The Bodies in the Library

by Marty Wingate

  “Shall I put the kettle on?” I asked the sergeant.

  “No, let me,” the female PC said. “You have a sit-down.”

  “No, let me,” Adele said as she came over to give me a hug and then a firm look. “You all right?”

  I nodded. “How did you—”

  “Val rang me. Glynis rang me. The police rang me. ‘Where’s Hayley?’ You could star in your own picture books. Now sit.”

  I sat, the thought of Val bringing a smile to my lips. Then I remembered my circumstances. “How did you all get in?”

  “Mrs. Woolgar arrived just after we broke the lock on the door,” Hopgood said. “She was able to switch off the alarm, but I’m sorry to say you’ll need the locksmith out again. She may have already given him a ring. If you’ll excuse me for a moment, Ms. Burke, I need to have a word with my team before they search the attic.”

  “Yes, fine—wait! Sergeant, when they search, would you ask them to have a look round for a shoe box that has a diorama of a home inside—you know, a miniature model.”

  “Does this have to do with the enquiry?” he asked, eyebrows raised, but in a mild fashion.

  “No, my daughter made it.”

  That seemed a good enough explanation for the detective sergeant. He nodded and stepped over to three waiting uniforms.

  Adele made tea and set the kettle to boil again in anticipation of a second pot. She opened the biscuit tin, and before anyone else, brought me a mug and two chocolate digestives, and then began offering to the others. Her phone rang, and as she pulled it out of her pocket, she shook it at me. “Look,” she said. “Phone. Pocket. A good combination.”

  “Yes, miss,” I replied.

  She grinned as she answered her call, but the grin disappeared in short order.

  “Lenore!” she exclaimed. “How lovely to hear your voice!” Adele threw me a panicked look.

  My mum? This didn’t bode well.

  “No, she’s fine—”

  I waved my arms wildly and shook my head, mouthing, Don’t tell her!

  “She hasn’t had her phone with her all afternoon,” Adele said smoothly. “I know, I told her the same thing. But I just happened to have stopped into Middlebank for a cup of tea, so let me hand you off to her.”

  Adele held her phone out to me at the same moment Kenny Pye stuck his head in the door and called out, “Sarge, she put up a fierce struggle when we got her downstairs and it took some doing to get her handcuffed and settled down.”

  I grabbed the phone and went off to the corner.

  “Hi, Mum.”

  “I hope he wasn’t talking about you,” she replied.

  I could play it no other way but straight with my mum, although I did stick with the highlights and not a blow-by-blow account. I wrapped up with, “So, you see, more of a kerfuffle than anything. And she’s caught—that’s the best part.”

  “The best part is that you are all right. You are, aren’t you?”

  “I am.”

  “And I’ll see you on Saturday?”

  “Of course you will.”

  “Good. I’ll expect a full accounting.”

  We ended our call, and I sank onto the sofa and watched Adele make another pot of tea. That accomplished, she said, “Thought I’d look in on Glynis. I’ll be back up.”

  Detective Sergeant Hopgood brought his tea over and sat beside me, and I recounted my day, and then turned the tables. “What about Lulu?”

  “Lulu Ingleby,” he said with a sigh. “She was with a gang down in Yeovil—they had a good racket, but she broke off, deciding she was the brains of the outfit and would make a go of it on her own. And so she moved here to Bath with great plans. She watched several streets until she narrowed her choice down to three houses—in areas that were mostly vacant during the day and where the cleaners came and went on their own. These homeowners were not Ms. Lunn’s clients. Lulu would become friendly with the cleaner—and then would find a way to lift the key to make a copy, and take the code if necessary. After that, well, Bob’s your uncle.”

  “Pauline caught Lulu with her hand in the safe at the Minerva,” I said. “Pauline thought she had been after cash, but it was the key and code for Middlebank she wanted.”

  Hopgood nodded. “When she’d first arrived and was learning the city, she found a ‘Flatmate Wanted’ notice at the college, and that’s how she met Ms. Seabrook. Latched on to Leonard Lunn after meeting him in the pub, and he got her on with Ms. Lunn’s cleaning business. Ms. Seabrook got wind of what Lulu Ingleby really did for a living, and she fed her with tales of the treasures of Middlebank.”

