STEINBECK IS DEAD
A narrow ray of sun squeezed through the slit they called a window and, as it did almost every morning, attempted to blind him. An open hand above his glasses and squinting a bit allowed him read the list of that day’s assignments. When he finally got to the bottom of the list he leaned back in his squeaking swivel chair and, with the ease of a man
very familiar with the word, said, “Shit!”
This routine wasn’t new but especially this morning, he hated having the plaque that read, “Lt. William Strunk” on his office door. Most days it seemed that having the gold badge wasn’t worth facing the avalanche of crap it seemed to attract. “The Crap Magnet”, he called it.
He recalled the time someone asked him what the difference was between a lieutenant and a captain. He had explained, rather cleverly he thought, “If a person happened to be walking down the hallway and found a rose, he would bring it to the captain’s office. If he found a pile of dog crap, he would put it on the lieutenant’‘s desk.”
For a moment he smiled. Then, coming back to the present he remembered his cross for the day was going to be that old gal at the library -- again. Though he had never met her, she seemed to never quit filing complaints.
His usual mornings were nothing to look forward to but, even so, he began to wonder where Ed, the lame-brained, cop-assistant who had been assigned to him by the Chief, was today. Knowing it was improbable, he hoped Ed would call in sick today. No such luck. The office door opened and once again he heard the always predictable,
sickeningly cheerful, “G’morning, Lieutenant Bill.”
Ed White, the former Crossing Guard turned Investigative Assistant, ambled into the room carrying a cup of coffee and gnawing on a king-sized blueberry muffin he’d mooched at Starbucks. He was still wearing the usual, ill-fitting brown suit purchased at a Thrift Shop more than a year ago. At that time Bill, using the skills he had honed during his fifteen years in the Detective Bureau, noticed the left sleeve was at least three inches longer than the right and the bottom half of that sleeve was a much darker color as though it might have been folded back and therefore not exposed to sunlight. With nothing but these small scraps of information he had deduced the suit had once been worn by a man with only one arm.
Wearing the suit of a one-armed man who was probably dead didn't seem to bother Ed. He just tucked the cuff inside the sleeve and stapled it on the side next to his body. He assumed the staple wasn't easily visible and therefore it wouldn't be noticed. He was wrong. But then, Ed was often wrong. Almost always.
On seeing Ed again Bill couldn’t help but thinking, ”Oh, crap.” but the words that actually came out were, “Oh, Hi Ed. She’s at it again.” He waved that day’s assignment sheet.
“Who’s “at it” today, Bill?” he replied, overemphasizing the “at it.”
“The old broad at the library says her books are being stolen again.”
Ed sneered, “What the hell does she care. After all, they ain’t really her books.”
“I know, I know but we need to look into it or she’ll be raising hell and writing letters to The Herald again.”
“You want me to go over there and check it out?“ Ed asked.
“I’m not sure you’re ready for this one, Ed.”
“Whadda ya mean, ‘not ready’? I’ve been working with you for over a year now.”
Bill took a deep breath and decided to make an attempt to smooth things over. After all, this moron was the Chief’s nephew. As he slowly exhaled he said, “Well, Ed, the complaint says it involves adverbs and you haven’t had any experience with those.”
“Adverbs? Is that them queer guys? Them ho-mo-sexists”
“No, no Ed. See, that’s what I mean. Adverbs are parts of speech and the librarian says all the missing books have titles with adverbs in them. Most of them end with an adverb.”
Ed stood up and appeared resentful. “Whatinell’s so hard about that? I just go there and look like I want to buy some of them adverbs. A guy that’s got lots of them adverbs probably got to sell them. After all, a he don’t need more than one or two for his self, so he must be selling them.”
“You still don’t understand, Ed. An adverb modifies a verb.”
“That ain’t legal in this State -- is it?”
“Weren’t you in Mrs. Weber’s English class with me? We learned about nouns and verbs and all that.”
“Oh yah. Old Eye Before E Weber. I never seen much use for that stuff.”
“Then you should remember her telling us that, for instance, a noun is a thing, like a rock, piano or car.”
Ed snickered. ”You mean a rock guitar don’t you? There ain’t no such thing as a rock piano. Oh, I see, you was just testing me. I get it.”
The lieutenant started to explain but abandoned the idea and just said, “Look for books that have titles ending with the letters “l” and “y.” You know, like, maybe, “Kiss Me Slowly.”
Another giggle. God, how Bill hated it when he heard a grown man giggle.“Would it be okay if it was ending with “y” and then “l”?
