The Last Page

by David J. Walker

  She was surprised at how busy the place was. There were lots of young mothers with toddlers, a sprinkling of teenagers who one would have thought would be in school, and a few white-haired retirees. Through a set of glass doors to her left was the Adult Reader Services counter. Straight ahead was the Circulation and Check-out desk, where a slim, thirty-something brunette sat hunched over her computer, typing. As far as Julia could tell, it was business—hushed as it was—as usual.

  She approached the desk. “Excuse me. My name is Julia Fairbanks and I have an appointment to see the Acting Director, Mr. Finstead.”

  The woman’s eyes remained fixed on the screen, but she raised a forefinger in Julia’s general direction, so Julia waited. Finally she stopped typing and turned toward Julia with a smile that managed friendly helpfulness, assured competence, and deep fatigue all at once. “May I help you?”

  “I said…I have an appointment with Mr. Fin—”

  “Your name?” the woman asked, touching a button on her phone and lifting the receiver.

  “I said…my name is Julia—”

  “Mr. Finstead?” the woman said into her phone. “There’s a Julia something to see you.” She waited, listening, then hung up. “He’s quite busy just now. He asked that you wait a few minutes.”

  “I understand,” Julia said. “These must be difficult days for all of you.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “I said, ‘These must be difficult days.’”

  “Oh, yes,” the woman said. “What with school starting and—”

  “No. I meant with Ms. Adams dying. After all these years…it must leave an awful void.”

  “Oh. Well…you know…the public still needs to be served.”

  “But such an awful thing to happen…and right here in the library. You must miss her terribly.”

  “Not real—” The woman stopped, as though catching herself. “That is, Barbara had many excellent qualities, of course. But there are other people, quite competent, prepared to step in.”

  Julia decided to take a chance. “Actually,” she said, lowering her voice to create a sense of intimacy, “I knew Barbara a little. She wasn’t exactly what I’d call a ‘people person.’”

  “Tell me about it,” the woman said. “She never—” Her phone rang and she picked up. “Judy Wright here. Oh…yes…uh-huh. Okay, I’ll tell her.” She hung up. “Mr. Finstead will see you now. His office is right through that door.” She pointed across the lobby.

  Although it was none of her business, Julia was happy to note that at least the Acting Director hadn’t already taken over Barbara’s former office.

  * * *

  Jeremy Finstead wore a crisply pressed white business shirt with the top button undone and the tie loosened. He was shorter than Julia, and a little overweight.

  “Come in. Come in,” he said, stepping out of the way and then closing the door once she passed through. “Have a seat.” Speaking quite rapidly, and as though he were out of breath. “Oh, I know you,” he said, as though proud of his memory. “You’re Mavis Fairbanks’ daughter.” He scurried around behind his desk. Julia sat in a chair facing him. “How are your mother’s wedding plans going? William Bryant is a fine man, a fine man. He’s on our Board of Trustees, did you know?” Peering wide-eyed at her over the top of his glasses, he folded his hands. “So, what brings you here, Ms. Fairbanks?”

  Deciding Finstead’s first three questions were rhetorical, Julia went right to the last. “I’m just starting my second year of law school, sir, but I do a bit of free-lance writing as well.” She did write an article once, about her experiences as a lifeguard for the Windbrook Park District. “I’m working on an article now about Barbara Adams and…well… the impact of libraries on their communities. On spec, you know. No contract yet. Which brings me to you. I’m sure you have some insight into your predecessor’s thinking about—”

  “Please, please, my dear. I wouldn’t want to be quoted that I consider Ms. Adams my predecessor. She was Director. I’m Acting Director. As to the next permanent Director, that’s up to the Trustees.”

  “Right. I understand. In addition to getting your own input as to Ms. Adams, I’d like to talk to a few other members of your staff. Just briefly, you know, not interfering with their duties, of course.”

  “Well, I…uh…I suppose that would be all—”

  “Thanks, Mr. Finstead. Thanks a lot. Let me ask you something first. The director of a library has to supervise so many different employees, and I was wondering: Was Ms. Adams well-liked by library staff?”

