Death of an Avid Reader (34 page)

‘Then I wish it were me.'

*   *   *

Mrs Carmichael sat in Mr Lennox's chair. ‘It's unusual for him to be late, but I've taken advantage and made some telephone calls for you. I've already tried Leeds and you were right. No Miss Wells in any of the Leeds libraries, and not in York or Wakefield either.'

It felt strange, sitting opposite her, knowing that none of us would ever see Lennox again.

She consulted her address book and then looked up. ‘You must have awful aches and pains after yesterday. You look a bit peaky.'

‘I'll survive, didn't sleep very well, that's all.'

She gave the operator the number of Harrogate Library. After a moment, she put on her telephone voice. ‘Hello. Mrs Carmichael here of the Leeds Library. I wonder if you might help me.' After a moment she continued, ‘We have a post available for a counter assistant and there was a young woman on our shortlist from a while ago whom I should like to contact but someone said she has found a post, perhaps in one of the Harrogate libraries. If so, I could cross her off our list. I wonder whether you might confirm that? Her name is Miss Sophia Mary Ann Wells.' Another pause. ‘Thank you.' She put her hand over the mouthpiece. ‘If she's in Yorkshire, I'll find her for you.' She spoke again into the telephone. ‘Then I wait to hear. Goodbye.'

‘They'll telephone back to you?'

‘Yes.'

I waited and listened while she made calls to Bradford and Keighley, sounding cheerful and efficient. It would not be long before she heard the terrible news about Lennox.

She closed her address book. ‘That is four I am waiting to hear from. I won't telephone to more until they give word.' There was a tap on the door. ‘Enter!' She smiled at me. ‘I could become used to this seat.'

Inspector Wallis stepped into the room, looking from Mrs Carmichael to me.

She put the address book in the drawer. ‘I'm sorry. Mr Lennox is not here yet. It's unlike him to be late.'

‘May I sit down?'

‘Yes, of course, Inspector.'

‘I have some bad news I'm afraid. Mrs Shackleton may as well stay to hear it.' He paused. ‘I'm sorry to tell you that Mr Lennox was found dead at his flat last night.'

Mrs Carmichael stared at the inspector. ‘How? I mean, what happened?'

‘The death is being treated as suspicious.'

‘You don't mean he…'

‘He did not take his own life.'

Mrs Carmichael fumbled up her sleeve for a handkerchief. ‘I don't understand. How is it suspicious if … Oh, oh.'

‘I have a sergeant and a constable downstairs interviewing staff and readers. We have not yet told them why, but I am asking people to account for their movements between six o'clock and nine o'clock yesterday evening.'

She blinked, and blinked again, as if expecting tears that did not come. ‘I was at home all evening. I caught the tram as usual, just after six. Had my tea, prepared by my landlady, and then stayed in my room.'

‘Your landlady would confirm that?'

‘Yes, and Mrs Shackleton came to see me at about half past eight?'

She looked at me.

‘That's right. I was also at home at about six, and then met someone and went to the Palace public house between seven and eight, and then home for my car and across to see Mrs Carmichael.'

‘What was the purpose of your visit to Mrs Carmichael?'

‘Mrs Carmichael is helping me trace Sophia Mary Ann Wells who I believe works in a library.'

He looked at her.

She nodded. ‘I have been making telephone calls for Mrs Shackleton.'

‘I see.' The inspector looked from her to me. He seemed to be considering whether to ask me to leave. He did not.

‘Mrs Carmichael, yesterday at your meeting, I noticed that Mr Lennox's demeanour was much changed. Can you explain why that was?'

‘He was fond of Dr Potter. It knocked the stuffing out of him that Dr Potter died.' She twisted her handkerchief. ‘There was another reason. He developed an attachment to one of our assistants, Miss Montague. I regret to say that we wrongly dismissed her, suspecting her of theft. I dare say it was my fault for not believing her denials.'

Wallis said, ‘We have not managed to interview the young lady.'

I could keep quiet no longer. ‘I have.'

Inspector Wallis fought to keep control. ‘Mrs Shackleton, this is not a game. What do you have to tell me?'

They both looked at me.

‘She is in hiding.' Somewhat awkwardly, due to my painful wrist, I reached for my satchel. ‘There's a drawing I would like you to see.'