Trying to maintain some composure, the lieutenant asked, “What kind of words would end with ”yl.”
“My brother’s name is, Daryl.”
Bill thought, “Breathe deep. Breathe deep. That’s the mantra Doc Henry taught me to use when I felt this way.”
“Okay, Ed. If you find any missing books that have titles ending with ”yl” just bring them in. No, on second thought, return them to the library.”
“Will do, Bill. I’ll get over to Pacific Street right now.”
“No, wait. I’ll go with you.”
Bill lifted his, as yet unfired, Smith and Wesson from the desk drawer and slid it into the holster on his hip which became invisible when he put on the jacket to the suit he had especially altered for that purpose.
Ed, as he almost always did, asked, “When am I gonna get one of those?
Still very much aware that the court hadn’t allowed Ed to possess or even carry a firearm since the incident at the Marina Vista Elementary School three years ago, the lieutenant lied again, “Pretty soon.“
They went to the garage and signed out a 4-year old, unmarked, black Ford sedan. As Bill backed out he commented on the fact that Ed had mentioned they had been working together for more than a year now. Ed nodded and said “Uh-huh. And I always liked our way of doing it. You know, you ask questions and I write down the answers.”
“Yup, that’s our style all right.”
Several minutes of silence passed before Ed spoke again. “I been thinking of something.”
“Oh shit.“ thought Bill. He had previous experience with the products Ed’s thinking. But he took a deep breath and went ahead anyway. “About what, Ed?”
Ed grinned as he said, “People say when we investigate we got kinda of special style that’s just ours. We should write a book. We could call it, ”Strunk and White’s Style” or something like that.
Bill grunted, “Who would buy a book with a title like that?”
As Bill pulled into the “No Parking” space in front of the library his trained detective eyes noticed a man wearing hip boots washing the hook-and-ladder truck in the driveway of the fire station across the street. The man, who Bill assumed was a fireman, turned off his water hose and shouted, “Hey! You can’t park there!.”
Bill flashed his badge and said, “Official business.”
“Oh. Sorry, Officer.”
No problem. I won’t even cite you for violating the city code that doesn’t allow water runoff to the street.”
The fireman quickly returned to the very important task of polishing the fire engine’s tires.
Turning towards the library door Bill smiled. He had no idea if there was such an ordinance or not. “There should be if there isn’t.” he thought. He also was amused as realized that someday his house might burn down but at least the fire engine would have shiny tires.
As they opened the doors to the library the first thing Bill noticed was the cool air and the fact that it was so quiet. He couldn’t help but think, “How cool it would be to work in an area like this instead of the stinking office I have.” A half-smile crossed his face as he realized he had thought, “How cool.” and the library was actually cool. Around 65 degrees, he guessed.
Ed whispered, “Where’s the old broad who’s bitching?”
Bill frowned, nodded towards the main desk and moved towards it feeling that being in a library with Ed seemed out of place. He couldn’t recall who had said it but recalled someone using the line, “As out of place as a razor blade salesman in Amish country.” That fit this situation perfectly.
As they moved towards the desk Bill became aware that one of Ed’s shoes squeaked and made one of his, often forgotten, mental notes to mention this to Ed before they started any serious surveillance work, not that mentioning it would make any difference to Ed. Bill never understood why, but Ed always seemed to be comfortable with whatever Ed was doing no matter how inane it might be.
“I’ll see if Miss Paroo is working today.”
“Paroo? I thought you said her name was “Adverse” or something like that.”
With an audible sigh Bill said, “No, Ed. It’s ‘Paroo’.”
Behind the main desk Bill saw a woman he guessed to be in her late sixties. She peered at him over dark rimmed glasses that had slipped halfway down her nose. He couldn’t miss noticing her pure white hair was pulled back, almost too tight, into a bun and a pale blue sweater draped loosely over her shoulders. It was buttoned with a single button in the front as if she was trying to hide whatever was left of breasts she might have once had. From just looking at the part of her that was visible above the desk, Bill guessed she would be wearing very sensible shoes. In fact, he would have bet on it. After all, he was a detective.
He also assumed she was in charge so he asked, “Could you tell me where I could find Miss Paroo.”
“That is I.” she replied.
“Of course.” Bill thought. “Who the hell else but a librarian would say ‘That is I?’”
That’s what he thought but instead he lapsed into his normal modus operandi and lied, “No, no. The woman I want to see is a much older woman. She’s the Head Librarian. Perhaps she’s your mother.”
