Sam glanced down at the desk. As on his previous trip to the library, there was a small name-plaque standing next to the microfilm recorder, but it no longer said A. LORTZ.
Now it said
MR PRICE.
In his mind he heard Naomi say, Tall man? Thin? About fifty?
‘No,’ he said. ‘Not Mr Price. Not Mr Peckham, either. The other one. Ardelia Lortz.’
The boy and girl exchanged a puzzled glace. ‘No one named Ardelia Lord works here,’ the boy said. ‘You must be thinking of some other library.’
‘Not Lord,’ Sam told them. His voice seemed to be coming from a great distance. ‘Lortz.’
‘No,’ the girl said. ‘You really must be mistaken, sir.’
They were starting to look cautious again, and although Sam felt like insisting, telling them of course Ardelia Lortz worked here, he had met her only eight days ago, he made himself pull back. And in a way, it all made perfect sense, didn’t it? It was perfect sense within a framework of utter lunacy, granted, but that didn’t change the fact that the interior logic was intact. Like the posters, the sky-lights, and the magazine rack, Ardelia Lortz had simply ceased to exist.
Naomi spoke up again inside his head. Oh! Miss Lortz, was it? That must have been fun.
‘Naomi recognized the name,’ he muttered.
Now the library assistants were looking at him with identical expressions of consternation.
‘Pardon me,’ Sam said, and tried a smile. It felt crooked on his face. I’m having one of those days.’
‘Yes,’ the boy said.
‘You bet,’ the girl said.
They think I’m crazy, Sam thought, and do you know what? I don’t blame them a bit.
‘Was there anything else?’ the boy asked.
Sam opened his mouth to say no – after which he would beat a hasty retreat -and then changed his mind. He was in for a penny; he might as well go in for a pound.
‘How long has Mr Price been the head librarian?’
The two assistants exchanged another glance. The girl shrugged. ‘Since we’ve been here,’ she said, ‘but that’s not very long, Mr – ?’
‘Peebles,’ Sam said, offering his hand. ‘Sam Peebles. I’m sorry. My manners seem to have flown away with the rest of my mind.’
They both relaxed a little – it was an indefinable thing, but it was there, and it helped Sam do the same.
Upset or not, he had managed to hold onto at least some of his not inconsiderable ability to put people at ease. A real-estate-and-insurance salesman who couldn’t do that was a fellow who ought to be looking for a new line of work.
‘I’m Cynthia Berrigan,’ she said, giving his hand a tentative shake. ‘This is Tom Stanford.’
‘Pleased to meet you,’ Tom Stanford said. He didn’t look entirely sure of this, but he also gave Sam’s hand a quick shake.
‘Pardon me?’ the woman with the mystery novels asked. ‘Could someone help me, please? I’ll be late for my bridge game.’
‘I’ll do it,’ Tom told Cynthia, and walked down the desk to check out the woman’s books.
She said, ‘Tom and I go to Chapelton junior College, Mr Peebles. This is a work-study job. I’ve been here three semesters now – Mr Price hired me last spring. Tom came during the summer.’
‘Mr Price is the only full-time employee?’
‘Uh-huh.’ She had lovely brown eyes and now he could see a touch of concern in them. ‘Is something wrong?’
‘I don’t know.’ Sam looked up again. He couldn’t help it. ‘Has this suspended ceiling been here since you came to work?’
She followed his glance. ‘Well,’ she said, ‘I didn’t know that was what it’s called, but yes, it’s been this way since I’ve been here.’
‘I had an idea there were skylights, you see.’
Cynthia smiled. ‘Well, sure. I mean, you can see them from the outside, if you go around to the side of the building. And, of course, you can see them from the stacks, but they’re boarded over. The sky-lights, I mean – not the stacks. I think they’ve been that way for years.’
For years.
‘And you’ve never heard of Ardelia Lortz.’
She shook her head. ‘Uh-uh. Sorry.’
‘What about the Library Police?’ Sam asked impulsively.
She laughed. ‘Only from my old aunt. She used to tell me the Library Police would get me if I didn’t bring my books back on time. But that was back in Providence, Rhode Island, when I was a little girl. A long time ago.’
