A Body in the Bookshop

by Helen Cox

  ‘I’ve never had a reason to come to an auction before,’ Grace said, removing her coat to reveal the silky salmon-pink kurta she was wearing over her jeans. ‘But maybe that’s changed.’

  Holt made no attempt to conceal the fact he was ogling Grace and Evie noticed Kitt’s jaw tightening as he did so. Kitt was rather protective about the people she cared about, a fact Evie had always been grateful for. And if he wasn’t careful, it looked like Holt might find out just how protective she could be.

  Grace toyed with one of her dark curls. ‘Do you have your eye on anything in particular today?’

  Holt leant closer to Grace. ‘You might say that. How about you?’

  ‘Oh I don’t know,’ she said with a teasing little smile. ‘I have what you might call particular passions.’

  ‘I’d love to know more about them,’ said Holt. Evie couldn’t quite see his face from this vantage point but she imagined it was fixed in a leer. She could see Grace’s expression, however, and she seemed unruffled by his obvious lechery. Perhaps because Holt was playing right into her hands.

  ‘I don’t know if I’m ready to reveal them to you just yet,’ Grace said with a giggle.

  ‘Oh but I wish you would.’ Holt’s arm crept around the back of Grace’s chair. That move alone was enough to make Evie shudder but somehow the mustard chinos he was wearing made the whole scene even more sickening.

  ‘I don’t know if I’m ready for you to know just how much of a nerd I am.’

  ‘Nothing about you screams “nerd” to me.’

  Grace again toyed with her hair. ‘Looks can be deceiving. Would you guess that I work in a library?’

  ‘No. But that isn’t in the least bit off-putting. I’ve always wondered what goes on underneath the calm exterior of those quiet librarian types.’

  Evie noticed Kitt’s fists clenching at this and tried not to laugh. Her friend couldn’t really be described as the stereotypical librarian which was why perhaps the stereotypes riled her so much.

  ‘Oh, there’s more to us than meets the eye,’ said Grace.

  ‘What meets the eye is already enticing but do tell me more.’

  ‘I can’t speak for all librarians, naturally,’ said Grace. ‘But personally speaking I find intelligence an incredibly attractive quality in a person.’

  ‘Oh really . . .’ Holt reached up and toyed with the ends of Grace’s hair. Somehow, she managed not to flinch. Beyond impressive, given the level of smarm on display.

  ‘Yes, I’m almost helplessly drawn to bookish individuals. People who read fine works of literature. People who are well-versed in poetry. People who own rare editions just for the beauty of them, no matter just how much money they set them back.’

  Holt paused. Not being able to see his facial expression was starting to make Evie wish they had better seats to the show but she imagined, given his silence, that he was making some calculation. ‘You may be interested to hear then,’ he said at last, ‘that I have in my possession a rather beautiful first edition of Jamaica Inn by Daphne du Maurier. Perhaps you’re a bit young to be familiar with that title.’

  ‘She’s a bit young for a lot of things,’ Kitt said to Evie in a low voice. ‘But I think we’ve found the brains behind the burglary.’

  Evie nodded at her friend. One of the titles from the burglary on his eBay account and another one stashed away in his private collection: this was definitely their guy. But if he had been behind the burglary there was a good chance he also had something to do with Alim’s death, and perhaps Donald’s disappearance. Something clenched inside Evie’s chest as she looked at the back of Holt’s head and prayed for Grace to tread lightly here.

  ‘I’m more than familiar with it, it’s one of my favourites,’ said Grace and then letting her face drop added, ‘But I’ve never seen a first edition.’

  ‘Perhaps we could arrange a viewing of sorts,’ said Holt.

  ‘What an exciting idea,’ said Grace. ‘Is Jamaica Inn the only first edition you own?’

  ‘Actually, I’ve happened across a few of them lately,’ said Holt.

  ‘Let me guess the titles, sir,’ said a deep voice off to the left. ‘The Big Sleep, Endymion, Jamaica Inn and Goodbye to Berlin.’ Halloran had arrived and Evie breathed out a sigh of relief. As casually as she could, she looked around the hall to see if Charley was here backing him up, but there was no sign of her.