She blushed. “They always blush.”, thought Bill.
“I’m Miss Paroo and I am in charge of the library.”
“Oh, excuse me, Miss Paroo. I’m sure that’s a mistake people often make, I’m Lieutenant Strunk with the Monterey Police Department and this is my Investigative Assistant, Ed White.”
He showed his badge and as usual, Ed aped his action.
She lifted an eyebrow, leaned forward a bit and, calling on that soft voice that only librarians seem to have mastered, said, “You can drop the bullshit, Lieutenant. What the hell do you want? Do you have overdue books or what?”
He managed to reply, “No, no. it isn’t that. You, you, you filed a complaint.”
In his mind Bill heard, “Shit! I’m stuttering again. I haven’t done that since Junior High when I was caught behind the stacks with Marion, The Librarian. Breathe deep. Breathe deep.”
“So, at last you’re here about the missing books.” She sarcastically stressed the “at last.” “What do you need to know?”
“As much information as you can give us. Anything that might help us to get the books back.”
Ed said, “Yah, anything.”
She leaned forward a bit more and still using the well-known Librarian’s Whisper said, “There are many books missing from the library that were never checked out. It’s probably a coincidence but I did notice all the missing books seem to have adverbs in the title and before I retire next Wednesday, I need to tell the Board of Directors I, at least tried, to find the damned things.“
Bill whispered, “You don’t seem very concerned about it.”
“They’re books for crysakes. If you find them -- fine. If not, what the hell do I care. After all, they aren’t really my books.”
Ed, who had been standing there doing what Bill called his “Tree Stump Imitation” spoke. “Ma'am, could I ask you a question, ma'am?”
Bill worried as it was obvious that Ed had been watching those Dragnet reruns again and was afraid he would say something stupid again. Ed rarely disappointed him in that area and this time was no exception.
“Did you notice anybody walking outta the library wearing a big sweater or coat that was all bulging out?”
“No, I think I of would have noticed that. We also have electronic detectors at the doors.”
“What’s electronic detectives? Never heard of them.”
“No, ”detectors”, she said. “An alarm goes off when someone tries to leave the library with a book that hasn’t been checked out.”
“Just asking. Just want the facts ma’am.”
Bill wished that somehow he had mastered the art of becoming invisible but, no such luck. Breathe deep. Breathe deep.
Using that hushed voice the librarian said, “Let me show you something.” As she came from behind the counter and strode towards the stacks Bill whispered to Ed, “I knew she’d have shoes like that.”
Pausing in front of one aisle of the fiction section Miss Paroo said, “This entire row has been stripped. Every book having an adverb in the title is gone. Vanished. Not an adverb left in the whole section.”
Ed started examining the title of every book on the shelf. Bill took her word for it but whispered to Ed, “Adverbs end with ly.”
Miss Paroo whispered, “What was that?”
“Oh. I was explaining to my partner that we were looking for books with adverbs in the title.”
At that moment Ed spoke up saying, “Here’s one that was missed. It was written by a guy named John Steinbeck. I think I heard of him.”
“What book is it, Ed?”
“It’s called, ”Travels with Charley.”
“No, no, Ed. That’s ‘ley” not ’ly’. That’s a name -- a proper noun.”
Ed frowned. “Still looks suspicious to me. Maybe it’s this Steinbeck guy who stole all them other books so people would hafta read his.”
“No Ed. It’s not Steinbeck. Steinbeck is dead.” Bill said and, for probably the hundredth time, or possibly the thousandth, he thought, “I should write these things down for the book I’m going to write.” Then as an afterthought he imagined a great title for his, yet to be written, masterpiece. He thought, “I’ll call it, ”Steinbeck Is Dead.”
The librarian’s frown was almost a scowl as she asked, “Someone at OLLI said they might know something about the books. Do you know about OLLI?”
Ed was quick to respond which was very unusual for Ed.
“Oh, oh. I know OLLI. He’s the fat one and he’s always picking on the skinny one named Stan. They’re really funny.”
Even as he recognized the futility of doing so, Bill tried to explain. “No, no. OLLI is that program at the University for Seniors. I think OLLI stands for “Old Lifelong Learning Institute”, or something like that.”
The librarian whispered, “Osher.”
Ed whispered, “God bless you.”
“Osher Lifelong Learning Institute. ‘Osher’ is the name of the man who founded the program.”
Ed, at last replied with something that didn’t make Bill cringe. He said, “Oh.”
