Unsung Requiem by C.L. Stone

Rinforzando

(Reinforcing, sometimes like a sudden crescendo, but often applied to a single note)

Victor

Victor moved quickly, his only concern being not to get run over crossing the parking lot of the grocery store and the road before getting to the smaller lot of the library. From there, he could see inside clearly. No Mr. Buble. No Mitch in sight.

He had to get in, without Mitch cornering him somewhere private, and locate Mr. Buble.

He held on to the phone he had, as if that would help him figure this out. Should he call Mr. Buble?

Inside the doors of the library, Victor gazed down the two hallways on either side just before the main part of the library. These areas were offices and conference rooms.

Likely a head librarian or other workers would be back here somewhere. Is that where Mr. Buble would go?

Victor stood in the entryway, listening for voices.

Left hallway. Two deep voices. One matching Mr. Buble. A third person spoke, a woman… it was faint, likely at the end of the hallway. Tones rising and falling.

Victor jogged as silently as he could toward the door that was open at the end. The closer he got, the more he could hear the conversation. He pressed his back to the wall, listening for now.

“I’ve been with the library for fifteen years,” Mitch was saying. “This man was out there watching that boy, likely doing things to him.”

“Absolutely ridiculous,” Mr. Buble said.

“You need to quiet down, Mitch,” a woman was saying.

“Lady,” Mitch said fiercely, “when a man speaks, you gotta listen to the full story.”

Victor rolled his eyes.

“I’ll tell you who I need to listen to,” the woman barked back. “You come into my office trying to tell me this man, whom I was just having a conversation with, ran outside in enough time to do everything you were saying?”

Things were quiet for a minute and Mitch sputtered. “I was surprised, too. He spends a lot of time here with children…”

“He’s a tutor. Of course he’s with children. And your accusations are more than dangerous.” The more she spoke, the sterner she became. “Where is this boy you’re talking about?”

“He ran off,” Mitch said.

“I can call him,” Mr. Buble said.

“You’ll just tell him to lie,” Mitch spat back.

“I’m right here,” Victor said, unable to take Mitch’s attack on Mr. Buble anymore. He stood in the doorway, peering in.

The woman had gray hair tied in a bun on her head, with curls framing her face, plump and with glasses lowered, attached to a string. She picked up the glasses, putting them to her eyes to look at him. “You’re him?”

“I am. I was here not long ago with Mr. Buble getting assistance with something I was working on.”

“You’re Victor Morgan,” Mitch snarled. “This kid’s a rich brat who got so drunk at his own party the other day.”

“I am Victor Morgan.” He stood taller and stared down Mitch square in the eye. “That does not discount what I’m saying.” He waved a hand in Mitch’s direction while talking to both the librarian and Mr. Buble. “The first time I was here, he kept walking by and watching what I was doing, leaving me completely uncomfortable.”

“I’m not allowed to walk in the library?” Mitch countered.

“Hush,” the librarian said. “Continue, Victor.”

“And when I was downtown, I talked with a kid there…” Victor described him, told them his name and what he had said. “And then just now I wasn’t parked outside with a friend of mine for two minutes in the lot, having a conversation, when he comes out to us, sticking his fingers in the window and threatening to use his authority to lie and say we were fooling around… when were just talking. I was scared. Mr. Buble made him back off and he weaseled his way back inside to lie about Mr. Buble, probably hoping if he was first to say something, that you’d believe him.”

“You stupid kid,” Mitch said.

Victor picked his head up, blazing with a fury at being called a liar. “You know who I am. My family.”

“You were kicked out.” He pointed a finger at him. “No one should trust you. You’re nothing but a brat kid who thinks he’s better than everyone else because he has money.”

“Enough,” the woman said. “Mitch, you’ve two people here telling me you’re not even where you’re supposed to be, which is in this library doing your job.”

“But…”

“I need you to go home. You’re suspended until we can get to the bottom of this.”

Mitch threw up his hands, ripped off his name tag and threw it against the wall close to where Victor was standing.

Victor dodged but then got out of the way of the door.

Mitch walked past him, a slew of loud curses and hollers echoed through the hallway in his wake. He knocked over a brochure display on the way out.

This hadn’t been what they wanted. However, he was escalating to something dangerous. He definitely shouldn’t be around children. Using his perceived authority as an adult to make kids and teens feel like they’d get into trouble and do whatever he wanted them to do was a bad thing. It infuriated Victor how he treated everyone around him.

The librarian put two fingers at her temples and rubbed in circles. “I knew… I knew letting him transfer here was a mistake.”

“It’s not your fault,” Mr. Buble said. “The other library should have handled this directly.”

“I’m afraid we’ll have to ask you to not talk about it for a while. I’ll have to take this to people higher up than me and figure out what to do. I’d like to have him let go, but we’d like to do so without parents being concerned with bringing their children to the library.”

Mr. Buble nodded stiffly. “I can be a witness or help with damage control if parents are wondering about him.”

“I know,” she said. “I’m hoping to find a good solution and he will be let go without any repercussions. I’ll have to do better inquiries in the future when bringing in someone new. Clearly criminal background checks don’t always share the bigger picture.”

There was more to talk about. They spent time writing down everything that happened as a witness statement so the librarian could put together a report. Mr. Buble had to assure the librarian many, many times that it was one person, caught quickly, and hopefully no damage done and children could feel safe coming to the library.

Victor waited for Mr. Buble to suggest the alternative job for Mitch, the one with the psychiatrists’ college, but he never mentioned it.

After some time, the meeting was over and Victor followed Mr. Buble out of the library. The parking lot was dark, and they waited in the doorway, ready to head back in again, just in case Mitch decided to wait and confront them.

“Do you think we should push for him to get that other job now?” Victor asked. “Not that he deserves it…”

When he spoke, Mr. Buble was calm, almost Zen, and with that same teaching voice he’d used before when asking his questions. “What do we do with those who have done wrong? Give them no option but to continue to commit crimes? Or give them space and the keys to take care of themselves and every opportunity to improve?”

There was a clear answer in his tone. They had to continue to push for his removal but to a location where he’d likely get more help. Otherwise, the man was condemned to eventually going overboard and into a jail system.

To help those who would never do the same for you, though sometimes those people become impossible to help. This alternative would likely be his last resort.