Fit to Die by J. B. Stanley Page A

course and the books here aren’t as up to date as some of the articles I found on this awesome website.”
    “How nice, dear. I know your mama is awful proud of you for goin’ to college and all.” She tapped on the computer screen. “I’m gonna bid on a Petal Princess Barbie doll for my granddaughter. She’s been collectin’ them since she was five and her ninth birthday’s comin’ up.”
    “That’s just great, ladies,” the man with the briefcase said acidly. “But I’ve got some stock prices to check and I’m on my lunch break, so if you don’t mind, I’d like to have my turn.”
    At that moment, the printer jammed in the middle of the ten-page task it was performing for Amelia.
    “Sir,” James held out a pacifying hand to the agitated male patron before he tried to physically remove Amelia from her chair. “Let me just fix the printer and then it will be your turn next. Amelia? Is this article all you needed to print?”
    Amelia nodded at James. “That’s all, Professor. Thanks.” She then cast an irritated glance at the man standing over her shoulder and added, “I couldn’t work in this hostile atmosphere anymore anyway.”
    James tugged at the crumpled piece of paper blocking the printer. It ripped into several raggedy pieces but finally tore free. He then reset the print job and sighed with relief as the machine reluctantly resumed working. Noticing that his hands were now covered with smudges of black ink, James apologized to all his patrons for their inconvenience at having to share two computers and then headed to the restroom to wash up.
    Francis was already in the men’s room as James entered. The twin was rubbing his glasses absently, his eyes staring at the mirror without actually absorbing any of the details of his own reflection.
    “Lost in thought there, Francis?”
    Francis started and dropped his glasses in the sink. Without bothering to dry them off, he shoved them onto his face and turned to James. “I’ve got it, Professor!” he exclaimed happily. “I know how we can raise the money we need for the computers.”
    James began scrubbing his hands with pink liquid soap. “That would certainly be nice. If Mrs. Hughes doesn’t get that Barbie for her granddaughter before her thirty minutes are up, I think she and Mr. Tuttle are going to come to blows.”
    Francis screwed up his lips in thought. “I’d have to bet on Mrs. Hughes to win that fight. I’ve seen her toss twenty-pound watermelons into people’s carts like they were bags of cotton balls.”
    “Your idea, Francis?” James reminded him.
    “Oh, right! Well, Scott came up with half of it. Anyway, we thought the library should host a Spring Fling.”
    James was unimpressed with the title. “Like last year’s Spring Book Drive & Bake Sale? The library only made a couple hundred dollars from that event.”
    “That’s because you weren’t here, Professor. You’ve got more vision than our former employer. This Spring Fling would be a cross between a book drive and a county fair. We could have it at the beginning of next month, when the weather is so nice.” Francis opened the door and James followed the exuberant young man out of the restroom and behind the circulation desk. Francis drew out a piece of paper with a flourish. “Here, I made a quick sketch of how we could arrange things in that empty field behind the strip mall. It worked so well for the benefit last fall and we don’t need to pay anyone to use it—we’d just need to get permission from the mall owners to allow for parking and we’re good to go.”
    James leaned over the drawing and tried to decode Francis’s scraggly handwriting. “Does this say ‘Pig Race Course’?” he asked incredulously, pointing to a wobbly oval in the center of the paper.
    Francis beamed. “Sure does! We could have two contests. One could be a pig race. That’ll appeal to a lot of folks, including men. It seems like we always have women at our events, but