‘Let me help.' Mrs Carmichael took my satchel, extracted Peter's drawing, and stared. ‘It's Mr Castle to the life.'

She handed it to Wallis.

He looked at it, and at me.

‘Castle paid to have Marian Montague murdered and buried in the basement.'

‘That is a very serious allegation, Mrs Shackleton.'

‘Yes, and before you think it, I am not being vindictive because he attacked me.' I spoke quickly, before the inspector had time to interrupt. ‘It is my belief that Mr Lennox knew nothing about Marian's supposed death until yesterday, just before the meeting. That is why he was so distraught, and why he changed his mind about removing from these premises.'

All colour had drained from Mrs Carmichael's face. Her breath came in short bursts. For a moment, I thought she would have a heart attack. I went to calm her, encouraging her to slow her breathing. When she recovered a little, she was about to say something, but Wallis spoke first.

‘There is a sketch next to the portrait.'

‘Yes. X marks the spot where her body was to be buried. Mr Castle chalked the paving stone with a cross. I noticed yesterday that it had been swept, probably to remove the chalk.'

Wallis looked as though he might explode. ‘How long have you known this?'

Now was not the time to be precise. I hedged. ‘This morning, I took signed statements from Miss Montague and the young man paid one hundred pounds to do the deed. Some of the notes he was given in payment are in an envelope in my satchel. I thought it best to have them in case they were drawn on Mr Castle's bank.'

I looked at Mrs Carmichael. She obligingly took the envelope from my satchel and handed it to the inspector.

‘And you've been sitting on this information while calmly contacting branch libraries about whether they employ Sophia Wells?'

When he put it like that, my approach did seem somewhat skewed, yet it would be impolitic to say that I did not trust him.

Mrs Carmichael probably thought she was being helpful. ‘I telephoned only library headquarters and main libraries.'

‘Where is Miss Montague?'

The door was suddenly flung open. Marian entered, hatless, her coat open displaying her interesting condition. ‘Here I am.'

Mrs Carmichael stared. The inspector and I had to turn in our seats. He stood up immediately.

Marian struck a pose like an avenging angel. ‘Why should I hide? I'm safest in full view.' She strode into the room, running her hands through her cropped hair. ‘Where is he? Where is Sam Lennox? Where is his friend the murderer? I demand the return of my hair. It should fetch a bob or two and I need the money.'

I stood. ‘Marian, this is Inspector Wallis. He has brought us some bad news about Sam Lennox.'

She did not resist when the inspector guided her to his chair.

It was Mrs Carmichael who said in a flat voice, ‘Sam is dead. Murdered.'

Marian closed her eyes. She put her hands on her belly as if to cover the baby's ears.

I went to her side. ‘If it's any consolation, I'm sure Sam Lennox had nothing to do with Castle's plan.'

‘Of course not,' Mrs Carmichael snapped. ‘He wouldn't have had the guts.'

Inspector Wallis walked to the door. ‘I'll speak to my constable. I have asked Mr Castle to join us. You ladies won't want to see him.'

Marian let out a harsh laugh. ‘That is where you are wrong, Inspector. I want to thank him. He has helped me shape my future, and my fiancé's. We're to be married next week.'

My bruised cheek suddenly throbbed. My leg went into cramp. It was as if my body parts were reminding me why I wanted to see Castle charged with assault as well as murder. ‘I'll stay.'

Mrs Carmichael did not budge. ‘I will stay, Inspector, if it's all the same to you. I may be able to contribute some rather particular knowledge.'

There was a tap on the door. A constable put his head round. ‘Mr Castle is here, sir.'

Wallis looked around the room. He went to the window and moved the curtain. ‘Behind there, Miss Montague, can you manage to stay silent?'

‘Probably not.'

‘Try!' Inspector Wallis turned to the constable. ‘Show him up.'

Castle must already have been on his way up. It was less than a minute before the constable showed him in. ‘Hello,' he said cheerfully. ‘More investigations?'

The inspector had remained standing. ‘Yes. Please take a seat, Mr Castle.'

Castle sat in the chair opposite Mrs Carmichael. ‘Where's Mr Lennox? Are you keeping his chair warm?'