  “Amanda talked her into lifting the key and code from Pauline. We must’ve been a great disappointment for Lulu,” I said.

  “She was spitting mad when she learned there was nothing here that suited her. ‘Books?’ she asked me. ‘What good are a load of books?’ And so, Amanda Seabrook kept Middlebank for herself.”

  “Lulu told you all this?”

  “To avoid a charge of murder, yes.”

  “Amanda was blackmailing her,” I said. “But, Sergeant, what about Pauline? Because Adele and I can’t imagine that—”

  “Is Ms. Babbage acquainted with Ms. Lunn?”

  “Not as well as she’d like to be,” I said. Hopgood’s mustache twitched. “Are you charging her with something?”

  “I don’t do the charging, Ms. Burke—I gather evidence, question suspects, make a case—but at that point, I hand it over to my boss, and she’s the one who decides the charges.”

  “You know, don’t you, that Pauline had nothing to do with the break-in. Lulu took advantage of her.”

  Hopgood gave a single nod. “I can only say that this afternoon, Ms. Lunn’s brother turned himself in to the station. He says he was not involved in the theft ring, but he admitted being aware of it, and would be happy to tell us everything. He swore his sister knew nothing. If he’s believed, she might not face any charges.”

  “Leonard comes through,” I murmured. “Good on him.”

  A commotion below—in the entry or on the library landing—put a sudden stop to activity in my flat. Kenny Pye stepped out, asked a question, and then said, “He’s all right, let him up.”

  I heard footsteps on the stairs and Val came bursting in, holding on to the doorposts as if he had broken through enemy lines.

  I leapt up, my head swam, and I plopped down, but like a jack-in-the-box, rebounded in time for Val to throw his arms round me.

  We held each other so tightly I had trouble taking a breath, but I didn’t care. There was no nuance to our embrace, no caressing, no whispered sweet nothings—only relief and joy. And I believe he felt the same. If only all these people would go away, this would be a perfect moment. But is there such a thing?

  “Well, Mr. Moffatt,” Sergeant Hopgood said cheerfully, “second time’s the charm, wouldn’t you say? Last week, when you called in Ms. Burke missing, she was safe in the cellar, but this time when you phoned us, she was indeed in danger.”

  “No danger,” I said to Val, his face stricken. I was at once aware of our surroundings and turned shy. I dropped my hands from his shoulders, and he let my waist go, but not without a squeeze first.

  “DC Pye rang to tell me it was over,” he said. “I was all right until I rounded the corner and saw the ambulance parked outside.”

  “Ambulance?”

  “Ms. Seabrook complained about her ribs,” DC Pye said. “Thought she might’ve cracked one in that fall.”

  “I’ll crack a rib for her,” Val muttered, and I giggled. Entirely inappropriate to the occasion, I knew, but there you are.

  “I wasn’t in danger,” I said. “I had Bunter to protect me.”

  “You were fair hurtling toward the attic stairs,” Hopgood said. “I thought you’d end up at the bottom before we could get to you.”
His phone rang, and he stepped away.

  I had been kept from tumbling down headfirst by that hand on my shoulder. I could feel it still—a strong grasp, but a delicate hand.

  “I caught the newel just in time,” I explained to Val.

  He looked unconvinced—perhaps I’d explain another time.

  “You can’t possibly stay here now,” he said.

  “I can—Amanda’s been taken off in handcuffs. Middlebank and the Society are out of danger.” I smiled. “And you really did save me this time, phoning the police.”

  “I had a good look at all those photos before I took my phone to the station. I saw Amanda and Lulu talking. I had to return to college for afternoon classes, but that’s when I began ringing you. Calls, texts—no response. I didn’t care if I looked the fool. I couldn’t stand it any longer and let the police know. As soon as I finished my afternoon class, I rang Kenny—that is, DC Pye.”

  “Yes, it’s Thursday—you have classes all day.” My mind had already conjured up a vision of the evening ahead, but other forces were taking over. “You have another one starting soon.”

