Unsung Requiem by C.L. Stone
Acciaccato
(Broken down, crushed)
Victor
Mr. Buble parked across the street from the library where Mitch had previously worked. While they waited, Victor scrolled through several real estate listings around Charleston.
He hadn’t realized how much an ideal house would cost. At first, he was only sorting by the number of bedrooms… over five at least. At the eight-to-nine-bedroom options, the prices flew into the well over a million dollars, usually mansions around downtown Charleston.
He was fairly sure that was out of the budget, and on a personal level, he didn’t care to stay anywhere close to where his parents lived.
“How far outside of the city should we aim for?”
“Do you need to aim for outside the city?” Mr. Buble replied without looking away, his gaze continually on who was arriving and leaving the currently open library.
“If we don’t want to spend a million and be downtown…” Victor mumbled.
Mr. Buble broke his concentration to slowly turn his head to him. His dark lashes shifting as he blinked a few times, speculating. “A million split seven ways is just under a hundred and fifty thousand a piece. If Miss Sorenson is to join your group, it’ll later be eight… and that split is one hundred and twenty-five thousand. I’m unaware if Mr. Blackbourne or Dr. Green will join you, but their reserves are plentiful.”
Victor considered that point. He wasn’t totally sure what was in the others’ reserves with the Academy, however, his own was well over a few hundred thousand. Their money reserves were the first thing they filled, thanks to guidance by Mr. Blackbourne. Sang didn’t have anything just yet, of course, but with the seven, they should have enough. Mr. Blackbourne and Dr. Green shouldn’t have to contribute to a house they weren’t going to live in.
Or would they? Would Dr. Green want to leave his condo? And Mr. Blackbourne, his gardens?
“Won’t some mansion be a little noticeable?”
“Yes,” Mr. Buble said, but he returned to watching the library, allowing Victor to come to his own conclusion.
So not some oversized mansion. “So not downtown Charleston.”
“Together is always best,” he said. “The closer you are to the hospital and where Dr. Green lives, the less time you’ll spend on the road trying to get to each other.”
True. His heart sank at the thought. He’d hoped getting away from his parents would mean getting… away. “Can it be North Charleston?”
Mr. Buble didn’t answer, but when Victor lifted his gaze to look at him, he was leaning forward, focused entirely on the library.
It was some teenage boy. Straight black hair, white pants, black shirt, carrying a stack of books under his arm. He looked to be about thirteen or so.
Victor smirked a little, as the kid reminded him of Kota just a few years ago, carting around piles of books from the library or bookstore. “Do you know him?”
“No,” Mr. Buble said. “But I know he’ll know.”
“How can you tell?”
“Call it empathetic intuition.” He turned to Victor, the glasses catching light again and refracting, cutting his eyes almost in half. “You should talk to him.”
He was probably right. A lone man approaching a boy that age and asking a bunch of questions… It’d probably be easier if Victor did it. They could ask a librarian, but they didn’t want to alert anyone just in case Mitch still had friends here.
Victor left the car with his phone on, dialed in to Mr. Buble live on the other line, but the phone was in his pocket. They hadn’t had time to go for earpieces, and he wished he had one this time. He could use guidance on what to say. He wasn’t usually the one going in. He was a monitor guy, watching from a laptop and making sure everything was recorded.
Victor entered the library with words rolling over in his head, practicing what to ask. For a Sunday, there was a rush of people waiting in line to check out books and movies, and other library offerings. There were lots of people at the computers, and a few taking up windowed conference rooms. There was one older gentleman wearing dirty clothes taking a nap on the sofa off to the side.
Victor weaved his way through the library’s many bookshelves, slowly picking up a couple of books, pretending to care about the contents, putting them back, picking up another one. He carried two with him down rows and continued this process while keeping his eyes peeled.
Eventually, he found the boy crouched down to look at lower levels of books, seeking out the Dewey decibel, rechecking a slip of paper in his hand as if to make sure he was picking the right ones.
He’d already had a short stack of books on the floor in a neat pile beside him.
Victor smothered a short chuckle, desperate to not appear to be laughing at him. This kid was Kota all over. He knew how to handle this.
He walked quietly, not wanting to interrupt his search, and also trying to appear distracted enough for what he wanted to attempt.
In a deliberate, ungraceful move, he tripped over the stack of books, knocking them over and double stepping to catch himself.
“Oh… sorry,” he said. He coughed once to cover up any hint of this being acting and not the real deal, just in case. He smoothly reached down, picking up the furthest book that had slid across the alley between the two shelves. “So sorry.”
“Not a problem,” the kid said, although shyly. He reached out, collecting the books that had been nearby, stacking them again.
Victor put the one he’d saved on top. “Don’t tell Mitch I kicked books, okay? That nosy librarian’s been on my case lately.”
The kid’s cheeks turned red. “I don’t think he’s here.”
Victor darted his head, eyebrows up, and scanned around them. “Not in today? I didn’t see him.”
