librarian, right? I’m Proctor and he’s Bergman….Pete Proctor.” The man designated as Bergman wore a camera around his neck. Either he didn’t rate being introduced by his full name or he was one of those creative types who only went by a single name, like Madonna or Cher. “Could you spare a couple of minutes…between servings? We were contacted to cover Marian’s retirement ceremony, but we could run an article on you as well.”
“Kill two birds with one stone?” I summarized.
“Exactly,” Pete said, unaware of the irony I felt using that cliché. He must have been ten years younger than I was. His dark hair was styled with that “wet,” spikey look some younger guys wear, and he wore studs in each of his ear lobes. “If you don’t mind, I’ll just record your responses. So tell me all about yourself…where you worked before this, your background, where you’re from.”
I summarized my bio as briefly as possible while continuing to serve our patrons and guests. Although this exercise in participatory journalism wasn’t as awkward as my job interview, it was a close second, with me blowing my own horn to the amusement of the succession of guests while Pete held out his recorder in one hand and ate a piece of cake with the other, constantly looking around the room, as if afraid he might miss something really interesting elsewhere.
After finishing the succinct summary, I waited for Pete to notice I’d finished. He turned toward me, a trace of frosting on his upper lip. “Uh…thanks. So…you’re the one who found the dead man, is that right?”
I was taken aback by his sudden transition, and wasn’t sure how to respond. I was hoping to lead into plans for upcoming programs for the library. I didn’t really know what those were yet, but I could have improvised.
“Yes, I was the one. Jacob Miller was his name.”
“Right. That must have been a shock. Did you notice any bruises on his face or hands? Cuts, anything like that?”
“Mr. Proctor, I don’t think these questions are appropriate. How did you even hear about this?”
“Oh, it’s public record, Miss Reed. Is it Miss Reed?”
“My marital status is not public record, thank you.”
“Fair enough. But the county coroner has ruled it a possible homicide. Other than that, there doesn’t appear to be a lot of information available.”
“Well, you should probably speak with Chief Benson.”
Pete’s deadpan expression changed to a smirk. “There seems to be a vacuum of information there. I got the feeling the Chief was trying to get information from me. That’s not a good sign. But I did hear from a source that you found something at the scene of the death. A bottle, was it?”
I now realized that any interest this reporter had in the new librarian was merely a Trojan horse to learn more about Jacob. “Again, you’d have to speak with the Chief…or that man over there.” I’d spotted Michael with Marian. He’d know how to handle Pete’s inquiring mind. “He’s with the State Police and is involved with the investigation.”
“Really?” Pete nodded to Bergman. Bergman stood before me and snapped two quick shots. “Well, thanks for your time, Miss Reed. Good luck with your new position.” Pete wove through the crowd with photographer in tow toward Michael.
I hoped he did plan on speaking with Marian. After all, this was her day, not mine. It was lunchtime and many of the shop owners had come by to express their good wishes. I met Mayor Lowell and most of the principals from the avicide list. Admittedly, I looked hard at each one’s face and the way they interacted with others, looking for some characteristic or quirk which might indicate a capacity for murder, but they all looked normal to me.
Marian thoroughly enjoyed the turnout, reminiscing about yesteryears and listing the activities she looked forward to experiencing, including traveling around and out of state. The duo from the Caller made good on their
“Kill two birds with one stone?” I summarized.
“Exactly,” Pete said, unaware of the irony I felt using that cliché. He must have been ten years younger than I was. His dark hair was styled with that “wet,” spikey look some younger guys wear, and he wore studs in each of his ear lobes. “If you don’t mind, I’ll just record your responses. So tell me all about yourself…where you worked before this, your background, where you’re from.”
I summarized my bio as briefly as possible while continuing to serve our patrons and guests. Although this exercise in participatory journalism wasn’t as awkward as my job interview, it was a close second, with me blowing my own horn to the amusement of the succession of guests while Pete held out his recorder in one hand and ate a piece of cake with the other, constantly looking around the room, as if afraid he might miss something really interesting elsewhere.
After finishing the succinct summary, I waited for Pete to notice I’d finished. He turned toward me, a trace of frosting on his upper lip. “Uh…thanks. So…you’re the one who found the dead man, is that right?”
I was taken aback by his sudden transition, and wasn’t sure how to respond. I was hoping to lead into plans for upcoming programs for the library. I didn’t really know what those were yet, but I could have improvised.
“Yes, I was the one. Jacob Miller was his name.”
“Right. That must have been a shock. Did you notice any bruises on his face or hands? Cuts, anything like that?”
“Mr. Proctor, I don’t think these questions are appropriate. How did you even hear about this?”
“Oh, it’s public record, Miss Reed. Is it Miss Reed?”
“My marital status is not public record, thank you.”
“Fair enough. But the county coroner has ruled it a possible homicide. Other than that, there doesn’t appear to be a lot of information available.”
“Well, you should probably speak with Chief Benson.”
Pete’s deadpan expression changed to a smirk. “There seems to be a vacuum of information there. I got the feeling the Chief was trying to get information from me. That’s not a good sign. But I did hear from a source that you found something at the scene of the death. A bottle, was it?”
I now realized that any interest this reporter had in the new librarian was merely a Trojan horse to learn more about Jacob. “Again, you’d have to speak with the Chief…or that man over there.” I’d spotted Michael with Marian. He’d know how to handle Pete’s inquiring mind. “He’s with the State Police and is involved with the investigation.”
“Really?” Pete nodded to Bergman. Bergman stood before me and snapped two quick shots. “Well, thanks for your time, Miss Reed. Good luck with your new position.” Pete wove through the crowd with photographer in tow toward Michael.
I hoped he did plan on speaking with Marian. After all, this was her day, not mine. It was lunchtime and many of the shop owners had come by to express their good wishes. I met Mayor Lowell and most of the principals from the avicide list. Admittedly, I looked hard at each one’s face and the way they interacted with others, looking for some characteristic or quirk which might indicate a capacity for murder, but they all looked normal to me.
Marian thoroughly enjoyed the turnout, reminiscing about yesteryears and listing the activities she looked forward to experiencing, including traveling around and out of state. The duo from the Caller made good on their
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