Death of an Avid Reader (26 page)

‘I'll take Mr Lennox to the library.'

The constable returned, well pleased with himself. ‘The green bicycle belongs to the son of the householder.'

And so it was decided. Sykes and Morgan walked to where patient, clever Archie stood harnessed in his trap.

Lennox and I returned to the car.

He looked at his watch. ‘The auditor will be at the library by now.'

‘Let Mrs Carmichael deal with him. I am sure she is capable.'

‘Oh, she is capable.'

‘We won't go straight back, Mr Lennox. The Lake Café is in need of business in this poor weather.'

Ten minutes later, we were seated at a table decked with a blue and white check cloth next to a window, with a view over Waterloo Lake. On a fine Saturday, the place would be packed to bursting. Now, in spite of the clear pale blue sky, there were just two other customers, elderly women sitting close to the fire.

The walls were decorated with good amateur watercolours of the boating lake, the folly castle and the rose garden.

Mr Lennox ordered a tongue sandwich, and cheddar cheese on toast, with a dash of Worcester sauce, for me.

I poured tea.

He grasped his cup with both hands, like some workman outdoors in the cold struggling to keep warm. ‘Why didn't I believe Miss Montague? How could I have been so stupid? And what an idiot not to see through Bolingbroke.'

‘Well he's caught now. Let the police deal with him.'

‘If Mrs Carmichael had not searched Marian's locker, Marian herself might have said, “What's this doing here? Who has put a book in my bag?” Why her, why pick her as his victim?'

‘He is a clever crook. He knew someone would be ready to think ill of her.'

‘Mrs Carmichael.'

‘Mr Lennox, I know how things stand between you and Mrs Carmichael.'

He looked up. ‘Do you? Has it been that obvious?'

‘Not to others.'

‘She stood by me, you see, all the time my wife was ill. No one knows the draining exhaustion of watching a dear one grow weaker and more helpless day by day. Pamela Carmichael was my sanity. I don't know what I would have done without her, and then, when Marian came…'

‘Marian Montague.'

He nodded. ‘Even her name is lovely.'

‘Yes.'

Lennox remembered his manners, took his cup by the handle and drank.

The waitress brought our food.

Something held me back from prompting him to say more. Perhaps it was a sudden reluctance to know, to be expected to be sympathetic to the man who had betrayed both wife and mistress.

When we had finished eating, Lennox took out cigarettes, and straight away put them back. ‘I can't breathe in here. And I can't go back to the library. Not just yet.'

‘Let's take a turn round the park.'

He paid the bill.

Outside, the air was bracing, but with a penetrating chill.

We took the path around the lake, side by side but not looking at each other as we avoided muddy puddles.

He began to speak. ‘The first time I saw Marian, it was as if something long dead came alive inside me. I thought … I imagined one so young and vibrant would not look at me, but she did.'

‘There is quite a gap in your ages.'

‘She is twenty-four. I am forty-nine, but it did not matter, not to her.'

His words came out in bursts, followed by silences in which I listened to the wind in the trees and the call of birds.

‘I am not saying I didn't love my wife, but our life was quiet and companionable. Before Marian, I have only ever once in my life felt such overpowering attraction for another human being, as if our souls called out to each other. Oh I know that sounds too Emily Brontë for the world, too romantic for someone as middle-aged and jaded as I, but it is true.'

‘Were you and Marian … I mean…'

‘I loved her you see. I could have sworn she felt the same. When I found out she was the thief…'

‘You did not believe her denials?'

‘At first, yes, but to have a book in her bag, for the index cards to have been torn and left in her waste bin, and her confusion. Pamela, Mrs Carmichael, was so very sure. I thought that Marian had been using me, making a fool of me'

A blackbird perched on a branch. I hoped it would sing.

Speaking almost to himself, Lennox said, ‘She was so like my first true love, the woman who sent me spinning, years and years ago. That lady gave me my marching orders. I thought Marian would do the same.'

