Moonshadows by Mary Ann Artrip

instructions. Nothing is to change.”
    “Good. Good.” The woman pursed her lips again. “Naturally, that was my only concern.”
    “If you’ll excuse me,” Janet said, meeting the ice-hued enameled eyes squarely, “I’ll get back to work.”
    Amanda Austin nodded and turned her attention back to her desk. When she failed to make further comment, Janet left the room.
    Hilda shot an accusing glance in her direction as Janet emerged from the private office. Her bitter glare missed its mark entirely, it was in fact barely noticed, but the probing conversation with Miss Austin left Janet mildly disturbed. A frown puckered her brow and remained there for the rest of the day.
    At five o’clock the staff left the library together. The parking lot was located across a bricked alleyway at the far end of the building and shared space with an office complex next door. The late-autumn wind was brisk and a clear sky promised frost before morning. As they walked to their cars, Janet called goodnight to the other three. Chelsea laughed and waved. Hilda and Miss Austin offered no response.
    Janet reached home. As she started up the steps, she could hear her telephone ringing. Rushing, she lifted the lid to the mailbox beside the front door, yanked out the contents, and hurried inside.
    Tossing the packet of mail on the piano, she picked up the phone.
    “Do you like riddles?”
    “Beg your pardon?”
    “Don’t make me repeat myself,” the voice snapped. “Word games. Riddles. I have one for you.”
    “Look,” Janet said, rubbing her brow. “Get somebody else to play your games with you. I’m too tired to be the least bit interested.”
    “Oh, but you will be, I promise. Come on now, humor me and pay attention: Riddle me thou, riddle me thee. Who did not drown at sea?”
    Janet brushed the tumble of bangs and fingered back a few strands of hair. Good lord , she thought.
    “What in the world are you talking about?”
    “I was just wondering how smart you are at unraveling mysteries, finding your way though a maze—you know, like a rat. Are you smart as a rat? I have a feeling we’re going to find out.”
    The caller hung up.
    Janet was more annoyed than angry with this immature prankster who apparently had too much time on his hands. She decided that as long as she gave him no encouragement, he’d soon move on to a more able and receptive opponent.

 
     
     
     
SEVEN
     
    I t was almost closing time on Friday when Amanda Austin stepped out of her office. She stood in the doorway fingering the top button of her muddy-brown cardigan.
    “I’ve just had a call requesting our copy of the Middlebrook Chronicles ,” she said to no one in particular.
    “That old thing,” Chelsea said. “Do we still have it?”
    “I’m sure we do,” she replied.
    She walked to the card file and thumbed through the out-dated books that had yet to be computerized. She plucked an index card from the drawer, squinted at the fading print and shoved the card in Hilda’s direction.
    “You’ll have to swing the ladder around to the far right.” She pointed toward the ceiling, to the topmost row of books. “I think you’ll find it on that last shelf.”
    Hilda’s eyes flickered up from the pile of work in front of her. She accepted the card, frowned at it, and shoved it back.
    “Have someone else do it; I don’t have time. Janet’s not busy.”
    “Here,” Chelsea said, “let me do it.”
    Miss Austin scowled. “You’re supposed to be in the storage room checking off the new shipment that came in this morning. Besides, I didn’t ask you, I asked Hilda.”
    Hilda curled her lips into a spiteful sneer. “I guess when a certain person owns the building, that certain person doesn’t have to climb a stupid ladder looking for some dusty old history book.” She started to push back from her desk.
    Janet stepped across the room and snatched the card from Hilda’s fingers. “In the first place, I don’t own this building. And if I