The Department of Rare Books and Special Collections(34)

“You haven’t spoken with her?” Liesl asked.

“No,” Francis said. “But I never do outside of work.”

Francis was scheduled to work at the reference desk, and Liesl was lingering beside him, looking for answers about Miriam. The rest of the library’s staff had arrived for the day, and from the workroom she could hear laughing and clattering keyboards and squeaky book truck wheels. Behind the desk where Francis was sitting, someone had hung a giant red sign announcing an upcoming exhibition of Russian propaganda posters. The light bounced off it and made Francis look pink and healthy.

“What do you want to do?” Francis asked. “I thought you suspected she’d taken vacation days.”

“I had.”

Liesl had tried phoning Miriam on Friday, just as she had on Thursday. She’d tried again that very morning, and the only difference was that Miriam’s voice mailbox was full so Liesl couldn’t leave any additional messages.

Dan rolled a book truck through the reference area. He nodded hello, and the three stood in silence while he waited for the elevator.

“It was the most obvious explanation,” she said once Dan had gone. “I never thought she’d just disappear.”

“She hasn’t disappeared.”

“She has, though. An adult doesn’t stop showing up for work on a whim. Not unless something has happened.”

Liesl left Francis to his books. She had an idea for how she might reach Miriam that she was embarrassed hadn’t occurred to her earlier.

She nodded as she walked to the office, thinking, Daft woman, lousy leader, abysmal investigator, too wrapped up to grab the nearest rock and peer under it for answers. She picked up the desk phone, began to dial, and then hung it up before she’d finished, walking instead to her purse and taking out her cell phone and, distracted by her task, taking it out to the loading dock where it would be loud, true, but loud with people who weren’t interested in Liesl’s business. She considered a seat on the concrete steps but wrote it off as too dusty, then she lightly tapped the numbers that she read off a card and dialed the person who she should have called immediately.

“It’s so good to speak with you, Vivek,” Liesl said when he answered the phone. “How are you settling into your new role?”

There was a pause as Vivek seemed to walk from a loud room to somewhere quieter.

“It’s good, thank you,” he said. “They have me teaching three courses this term. I think it’s a hazing ritual.”

Liesl had viewed Vivek’s profile page from the university directory to get his phone number. She pictured his staff photo as they spoke. He was handsome in a way she’d never noticed.

“Hazing indeed,” she said as a heavy box of books landed on a squeaky dolly ten feet from her. “When I was in college the main method of hazing was servitude, so I guess a heavy course load isn’t far off.”

“I don’t mind too much, to be honest.”

“No. I’m sure it’s a great way to get to know your students.”

“Exactly,” Vivek said. “I have a couple of papers that will be coming out this year, so I can take a bit of a research break.”

She cleared her throat and turned her back to the noise. “Listen, Vivek. I actually have a sort of embarrassing reason to be calling.”

“I’m sure it isn’t embarrassing. Though I have to say I’m surprised to be hearing from you.”

One of the shippers had lit a cigarette and the haze wafting over to Liesl reminded her of Christopher.

“I’m sure you are,” she said.

“I mean no offense. I remember every dinner you ever bought me and Miriam while I was a grad student. I consider you a friend. But all things considered…” Vivek waited for Liesl to fill in the blank, but she didn’t, so it was dead air between them.

She stretched her neck and took a long inhale of the downwind smoke, and it was only after she’d let it out in an equally long exhale that she broke the silence on the line.

“I don’t know what things you mean.”

“Maybe you should go first. Why are you calling, Liesl?”

“Miriam has been absent from work for a few days, and I’m getting worried.”

Over on the loading dock, the back door of a delivery van closed with a satisfying rattle, and then there were no more people, just a skid of packaged books sitting all by itself.

“You mean she’s been ill?” Vivek asked.

“It might be that. But she hasn’t called to say so, and I can’t get her on the phone.”

“How long, Liesl? When did you last see her?” There was something in Vivek’s voice that Liesl couldn’t land on, a quality that made her want to, need to see his face to understand.

“She was last at work on Wednesday,” Liesl said. “Has she been home sick?”

“I don’t know,” Vivek said. “I’ve been staying with my parents.”

“I see.”

“She didn’t call at all?” Vivek said. “That isn’t like her.” The pitch of his voice was rising. “Why didn’t you call sooner? How worried do you think I should be?”

Liesl held the phone against her shoulder, so she had her hands free to pick at a hangnail. “Things have been uncertain around here. I thought she might have taken the days as vacation.”