  Detective Constable Kenny Pye, close by, cut his dark eyes at us and then at his sergeant, who was engrossed in his notebook.

  “Yes,” Val said, “I have a class.”

  Adele reappeared at the front door, catching the last bit, and said to me, “You’re booked this evening, regardless. We’re having a girls’ night in—Glynis is coming up.”

  “She is?” I was gobsmacked—Mrs. Woolgar had never set foot in my flat.

  “Mr. Moffatt,” Hopgood said, “about your statement.”

  Val stepped away for a brief exchange, and then returned to say, “That’s me away.”

  “But,” I said, “I’ll see you tomorrow. Evening.”

  He didn’t reply but narrowed his eyes as he studied me. Then, another swarm of police came in, and with a wave, he was gone.

  “Well,” I complained to Adele, “are we going out to dinner or aren’t we?”

  “I suppose you’d better ring him tomorrow and confirm.”

  “I don’t see why—he’s the one who asked me. And he was acting quite strange just then.”

  “Bloody hell,” Adele said, laughing, “would you listen to yourself?” She gave me a soft nudge. “Come on, now—be an adult.”

  I was flushed and exhausted and at the edge of having my feelings hurt. “I tell you, sometimes I’m sick to death of being an adult.”

  “Pye,” Hopgood snapped. “You’re finished for the day. There’ll be plenty more to do tomorrow. On your way.”

  “Right, boss. Thanks.”

  Hopgood nodded toward the departing figure of Kenny Pye. “He thinks I don’t know he’s a writer and that he’s taking a course from Mr. Moffatt. What sort of a detective does he think I am?”

  * * *

  * * *

  The police departed, but not before Sergeant Hopgood stopped in to deliver the diorama. It was a tad on the shabby side—one corner of the shoe box was slightly bent, and Dougal, the cottonball cat, had grown wizened. But at least it hadn’t been creamed by a murderer wielding a cricket bat. I set it in pride of place on the coffee table, and Adele brought a subdued Mrs. Woolgar up to my flat. I gestured to the sofa, where she alit on the edge.

  “We’re all right now, aren’t we?” I asked the secretary as Adele opened a bottle of wine. “The Society is, too.”

  Mrs. Woolgar’s face—a knot of worry—eased slightly and she offered the smallest of smiles.

  I rang Harry to give her the news of Amanda. I could tell she wanted to know every detail, but the wedding-flower order had yet to be finished. Next week, I promised her. Before we rang off, she said, “We cracked it, didn’t we, Hayley?”

  I thought of Pauline, and—giving Adele a quick glance—replied, “I’m sure there’s still a great deal to be sorted.”

  Bunter emerged from his secure and secret location to join us. Settling near the front window, he watched the starlings gathering on the rooftop across the road as if nothing unusual had happened that afternoon and he hadn’t just saved my life. There’s an extra catnip mouse in it for you, cat.

  Not even a glass of wine could make Mrs. Woolgar comfortable. The pizza arrived, and Adele and I wasted no time. I’d eaten two slices and was eyeing a third while the secretary remained perched on the sofa as if in a doctor’s waiting room. She was still in her pumpkin-colored frock with rhinestone brooch, and I wondered if she stayed dressed up when she was alone in her flat. Now, there’s a mystery to be solved.

  “Are you sure you don’t want a slice of pizza?” Adele asked her.

  “No,” she murmured, “thank you. I had quite a large lunch.”

  With her pencil-thin physique, I wondered what constituted “large.” But I didn’t believe she meant to be standoffish, it’s only that she was in shock. At last, it came tumbling out.

  “It’s all my fault, Ms. Burke.” She shook her head and frowned. “I let that woman in and left her unattended. I did not see her out as I should’ve. My attention was elsewhere—Mr. Rennie and I were going over the details of the charitable trust.”

  Over Mrs. Woolgar’s bowed head, I caught Adele’s eye and wiggled my eyebrows. Her reaction told me she’d had no idea something was . . . might be . . . going on between the secretary and the solicitor, and I was chuffed about my bit of in-house sleuthing.

