AllFreeNovel
Share Us
ChapterEight
“Thanks, Bee.” Grace Berry tucked the book into her tote bag and took her library card back. “If you’re not doing anything tonight, Brooke and I are meeting for drinks at the Mousehole, then heading to the Vitaphone for a movie.”
“I’d love to, but I’m going to be here.” Bee tapped her finger on the counter. “The production crew will be working at night, and for liability reasons, I need to be present during filming.”
Grace lifted her eyebrows. “You’re going to be hereeverynight until they’re done filming? How are you going to get any sleep?”
“Oh, I can catch a few hours on the sofa in the break room, and both Rebecca and your dad offered to take over the morning shifts. I think the crew leaves around dawn, so I’ll be able to go back to my apartment before work. I’ll be fine.”
She didn’t bother telling her friend that she was actually looking forward to hanging out with the crew and keeping busy. Aside from Edgar Allan Crow, she was usually alone at night. Even though she was used to it by now, the hours could still feel long and empty.
Plus, she wanted to dig into the archives downstairs and look for solid evidence about why Captain Marcus was still haunting the Gardenia House.
“Well, if I can help in any way, let me know.” Grace hitched her tote bag over her shoulder. “Drama club doesn’t start until next month, so I have some free time. Oh, the kids wanted me to ask if you’ve heard anything about the mural they wanted to paint over by the fiction section?”
Regret pushed at Bee’s chest. For the past year, Grace’s English class high school students had wanted to partner with art students to create a literature-based mural on the library walls. Although Bee loved the idea, she couldn’t find a way to make it happen.
“Unfortunately, it’s not possible,” she said. “The library’s mission statement includes a whole section about retaining the original aesthetics of the Gardenia House. The sketches the kids gave me were amazing, but a mural won’t fit with the house’s architecture and overall look. And I can’t go against the mission statement.”
“I figured.” Grace nodded, though disappointment glinted in her eyes. “They’d also have to remove the paint to create the right base layer, and I’d be a little wary about that.”
“Why’s that?”
“Do you know when the house was last painted?”
Bee shook her head. “I can probably find out, though. Why?”
“It might be lead-based paint.” Grace indicated the pocket of flaking paint on a corner of the ceiling above the circulation desk. “Actually, you should probably talk to Joe over at Metalworks about getting the paint tested and possibly removed or painted over.”
Bee’s heart dropped. No one had mentioned the possibility of lead-based paint before, but now that it was starting to visibly deteriorate in places, it might very well pose a health hazard.
“Don’t worry.” Grace touched Bee’s arm. “I won’t tell Marilyn or anyone else, but you might want to get it looked at before she catches on.”
“I will, thanks.” Bee was surprised that Marilyn hadn’t already used the paint hazard issue as a weapon in her arsenal. The library had been unable to upgrade the heating system because the budget couldn’t handle the expense of removing asbestos, so they’d never be able to afford paint removal.
But the potential health dangers were far more pressing than anything else, so she’d have to get the paint tested and keep her fingers crossed it wasn’t lead-based.
“It’ll work out,” Grace assured her. “If it’s even an issue, chances are you might be able to repaint. And you can get volunteers to help out with that, starting with Lincoln and me.”
“Thanks, Grace.” Bee’s heart warmed.
Her friends’ support for the library had only solidified her determination to save the old house. People and places were the elements that made up a home, and since Captain Marcus couldn’t savehishome by himself, she needed to fight for him too.
“Is my dad around?” Grace glanced at her phone. “He’s not answering my texts, which he never does when he’s working.”
“Yes, he’s shelving books in the mystery section.”
“Great, thanks. I’ll go pester him.”
After her friend headed off, Bee texted Joe about the paint testing, then returned to perusing the new books catalogs.
The usual after-school and early evening patrons came and went, and the teenagers in the high school study group looked as if they were actually getting their homework done rather than giggling and watching videos on their phones.
At eight, Bee did a sweep of the rooms to make sure no one was lingering, then locked the front doors. As she began the process of closing up, the crew continued to drift around, calling to each other about lights, camera settings, and audio.
“Bee…what was it?Beemine?”
She turned to find Clyde Constantine standing by the circulation desk, dressed like some sort of rogue pirate in black jeans, a black T-shirt so tight it looked as if it had been painted on him, black leather boots, and a black vest with pockets containing various pieces of equipment—flashlight, radio, headset, and several electronic meters.
