You’d heard of people having sex in the library behind the card catalogues, hiding coke in the spines of The Collected Works of Erasmus, even leaving traces of quinine near the rat infestation in the café lounge, but you’d never heard of anyone getting murdered in the stacks. The fact that Uranium Madness was located on the thirteenth level, which could only be reached by the middle lift, was already disorienting, especially at the eleventh hour, just before the stroke of midnight. And that linoleum floor! At least, that’s what you’d thought you were slipping on, as you approached the U’s.
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