Page 18 of The Librarians
Chapter Seven
Thursday
Halloween passes without incident at the library. On Thursday, November 1, Jonathan announces that he will organize a book sale to clear out the donated books. The task of coming up with publicity posters for the sale falls to Astrid, who tackles most of the branch’s graphic design needs.
That afternoon, she and Jonathan sit in the staff office, she fiddling with a Christmas tree made of books in Photoshop, he looking on theAustin American-Statesman’s website to see how much coverage the paper has given to branch library events in the past year.
“I love the board you did for the poetry workshop, by the way,” said Jonathan.
“Thanks,” she murmurs.
Jonathan hosts the monthly poetry workshop and gets a nice roster of regulars. But given how many people have moved to Austin recently, Astrid thought it would be a good idea to publicize the workshop a little more with a standing blackboard display at the front of the library.
“I’m thinking of also updating the board for the open mic night,” she adds.
“That’s a great idea. You’re so talented, Astrid.”
He is being deliberately kind. She should be too proud for it, but she is desperate for such care and generosity.
“Wait—what?” Jonathan exclaims softly.
Astrid looks up. “What’s going on?”
“Come and see.”
A frowning Jonathan gets up from his chair and steps out of the way for Astrid to read the article on his monitor.
New Austin Resident Found Dead
The Austin Police Department has confirmed that the body found in a vehicle parked on Fanfare Drive in Northwest Austin is that of Jeannette Obermann of Twin Courtyards Apartments.
Obermann, until recently a resident of North Carolina, moved to Austin in August to take a job with Apple as a technical writer. Those who knew her describe her as helpful and responsible, “someone who’s interested in everyone and everything.”
The police have not yet released Obermann’s cause of death. They have also declined to state whether the incident is being investigated as an instance of homicide.
“Twin Courtyards Apartments?” says Astrid, feeling faintly alarmed. “That’s right across the street from where I live. And why does this woman look familiar?”
An image of Jeannette Obermann accompanies the article, a professional portrait that makes Astrid think of real estate agents, the kind whose faces are prominently displayed on open house placards.
Then shock hits her like a hammer, jolting her out of the lethargy of the past few days. “My God, was she the fortune teller with the third eye on her forehead? She’s dead?”
A knock comes at the glass door of the office—Sophie, in a tangerine skirt suit that only she and Lupita Nyong’o can carry off. Astrid is used to seeing Sophie in vibrant outfits. It’s Sophie’s expression—at once hollow-eyed and…guilty-looking?—that takes her aback.
Sophie pulls open the door and admits a handsome woman of about Jonathan’s age and possibly Middle Eastern heritage and a freckled youngwhite man. Sophie closes the door again, then says quietly, “Astrid, we have two detectives from Austin Police Department who would like a word with you.”
“Are you Ms. Brittany Sorenson?” says the woman detective. She sports a blue vest over a crisp white shirt, her dark, abundant hair pulled back into a high ponytail.
“Maryam?” Jonathan cries. “Is that you?”
The woman nods, her manner impeccably professional. “Hey, Jonathan. It’s been ages.”
Jonathan glances toward Astrid, confusion and inquietude written all over his face.
With some reluctance, Astrid answers, “I’m Brittany Sorenson, but I usually go by Astrid.”
At least that is her real middle name, from her real Swedish great-grandmother.
“I’m Detective Maryam Shariati and this is Detective Branson Jones,” says the woman. “A moment of your time, please, Ms. Sorenson.”
