TWO

 

 

It was nearly eight-thirty in the morning when JJ called 911. When the operator asked his name he said, “JJ Jackson. And no periods, ma’am. Those aren’t initials. JJ’s my given name.” He was so used to saying it that it just slipped out. But he stopped before telling her how his parents couldn’t decide between Jerome Joseph and Joseph Jerome. It didn’t seem fitting to go into it just then.

“Is there an emergency, sir?”

“Not exactly,” he said. “I’m the maintenance supervisor here at the Windbrook Library, and I come in early, and the director…Barbara Adams?...I seen her at the foot of the stairs that go down to the basement. I was on my way down to check the boiler, you know? ’Cause it’s gonna be cold t’day for Octo—” He heard the woman talking back to him. “Pardon me, ma’am?”

“Do you need an ambulance, sir?”

“No, no need for that. I expect she’s been dead quite some time now.”

“Excuse me? Did you say…” There was a pause, and then, “The police are on their way, Mr. Jackson. You just—”

“I know,” JJ said. “I seen it on TV. I won’t go anywhere.”

“Thank you, sir.”

JJ hung up and went to a computer and made a sign. It said:

DUE TO UNEXPECTED EMERGENCY

LIBRARY CLOSED

SORRY FOR YOUR INCONVENIENCE

 

He printed out two copies, taped them to the front doors of the library, and waited for the police to get there.

His boss was dead. He couldn’t say as most folks would miss her much.