A Body in the Bookshop

by Helen Cox

  ‘I don’t want to believe this is happening,’ Charley said. ‘I keep thinking maybe I’ll wake up. Except I don’t. I just feel . . . helpless.’

  Evie crossed her arms and rested them on the table. ‘There’s got to be something we can do. Isn’t there some proof that the weapon was stolen from your house?’

  Charley took a gulp of whatever was in the polystyrene cup. ‘There’s no sign of tampering with the garage lock, but there is a window that’s easy enough to jimmy if you know how and if that’s how they got in there’s a chance some forensic evidence was left behind. But it’ll take time for them to investigate it.’

  ‘So it’s a waiting game,’ said Evie, putting her hand on Charley’s arm and squeezing it. The gesture was perhaps a bit forward, but she couldn’t resist offering some sign that she was there if Charley needed her.

  The officer looked down at Evie’s hand and then up at her face before smiling. It was a forced smile, an attempt at gratitude. Evie returned the smile but wondered if there was something more she could do here than simply reassure. When Owen’s murderer was at large, she had felt just as helpless. So much so that she had to find a way of doing something, and Kitt had helped her do that by running her own little investigation. Perhaps she could do the same for Charley? All Kitt had done in real terms was go around the city and ask a few questions. How hard could that be?

  ‘I’m not sure if you can bear to think about it,’ she said slowly, ‘but do you have any idea who might have wanted to set you up?’

  ‘With the number of people I’ve put away, the list is long,’ Charley said, frowning. ‘But . . . the likelihood is it’s someone connected to this burglary case. I mean, they’d have to know all the ins and outs of it.’

  Evie wanted to smile, but held it back. It was obvious she was thinking, and thinking was without a doubt better than moping. Her plan was already working . . .

  ‘What about the suspect himself?’ Evie said. ‘He might have set it up to make it seem like he was being unfairly treated by the police to help his case.’

  ‘Yeah, that’s a possibility,’ Charley said. ‘I wouldn’t put anything past him. Except maybe having enough sense to know what he’d stolen was valuable.’

  ‘How do you mean?’

  ‘Well, I take it Halloran told you where the burglary took place?’

  Evie nodded. ‘Bootham Bar Books, though I knew about it anyway. If it’s to do with books, Kitt doesn’t miss a thing.’

  ‘That I can believe. So, you know that the books that were stolen were the most expensive in the shop?’

  ‘I’m not sure it was quite put in those terms when we were talking about it earlier,’ said Evie. ‘But what does that mean?’

  ‘That it wasn’t random or opportunistic. The people behind it had in-depth knowledge about the stock in that shop and knew exactly where to find the most valuable items.’

  ‘And you don’t think the suspect who accused you of assault has that kind of knowledge?’

  ‘Not on your life.’

  ‘Then why is he a suspect?’

  Charley looked down into her drink. ‘Forensics swept the place and it’s a shop so obviously there were a million different fingerprints and DNA samples but only one matched a person with a criminal record, parking tickets aside. So we called him in for questioning. He was as defensive as ever – this wasn’t his first visit to the police station.’

  ‘Does he have an alibi?’ Evie asked.

  Charley gave a wry smile. ‘Spot the girl with interrogation room experience.’

  ‘On the wrong side of the desk,’ said Evie.

  ‘Hopefully you feel you were treated fairly.’

  ‘Considering you thought I’d killed a person you were pretty cordial.’

  ‘I never thought that,’ Charley said with an urgency in her voice. ‘I just wanted to get to the truth, like I do now.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘Made more difficult when you’re suspended from duty. It’s so frustrating because before this it was shaping up to be a straightforward conviction.’

  ‘Did you manage to get him to profess his love for Peter Rabbit and the Secret Seven?’ Evie giggled.

  ‘Halloran really spilled his guts then?’ Charley said, shaking her head. ‘You know he can get into real trouble for that?’

  Evie smiled. ‘From the way him and Kitt look at each other I’d say they’re both in trouble.’

