The Bodies in the Library by Marty Wingate

Author:Marty Wingate
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Publishing Group
Published: 2019-10-07T16:00:00+00:00

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Pauline had moved on to my flat by the time Mrs. Woolgar and I sat down for our morning briefing. It was our twice-monthly membership overview for The First Edition Society. Since I’d started my job, the reports had been dismal—always several names in the “have not renewed” category and rarely a new name. This week, however, the two lists evened out—four members dropped and four members added. Nothing to cause Mrs. Woolgar to leap on her desk and do a jig—there’s a sight I’d like to see—but still, not as bleak as usual.

“They do know we don’t offer a murder every month, don’t they?” I asked, only half joking.

Mrs. Woolgar did not respond, and instead read out a new letter of welcome she wanted to send. I had difficulty concentrating, as suspects in the enquiry paraded through my mind—Pauline with the key and the code to Middlebank, as well as a dodgy-looking brother, and the others, the writers, who had neither key nor code. That group formed an oddly disconnected yet solid front. They didn’t seem to like one another yet were quick to gloss over problems inside the group.

And still, did the police have any idea why Trist would be lurking along the path behind Middlebank in the middle of the night?

“And your activities for the day, Ms. Burke?” Mrs. Woolgar asked.

Yes, what would I do? Perhaps I would spend my day slumped in a chair at my desk, stewing in a vat of regret for how my evening with Val had turned out. That was just where I’d end up if I didn’t find a well-defined task, a project that would engage my mind and keep it off other topics—murder and suspects and boyfriends. Fortunately, I didn’t have to look far.

“I’m going to talk with Mr. Dill,” I told Mrs. Woolgar.

I might’ve said I was going to throw myself off the top of St. Paul’s Cathedral or swim the English Channel before lunch for the reaction I got—the secretary’s eyes opened wide in shock and her face drained of color.

“You what?”

“I’m going to the Royal Crescent Hotel,” I said firmly. “I will not cower and worry and obsess—I will come right out with it and ask his intentions.”

“You can’t do that,” Mrs. Woolgar insisted. “You don’t know what he’s like. He takes what you say and twists it to his own advantage. He’s up to no good. I promise you he’s looking for a way this very minute to use the murder to further his own agenda. He’s a disrupter—that’s how he operates.”

I was more impressed with Mrs. Woolgar’s passion than I was with her warning.

“It’s all right,” I assured her. “I can take care of myself. I’ll be reasonable and polite.”

A clatter on the stairs brought me up short.

“Sorry, Mrs. Woolgar.” I leapt up and backed out of her office as I explained. “It’s only that I wanted to catch Pauline about something before she leaves.”

The cleaner was on a call. She

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