  ‘What the—’ Holt began, then sprang to his feet as Halloran held up his badge and started shuffling backwards along the row towards the central aisle. Gasps and tuts rose up from the people Holt was barging past.

  ‘Stop where you are!’ boomed Halloran.

  Kitt rose to her feet and tried to grab hold of Holt’s arm as he came near but he moved too quickly and in a moment he was out of the end of the row and walking briskly towards the door at the back of the room. Evie watched as Halloran quickly scanned the seating arrangements, then leaped onto a nearby empty chair and continued to jump empty seat to empty seat in a bid to cut Holt off before he made it out of the door. ‘Stop! Police!’ he shouted, as people in the room cried out in surprise.

  Evie’s mouth hung open as she watched Halloran leap from chair to chair like Indiana Jones. If she hadn’t been so astonished she would have laughed at the sight of him, a grown man, jumping about a similarly open-mouthed audience of the well-to-do. The inspector spent most of his time being so serious and staid but there was no denying that he did have his moments, and this was one of them.

  Holt had his hand on one of the double doors at the back of the room but just before he pushed and found his freedom, Halloran grabbed him by the back of his collar and pulled him back inside.

  ‘Stand against the wall with your hands behind your head,’ Halloran barked, as he pushed the man into position and conducted a quick body search. Everybody in the room was watching the display and yet more gasps rose from the room when Halloran pulled a gun from one of Holt’s pockets.

  Evie put a hand over her mouth and looked at Grace. All that time, she had been sat next to him, talking to him, and he had had that in his pocket.

  ‘A strange thing to bring along to an antiques auction,’ was all Halloran had to say on the matter as he ushered Holt out of the bidding hall.

  Twenty-One

  ‘You can start by confirming your full name,’ said Halloran as he indicated a chair in the back room of the auction house. Evie, Grace and Kitt had been permitted to watch on the condition that they didn’t interrupt the inspector’s initial questions. Without another police officer at the scene, Evie reasoned Halloran probably wanted witnesses to him cautioning the man and perhaps it wouldn’t hurt either to have others bear witness to his answers. Regardless of what he had to say for himself, however, it didn’t seem Holt had much hope of escaping a formal interrogation down at the station. Just outside the door, Evie could still hear the bustle of the wealthy leaving the premises and cut-glass accents spouting phrases such as ‘In all my time, I’ve never seen such a ruckus.’

  Holt sat in the chair and then looked up at Halloran. ‘Mr Jarvis Holt,’ he said. ‘And now that you know who you’re dealing with, I expect a prompt, quiet resolution to this matter.’

  Evie and Kitt exchanged a frown. Kitt looked as though she was going to open her mouth to speak but then clearly remembered Halloran’s instructions and for once decided to do as she had been instructed.

  The inspector pulled a notebook out of his pocket and scribbled what Evie assumed was Holt’s name on one of the pages. ‘I have heard of you, Mr Holt. You manage quite a lot of property in the York area. But all hope of a swift and quiet resolution went out the moment I shouted the words “stop, police” and you decided to run away.’

  Holt looked at Halloran’s notebook and then down at his brown leather loafers which were polished to such a degree that Evie felt she could see her face in them from five pa
ces away. ‘Are you arresting me?’

  ‘Not yet . . . but I fear that in the long run you might leave me no choice,’ said Halloran. ‘I overheard enough, and I’m fairly sure Ms Edwards over there would be willing to make a statement detailing the fact that you claimed to be in possession of a list of first edition books that were stolen from Bootham Bar Books a few weeks back.’

  Grace jumped at being addressed as ‘Ms Edwards’. She wasn’t at a stage in her life where anyone would really think to do that.

  ‘And that’s before,’ Halloran continued, standing a little taller, ‘we even get into the matter of you carrying a handgun.’

  Holt then did something that Evie didn’t believe anyone would dare do in the face of an interrogation from DI Halloran – he rolled his eyes. ‘Oh please, I collect antique firearms. It’s perfectly legal.’

  ‘Oh, we’ll be checking out everything you say,’ said Halloran, his face darkening. ‘If it was a collector’s item, it should be kept in a display cabinet, not in your pocket. Is it loaded? Have you sourced ammunition for it?’

