| |
WHEN TRACI ARRIVED, Kay McGee was sitting in her usual spot at the circular desk in McClendon Public Library. She smiled and pulled off her bifocals letting them dangle on the chain around her neck. She wore a soft yellow knit sweater set over khaki capris.
“Hello” she greeted Traci with a wide smile and her favorite pink lipstick.
“Hello, how are you?” Traci genuinely loved seeing this woman.
“Great, are you here on a work assignment, Traci? What’ve you got going on, honey?” Ms. McGee said. She was always eager to help.
“No, not this time,” Traci didn’t bother mentioning that she had been fired from NeverMore, Inc. and was now a bike courier.
“It’s some personal stuff.” She leaned over the rainbow polka-dot laminate desk. “For a friend, actually.”
“Ohhh,” Ms. McGee said steering her wheelchair down the ramp and around the colorful “StoryTime with Sanchia” platform. “Let’s go into my office. C’mon with me, dear.”
Traci appreciated the privacy of the Head Librarian’s office. Even at the library, she looked through the large glass picture window facing out to the main entrance in case she was being followed. She knew it was just her emotions trying to overtake her. Once she got the information she was looking for, she would be done with all of this. She would let Milo know what she found out and wash her hands of it.
“There’s a property where the owner died suddenly,” Traci started.
“Rowena Garrett?”
“Yes,” Traci said, surprised that the word had spread already.
“I heard about it. Terrible tragedy,” she said looking at Traci and adjusting her glasses on the tip of her nose. “What do you need to know, honey?”
Traci appreciated how Ms. McGee didn’t ask why she wanted the information or any other personal questions.
“My friend wants to know what happens to that house and the land in a situation like this, with no next of kin or anything.”
“Are you sure there is no family to claim it?”
“That’s what we, I mean my friend thinks,” Traci said frowning. “Of course, I don’t know anything about her at all.”
“Well, that’s the place to start, isn’t it?” Ms. McGee said and patted Traci’s hand. “Have you ever searched family history before, Traci? It’s a lot of fun. You never know what you’re going to find out!” she said gleefully.
The librarian handed Traci a small notecard and stubby pencil.
“Here, you’ll need this to jot down what we find. There’s always a trail of breadcrumbs to follow so you don’t get lost.” she said, smiling and logging into the library genealogy database network.
Ms. McGee started scrolling through records of land sales and deed transfers, birth and death certificates, census documents and marriage certificates.
“There he is,” Traci said, pointing to the screen.
It was a small, grainy thumbnail picture, but Traci could tell without a doubt that was the man in the picture on Rowena Garrett’s mantle.
“Earl Garrett, jazz saxophonist on tour in New Orleans” was the citation in the Clayborne Tribune article.
“Do you know him?” Ms. McGee said.
“I’ve seen a picture of him somewhere,” Traci said tapping Zoom to enlarge the photo. “Can we find out more about him?”
“Yes, dear,” Ms. McGee said clasping her hands. “Let’s sharpen our pencils!”