He quietly picked up the books and stood up. “I don’t think he’s coming back.”
Uh oh. His reaction left Victor unsettled. Victor stood next to him, lowered his tone, and leaned in a bit, whispering. “Did he… bug you, too?”
The kid’s eyes lifted to Victor’s face. His lips twitched like he wanted to say something but didn’t.
“If he’s gone, we don’t have to worry about him,” Victor said.
“I hope he doesn’t come back,” he said. “A friend of mine used to come with me… and now he won’t anymore.”
Alarm flared through Victor. “Did he do something to him?”
“He was always asking us things.”
“Like what?”
“Everything,” he said. “Stuff we didn’t want to tell him. About our parents. Why we were here by ourselves all the time. He’d walk by so many times when I was sitting anywhere. I didn’t like coming by myself, but… I heard there’s one kid he cornered in the bathroom and was berating him for something he was doing in the stall.”
Victor made a face, and at the same time his heart was sinking. Whatever mental case this guy was, he didn’t need to be terrifying kids and cornering them.
Likely he was transferred because of complaints and was sent off.
Sent off for someone else to deal with him instead of handling the situation.
Victor nodded slowly and sighed. “Well, good he’s gone.”
“Yeah,” the kid said, and he walked off, but not before checking out the books in Victor’s hands and giving him a questioning look.
It was only then Victor realized he’d picked up a few thick romance volumes, half-nude men in tight pants and boots on the cover.
“They’re good reads,” he said quickly before the boy left the alley. He waved them around in the air. “Lots of… action…” Victor tried to come up with a better line but then the boy walked out of sight and the moment was gone.
Victor sighed and shook his head. Smooth one.
Still, he basically answered what they needed to know. It’s likely there was some truth to what the kid knew. It wasn’t just their own intuition that Mitch might be nosy. He was likely a problem.
♥♥♥
He returned to the car where Mr. Buble had been waiting for him.
Victor placed the two checked-out books onto the center console. He couldn’t just leave the books on the shelf and walk away without checking out.
But he did catch the boy eyeballing the romance section before he left the building. He’d chuckled at that. Open-minded and willing to give it a shot at least.
Mr. Buble eyeballed his picks quickly and motioned to them. “Should I set those aside for you to bring back later this week?”
“I can swing by later,” Victor said, dismissive of the books. “But you heard all of it?”
Mr. Buble nodded. “Always get a second opinion,” he said, reciting a commonly used phrase among Academy people. Always seek someone else outside of the Academy who might know the situation more. It’ll usually save a team time as they can ask instead of putting themselves at risk by observing in person.
“So now we just send him a better job offer to a position where he won’t work with people?” Victor asked.
“He seems to target teenage boys,” Mr. Buble said. “It could be some repressed homosexual frustrations. But I’m not a psychiatrist.” He remained still, except for his eyes that were keenly aware of anyone in the lot they were in and the library, following individuals for a short time before checking the next one. “Ideally he’d seek a therapist and be moved to a different job.”
“How likely is getting him to see a therapist?” he asked.
No answer. Mr. Buble only frowned. It seemed unlikely.
Victor wasn’t surprised. It wasn’t often they were able to get certain people into a therapist that could actually help them and make things better. People like Mitch, who had grown up in an era when going to see a therapist was considered something only crazy people did and resisted with fervor.
So they were left with removing him from potentially dangerous situations. “What’s an option for a librarian who has already been transferred once?” Victor asked.
“Reference library,” he said. “In a college perhaps.”
It wouldn’t be far off his current path. Some people didn’t work well with others but they still needed to work to take care of themselves. Getting them fired usually only left them angrier and it spiraled out of control until they lashed out. A different type of job, maybe in a different location, could lead to a better life for the individual in question.
True social engineering worked best when everyone was satisfied with the end result.
“So next step is finding the job.”
“Next step can be done on the way to look at housing options,” he said. “I have a small collection to do a drive by of while you look for reference librarian job opportunities.” He looked over at Victor. “Are you ready to face the changes ahead? Do we continue?”
It was nice he offered him a choice. While Victor was tired, he was eager to make use of the better part of the day and keep going. “I’m ready when you are.”
As they left the parking lot, Mr. Buble said quietly, “Inertia is an answer. So is following your passions. Which is best?”
Victor wasn’t sure if he really wanted an answer to his strange questions. It didn’t matter. It left Victor to consider the meaning behind it.
Despite how the others had felt about Mr. Buble earlier, being wary of him, Mr. Buble didn’t seem like he’d be any trouble. He shouldn’t be, given he was in the Academy. However, there was something different about Mr. Buble, where he shared experience and wisdom and did so without judging Victor or making Victor feel like he was just being told what to do.
He didn’t fear asking him questions. He didn’t fear telling him what he was thinking.
Mr. Buble didn’t seem too bad. Maybe they had nothing to worry about.