The Yellow Hibiscus

Flash Fiction

By the time I arrived, it was 12:01 PM. There were two men at the entrance to the library. Even in jeans and a Hawaiian shirt, I could tell they were cops. The bulge on the right side of their jean’s waist didn’t hide their weapon very well. The librarian who had assisted me was nowhere in sight. My eyes explored the scene. A line of yellow arrows on the opposite side pointed to a large Yellow door closer to an entrance into the museum. A strange feeling touched me. A moment before, I could have sworn they were white arrows, pointing to a red door, with a sign that said, “Employees only’. I scoped around me again. The officers were still at the entrance talking with two men, who had just come in.

Inside the office of the director at the Bernice P. Bishop Museum, Sgt. Booker and Det. Fong handed the letter to Mrs. Joyce Miller. Then made the necessary introductions. She read it, smiled and commented, “Gentlemen, not even I know what is inside these books.”

Sgt. Booker nodded and notified, “It’s police business.”

Mrs. Miller continued, “Jan Strokley, my assistant will bring them here where you can view them. They are not allowed to leave the museum,” she informed, picking up the phone. “Jan, Joyce here. Come to my office now.”