An Imperfect Librarian - Elizabeth Murphy [78]
“What does that make me?”
“The aspartame of librarians. The decaf version.” He laughs, coughs then wipes his forehead.
“Have you heard the radio yet today?”
He shakes his head as if too exhausted for words.
“Francis has been charged with assault and obstruction of justice.”
“I told you, you don’t listen,” he says. “Norah’s been charged, not Francis. The reporters were here talking to Francis and the Chief. They’re both speaking on behalf of the university. I should have guessed there was something between them. I always wondered whose prick–”
“Screw Francis! What about Norah?”
“They had a search warrant for every building on that property, not just for the hexagon. You can be sure Francis had a role to play in that change in our plans. The officers were under an order to remove every sheet of paper. They wore white gloves but it wasn’t because they needed to be delicate. I can’t blame her for fighting them off if she had the collection you described to me. In any case, her friend Walter is going to bail her out of jail.”
“Is that supposed to make it better?”
“For now it might, yes.”
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
eavesdroppings
THERE’S A PERSISTENT DRONE OF rumour sounding throughout the library and on campus in general. The lunchroom is much noisier than usual.
“It’s not the cameras that caught her, you know,” the woman says. “It’s Francis Hickey.”
“He’s some good lookin’,” the woman next to her adds.
“Too good for me. Never go out with a guy who looks better than you–”
I push my chair in. It squeaks and interrupts the conversation.
“No worries about that happening around here,” the woman says as I’m leaving the room.
VOCM, CBC, The Campus Voice, The Telegram...even the national Globe is reporting on the story. Francis poses with a smile. The captions reads: Special Collections Expert Francis Hickey. Norah’s photo doesn’t appear in the papers but her name is on everyone’s tongue. I can’t stop the newspapers or the rumours. I’ve sent her emails and a letter through regular snail mail. I’ve left telephone messages. If I tried any harder to contact her, I’d be guilty of harassment. For every email or letter I’ve written, there’ve been ten times as many drafts. I substitute words, add, delete, edit, explain, deconstruct, reconstruct. Every page ends up in the trash. The posting to the online discussion is my last resort:
To: king_e.group.nl.ca
From: cbrunet@king.nl.ca
Date: March 02, 2001
Subject: Help Norah Myrick
Visit ratemyprofessors.com to voice your support for
Dr. Norah Myrick, Assistant Professor, History
Department, King E. University. Norah needs your
help now!
Within a week, there are forty-six postings. My favourite is, Come back Professor Myrick, we loves ya!!
Every time the phone rings, I answer hoping it will be her. But it never is.
“Hi. Edie here. How are you?”
“OK.”
“You sound sluggish. Is everything all right?”
“I’m fine, Edith. What can I do for you?”
“You’re in a hurry again. I can tell. I was calling to invite you for supper.”
“Not tonight, thanks.”
“I didn’t mean tonight. I’ve got toastmasters. I meant sometime on the weekend. Friday or Saturday. Curling with the girls is off for this weekend. I was going to invite another couple. Do you know Betty and Mike?”
“No.”
“They’re a lovely couple, about our age–”
“I meant, no I can’t come for supper.”
“Why not? It’ll be a lovely evening. We’ll play charades. Betty is excellent. She–”
“I have to go now, Edith.”
“Carl, are you there? Don’t hang up. I also called to see if you’d heard the news.”
I don’t have a TV, the car radio is broken and I’m thinking I might get rid of my phone as well.
“It’s about Norah Myrick.”
“What about Norah?”
“I thought you’d know by now. You two were a number this summer, weren’t you? Are you still with her?”
“What about Norah?”
“She was picked up for failing the breathalyser a few years ago. Did you know that? There’s nothing worse than being involved with–”
“What about Norah?”
“Everybody’s heard by now. You should get yourself a TV or a