  Holt hesitated but did at last respond. ‘Yes. But I wasn’t going to hurt anyone with it. I just needed it as a deterrent, for . . . protection.’

  ‘Seems somewhat contradictory, Mr Holt, to load a weapon and then claim you had no intention of hurting anybody.’

  Holt sat in silence and looked down at the yellow carpet.

  ‘Who were you trying to protect yourself from?’

  Holt’s silence continued.

  ‘Mr Holt, if you need protection from somebody, that is what the police are for. You shouldn’t be taking matters into your own hands. As it is, this whole circumstance is deeply suspicious. You’re in possession of stolen property and ran from a police officer. Just running away is grounds for me to arrest you.’

  Holt glared at Halloran and pointed at Grace. ‘She tricked me into saying I had those books. That’s entrapment!’

  ‘No, it isn’t. It would only be entrapment if Ms Edwards tricked you into stealing the books with her. And, if she worked for the police, which she doesn’t.’

  Holt looked from Grace, to Kitt and then to Evie. ‘If they don’t work for the police, then what are they doing here?’

  ‘They discovered a certain eBay listing of yours.’

  ‘So?’

  ‘So.’ Halloran sighed. ‘That listing was for a first edition copy of The Big Sleep, an item that was stolen from Bootham Bar Books.’

  Mr Holt’s face was perfectly still. ‘I bought those books in good faith. There was nothing remotely suspicious about the person who sold them to me.’

  Halloran stared at Holt for a moment and then folded his arms. ‘Are you aware that those stolen books have an associated missing persons case and a charge of grievous bodily harm against, and murder of, Alim Buruk?’

  Holt’s face drained of colour.

  ‘You know, any person who was innocent of any wrongdoing might look surprised at this point,’ Halloran said. ‘But you’re not surprised, are you, Mr Holt?’

  ‘I don’t think I should say anything else without my lawyer.’

  ‘We will contact your lawyer when you get to the station,’ said Halloran.

  ‘But—’ Holt tried, but Halloran had stopped listening. He had already pulled his phone out of his pocket and was on the line to the station.

  ‘This isn’t what you think, you know,’ Holt said to Evie, Kitt and Grace. ‘None of it.’

  ‘What exactly do you mean by that?’ asked Kitt.

  ‘You’ll find out soon enough,’ said Holt, his eyes narrowing.

  Evie looked at Grace and Kitt in turn, and they looked back at her. What was that supposed to mean?

  ‘Stand up, Mr Holt,’ Halloran said. ‘You are under arrest under suspicion of conspiracy to burgle, and conspiracy to murder.’

  Holt’s eyes widened at this. ‘This is ridiculous, an outrage.’

  Halloran ignored Holt’s protestations and continued to appraise him of his rights before cuffing him and leading him out of the room.

  As Holt and Halloran disappeared into the corridor, Evie sensed a sinking feeling in her stomach. ‘What do you think he meant when he said that we’d know soon enough that this wasn’t what it seemed?’

  ‘Who knows?’ said Grace with a little shiver.

  ‘A person like him might say anything to save face in that situation,’ said Kitt. ‘But if what he says is anywhere near true then there’s a good chance this whole business is far from over.’

  Twenty-Two

  Raindrops dashed themselves against the windscreen at a faster rate than Jacob’s little wipers could cope with as Evie drove at a cautious pace up the A63. Just over an hour ago she had been having a cup of tea at Kitt’s cottage when a phone call had come through from Inspector Halloran. Donald Oakes’s body had washed up near the Humber Bridge and although Halloran had warned Kitt not to come to the crime scene as Ricci was likely to put in an appearance, she had been unable to sit at the cottage and do nothing.

  Evie had not said too much to Kitt on the journey. They had been friends long enough that it was possible to sit in comfortable silence if that’s what the other needed.

  ‘This . . . Donald’s death, doesn’t look good on Shereen, does it? I mean, if there was any truth to anything Olivia told us.’