  ‘Aye,’ Charley said with a smile. ‘He needs to check himself though – if Percival or Ricci find out he’s been sharing information with civilians, he’ll be stuck with the Saturday night shift at York train station until the end of time. It’s not pretty, I can tell you.’

  ‘I’ve witnessed what goes on there on a Saturday night first-hand once or twice,’ said Evie, offering Charley a mischievous smile. ‘But now that I know most of it, can it really hurt to tell me a little bit more?’

  ‘In my case I’m already in so much trouble I don’t suppose it will make much difference, so long as you don’t go broadcasting it around town.’

  ‘I’m not much of a public speaker,’ said Evie. ‘So, did your suspect have an alibi?’

  ‘Oh aye, his mother, for God’s sake.’

  ‘And he didn’t strike you as the kind of person who’d spend his evenings knitting with dear old Ma?’

  ‘Not with his record. And if you’d ever met his mother you wouldn’t want to spend much time in her company either. But he’s just a patsy at the end of the day.’

  ‘How’s that?’

  ‘As I said, Enid Blyton aside, the books that were stolen were very specific. Someone must have put him up to it. Someone with a knowledge of rare books.’

  ‘And . . . you were hoping the threat of prison might make him talk about who was really behind it?’

  Charley nodded. ‘I put a bit of pressure on him – within the bounds of the law – and I just thought he’d crack and tell me who it was. But instead the next thing I know he’s been beaten up and I’m being summoned to a meeting with my Police Federation rep in tow. Superintendent Ricci did nothing to defend me and I was suspended from duty in a snap.’

  The sadness, which had for a few moments left Charley’s eyes, returned.

  ‘If this suspect was put up to the job by someone in the know, it’s unlikely he’s feeling very warm towards them right now, lying in hospital beaten almost to a pulp.’

  ‘Probably not. So?’

  ‘So, maybe he’s on the brink of realizing he’s bitten off more than he can comfortably chew. Maybe he can be reasoned with enough that he’ll offer up a name?’

  ‘Maybe, but I can’t do anything about it. I can’t go anywhere near anyone or anything connected with the case, not if I want a chance of ever getting my job back.’

  ‘No, you can’t,’ said Evie. ‘But I know a certain detective inspector who might be of assistance. Especially if his girlfriend asks nicely.’

  Banks shook her head. ‘I can’t ask Halloran to get involved with this. It could be his career too if he’s not careful. I’m his partner. If they suspect me of being corrupt, they might suspect him too.’

  ‘Well then maybe there’s—’

  ‘Evie . . . I appreciate you want to help. But there’s nothing to be done right now. I’ve been shut down. With a bit of luck the forensics will come back from the garage with a lead. Possibly even Alim’s DNA.’

  ‘Alim?’

  Charley held a finger to her lips and lowered her voice. ‘Alim Buruk, the suspect.’

  ‘Something about that name seems familiar.’

  ‘You’ve probably read it in the local headlines at some point. He has been involved in multiple theft incidents. In and out of juvenile correctional facilities more times than the wardens.’ Charley paused then, and her stare became harder. ‘I doubt you’d go to the kind o
f places he frequents but don’t, whatever you do, go around chanting his name. If someone in his circle recognizes it they might think you’re involved with him somehow, and he’s got enemies.’

  ‘I won’t say a word about him,’ said Evie, choosing her words carefully to ensure that even though a plan was hatching in her head, she wasn’t telling a lie.

  ‘Good,’ said Charley. ‘Because I know you mean well, but right now I’ve got enough to worry about without worrying about you too.’

  Evie watched as the biting northern breeze blew strands of Charley’s hair back from her face. She stood up from the bench and walked round to sit next to her. She told herself that she put her arm around Charley purely in the spirit of reassuring her but deep down she knew that it was partly selfish. It was partly to enjoy that physical contact that she had shied away from since the incident. For some reason she couldn’t quite put her finger on, she didn’t want to shy away from Charley.

  ‘You don’t need to worry about little old me,’ Evie said, giving Charley a squeeze and revelling in the smell of her leather jacket more than she’d expected to.

