“That’s a related bacterium,” Lotty said. “It’s relatively harmless—can give you stomach cramps and fever for a few weeks but usually doesn’t need antibiotics. How did you hear about that? You’re not playing with germs now, are you?”

“I’m playing with people who play with germs,” I said. “I just don’t know what game they’re playing.”

“No one at the Cleveland Clinic knows how Dr. Hitchcock contracted pneumonic plague,” Lotty said, “but if he was close to people you’re dealing with, I want you to start a course of antibiotics right now. Get me the number of a twenty-four-hour pharmacy near you and go pick up the prescription as soon as you hang up. I’m going to start you tonight with a double dose. I’m also notifying the CDC in Atlanta, although I’m sure the Cleveland Clinic has already done so.

“If you’re going to be near people or places that may be contaminated, wear a high-grade face mask. Don’t drink alcohol while you’re taking the drug: it lowers its efficacy. If you start spiking a fever or have shortness of breath or pain in breathing, get to the nearest ER at once. This is not a joke: left untreated, pneumonic plague has essentially a one-hundred-percent mortality rate. Do you understand?”

48
Late Night at the Library

I picked up the doxycycline prescription and took two tablets as Lotty had commanded. On my way back to the B and B, I drove downtown to look at the library: I was curious about the story in yesterday’s Herald criticizing the library management for leaving its lights on in the middle of the night.

I parked across the street, my own lights off. There was one car in the lot, a late-model Acura, parked in one of the staff spaces. A light was on in the main reading room, but as I watched, it went out. A moment later Phyllis Barrier, the head librarian, emerged. She didn’t look around but walked quickly to the Acura and drove off.

There seemed to be a reflection of a light in the basement. Many buildings leave lights on at night, for security or for the cleaning crew. Perhaps Ms. Barrier was monitoring the library, to make sure they kept on the right number. Perhaps the suspicions she seemed to harbor toward me made her want to check on whether the foreign detective was sneaking into her library after hours to use the computers.

I walked over and crouched to look in the basement window. A door was closing. I tried to visualize the library layout. There was a music lab down there, without windows, which held an industry-standard sound board. Ms. Barrier doubtless was letting music enthusiasts hold an overnight recording session.