Sure, Sam thought. Maybe as long as ten, twelve years ago. Back when dinosaurs walked the earth.
‘Well,’ he said, ‘thanks for the information. I didn’t mean to freak you out.’
‘You didn’t.’
‘I think I did, a little. I was just confused for a second.’
‘Who is this Ardelia Lortz?’ Tom Stanford asked, coming back. ‘That name rings a bell, but I’ll be darned if I know why.’
‘That’s just it. I don’t really know,’ Sam said.
‘Well, we’re closed tomorrow, but Mr Price will be in Monday afternoon and Monday evening,’ he said.
‘Maybe he can tell you what you want to know.’
Sam nodded. ‘I think I’ll come and see him. Meantime, thanks again.’
‘We’re here to help if we can,’ Tom said. ‘I only wish we could have helped you more, Mr Peebles.’
‘Me too,’ Sam said.
4
He was okay until he got back to the car, and then, as he was unlocking the driver’s-side door, all the muscles in his belly and legs seemed to drop dead. He had to support himself with a hand on the roof of his car to keep from falling down while he swung the door open. He did not really get in; he simply collapsed behind the wheel and then sat there, breathing hard and wondering with some alarm if he was going to faint.
What’s going on here? I feel like a character in Rod Serling’s old show.
‘Submitted for your examination, one Samuel Peebles, ex-resident of Junction City, now selling real estate and whole life in … the Twilight Zone.’
Yes, that was what it was like. Only watching people cope with inexplicable happenings on TV was sort of fun. Sam was discovering that the inexplicable lost a lot of its charm when you were the one who had to struggle with it.
He looked across the street at the Library, where people came and went beneath the soft glow of the carriage lamps. The old lady with the mystery novels was headed off down the street, presumably bound for her bridge game. A couple of girls were coming down the steps, talking and laughing together, books held to their blooming chests. Everything looked perfectly normal … and of course it was. The abnormal Library had been the one he had entered a week ago. The only reason the oddities hadn’t struck him more forcibly, he supposed, was because his mind had been on that damned speech of his.
Don’t think about it, he instructed himself, although he was afraid that this was going to be one of those times when his mind simply wouldn’t take instruction. Do a Scarlett O’Hara and think about it tomorrow.
Once the sun is up, all this will make a lot more sense.
He put the car in gear and thought about it all the way home.
CHAPTER 7
Night Terrors
1
The first thing he did after letting himself in was to check the answering machine. His heartbeat cranked up a notch when he saw the MESSAGE WAITING lamp was lit.
It’ll be her. I don’t know who she really is, but I’m beginning to think she won’t be happy until she’s driven me completely crackers.
Don’t listen to it, then, another part of his mind spoke up, and Sam was now so confused he couldn’t tell if that was a reasonable idea or not. It seemed reasonable, but it also seemed a little cowardly. In fact, he realized that he was standing here in a sweat, gnawing his fingernails, and suddenly grunted – a soft, exasperated noise.
From the fourth grade to the mental ward, he thought. Well, I’ll be damned if it’s going to work that way, hon.
He pushed the button.
‘Hi!’ a man’s whiskey-roughened voice said. ‘This is Joseph Randowski, Mr Peebles. My stage name is The Amazing Joe. I just called to thank you for filling in for me at that Kiwanis meeting or whatever it was. I wanted to tell you that I’m feeling a lot better – my neck was only sprained, not broke like they thought at first. I’m sending you a whole bunch of free tickets to the show. Pass em out to your friends. Take care of yourself. Thanks again. Bye.’
The tape stopped. The ALL MESSAGES PLAYED lamp came on. Sam snorted at his case of nerves – if Ardelia Lortz wanted him jumping at shadows, she was getting exactly what she wanted. He pushed the REWIND button, and a new thought struck him. Rewinding the tape that took his messages was a habit with him, but it meant that the old messages disappeared under the new ones. The Amazing Joe’s message would have erased Ardelia’s earlier message. His only evidence that the woman actually existed was gone.