Mrs Carmichael did not answer. She was breathing rather noisily. I feared she may begin to panic. It took a lot of effort for me to stay calm myself when, nice as pie, Castle said, ‘How are we today, Mrs Shackleton?'

The truthful answer would have been that I was in the mood to pick up my chair and bring it down on his head. ‘I am on the mend.'

The inspector cleared his throat, as if warning us to say nothing. ‘Can you account for your movements yesterday evening between six o'clock and nine, sir?'

‘I was at home with my wife.'

‘And she will confirm that, will she?'

‘Yes, of course. What's going on?'

‘Mr Lennox is dead, sir. I am investigating his murder.'

‘Good God!' Castle's shocked expression could not be faulted. It gave way to outrage. ‘You can't believe I had anything to do with it?'

‘May I ask what you and Mr Lennox talked about before yesterday's meeting?'

Castle took a moment to answer, as if recalling something so mundane presented great difficulty after such a shock. ‘Library business, nothing in particular, apart from the announcement that was to be made. We agreed it was time for some stability.' He glared at me. ‘Now, of course, the business about new premises will drag on.'

‘Perhaps you told him that there was a body in the basement and that if it were found, he would be blamed, because it was the body of a young woman who worked in the library and who became close to Mr Lennox.'

‘That's preposterous.' In his best patrician manner, he looked from me to Mrs Carmichael. ‘Ladies, you may go. You must not let this scurrilous nonsense sully your ears.'

‘The ladies may stay, Mr Castle. I believe they have something pertinent to say.'

‘What are you driving at, man? I won't stand for this.' But stand he did, to his full height, in his long black coat, and he glided towards the door. A connection that had been just on the edge of my thoughts suddenly struck me. I felt my fists clench at the horror, at the simplicity.

‘Come and sit down, sir,' the inspector said. ‘I'm sure it won't take long to clear this up.'

Castle returned to his chair.

Their next exchanges were lost on me as images floated into my mind. I was in the dark library, forty-odd years ago. Mr McAllister, the young librarian, worked late, and alone. He heard sounds as he was packing up to go, but thought nothing of it. Then he saw a light.

Edwin Castle had thought the library would be deserted. He had been at work in the basement, having let himself in the back door.

My thoughts were suddenly interrupted.

No one told Miss Montague to sweep aside the curtain and stand over Mr Castle, but she did.

‘Where is my hair, my locket, that stupid cheap ring?'

Mr Castle rose from his chair. He looked about the room, as if he had forgotten the location of the door. He rocked on his heels. His mouth opened and closed. ‘What … what's going on?' For the first time his mask fell. He stared at Marian Montague, and then at me, with pure hatred. ‘Get these witches out of here.' He swayed and may have fallen backwards, but suddenly, Mrs Carmichael was behind him. She held the pistol, taken from my satchel, jamming it in the back of his neck with such force that his head jerked forward.

‘You won't remember me, Mr Castle.'

‘Has everyone gone mad? Inspector…'

Until then, the inspector had been sitting in a relaxed fashion, feeling quite in charge. He stood, very slowly. Standing still as a statue he said softly, ‘Steady on, Mrs Carmichael. Put down the gun.'

She ignored him. ‘You know me only as Mrs Carmichael. You won't remember the nine-year-old girl, Pamela Nelson, whose father had the misfortune to be a partner in your estimable legal firm.' No one moved. ‘I was afraid I would forget Dad, forget what he looked like, and so morning, noon and night, I closed my eyes to see him, and I see him still, when I close my eyes. But I'm not closing them now, because I am looking at your neck and imagining a noose around it.'

Castle gulped. He put his fingers to his collar.

The inspector's voice became almost a whisper. ‘Mrs Carmichael, if Edwin Castle is guilty, he will face the full weight of the law.'

‘He won't though, will he, because my father's body was never found.'

Castle choked out the words, ‘I want a solicitor.'

‘My father was a solicitor. You remember him, your partner? He was an honest solicitor. You are a crook.'

Wallis spoke as though no one in the room had a gun, and no one was being threatened, and at any moment we might all go out and choose a library book. ‘Mrs Carmichael, when I came to Leeds City Police, I looked into your father's case. It intrigued me…'