Wheels squeaked. A soft murmur of conversations weaved in and out of the quiet stacks. In a corner someone coughed. Lifting up The Poisoner’s Handbook, Annabell paused.

“All dead. I need all of them dead. I can’t face one more summer with them infesting everything,” an aggravated whisper said from behind her.

The librarian directed the patron to the the gardening section focusing on organic pest control. Between the rows, Annabell pushed the book cart. Children laughed in the storytime theatre. She slipped Dead Men Do Tell Tales into forensics.

“Bodies in the backyard, lots of them,” someone said brightly.

Annabell and the patron discussed favorite true crime podcasts whilst narrowing down serial killers in the mystery section. Running feet and more laughter traipsed in from young adults to juveniles.

“Annie, could you man check in? I need to corral the ankle biters,” Hank said. “No room rentals with only one person in Special Collections.”

Nodding, Annabell took up Hank’s position. She began scanning in the DVDs and electronics. It was one of those calm library Tuesdays she loved. Busy enough to be interesting but not overwhelming the library hummed with people coming together to learn.

After storytelling and the young families headed home the hookers would take over the community room with their half-finished needlework. Granny squares, brightly colored, preoccupied her thoughts when she heard a cell phone ring. She set down the Murderball dvd. Head on swivel Annabell clocked the ring came from Special Collections.

Comprised of antique map references and hand colored botanical and nature studies, the Special Collections room was dimly lit and temperature controlled. No cell phones or flash photography were allowed inside to protect the rare manuscripts. Stealth mode, she approached the special collections room door.

“Look it’s the red-shouldered hawk, trust me Audubon Havel Edition plate 56. Mint condition. I can source it for you but I need cash. None of this bitcoin nonsense,” a voice said from behind the door. “Deal!”

A loud cough and the sound of ripping paper sent a shock wave up Annabelle’s spine. Her left eye twitched in fury. Quickly she sent a theft alert text to the local police. Next she made serious eye contact with Hank in the storytime theatre. With a V hand Annabell signaled to the other librarian of the rare book theft. Setting aside Hungry Hungry Caterpillar, Hank took a menacing stance by the front door.

The librarian cracked her neck and squared her shoulders. Annabell flung open the Special Collections door. Splayed open, the vintage nature guide lay debouched. Its colorful plates strewn across the conference table. Jumping back, the book thief yelped.

“Sssshhh!”