Library Notes
February 11, 2005
By Pansy Hundley, Librarian.
Had you stuck your head in the library week before last, you may have withdrawn it faster than you stuck that head in and then slammed the door.
We had some kind of varmint, be it mouse, rat, cat, dog, coyote, lion, tiger or mule, who breathed his last in our ceiling, our wall or under the floor. The smell was so strong, it could have been one of each.
The smell began creeping up on us one day, a little stronger the next and by the third day, it 'bout knocked you down when you opened the door to walk in.
Both Trish and I were still half- sick from our "flu-like illness" that has closed several schools and has had half the people we've seen lately coughing their heads off. That constant, awful, terrible smell just about finished us off, as we almost turned pink, green and purple from smelling it all day.
In desperation, I called City Hall to see if they could help us any. Someone came in the afternoon, after we had turned a beautiful green color. They looked under the building some and in the ceiling some and found nothing. But it was there somewhere.
Trish brought a bunch of candles from home. We placed them all around us, attempting to change the smell as much as possible. I sprayed Lysol spray and that lasted about as long as it took me to spray it.
I looked everywhere I could think to look where a rat or mouse may have decided to leave this world, with no luck whatsoever. I got into my coat and went out one day to see if said creature might be around the air conditioning units out back. I racked around the leaves piled up under them, to no avail. All I found was leaves.
The smell seemed to be loud around one section of the children's books. So, I took out a shelve or two of books, looking between and behind them. No avail again. I looked through boxes of books, where a strong smell seemed to emanate. No avail - or rat either.
Then I thought of a place, a corner in the children's section where a space is open all the way to the floor, a corner where two shelves come together. This is the place where a squirrel got himself trapped years ago when Rex was adding to the library the first time, and he went to that Great Squirrel House in the sky. But, he sure didn't come close to the smell we presently had.
I took my flashlight to work, got the stool and climbed on it, moving the big doll I have covering the corner "hole". I peered into that opening, half-way hoping I would see a big fat, dead, rat, and I could then consider how to get him out. No such luck and no avail either.
I thought that horrible smell would start to abate in two or three days. But it wasn't happenin'. For two weeks we were blessed with it. You could walk outside a few minutes, walk back in the door, pick yourself up off the floor and continue working.
Some of the computer regulars decided they wouldn't stay on the computer as long as they usually did. Can't imagine why. No sporting blood I guess. People picked out books faster than usual I think.
One after noon it was nice, warm and sunshiny, so we left the door open. However, next day, a cold norther had blown in, so that put a stop to that.
We were like the feller in the truck that went over Wolf Creek Pass behind a truck load of hogs. That opened our sinuses right up!
Finally, finally, after more than two weeks, we came in to work and could actually take a deep breath without nearly gagging . Our exterminator, I call him our bug-man, came in a couple of days later to spray. I told him about having probably a mouse or a rat lay down and die somewhere and how we had managed to survive it, in a sickly manner.
Do you know what he said? Well, of course, you don't, but I'll tell you. He said "Well, you should have called me. I have something I could have used. That's what I'm here for. Just call me!" I could have hit him over the head with something! I thought he just sprayed bugs and put out poison. He never said "Now if this poison gets a mouse, you call me and I'll take care of it."
Well, buddy bug-man, don't you fret! The very first whiff I ever get of another one you'll be the first to know -- after me!
Now that the library has survived the fragrance, that term that I use very loosely, we'll smell a book. No, no, no, I mean, we'll read a book. I'll be alright eventually, as soon as my head has time to air out!
On with a book. "R" Is For Ricochet" is finally out, our next letter of the alphabet from Sue Grafton. So, let's see what kind of scrape she's in this time, and help her get out of it.
"Reba Lafferty was a daughter of privilege, the only child of an adoring father. Nord Lafferty was already in his fifties when Reba was born, and he could deny her nothing. Over the years, he quietly settled her many scrapes with the law, but he wasn't there when she was convicted of embezzlement and sent to the California Institute for Women. Now, at thirty-two, she is about to be paroled, having served twenty-two months of a four-year sentence. Nord Lafferty wants to be sure she stays straight, stays away from the drugs, the booze, the gamblers.
It seems a straightforward assignment for Kinsey: babysit Reba until she settles in, make sure she follows all the rules of her parole. Maybe all of a week's work. Nothing untoward -- the woman seems remorseful and friendly. And the money is good.
But life is never that simple, and Reba is out of prison less than twenty-four hours when one of her old crowd comes circling around.
A complex and clever money-laundering scheme is just a cover for a novel that is all about love: love gone wrong, love betrayed, love denied. And love avenged. For Reba Lafferty, its' moral is clear: Sometimes what you hand out in life comes back to bite you. Sometimes the good guys win, even when they lose."