Jamie Brodie 01 - Cited to Death

Glendale. I don't have anything scheduled for that time. I'd like to use a couple of hours of personal time. If that's okay."
    Dr. Loomis looked surprised. "My goodness. Was this anyone I would know?"
    "I don't know. His name was Dan Christensen. He was the medical librarian at Cedars."
    "Hmm. No, I don't believe that name is familiar. I'm so sorry. Had he been ill?"
    "No, ma'am. They think it was a seizure. He had a seizure disorder."
    "Goodness." Dr. Loomis's mouth compressed in a thin line for a moment. She looked as if she was remembering something unpleasant. Then she snapped back to the present. "Of course you may take the time. Just get me your leave form by the end of the day."
    I stood up. "Yes ma'am, I will. Thank you."
    She stood as well. "You're welcome. And welcome back. Please take care of yourself. If you find you can't finish out the day and need to leave early, please don't hesitate to do that."
    I smiled. "I don't think that will be a problem. But thank you."
    I went back downstairs. Diane was behind my desk, doing – what? Sorting mail? She straightened up as I came in. "What did she say?"
    "She said yes. What are you doing?"
    "Helping. I got bored. So, good! We can go to the funeral. Do you want me to come pick you up?"
    "Sure. If you don't mind. Then I don't have to move the Bug."
    "I don't mind. I'll call you when I get close to campus and meet you outside somewhere."
    "Sounds good." I saw Diane off and turned back to my sorting.
    Just before 1:00, I got a mochaccino at the coffee shop on the first floor, then went to do my reference shift. I sat down at the desk and smiled inwardly. I had missed this. I rubbed my hands together and grinned at Liz. “Let the questions and answers begin!”
    She laughed. “You, sir, are a nut.”
    We were fairly busy. There were two weeks left in the quarter before finals, and the procrastinators were starting to do their research for their final papers and projects. And, right on the dot of 1:30, Clinton appeared.
    Every library has its group of regular patrons that can be lumped together under the heading “eccentric.” Academic libraries have two main types of eccentrics: needy students who latch on to an individual librarian, and conspiracy theorists from the community that come in to look for research to support their theories. We had a few others: the dominatrix who came in each evening wearing her work clothes to read the Wall Street Journal, the student who was a Civil War re-enactor and came in every Friday in full Confederate uniform, the graduate student who claimed to be in the Witness Protection program.
    And we had Clinton.
    We didn’t know anything about Clinton. We didn’t even know if Clinton was his first or last name. Every afternoon at 1:30, Clinton would approach the reference desk and stand, waiting patiently, until one of us was free. Liz or I would say, “Hi, Clinton,” and he’d say, very gravely, “The word of the day is _________” and give us a word. Then he’d bow from the waist and walk away.
    He’d been doing this for as long as anyone could remember.
    So, when I saw him, I said, “Hi, Clinton.”
    He looked at me somberly. “The word for the day is nomothetic .” Then he bowed and walked off.
    Liz looked it up. “It means ‘Giving or establishing laws; legislative.’”
    “Okay.” I recorded the word in our Clinton log.
    At 3:00, I went back to my office and started in on the sorting task again. By the time 5:00 rolled around, I was exhausted. I was determined to get through today's mail, though; if I could keep up with the new stuff, I'd be able to chip away at the old stuff without anything else piling up.
    I was just moving today's stack of mail to my desk when there was a knock on my door frame. I looked up into the deep brown eyes of Pete Ferguson.
    When I first moved to LA, Pete was my brother Kevin's partner on the police force. After Dan broke up with me, I’d had a string of similarly short-term relationships, and Pete was one of them. He’d left the force by then, and was pursuing a Ph.D. in psychology at UCLA. We’d gotten along great. But Pete had a bad breakup in his past too, and we’d both been afraid of getting hurt again. Then Pete’s ex had come back and wanted a second chance, and Pete had reluctantly given it to him. By the time Luke and Pete had broken up for good, I’d moved on. Pete’s friendship with Kevin had kept us in contact, and we’d re-established a cautious friendship of