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“Great. Give me the hardest job.”
CHAPTER SIX
Entering the Cottonwood County Public Library felt warm and welcoming.
Possibly some of the welcoming came thanks to it feeling warm. Even more than the temperature difference, getting inside its doors represented protection from the wind that had slapped us around up at Elk Rock Ranch.
You might think getting into the NewsMobile for the return trip would have accomplished that. You’d be wrong. By this point, the NewsMobile was the automotive equivalent of Swiss cheese.
My SUV, which I’d transferred to in the KWMT-TV parking lot while Diana went inside to work up what she’d shot for B-roll and background on Keefer Dobey’s death for the Five and Ten o’clock news, offered wonderful protection, along with heated seats and steering wheel, which are requirements of civilization in my humble opinion.
The SUV began defrosting me enough that I called my next-door neighbors, Iris and Zeb Undlin, to ask if they’d be willing to feed my dog Shadow tonight.
Yes, was their unsurprising answer even before hearing it was so I could have dinner with Tom and Tamantha.
They’d also let Shadow out and give him treats and love on him. They might take him to their house so he could watch TV with them.
“Anytime,” Iris said gaily.
And I knew it was truth for them as well as Shadow.
Once parked at the library, I discovered a downside to the SUV’s amenities — they made the slice of wind and cold sharper in contrast before reaching the library’s door.
“Hi, Elizabeth.” From behind the circulation desk and wearing a bulky blue sweater, librarian Ivy Short smiled, helping shed the chill.
“Hi, Ivy. If you have a few minutes...”
She held up an it’ll-be-a-second finger. “If you want to wait a little, my break is coming up.”
Twist my arm. I wandered from an array of national magazines — yes, they still existed in print — to an announcement of an upcoming tax prep assistance event, to a display on St. Patrick’s Day.
Another librarian in a bulky brown sweater took Ivy’s spot at the desk. The bulky sweaters were de rigueur because of cold gusts pushing their way inside with each patron.
Ivy led me to the coffee pot in the staff room for cups, then settled us into a study room.
“Good coffee.” With newsroom the emphasis is on caffeine, speed, and availability, and we get all that, but at the cost of taste. “How are you, Ivy?”
She answered for half a cup. Then she tipped her head to one side. “You didn’t come here to chat.”
“No, I didn’t. Though I probably should.”
She smiled back at me and waited.
“I’m hoping for background on Keefer Dobey. You know—?”
“Yes. So shocking. Absolutely shocking. If I were asked the last person I would ever think would be shot...” She sighed out between her teeth, keeping tears at bay.
“I’m told he spent a great deal of time here lately. I know you won’t tell what specifically he checked out—”
“Oh, my, I couldn’t possibly remember all the specifics, even if it weren’t against the librarian code.”
“—but to confirm a general interest, say in Wild West outlaws...”
It wasn’t much of a leap, having been told he talked about them a lot and spent time at the library.
She looked relieved. She’d hated to deny me information and was happy to confirm what I already knew. “He was deeply interested in outlaws from the Wild West era. Particularly those who might have been in this area.”
“Wyoming? Or—.?”
