Bookshelf Battle

PREVIOUSLY ON POP CULTURE MYSTERIES…

Part 1 – Attorney Donnelly visits Jake at an ungodly hour.  Ms. Tsang and Ernie arrive a little after that.

Part 2 – How do Jake and Ms. Tsang know each other?

AND NOW THE POP CULTURE MYSTERIES CONTINUE…

“I don’t get it,”  I said as Agnes switched off the library’s movie playing thingamabob.

“What’s not to get?”  Agnes asked.  “It was a movie.  It was fun.  Now it’s over.”

It’s a movie.  It was fun.  Now it’s over.

Agnes the Librarian, Champion Shusher

That’s the way I used to feel about entertainment.  That’s the way most people feel about it.  We all have so much going on in our own lives that there’s just not enough hours in the day to devote to examining the finer points of cinema and yet three cases in and I was becoming as obsessed as Mr. Battler.

And it wasn’t just a movie.  Agnes and I watched all three movies in the library’s media room.

(Not for nothing but I was a little concerned about Agnes’ work ethic.)

“So this kid goes back and time and boinks his mother?”  I asked. “That’s disgusting.”

“They didn’t boink,”  Agnes replied.  “Marty’s mother was young.  She assumed Marty was just another boy to make moon eyes at.”

“And yet when she grows up and gives birth to Marty, she never once finds it odd that her kid looks exactly like this Calvin Klein fella that she met when she was in high school?”

“I don’t know,”  Agnes said.  “Do I look like a movie expert or something?”

“And what kind of a guy just leaves his girl sleeping on a porch unattended?”  I asked.  “Ma Hatcher would jump out of her grave and beat me with a rolling pin if I ever did anything like that.”

Agnes ignored me and put away the movie discs.

“Have they invented hover boards yet?  And why is Biff such a horse’s ass?”

I followed Agnes out onto the library floor.

“It’s the end of my shift,”  Agnes said.  “I need to go check on Herbert.”

“All right,”  I said.  “Just one more question.  Did you happen to notice if there was ever a hint as to how the kid and the doctor knew each other?”

“What?”  Agnes asked with a sour looking expression.  She always made a face like she was sucking on a lemon whenever she was frustrated with me.

“Doc Brown and Marty,” I said.  “They’re the two main characters in these damn pictures and yet there’s not one line that mentions how these two met.  That’s a plot hole you could drive a dump truck through, isn’t it?”

The librarian threw her arms up in the air.

“WHO CARES?”

“Well,”  I said.  “If you’re going to be that way about it…”

Agnes rubbed her temples then put a hand on my shoulder.

“Young man,”  she said.  “I have to say, you have me a bit worried.  You come in here all the time reeking of hard liquor.  You’re unshaven.  You look depressed and frankly, you’re not taking very good care of yourself.  I don’t mean to pry, but do you have a job?”

“I’m a fully licensed and bonded private investigator, ma’am,”  I responded matter-of-factly.

“And you expect me to believe that?”  the old gal replied.  “Son, you need to get a job.  If you want to come to the library, that’s great.  You’re more than welcome.  But don’t waste your time here watching movies.  I can help you look for gainful employment.”

She wanted to help me find work.  The idea intrigued me.

“Think there’s anyone who needs a man who’s handy with a P58 Schotzenhauer?”

“I don’t know,”  Agnes said.  “Is that some kind of tool or something?”

“Not exactly,”  I said.  “But it sure did come in handy during the war.”

Agnes’ expression turned more solemn.

“Oh,”  she said as she covered her mouth.  “Oh you poor man.  That explains everything.  Say no more.”

I’d said too much.  Most WWII vets were either dead and buried or on their last legs.  I was the only one who was strutting around like a prized peacock.

“You know, there’s a support group for veterans who served in Afghanistan and Iraq that meets here twice a month,”  Agnes said.  “You should sign up for it.”

I didn’t correct her.  Why blow my cover?  Besides, wars are wars.  The shit is the shit.

“I’ll think about it,”  I said.

“You do that,”  Agnes said.  “But I expect you here next Wednesday for computer class.  I’ve already signed you up and you’ll never get a job when you don’t even know the difference between a mouse and a keyboard.”

I gave the broad a light, playful punch in the shoulder.

“You’re a good egg, Ag,”  I said.  “Don’t ever change.”

BQB EDITORIAL NOTE:  I’m starting to think I should just fire Jake and hire Agnes.  Why go through the middle-man?

Copyright (c) Bookshelf Q. Battler 2015.  All Rights Reserved.

Image courtesy of a shutterstock.com license.