Literary Souls: Episode 3

“Clary! Clary, where are you?” I turn towards the library door as the local town gossip, Niles, comes crashing through the door. “Oh, there you are! I need all the books you have on finance. Have you heard the newest news?”

“Let’s see what we can find for you. Anything more specific or just broad finance.” I choose to ignore his attempt at baiting me into joining his gossip habit. He’ll probably tell me anyway.

“Larry, you know Larry from the bank. He got caught skimming money from the till. The bank wanted to press charges and asked the police for a full investigation. But he committed suicide last night! So now the bank is going to sue his estate in an attempt to get their money back! Can you believe it?”

“So banking and estate processing might be more what you’re looking for?” I again attempt to ignore him, but I must admit I hadn’t heard anything about this yet. It didn’t seem like Larry. He usually came into the library for fantasy and science fiction novels. He was a young man still looking for his place in the world. But he seemed harmless enough.

“Yes, yes. Whatever you’ve got, I’ll take it. I’m going to write a piece for the local newspaper on Larry’s devious ways and untimely end. It’s just the kind of thing our community needs to know about.” Niles also writes the local newspaper, but that’s just the nice way of saying he writes a local gossip column that only circulates in Sunshine to a very limited readership. “I’ll be sure to bring you a copy and to mention your help here at the library as a research resource.”

“Here’s the couple of finance books we have. Give these a try and if you need more we can order some from one of the bigger libraries,” I tell him as I check out his books and hand them across the desk.

“Oh yes, thank you again Clary. Off to work now.” Niles rushes out the door in the same frantic way he entered.

I startled as Sylvia appears beside me. “Did I hear suicide?” she asks without preamble.

“We’ve discussed just appearing without notice,” I grumble. “But yes. I can’t believe Larry would do something like this. He always seemed so sweet and quiet. I suppose anyone is capable of anything though. He must have had his reasons.”

“I wonder how much he stole before getting caught. I mean if I was robbing a bank, there would be signs. Starting with a new kitchen obviously,” Sylvia giggled as she floated off towards the poetry section.

I rolled my eyes at her. At least she kept a sense of humor in her afterlife. Some of the other Literary Souls were real downers. But she raised a good point. I hadn’t noticed anything off about Larry, but had anyone else in town?

A few days later, the library phone rings. “Sunshine Public Library, how can I help you?”

“Clary, can you order me some more books on estate planning and financials? These couple helped but I’m thinking I need more of a specialized view for my article.”

“Of course, Niles. I’ll put in an order now and they should be here in a few days.”

“Thank you,” he says before abruptly hanging up.

As I’m looking for local libraries to order the books from, Hemingway appears at the desk in front of me. “Sylvia says we have a suicide in town. Have you let her investigate?”

“No, why would I? The whole town is saying he did it out of guilt and his spirit hasn’t appeared here, so clearly he went to the afterlife without any lingering questions. There’s nothing for Sylvia to investigate.”

“Oh just take her out to see what people are saying. We haven’t had a suicide in years. She’s been cooped up in that poetry section for so long. Play a long. Who knows what you might find.”

Finished ordering Niles’ books, I say, “Fine. Sylvia let’s go.” I grab a copy of The Bell Jar off the shelf to bring her along. She appears next to me.

“Where to? What’s happening?”

“We’re going to see what people around town are saying about Larry. Something just isn’t sitting right with me.”

As we wander through the town, Larry and the bank seem to be all anyone can talk about. “I always thought he was a little strange.” “He never was very good at counting out change. Maybe he didn’t mean to do it.” “I can’t believe someone would be so stupid.” “The bank lost almost $5,000 this month. How could he?” The old ladies at the coffee shop next door gossip almost as much as Niles.

Sylvia and I head towards the bank. It seems the most logical place to start and I do need to deposit the donations from last week’s fundraiser. “$5,000. Wouldn’t that have been noticed earlier? He can’t have stolen all of that in one day,” I ask Sylvia.

“I’m not the banking ghost. I don’t know about that. But it does seem suspicious that he would get caught now.”

As we enter the bank, I notice the manager, Daryl is now manning the desk. “Hello, Clary,” he greets me with a smile. “We’re a bit short staffed today obviously, so I’ll be with you in a moment.” He turns back to the man in front of him. “That will take a few days to clear, but we should be able to cover it. Why don’t you come back in on Friday to check in?”