  “Well-liked?” He paused. “Barbara was a very competent, conscientious administrator.”

  * * *

  Ten minutes later it was clear that Finstead intended to skirt around every question that touched on whether Barbara Adams was popular with her staff, or whether anyone—inside or outside the library—had a problem with her.

  Julia had the same luck with the next three library employees she spoke with, all of them women. They praised their deceased boss’s business acumen and competence, and avoided—some with obvious discomfort—whether anyone liked or disliked Barbara. Two others refused to talk to her at all, saying they were too busy.

  She decided to go home and study. As she was leaving, her way was blocked by a rather elderly man sweeping the sidewalk just outside the entrance. She expected him to step aside, but he didn’t. Instead, he looked up at her and nodded solemnly. Then he said, “I bet ya didn’t learn a whole lot, right?”

  SIX

  Julia was startled. She had seen this thin, wiry man working around the library dozens of times throughout the years, but—and she suddenly felt a little guilty about it—she’d never spoken to him. “My…my name is Julia Fairbanks,” she said. “And you are…?”

  “JJ Jackson,” he said, And no periods, dearie. Those aren’t initials. JJ’s my given name.”

  “Well, Mr. Jackson, what did—”

  “Call me JJ. I had one grandfather named Joseph, and the other named Jerome, and my parents couldn’t decide which name should go first. So it’s JJ. You’re writing an article about Ms. Adams, right?”

  “You know that already?”

  “Not much goes on around this library I don’t know.” He smiled. “Not that I go poking around in anyone’s business. But a man works at a library over thirty years…well…if he’s not a complete fool, he reads so many books he can’t help but learn stuff. And, if he keeps his eyes and ears open…well…he learns other stuff, y’know?”

  “I see. Sooo…you have a few minutes to chat?”

  JJ checked his watch. “I got a break coming. Let’s go to my office.” She followed him around the corner of the building. “My office,” he said, gesturing with his broom hand.

  It was a picnic table under a shade tree. It couldn’t be seen from the parking area or the street. Julia thought it was probably where library staff ate lunch or took breaks when the weather allowed.

  “It’s a little nippy here in the shade,” he said, “so probably won’t be anyone bothering us.” He leaned his broom against the tree and sat at the table. She sat across from him.

  He pulled a pack of Marlboros from his shirt pocket, took one out and stuck it between his lips, and slid the pack back in his pocket. “Oh,” he said, talking around the cigarette. “Want one?” Reaching toward his pocket again.

  “No, thanks. But what—”

  “Good on you. With young folks these days, you never know. A lot of ’em are dumb as me.” He flipped open a bulky stainless steel lighter, lit the cigarette, and blew out a stream of smoke. With his tan, leathery skin, gray mustache, and flannel shirt, he looked like an older version of the Marlboro man in a baseball cap—tough as nails, and strong. He leaned toward her. “Was I right?”

  “Excuse me?” Her mind was on the Marlboro man, and his dying of lung cancer.

  “Talking to the staff, you probably didn’t learn—”

  “Oh, yes, you’re right. I mean, I learned that Ms. A
dams was hard-working and efficient. But for the sort of article I’m doing, I need something…well…more personal. What her ideas were, or her philosophy; why she became a librarian; what the staff thought of her; what she hoped to accomplish. That sort of thing.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  He didn’t say anything else, so she said, “It must have been terrible, finding her dead like that.”

  “Well, I planned to go in late that morning ’cause she’d been running me ragged for two days. Dragging old boxes up out of storage to her office so’s she could look through ’em. She was like a lady on a mission, and… Uh, where was I? Oh, yeah. I woulda gone in late but it was cold and I thought I better go and make sure the boiler’s working. And, you know, there she was. What a surprise.”

  “I bet.” She noticed he was careful to blow his smoke off to the side, away from her. “I guess what surprises me,” she said, “is that everything seems so…so normal in the library, like there hadn’t just been a tragic death.”

