I spent another day in the police station answering questions about Bob Simmons and Jessie Cartwright. After Jessie left and was arrested and Bob was beat nearly to death, everyone is keeping pretty close tabs on me. I sat and answered their questions with as few words as possible. Four hours later they let me go.
They arrested me soon after, of course.
I had lied to them about spending the night with Bob. Signed papers and everything. Detective Gerald Parker had to make a show of punishing me. Just had to.
I spent the night in jail and left in the morning with no charges. Just a silent warning to stay clean.
I went to the library and cleaned up. People had cleared out, no longer looking in the windows. No more gawkers. As I wiped myself down and changed shirts, I shocked myself into realizing that I had not gone home for days. Or had I?
I walked around the library in bare feet and wondered about what it was. The old building would never house the collection it once had. I did not have the money and, well, the collection had never been used that much. Not in the last few years.
Computers. Everyone wanted online and fast. After a decade or two and the elderly started dropping and the new Internet generation begins to rule the world, the library would be totally different.
And why could I not make the library my home? I looked around the second floor, wondering how much it would take to install a shower or bath. What it would cost to retrofit some walls and add a sturdier door? … Maybe right where the reference desk is at the top of the stairs.
I needed to do construction anyway…
Bah. Where would I find that kind of money?
As I finished the thought, the phone rang.
“Hey, cuz!” the girl on the other end said, “How’d you like to make a shitload of money?”