chewed her bottom lip. “But she disappeared.”
     
    “Disappeared? You mean, she left town?”
     
    She shook her head and came to stand closer to me. “I don’t know,” she whispered. “She was here one Friday, and it was business as usual, but on Sunday it was in the paper that Flora had disappeared.” She frowned. “Are you a cop or something?”
     
    “I’m investigating the case, yes. What can you tell me about Flora?”
     
    The woman shrugged. “She was always nice to me.”
     
    “You said Friday was ‘business as usual.’ ” I did those little finger quote things at her. “What was ‘business as usual’ for Flora?”
     
    A young man came up to check out a book.
     
    “Excuse me,” the librarian said.
     
    While she greeted the man and scanned the necessary information to allow him to check out his Regan biography, I wandered over to the aquarium.
     
    “Look, Mimi,” Sunny said, “they have a clown fish just like Nemo.”
     
    “Did I ever tell you I speak whale?”
     
    She giggled. “Are you having any luck?”
    “I was doin’ pretty good ’til the little lobbyist came up. I’ll mosey back over there as soon as he’s done.”
     
    “Okay. I’ll be over at the magazines, all right?”
     
    “Gotcha.”
     
    Little Senator Wannabe left, so I went back to resume my conversation with the librarian. “You were about to tell me what ‘business as usual’ consisted of for Flora Adams.”
     
    The woman let out a breath. “I don’t know. She shelved books and helped people find things and stuff, same as the rest of us.”
     
    “Did she have a good marriage? Did she ever talk about any marital problems?”
     
    “No, but then, Flora wasn’t one to socialize much. She was a good person; she just kept to herself and kept her mouth shut. She even read while she ate her lunch.”
     
    “What types of books did she enjoy reading?”
     
    “Mysteries, mainly. She especially liked that Agatha Christie.”
     
    “If she kept to herself and didn’t say much, how do you know she was a good person?”
     
    “Well, for one thing,” said the librarian leaning in closer, “she always kept ham in the fridge for the dogs.”
     
    “She fed her dogs ham?”
     
    “Not her dogs. The dogs at the pound. Every Friday, she took them ham.”
     
    “Wow, that was nice.”
     
    “Yeah.” She nodded. “I asked her about it one time. She said she couldn’t save ’em all, but maybe she could make ’em all a little happier.”
     
    “How odd that she would just up and disappear. Do you think she got ill?”
     
    “We don’t know what to think.”
     
    “Where’s this dog pound she used to visit?”
     
    “Right up the street behind this building.”
     
    “Thank you.” I turned to go get Sunny.
     
    “I hope you find her,” the librarian called.
     
    “So do I,” I answered.
     
    Sunny was thrilled we were going to the dog pound. She loves animals and would have a zoo if she could, but Faye has always been allergic to cats and dogs . . . and even rabbits. I got Sunny a little rabbit for Easter one year, and Faye sneezed her head half off. She gave it to one of the children in the neighborhood and tried to console Sunny by telling the child she could still visit the rabbit and play with it and