  “Well…” JJ turned his head and blew out another long, thin stream of smoke. “It’s not like they were right there when she died. And it was just a heart attack. Happens every day.” He tapped ashes onto the ground. “Besides, most of them don’t really care that much. And the ones that do care? They’re happy as hell.”

  “What?” Julia’s breath caught in her throat.

  “Ms. Adams wasn’t, let’s say, the likable kind. Especially as a boss. I got along great with her, but I think that’s because I was already here when she started working here.” He obviously enjoyed having an audience. “She was still in college and I was maybe fifteen years older. I helped her out with stuff. You know, showed her where things were around the building. Even back then, most people didn’t like her.”

  “Really?”

  “She was sorta standoffish. Independent, too. To my mind she used to break rules just to break ’em, at least when no one was looking. Like she used to sneak into the boiler room for a smoke, when there was supposed to be no smoking inside. I caught her lotsa times. But I never said nothing, and she never forgot that.” He took a last drag, and stamped out the butt on the sole of his heavy work shoe. “’Course, I’ve always done my job . So I gave her nothing to complain about when she got to be in charge. Most folks found it hard to work for her. She could be…you wanna know the truth… mean. No other way to put it. Not just to the staff, either.”

  “Who besides the staff?” JJ looked surprised by her question and she remembered she was supposed to be writing an article. “I mean,” she said, “I don’t want to offend anyone by anything I say in my article, and…”

  “And you’re a curious person, right?” He winked, good-naturedly. She thought he probably didn’t get much conversation as a janitor…or a Maintenance Supervisor, as his ID badge put it. “Like me,” he added.

  “I guess so.” She grinned. “So…since we’re each a bit of a gossip…who didn’t like her…and why?”

  “Well…did you know her husband committed suicide?”

  “Everyone knows that. A little over a year ago. Depression, they say. So you’re saying he didn’t like—”

  “He’s not the one I’m thinking of.” JJ looked around, as though to be sure no one was listening, then said. “Ms. Adams’s step-daughter, her husband’s child from his first marriage—she’s grown now, older than you—she blames Ms. Adams for driving her father to blow his brains out. He left a note, said something like, ‘I can’t take it any more.’ The daughter says it was Ms. Adams he couldn’t take, and her constant criticism. I can believe that. Anyway, that girl…woman, I mean…hates her mother. Or hated her.”

  “How would you know something like that?”

  “Because like I told ya, I’m here all the time. And I can’t keep my ears plugged up, can I? The stepdaughter used to come and pick Ms. Adams up lotsa times at the end of the day. Sometimes no one else was here but me. I’d hear the two of ’em go at it. Tell you the truth, the daughter’s as mean as Ms. Adams. They deserved each other.”

  “Wow,” Julia said. “Anybody else?”

  “Well, Ms. Adams had a boyfriend. Crazy about her, though I don’t know why anyone—”

  “No, I was asking who else hated her?”

  “I’m getting to that.” He lit another cigarette. “The boyfriend’s wife, that’s who. She blames Ms. Adams for breaking up her marriage. She came here twice at night, hollering, threatening to choke Ms. Adams to death. You’d think she was trash, living in some rundown trailer the way she cussed, but she lives right here in the village. Ms. Adams just walked away from her, didn’t even call the police, ’cause she knew the woman, drunk as a skunk like she was, was a big shot with the Friends of the Library and raised tons of money.” JJ tapped his cigarette lighter on the table, first the top, then the bottom. “So…that makes two.”

  “Anyone else? I mean, who really didn’t like her, hated her?”

  “Funny,” he narrowed his eyes. “This doesn’t seem like the stuff you’d put in the kinda article you’re talking about.”

  “Well,” Julia said, “who knows? Maybe I can write two different articles. Anyway, who else? C’mon, you’d know, if anyone would.”

  She could see he couldn’t resist telling what he knew, or thought he knew. “People who really hated her, huh? I guess the only other one I can think of is Mr. Finstead.”

  “Mr. Finstead? The Acting Director?”