“Fine, but I need it soon,” the man says before turning and storming out.

“How can I help you Clary?”

“I just need to deposit these donations into the library account,” I say while handing him the bag containing the cash and checks. “It was a very successful fundraiser, so I don’t want to leave it hanging around in the petty cash fund at the library.”

“Of course. Glad to hear it went so well.”

“I’m sorry to hear about Larry. That must have been very hard on you. I know you hired him five years ago.”

“It was surprising. I always thought I was very fair to him and I didn’t realize things had gotten so bad that he needed to do that.”

“What do you think will happen now? Does his estate have enough to reimburse you?”

“I don’t know yet. His family hired some hot shot lawyer from Boston so we’re waiting for her to arrive before we go to court. Apparently they owned his house and car, so I don’t know if there’s actually anything in his name that we can sue for. That’ll be up to the lawyers to figure out.”

“I hope everything works out. I need to head back to the library, but please let me know if there’s anything I can do to help,” I offer as I turn and walk out of the bank. “Did that seem strange to you?” I ask Sylvia as we began walking back to the library.

“Why would his parents own his home and his car if he had been working here for five years? He was twenty-seven years old. He should’ve been able to sign on his own.”

“Exactly,” I say thoughtfully as we enter the library. “There must be some reason he didn’t want his name listed on any of his property.”

“Maybe, or maybe he simply couldn’t do it. Just because Daryl says he paid him well doesn’t mean he really did. If we’ve learned anything it’s the not everyone tells the truth when confronted with an uncomfortable question.” Sylvia slowly slips back off towards the poetry section as I set The Bell Jar back on to its shelf.

Still thinking about Larry, I head back to the desk and find that some of Niles’ books have been delivered. Flipping through them, I realize that maybe Larry was just good at hiding his true self from the rest of the town, too. After calling Niles about the books, I ask, “Did you learn anything new about Larry for your article yet? Maybe that his estate isn’t as big as we’d assumed?”

“Funny you should say that, I just happened to get my hands on a copy of his financials and it’s amazing that he was even able to afford to life in Sunshine. If his parents weren’t paying for his house and car, he’d have been broke a long time ago. I guess we’ve found his motive for skimming.”

“But if he had been skimming, wouldn’t his financials have started looking better lately?”

“He can’t very well skim from the bank and then turn around and deposit it. He must have a nest egg somewhere. Another account or a hidden stash of cash. Daryl would’ve noticed if he suddenly had more money than he was being paid. A downfall of small town living.”

“Good point,” I say as my mind starts wandering. “Thank you Niles. I’ll see you tomorrow to pick up the books.”

“Sylvia!?”

“What? Have you solved it?”

“I don’t think there’s anything to solve,” I begin. “I think it’s just a case of scapegoating.”

“What do you mean?”

“Think about it. It doesn’t add up. Larry did commit suicide for some unknown reason. But I don’t think he was the one stealing from the bank. It makes no sense. In a town this small, Daryl or someone else would have noticed if he suddenly had an extra $5,000. I think someone else was stealing and is using Larry’s death as a cover up for their crime.”

“But who would do such a thing? That poor boy.”

“Someone who needs to cover their own losses. By stealing from one customer to cover for another customer. They took too much and got desperate. People began noticing.”

The next morning, police parade Daryl through the town on the way to the station. “I don’t know what you’re talking about! It was Larry! Then he killed himself when he realized he was about to be caught.”

A woman steps in front of him. “My son did not steal. He was a troubled young man and I don’t appreciate you using his death as an excuse to cover up your crimes.”

“We’ve got your personal and business banking statements. You got greedy Daryl. Took too much for yourself and then couldn’t cover it when customers started wanting to withdraw their money. So you stole from one to pay for another. Larry had nothing to do with it. He was just a man who happened to hit his breaking point at a time that was convenient for you to use him.”

“My son is not your scapegoat!” the woman practically screams as she breaks down in the center park.

Rushing from the library, I wrap the woman in a hug as the police take Daryl away. “Thank you for finding out what happened to my son. For clearing his name,” she mumbles into my shirt between her sobs.

“Larry was one of my favorite patrons. Always happy to tell me about his latest fantasy battle or share a good book.” Out of the corner of my eye, I see Sylvia floating by the library window with tears in her eyes.