Page 83 of Booked for Theft

I frowned. “What security guards?”

“The ones my father will be providing starting next week. He is contributing staff and hours as a charitable donation. There will be two pairs of guards at your branch at all times, they are going to have ten pairs at the main branch, and the other branches are getting between one and four pairs depending on size and number of entrances. At all branches with elevators, all guards will be trained on how to handle most lift problems, assist patrons getting in and out of the building, and so forth. It works really well for him, because it shows support for your career choice. It also might deter anything else from happening on the steps of a library.”

Huh. We’d wanted better security for a while, making do with cameras that we monitored and a phone number for the police in case of issues. As a general rule, we were expected to fend for ourselves, which we did.

Other branches had more trouble than we contended with, and I suspected we got away with as few incidents as we did due to how we handled most situations. For the most part, we handled any cleanup needed and defused situations to the best of our ability.

It helped that a local gym up the street had decided to come to the aid of the homeless, offering their showers to the general public. Several of the homeless shelters and thrift stores had joined the party, offering services to those who wanted to acquire a job or otherwise improve their situation.

It wasn’t much, but we tried.

“Does your father know we have community initiatives in place?”

“The security team is prepared to help the homeless get to the gym, to shelters, and otherwise assist the library in addressing such issues, yes. He’s looking into hiring full-time social workers to assist the homeless at each branch. He’ll be able to write the entire operation off his taxes, and it’s work that his employees want to be doing. He’ll be using the positions as rewards, and they’ll rotate every two months. He requested volunteers, and most of his workers are interested in helping. The ones who aren’t either live a hefty distance from the library, don’t have easy transportation, or can’t for some reason. The incentives for doing the work are pretty strong, so most want to participate. He’s contemplating setting up a shuttle to get employees to the libraries to remove the transportation issue.”

“Maybe your dad should be running for office,” I muttered.

“The government would become a tightly run ship, that’s for certain. So, we have a few hours to work on this. What approach do you want to take?”

I sighed at the box, flipped it onto its side, and dumped it out. “We shall make piles, organized by type, and skim searching for anything important. Do we have a camera we can use for this?”

“I do, and I have a huge stockpile of memory chips so we can send all the relevant photos to news outlets. Between me and my parents, we managed to get a hold of a hundred through hitting up different stores. I got a compatible card reader, so copying all the files can be done with relative ease. I’ll name each file to be sensible, which will be time consuming, but if we’re working together, it shouldn’t be too bad.”

It would have to do. Snatching a handful of sheets, I began the tedious process of reviewing everything. The first few pages proved to be invoices for office supplies, and as nothing seemed amiss from them, I set them aside. The next papers appeared to be part of a conduct guide detailing how campaign volunteers were to behave, which I sorted into a new pile. Bradley headed to the other end of the table with his box, dumped it out, and joined me in sorting through the sheets.

Twenty minutes into the job, I questioned everything I thought I had known about how campaigns were operated, especially in terms of financials. From screws to saddles, Senator Maybelle’s campaign had a little of everything. “Saddles, Bradley? Why would a political campaign need to buy saddles?”

Bradley set aside his papers and rummaged through his organized sheets, and after a minute or so, he lifted up a page and waved it. “President Castillo sent a memo to her campaign ordering her to run a charity event, a horse ride for children. Her campaign was to provide everything for the event, horses, bridles, and saddles included. After the event, the horses were to be auctioned with their equipment, and all funds were to be distributed to a charity of her choice to garner good will among Americans.”

Bastard. I could see how that ploy would work to gain support among horse lovers. “President Castillo was decreeing what Senator Maybelle was to do during her campaign?”

“It appears to be that way. I have a bunch of memos here that are reminders for what her campaign team needed to be doing and when. There are numerous bills of sales for horses and so on in this box.”

Our boxes had come from the same general section of the warehouse, so I could only assume we had gotten lucky in terms of overlapping materials. “But a horse ride and selling the animals?”