“Ah yes.” Bill muttered. “We had a case there a few months ago. I think someone thought a hat had been stolen or something like that.”
Ed joined in with, “Oh yah. I member that. When we was out there, there was a Writer’s Circle meeting or something.”
“Right.”
“I member because they was having a meeting of this Writers’ Circle and it wasn’t no circle at all. It was just some tables and they was pushed together and it formed a rectangle. Even I knew that wasn’t no circle.”
Bill quickly thanked the librarian and promised to investigate further after they had a chance to check out this OLLI thing.
He handed her his business card while saying, “We will get back to you soon.”
Ed said, “Soon, ma'am.”
“Thank you, Lieutenant. Remember, I won’t be here after Wednesday but you feel free to call me at home any time.”
Bill wasn’t sure but he thought he detected a slight wink. “Must be my imagination.”
Returning to the car he saw the fireman was still at work polishing the same tires he had been working on when they arrived. He thought the tires of that fire engine must be the shiniest in the State by now. Being a detective he had been trained to be suspicious of anything out of the usual but he couldn’t imagine any connection between the fireman and the missing library books. But, as he had told Ed so many times, “Memory is free. It doesn’t cost anything to remember it.”
After a few minutes of silence, Ed spoke.“Shouldn’t we head out to the college and snoop around.”
“University.”
“Yah, university.”
“That’s where I was headed, Ed. It’s at Fort Ord.”
“I knew that.”
For almost 15 minutes there was no conversation. The traffic on Highway 1 was light and Bill was enjoying the late afternoon sun turning an extra calm Pacific Ocean an even deeper blue than usual. Then Ed ruined that.
You think that old gal at the library was telling the truth?”
“Sure. Why not?”
“Just seems funny, that’s all.”
“In what way?”
“Maybe it was her hair. I never trusted people with white hair. My parents got cheated on buying a car once and that was by a guy with white hair.”
Bill decided, as usual, the best way to terminate the conversation was to just ignore it. Ed would soon forget he even said it. He always forgot. Even when he was supposed to remember, he forgot.
He pulled the police car into the parking lot diagonally across the street from the building with the big OLLI sign on the side.
Noticing the “Parking by permit only” sign he laid his police permit where it was visible through the windshield and together they crossed the street and walked up the stairs to the OLLI office.
Bill couldn’t help but wonder about the wisdom of locating the OLLI office that far away from the parking lot especially since many of the OLLI members were, by definition, old.
“I wonder what they do when it rains.”, he thought.
He smiled as he answered his own question. “They get wet.”
Inside the office he noticed an attractive woman behind a counter. He seemed to recall the woman’s name was Michele. Again, he flashed his badge introduced himself and said, “Michele, isn’t it?”.
“Yes, it is. What can I do for you, Lieutenant?”
He thought, “That’s a dangerous question to ask a man who hasn’t been with a woman since ..” He suddenly remembered he couldn’t immediately think of the last time he had been with a woman.
“Damned job.”, he thought. Bill tended to attribute any problems he had to the “damned job.”
He recovered his composure enough to ask,”Has the OLLI Writers’ Circle been meeting here?”
“Yes. But they’re on a break for the summer.”
“Did you ever hear any discussion about adverbs?”
“Of course.”, She replied. “They discuss such things often. In fact, just a few weeks ago one of the men admitted he’s sometimes referred to as, ”The Adverb Police.”
“What does that mean?”
“He believes all adverbs ending in ”ly” are evil and should be destroyed.”
Ed decided to contribute,“Sounds like a comic book character, Captain Syntax; Destroyer Of All Adverbs.”
Michele forced a half smile as she said, “Unfortunately, that group won’t meet again until September.”
Bill thanked her and the headed back to the city’s car.
Ed finally spoke. “I think I know where the books are?”
“What do you mean, you know where the books are?”
“They’re in the library. They gotta be in the library because there’s this electronic gizmo that don’t let no books go out that ain’t been checked.”
Bill thought this is the most logic this moron has ever shown but doubted his conclusion.
Ed said, “Let’s go back to the library. I just thought of something I think I saw.”
“What was it, Ed?”
“I don’t want to tell you because you’ll laugh and say it’s impossible like you always do. For this one time, could we go back to the library? Please.”
Bill thought since there was another hour to kill, why not? He headed back to the library and again, he pulled into the No Parking space in front of the library. The fireman was still washing the tires across the street.