  “Yep.” JJ took a long drag on his latest Marlboro, looking pleased that he’d shocked her. “You probably know the Windbrook library and the one in Glenfield are joined in some kind of a partnership. The same Board of Trustees runs ’em both.”

  “Uh-huh. So?”

  “So the directorship of the Glenfield branch came open last spring. Mr. Finstead was in line for the job. Everyone said it was a sure thing. But Ms. Adams torpedoed it. Went to the board and bad-mouthed him. He was furious, but what could he do? I know he’s glad she’s—”

  “Mr. Jackson! I need you!” It was Judy Wright from the Readers Services desk, standing at the corner of the building, obviously frantic.

  “I’m on break,” he called back.

  “I know,” Judy said, “but it’s that homeless man. The one with the wires on his cap?”

  “You mean Radar Ralph? He smells a little, but he’s harmless. I’ll get rid of him when I finish my—”

  “You have to come now, Mr. Jackson. The man must have been drinking beer, and eating…I don’t know…I think a hot dog. Anyway, he threw up all over my desk…and my keyboard.”

  * * *

  Julia drove home, knowing she had to hit the books. Crim Pro and Con Law, those were the two biggies. Then again, she didn’t have either of those two classes again until the day after tomorrow, so she didn’t have to start tonight. Besides…she’d have a hard time concentrating.

  If you could believe JJ Jackson—and she did—at least three people had serious grudges against Barbara Adams. She knew better, though, than to run back to the police. In fact, maybe they were right. Her mother, too. Maybe her imagination was running away with her. Maybe she was riding off into a fantasy world of crime solving, in an effort to escape the rigor and drudgery of student life.

  On the other hand, she couldn’t help wondering what Barbara Adams had been looking for in those boxes she had JJ haul up to her office. Had the “lady on a mission” found what she was looking for? Did it have anything to do with her phone calls to Julia’s mother? Or that email she never sent?

  So Julia would go forward. She wouldn’t let a little nay-saying from her mother or the police persuade her to give up. She too was a “lady on a mission.”

  SEVEN

  The next afternoon Barbara Adams’s stepdaughter, Melissa Morgan, tried to slam the door in Julia’s face. “I don’t want to talk,” Melissa said.

  Julia wedged her foot between the door and the jam. “Ms. Morgan, I know this is a difficult time.”

  Melissa gave her an icy look. “You have
no idea. Please, leave me alone.” A brittle woman, with pale blond hair, pale blue eyes, and pale skin, she looked a little older than Julia, maybe late twenties. Then again, her sour expression might have added a few years to her appearance.

  “Wait,” Julia said. “I…I lost my father…a few years ago. I know what you’re going through.”

  In truth, Julia had never gotten over her father’s death. He’d died suddenly—a brain aneurysm. He’d been dictating a letter in the Loop law offices of Dutton, Fairbanks, and Hodge when all at once he stopped talking. His secretary was waiting for the next part of the letter, but when she looked up he had keeled over, his eyes rolled back in his head. They kept him alive for another forty-eight hours, but he never regained consciousness.

  Julia loved her mother, but her father had been special. Julia took after him. He had a curiosity about the world, society, and history that she shared. They both loved—

  “I said…please go.” Melissa was almost whining.

  Julia brought her focus back. “I’d like to ask a few questions…about your mother.”

  “My step-mother, you mean.”

  “Right. Sorry. But it’s because of my mother —”

  “Who did you say you were?”

  “Julia Fairbanks. My mother is Mavis Fairbanks. She and…your stepmother…were close, and my mother feels…well…she wants some closure, you know? I was hoping you could help. Can I come in?”

  Melissa eyed Julia, looked at her watch, then gave a resigned shrug. “You have five minutes.”

  “Thank you.” She slipped inside before Melissa could change her mind.

  They went into a living room that looked pale, modern…and uncomfortable. “If your mother was her friend, she had to know that Barbara Adams and I…well…we were never close.” Melissa sat primly on a white fabric couch without a spot on it.