  ‘That’s a big “if”,’ said Evie. ‘She’s not exactly what you would describe as a reliable source. If Olivia was having some kind of affair with Holt, she might be mixed up in this more than we know.’

  ‘It’s true, this Holt character seems deeply suspicious,’ said Kitt. ‘But isn’t Olivia a bit young to be masterminding something on this scale?’

  ‘She might just be another pawn, like Alim. Making Shereen look guilty might be just another step in Holt’s get-rich-quick plan. But then . . . there’s a big difference between burgling a bookshop and murdering two people.’

  ‘True,’ said Kitt. ‘But burglary and murder are sometimes linked. Like in The Adventure of the Reigate Squire.’

  ‘Let me guess,’ said Evie, ‘a mystery book?’

  ‘Sherlock Holmes,’ Kitt said, with a hollow note in her voice.

  Evie turned right off the A-road to get closer to the bridge. Somewhere close to there, they would find Halloran, and possibly Charley too.

  ‘Maybe the reason this case is so messy is because it’s just a burglary gone wrong,’ said Kitt.

  ‘Gone wrong in what way?’

  ‘Well, maybe Donald was in on it and alongside Alim was promised a cut of any money Holt made on the books,’ said Kitt. ‘That way, Donald could claim his insurance money and take a cut of the value of the books sold at auction.’

  ‘But how does that result in two dead bodies?’ asked Evie.

  ‘Maybe Holt decided he wanted to keep all the money for himself and got rid of the other two.’

  ‘For the sake of fifty grand?’ said Evie. ‘I can maybe see that for a hundred grand but is fifty grand really worth killing two people to someone as rich as Holt?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Kitt. ‘From what Halloran has told me about some of the things he’s seen, some people will kill for a lot less.’

  ‘A comforting thought,’ said Evie.

  ‘Over there,’ Kitt said, pointing off at a set of blue flashing lights flickering up ahead.

  Evie indicated and pulled over to the verge. If they had come here in daylight hours some comfort would have been provided by the quaint spires and rooftops of the nearby town of Hessle, famous for its shipbuilding and known to most as the doorway to the Yorkshire Wolds Way, seventy-nine miles of rolling chalk hills between here and Filey. The vantage point provided by the peaks offered unparalleled views across some of the most stunning scenery in the region, but not tonight. Tonight this stretch was shrouded in a mask of thick rain and mist, t
he only relief from which was the glow of the Humber Bridge, illuminated by a procession of yellow lights while its tall concrete towers stretched seemingly ever upward into the dark December sky.

  Evie turned off the ignition and turned to her friend. ‘I still don’t think this is a very good idea, us being here. Donald was a friend.’

  Kitt nodded and released the seat belt. ‘I know that. But I need to see for myself.’

  Evie knew from past experience that there was no point in trying to argue with her friend about this. She watched her open the car door and pick a holdall she had brought with her out of the footwell. Kitt didn’t usually carry this much luggage but when Evie had pressed her about what was in the bag, all she would say was that it was just a few things in case of emergency.

  Evie undid her seat belt and exited the vehicle, taking a deep breath as she did so. She was at a disadvantage to Kitt, who confessed after their last escapade that she had seen a dead body before, but wouldn’t be drawn into the context. Evie had, fortunately, never come into contact with a corpse so there was no real telling how she would react to whatever it was she was about to witness.

  Evie followed Kitt as she walked towards some yellow tape. Beyond the police line, Evie could make out a small huddle of police officers in the darkness, Halloran and Charley among them. Evie didn’t recognize the other officers present. They were more than likely not from York Police Station but from whichever station happened to be nearest this stretch of river. Hull, perhaps?

  Halloran and Charley were listening carefully to a tall, skinny officer who on account of his pointed nose and narrow, beady eyes, reminded Evie of a weasel. After a few moments, Halloran glanced over in the direction of the cordon and noticed Kitt. His face at once morphed into a frown, whether of confusion or of annoyance Evie couldn’t quite say. Charley followed his stare and looked at Evie for just a moment too long.

  Less than a minute later Halloran managed to excuse himself and walked towards Kitt. Charley followed close behind him but stared straight ahead as she walked, without any acknowledgement of Evie.