They entered they library and this time Bill did notice the electronic surveillance equipment. He said to Ed, “Okay. What now?”
“Well, you know that ”How to be a Detective” book you gave me. In there it says something like, ‘When all the possibilities are eliminated, what’s left is fact.’ Or something like that.”
Bill doubted that’s what the book actually said but decided to go along with whatever Ed had in mind.
“So now what?” he asked.
“Them books has got to be in this library because there ain’t no way to take them out. So all we need to find is where they are hid in the library.”
“Do you have any ideas where that might be?”
“I sure do.”, Ed said rather proudly. “You see that door right there.”
Bill said, “Yes. It says STAFF ONLY.”
Ed was grinning now, “Don’t ya see. Staff only -- only -- ly.”
Bill felt a little bug crawling up the back of his neck but tried to control his frustration. “What’s that got to do with anything.”
“El Why?” All the missing books have “ly” in the title too. You look in there and I bet you’ll find all them books.”
Bill started to opened the door. A voice from somewhere said, “You can’t go in there. Staff only.”
Once again he flashed his badge and Ed did the same.
They entered a small room which was practically empty except for a few chairs, a sink and two tables. Each wall had a wall-length counter with the usual sliding doors concealing shelves underneath. The only thing on top of the counters was a dust covered, coffee maker.
Bill turned to his Investigative Assistant and said, “Well. What now Einstein?”
Ed said, “Let’s look under the counters.”
Bill practically sneered, “Yah, right.” He slid open the doors to find shelf after shelf filled with neatly stacked books, all with titles containing a word ending in “ly”.
Ed boasted, “See, I told ya. There must be a hunert of them ‘ly’ books here.”
As if by magic Miss Paroo appeared in the doorway.
“So you found them.” Her voice rose a decible or two as she went on, “Yes. Yes. I worked for this gawd awful library for forty years and each year it got worse. These damned writers kept coming in with their crazy titles and using adverbs as though it didn’t make any difference at all. How was I supposed to protect the young people? They’re already are using language that would make any English major cringe. ‘Violently this,’ ‘Hurriedly that.’ It used to be that young people took a copy of ”Gone With the Wind” back in the corner and giggled about Rhett Butler saying, ‘Frankly Scarlet, I don’t give a damn.’ Now everywhere you turn you see adverbs, adverbs and more adverbs. The other day I asked a young lady if she enjoyed the book and she replied, ‘Gnarly.‘ They’re making up there own adverbs now. What will become of the next generation?”
Bill interrupted to say, “I understand, Miss Paroo, but you can’t just take it upon yourself to limit what people read.”
“Why not? I’m the head librarian. I can put the books wherever I please. That’s no crime.”
“That’s true but filing a false police report is.”
“So, sue me.” she said.
“No, I won’t do that but I will need to make a report to my captain and what happens next will be up to him. Meanwhile, why don’t you put the books back? I’d have Ed help you but I’m afraid he doesn’t understand the system.”
“The system? Ha! I believe that. Nobody does.”
Ed, who had been standing quietly said, “Oh sure, I’ll help and don’t you worry, ma'am. Lieutenant Strunk is the best we got. He used to be in the Detective Bureau. He’ll out find who did this.
The next morning a narrow ray of sun squeezed through the slit they called a window and, as it did almost every morning, attempted to blind him. An open hand above his glasses and squinting a bit allowed him read the list of that day’s assignments. When he finally got to the bottom of the list he leaned back in his squeaking swivel chair and, with the ease of a man very familiar with the word, said, “Shit!
Getting up from his chair he strode into the captain’s office and tossed his badge on the desk. He was surprised the badge clinked more than it clanked when it landed. With half a smile he said, “It really isn’t a rose.”
“What’s this, Bill?”
The lieutenant took a deep breath and said, “Captain, I undoubtedly, indubitably, positively, absolutely, undeniably, unmistakably, plainly, clearly, obviously, patently, palpably, transparently, unequivocally, definitely, and completely quit."
THE END
About the author:
Paul Henry lives with his wife Jen-Chi in Carmel, CA.
He has an Master’s Degree in Education and is a retired college professor having taught for 34 years in the Technology Division at Cerritos College in Norwalk, CA.
He has been publishing short stories since 1935.
He is active on the internet and maintains a web site at www.oldprof.com
Professor Henry blogs irregularly at http://oldprof.blogspot.com
and always welcomes e-mail at oldprof@oldprof.com
The American Syntax Society, certifies that no adverbs were harmed in the creation of this document.