Bradley went through a different pile, pulling out a bill of sale for a horse, which he handed to me along with another sheet. “I’ve found at least ten sales registries for the horses, and they were bought from a kill market. They’re being stabled at a horse rescue, and judging from the invoices, the bill for their stabling is only paid through until the election. The charity auction would take place the week before the election, likely to boost Senator Maybelle’s run.”

I took the sheets, sighed, and reviewed the stabling contract, which had Senator Maybelle’s campaign paying three thousand per horse per month. Near the end, if the stabling contract was not renewed, the horses would be sent back to the kill market. “Some rescue. They contracted to send the horses back to their originating market.” I tossed the papers at my fiancé. “You are buying me a wedding gift, Bradley.”

“I am?”

“Yes, you are. You will be contacting that horse rescue and acquiring all those animals for me. Use the angle that you want them as soon as possible but in October at the latest to start training and conditioning them for your wedding project. They’re all off the track thoroughbreds according to the stabling contract. We’ll figure out something to do with them after they’re off the executioner’s block.”

Bradley sighed, took the documents, and reviewed them again. “In good news, the stable is in Maryland, so it would definitely be in my searching grounds for such a thing. All right. I guess we’re opening a rescue center for these horses. Hopefully, the stable honored the contract despite Senator Maybelle’s death. We’ll find out soon enough.”

“The idea of selling them for charity was not bad, but those horses aren’t going to be picked up by the auction date, not with Senator Maybelle dead and her campaign dumped. Let’s limit the deaths. Maybe we’ve done a shit job of saving people, but at least we can save these animals.” I wrinkled my nose at the tactic—and that a horse rescue would send animals back to a kill market after charging a political campaign thousands for the care and upkeep of the animals. “It doesn’t cost that much for a month per horse, does it?”

“It does not, not by a long shot. Our horses are costing us a few hundred a month, as they are spoiled children enjoying the high life. Sunflower’s more expensive, but she has weekly vet visits because everyone is paranoid. Apparently, we’re being excessive, but Sunflower’s previous owner is pleased with our excess. Your mare is loved, and that’s the important thing.”

I nodded. “We should go visit our children after lunch. I need some love and affection from them.”

“Assuming they’ll sell the horses, I’m sure we can find one you can ride while Sunflower handles being a mother and caring for her foal.” Bradley frowned, grabbed his phone, and tapped at the screen. “Ah, they’re open today, and they have public information that they’re open to be contacted about rescues at any time. Let’s see what we can get. I’ll be specific about wanting off the track thoroughbreds, so maybe that’ll get us access to the campaign horses.”

While I waited for the result of the call, I resumed sorting papers, making certain anything dealing with the animals was put to the side.

“Good morning. My name is Bradley Hampton, and I’m looking for some horses to adopt as part of a wedding gift for my fiancé, who recently received a pregnant mare as a gift. She loves her new horse, so I want to purchase a herd for her. She’s interested in off the track thoroughbreds, and I’d like to surprise her with the herd as part of our wedding plans. We will be going on a venture to Europe in October, and we’ll need the horses for then.” Bradley referenced the stabling contract before saying, “I’m looking for at least twenty-five animals. I can take them immediately if available, but I can wait for as late as mid-October as long as they have all vetting records required to be transported to Europe.”

Bradley spent a few minutes listening, and every now and then, he rolled his eyes. “I’m willing to offer five thousand a head for them, assuming you have their papers and vet records. You do? Excellent. Will arranging for transport for them this week be an issue? No? Excellent. I’ll have my transporter get in touch. Please send the invoice to me so I can pay it promptly.” Bradley gave the person his pertinent details, including our address, telephone number, and his email address. Once he hung up, he shook his head. “I was told, flat-out, that they had animals from Senator Maybelle’s campaign and were looking to get rid of them, as they were taking up space and preventing them from helping any other rescues.” Bradley went through the contract again, and after a moment, he made a satisfied sound. “There it is. There’s a clause that if anything happens to the campaign, the rescue may sell the horses at their discretion for any value they deem fit. The sales value for the horses will go to the rescue—and it counts as a charitable contribution for us.”