Something clicked in my head, a most unwelcome click. Marching orders meant that the “other woman” had not been his wife. I remembered the words of Lady Coulton. Someone had come to the house when Lord Coulton was away in the South African wars. A young man had arrived to do an inventory in the library.

On the lake, two swans glided by, turning their long necks, each looking at the other.

‘When was it, how long ago, this great love?'

‘I had just come down from Christchurch. Not being of independent means I followed a suggestion from my tutor and accepted work cataloguing in a library. I won't say where, but it was for a titled family. The lady, and she was a lady, she was married. Mrs Shackleton, that woman was the love of my life. I will never forget her until the day I die. Yet when Marian came into the library, I looked at her and for a moment thought she had returned to me.'

So I was not the only person who had noticed the resemblance between Lady Coulton and Marian. Now I wanted him to stop. But it was too late. I willed him to stop, but he did not.

‘I expected Marian to rebuff me, because of my age. But she was so charming, approachable, and she had a way of letting me know that she liked me. Why did she choose me and then let me go?'

He was confusing the two loves of his life. I reminded him. ‘You let Marian go.'

‘Yes I did, fool that I am.'

I was not here to listen to the details of Lennox's passion for his own daughter. I needed to find her. ‘Where has she gone?'

‘I thought it best not to see her again, at least not yet. This changes everything. She is not a thief.'

‘Do you know where she is?'

‘I have an idea. I can find out.'

‘Good.'

We came to a large puddle. I stepped one way round it, he the other. ‘Why do you want to know?'

‘Mr Lennox, she was a young female employee of the library, without a family to fall back on. We have a responsibility for her welfare. Will you tell me as soon as you have her address?'

‘I hadn't thought of it like that.'

‘No, I don't suppose you had.'

‘I should be the one to find her, and beg her forgiveness.' He was slightly abashed, and so he should be. ‘I need to make application to a friend who made an arrangement for her. I will let you know.'

‘What kind of arrangement?'

‘For her to stay somewhere, in the country.'

The clock on the boathouse told me it was time to leave. We walked back to the park gates.

It took us a few moments to settle into our seats. I handed him a pair of motoring gauntlets. ‘This separation between you and Marian, it may be for the best.'

‘What do you mean?'

‘Oh just a feeling.' I started the motor.

Providence had intervened. Bolingbroke and Mrs Carmichael had done a great service to Marian and Lennox. If it had not been for the false accusation of theft, Lennox may have married his own daughter.

We did not speak again until we reached Commercial Street. He thanked me for the lift.

It was a loose end, something I could not make sense of. ‘Mr Lennox, I know this may seem an odd time to ask, but where do you stand on the question of whether the library should stay on Commercial Street or remove to new premises?'

‘I was neutral about the business. But now I'm all for removing.'

‘Why?'

‘Dr Potter put a very powerful case. He is the last man in the world to speak up for change. If Potter saw advantages in the idea of removing, believe me the whole committee would be carried along by him. Besides, after everything that has happened, rumours about the ghost, Potter's death, the horrible experience Marian has gone through, I say let us have a fresh start.'

‘Yes I can see you would feel that way.'

‘We have the meeting scheduled for tomorrow, where the matter was to be publicly aired.'

‘I had forgotten about that.'

‘It was too late to cancel. People will now come to hear about Dr Potter.'

‘And will you speak about the question of removal?'

‘I don't know what will be said. Officially, I am still neutral.'

He climbed out of the car and stood by the running board. ‘I am going to find Marian. If she will have me, I'll marry her.'

My stomach did a somersault. Not if I find her first.

It was exactly a week since I had seen Lady Coulton. Surely something must break soon. This was it. Lennox would lead me to her. I caught his sleeve to delay him. ‘How soon might you be in touch with her?'

‘I hope very soon.'

‘Let me know the instant you have her address. It was very wrong of you to take up with a young counter assistant, and then to cast her out.'

I sounded like one of the characters from a Sunday school prize novel, but he must be stopped from seeing her.

Lennox's face was full of remorse. ‘Do you think I don't know that?'

‘I must speak to her first.'

