The Other Side Of The Grave: A Harry and the Hula Girl Investigation by Erbe Leigh

Author:Erbe, Leigh
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Avondale-Arden Publishing, LLC
Published: 2021-11-08T00:00:00+00:00

55

Relative Agreement

Sceleratus and Clare

Thursday – noon

* * *

“This proves I have been right all along.” The monk waved the letter from Gethsemani in the librarian’s face. “And it has to be here, in this library. This is where she worked.”

“Let me read the letter again,” the librarian said, eyes scanning content the moment paper met skin.

“I don’t care what this Brother Hart says. It’s—not—here. I’ve searched every damn book on the shelves. Every full-of-shit box in the basement. You and I have gone through all of this together a gazillion goddamn times.” The librarian’s finger shot out, pointing unnecessarily to what she considered all of this. “Somebody else has it, damn it.”

“Yes . . . perhaps I finally agree, my dear. More or less.”

“Good. Here, take your stupid letter.”

The monk’s shoulders slumped for a moment, his palm massaging the callused hardness of his missing ear—a rasping scrape not unlike the monk’s voice itself.

“But . . . the deceiver’s journal is here at Golgotha.” The monk’s mouth corkscrewed itself into a smile of sorts, lips parting to allow a chuckle out.

“And, as you say, someone holds it close. We must find a way to persuade that unknown personage to . . . shall we say, relinquish that which is rightfully ours?”

“So that’s what’s got you so giddy all of a sudden—I’ve told you before, I’m not killing anyone to get it. You might want Merton’s journal that bad, but I don’t.”

“Really, my dear? A librarian who doesn’t covet such a rare literary gem?”

“Well . . . okay, I do. But I think there’s a less drastic way of convincing whoever has it to give it up. The ledger, remember? We need to find it. That’s our leverage.”

“We shall see,” the monk said. “We shall see. And so let us maintain the cover that I possess the ledger. Perhaps the person who knows differently will react so as to reveal their identity.” The monk slipped the letter back inside his green robes.

“Take your new boyfriend to Rugby tonight. Might I suggest dinner and a movie? When he sees me in my Jeep, leaving town with some delicious morsel, urge him to follow.”

“But—”

“Do not worry, my darling. I will not harm him—yet. But we must find the deceiver’s journal, for I fear the not-so-saintly monk of Gethsemani recorded what I said to him that day.”

Sceleratus hung his head, clasped his hands together, shuffle-stepped his way to the librarian’s side.

“A confession of sorts I related to dear Saint Thomas of Merton concerning certain of my early, shall we say, instructive amusements I scattered round about Rugby.”

Monk and mystic held one another close with their eyes.

“So if we do not recover Merton’s scribblings soon, my dear, our plans for Golgotha will never reach fruition. Perhaps an escalation of, well . . . activity may be necessary. Agreed?”

“Yes, damn you. You wanna sniff my panties before you go?”

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