  ‘Old?’ Banks said with a smirk. ‘You’ve got some catching up to do with me before you can go about saying that.’

  ‘How much catching up?’ asked Evie, narrowing her eyes in mock suspicion.

  ‘I’ve got a good three years on you, and it’s showing. Bloody shift work.’

  ‘You look beautiful to me,’ said Evie, and then, feeling a blush creeping into her cheeks, added, ‘I mean, I don’t think it shows at all.’

  Charley smiled and opened her mouth to say something but was interrupted by the shrill chirp of her mobile which she retrieved from her inside coat pocket.

  ‘Sylvia?’

  Sylvia? Evie listened for any clues as to who Sylvia might be while Charley talked to the caller in what seemed like deliberately general sentences. As she spoke, Charley cast the odd sideways glance over at Evie before eventually sighing and hanging up the phone.

  ‘That was my Police Federation rep.’

  ‘Oh.’ An involuntary smile formed on Evie’s lips, the only outward sign of the strange relief she was feeling.

  ‘She wants to meet with me.’

  ‘Now?’

  Charley smiled and stood up from the bench. ‘Out of hours is our normal hours. She wants to run through some possible scenarios and come up with a plan of defence in each instance.’

  ‘Will you keep me posted, on what happens?’

  Charley looked at Evie thoughtfully for a moment but then nodded. ‘I’ll let you know if there are any breakthroughs.’

  ‘And if you need someone to talk to . . . well, I’m sure you’ve got people to talk to but if you want to talk to me, I’d be happy to listen.’

  ‘Noted,’ Charley said with a vague smile. ‘Thanks.’

  With that the officer turned on her heel and began a quick march out of the market. Evie watched her disappear into the night with a strange emptiness growing inside. A feeling she decided to put down to the fact that she hadn’t had any tea.

  Four

  Before she found herself at the entrance of York General Hospital, it had never occurred to Evie just how useful those unwanted scars on her face might be. She approached the reception desk make-up free, with her hair pinned back so the true extent of her scarring was in full view. It was the first time she had worn her hair like this since she’d got the scars, and on the way to the hospital she had counted the number of double-takes and wary stares she’d received from strangers who passed her by.

  Twelve.

  ‘’Scuse me,’ Evie said to a man behind the reception desk who was busy stamping a high-rise stack of papers. ‘I’m visiting Alim Buruk – can you tell me which ward he’s in?’

  The receptionist looked up and studied Evie’s face for what felt like an eternity, even though it couldn’t have been more than a few seconds. She dropped her eyes and ran an idle finger over the scar that cut along her jawline, making a show of looking awkward. It wasn’t a difficult act to pull off. She had to resist behaving this way every time somebody looked at her directly, even friends. In fact, especially with friends, as they knew that she hadn’t always looked like a horror show and probably couldn’t help comparing the old face with the new. At last she had an excuse to behave how she really wanted to, deep down.

  ‘Just a moment,’ the receptionist said in a gentle tone before tapping a few buttons on his computer. ‘He’s been moved to the Acute Admissions Ward. Just follow the yellow line on the floor, and you’ll find it.’ He gave Evie a ­sympathetic smile.

  Evie nodded and as directed began to follow the yellow line painted along the polished cream flooring. The scent of hand-sanitizer and disinfectant was so strong she could almost taste it as she turned five antiseptic corners and pushed through a set of double doors to reach the Acute Admissions Ward.

  Walking along the corridor, she scanned each room for the man she had looked up on Facebook at lunchtime. This was the moment when her disfigurement was really going to serve her in her mission. Even sans hospital gown, people would believe she was on her way to see a specialist about the nasty scars on her face. The chances of anyone questioning her cover story were slim.

  Evie passed by seven doorways before she spotted the man she believed she was looking for. He didn’t look exactly like his Facebook profile picture, but then just now neither did Evie.