‘To put her off me?'

‘I have another reason for wanting to find her, something that is extremely urgent.'

He nodded, though whether he had taken in my words I could not be sure.

Twenty-Five

I arrived for the meeting at ten to three. Rows of chairs had been set out and already nearly all seats were taken. At the top end of the room stood a long table, set with a water jug and four glasses. About halfway down the room, I spotted an aisle seat to my right. People on the row behind me chatted in low, confidential tones, waiting to hear what would be said about the events of last Friday.

A couple of minutes before three o'clock, Mr Castle strode in, followed by Professor Merton, Mr Lennox and Mrs Carmichael.

They took their seats, not looking at us, or at each other.

Mrs Carmichael placed a notebook and pencil on the table.

Mr Castle, who is a stickler for punctuality, took out his fob watch and held it in his right hand for what seemed a long time. He then placed it on the table.

Mrs Carmichael picked up her pencil, ready to make notes.

Mr Castle looked up, his eyes searching the room as if taking a mental register of attendance. He cleared his throat before speaking. ‘Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen. Thank you for coming. This meeting was scheduled some time ago for a particular purpose. Sadly, we have been overtaken by sudden and tragic events. You have all heard by now of the distressing death of our highly esteemed friend and library proprietor, Dr Potter. It grieves me greatly that this loss occurred here in the library, the worst event of our long history. There will be services of remembrance in churches and chapels across the city this coming Sunday. This is neither the time nor place to say more. In due course, announcements will be made. Inspector Wallis and Sergeant Ashworth are here. If you wish to speak to them, or to me, please do so after the meeting.' He paused. Heads turned, including mine. Inspector Wallis was standing at the back of the room, Sergeant Ashworth beside him. Castle continued. ‘I now ask you to stand and observe a minute's silence, to pay our respects to Dr Potter.'

We all stood.

During the sixty seconds of silence, my mind raced around Dr Potter, charming and witty, until Friday still brimming with the enthusiasm and impish humour of his undergraduate magazine days. He had recommended his article about the ghost, being tickled about my participation in the ‘exorcism'. ‘A jolly good jape,' he had written. Having suggested to the inspector that the young Potter may have been the ghost, I pictured him in my mind, using the keys that had belonged to his grandfather to let himself in the basement door, knowing the eager young librarian was working late, creating deliberate sounds, taking fright only when McAllister brandished a revolver. He then hurried down the stairs and let himself out of the front door, chuckling all the way.

But why the other article, about the solicitor from the firm Nelson, Castle and Nelson?

When the minute's silence had ticked to its conclusion, Mr Castle took a sip of water. ‘Thank you, ladies and gentlemen. You may be seated.'

Chairs scraped, feet shuffled.

As he sat down, Mr Castle took a deep breath and let it out in a sigh. ‘I have a motion on the table from Miss Heaton. She suggests that we arrange for this building to be blessed by clergymen of three denominations.' He paused. ‘May I have a show of hands in favour?'

Out of regard for Miss Heaton, and seeing nothing but good in a blessing, I raised my hand. Mrs Carmichael stood and counted one side of the room. Mr Castle counted the other side. He jotted down the number. ‘Against?'

A couple of courageous rebels, or awkward curmudgeons, raised their hands.

‘Abstentions?' Mr Castle asked. There were none that I could see. ‘The motion is carried. Miss Heaton, I leave you to make the arrangements.' He put his fob watch back in his waistcoat pocket. ‘The matter for which today's meeting was originally arranged now pales into insignificance. Some of you may have heard of the proposal put to the committee by a group of businessmen, interested in purchasing these premises for a different use, which would entail the removal of the library. I call on Professor Merton to speak to this question.'

Craggy Professor Merton rose to his very full height, took a deep breath, sniffed, and pushed his spectacles further up his nose. ‘Before I do so, I must say a few words about my colleague and close associate, our much lamented fellow proprietor, Dr Potter. He was a man of learning, an honourable man. He would have made a most excellent university vice chancellor. The world is poorer without him.'