  But I would never want Mrs. Woolgar to feel guilty about being distracted by the attentions of Duncan Rennie—didn’t we all deserve someone’s attentions?—and so was severe in my disagreement.

  “Not a bit of it,” I said. “It isn’t your fault at all. I should’ve told you about my suspicions yesterday. If you had had any inkling, you never would’ve let her over the threshold.”

  “I appreciate your allowance,” Mrs. Woolgar replied.

  “Would you like another glass of wine, Glynis?” Adele held the bottle out.

  Mrs. Woolgar looked down into her empty glass. “Well, perhaps just a small one.”

  “Of course, we’ll need to double our security efforts for the exhibition,” I said casually. “The best of the collection out of the bank and here at Middlebank for all the world to see.”

  Mrs. Woolgar’s head shot up and she gave me a sharp look. “I don’t see how we could ever put rare books on display now. Why, Lady Fowling would never—”

  I pressed my lips together to keep from smiling. There now, that’s the secretary in perpetuum I knew best.

  “Georgiana would be delighted with the exhibition,” Adele said. “She’d probably want to throw a fancy dress ball the night before it opened. Everyone could dress as a character from one of the books—or maybe just in thirties clothes.”

  That wouldn’t be difficult for Mrs. Woolgar, but what would I wear? My thoughts drifted to Lady Fowling’s portrait on the stairs—and that dress.

  “I tell you what,” I said, shaking my head to clear away such thoughts. “There are several things I would’ve done differently during this enquiry. Asked more questions, avoided jumping to conclusions, taken a closer look at each person involved.”

  “You can’t anticipate every possible outcome,” Adele said to both of us, and then leaned over to me and added, “You’ll do better next time.”

  “Next time?”

  * * *

  * * *

  On Friday morning, I awoke at a proper time, even after half a bottle of wine, but was disinclined to dress in wool trousers and jacket—my curator clothes. Instead, I pulled on denims and a sweater and trainers and left my hair down. The evening before, I’d told Mrs. Woolgar that I would compare our catalog with the books on the shelves to make sure nothing was missing. She had tried to dissuade me—“let me take care of that”—but I felt the need to prove my worth, and a mundane task that would tax neither my brain nor my heart seemed
appropriate.

  I had wandered to the ground floor after a cup of tea and a slice of toast to search for the printed catalog in my office when the front door buzzed. I leapt up from my desk, my heartbeat setting a rapid rhythm as it drummed in my breast.

  “I’ll go,” I said to Mrs. Woolgar as I passed her office. I threw the extra bolt lock off, but hesitated for a moment, my hand hovering over the latch.

  Val stood on the doorstep, hands buried in the pockets of his duffel coat and a gray sky behind him.

  “Hello,” I offered.

  “Good morning.” His face gave nothing away, but I saw a sparkle in his eye. “I came to tell you that I’ve decided against dinner.”

  “Have you?” I asked in a pitiful, small voice.

  “I’m taking you for a day out instead.”

  “Out?” I put my hands on my hips. “Out? I’ll have you know I have a job—I am curator of The First Edition Society, and as such, I have a full day of work ahead of me.” He took note of my outfit, down to the trainers and back up again. I crossed my arms. “And just where had you thought to take me if, in fact, I agreed to go?”

  “Lyme Regis.”

  I dropped my arms. “The seaside?” I whispered, and bit my lip to hide a smile. “Why, it’s almost the end of October—it’ll be cold and windy at the seaside.” And yet I could hear its siren song.

  “I’ve blankets and waterproofs and wellies,” Val replied. “I’ve a hamper filled with sandwiches and cakes from Waitrose.”

  He waited and watched.

  “They have fossils at Lyme Regis,” I said.

  “So I’m told.” His straight face wouldn’t hold, and I saw the corners of his eyes crinkle. “And ice cream. What do you say?”

  I took two steps out, meeting him nose to nose. I ran my finger down his smooth jawline and cupped his face in my hand.

  Our lips brushed and caught and held for a moment. His hands slipped round my waist, and he pulled me closer. I turned my head away and called through Middlebank’s open door.