  Unlike most people who simply didn’t match their profile picture because they’d gained a few pounds or a few wrinkles, Alim Buruk‘s whole jaw area was red and swollen. One eye was part closed and he looked small, much less alive than he had in the photo she’d seen of him in a nightclub, his dark skin illuminated with strobe lighting like an extra in a nineties music video.

  Taking a deep breath, Evie swung open the door. Visiting hours had started half an hour ago so there were already a few people dotted about the beds, eating the grapes they had brought for the sick or making small talk about the quality of hospital food.

  Alim was lying in the fourth cubicle along on the right-hand side. Despite the fact that Charley had mentioned Alim’s mother, there were no visitors present to comfort him. The blue curtain that ran in an ellipse around his bed was pulled back. He had been staring at the ceiling but as Evie entered he looked towards the doorway and she immediately averted her eyes. She had to make out like he was the last person she was looking for. Like any exchange between them was purely accidental – the kind of coincidence that could only happen in a small city like York.

  ‘Sorry to bother you all, but has anyone seen Dr Cornfoot?’ asked Evie, swaggering up the aisle between the two rows of beds, safe in the knowledge that nobody would have seen Dr Cornfoot on account of the fact that he was a figment of Evie’s imagination.

  One by one, the people in their beds shook their heads.

  ‘Sorry, haven’t seen any doctors. Just nurses,’ said a man in a grey anorak who was visiting another man lying in bed with a cast on his arm.

  ‘Which one’s he?’ asked the gentleman lying in the bed next to Alim. He too was without any company. Seizing the opportunity, Evie walked over to the space between his bed and Alim’s. She took great care to keep her eyes fixed on the man who had addressed her. He had tough, wrinkled skin that reminded Evie of a rhinoceros.

  ‘Well, he’s tall. Bald. Quite a pointed nose. Walks with a bit of a limp,’ said Evie, her eyes darting at the man to check if her accidental literalism about the ‘corn foot’ had aroused suspicion. But the man was looking up at the ceiling, deep in thought.

  ‘Not ringing any bells. Are you sure he’s in this department? It’s a big hospital, you know?’

  ‘I was directed to this department by the front desk,’ said Evie, which wasn’t a lie.

  ‘The front desk,’ the man in the bed spat out the words. ‘Left hand doesn’t know what the rig
ht’s doing.’

  ‘Mmm. You’re probably right,’ said Evie. Though that wasn’t her impression at all she needed to get the room onside. ‘I’m sick of being messed around by these doctors. Do they think I like running around town with these?’ She drew her fingertips first over the scar at her right temple then again over the one at the left side of her jaw.

  The man in the bed looked down at his hands, which worked over the satin trim of his blanket. ‘How’d you get them?’

  Evie wanted more than anything to smile. She knew morbid curiosity would get the better of somebody in the room sooner or later but she crossed her arms over her chest and frowned, doing all she could to contain her satisfaction. ‘Believe it not, a policeman did it.’

  Again, not strictly a lie.

  ‘Coppers?’ Alim growled.

  Five

  Evie started, as though she hadn’t noticed Alim lying there. Her GCSE drama skills were really coming to the fore this afternoon.

  ‘Sorry,’ she said, ‘I didn’t catch that.’

  ‘You can’t trust coppers,’ Alim half-grunted, and then winced. He was hooked up to several bags hanging from a silver stand behind him including an IV which probably meant he was finding it difficult to eat or drink; talking couldn’t have been much easier.

  Evie offered the man in the bed next to his a brief smile before turning away and sidling closer to Alim.

  ‘Your experience of them as bad as mine?’ Evie said.

  ‘Wh-who do you think put me here?’ Alim croaked, and began coughing.

  ‘Are you able to take a bit of water?’ asked Evie. Alim nodded and continued to cough while she circled her way to his bedside table. There, a cup of water with a straw in it was sitting on top of some car magazines. Wondering if Alim just had a passing interest in cars or whether he read the magazines to make sure he only stole the most valuable vehicles, Evie reached over and held the straw to his lips. Each gulp was coupled with a wince but she still noticed the gratitude in his cinnamon eyes.