Death of an Avid Reader by Frances Brody Read Free Book Online Page A

ghost?’
    â€˜It was mentioned to me once. I did not pay much attention.’
    She sighed. ‘Then you are going to think me a very superstitious woman.’ She played with her wedding ring. ‘I am not superstitious. I was brought up in a rational household. My father was a solicitor, though he died when I was very young. My mother, too, studied law and worked as a clerk until her marriage. She was active in the rational dress movement. I married a rather jolly man, fond of jokes, and in the end we did not suit each other. I am telling you this because I do not want you to laugh at what I have to say.’
    â€˜I wouldn’t laugh.’
    She took a deep breath, placing her palms flat on the table, as if instructing her hands not to fidget. ‘The stories have always been about a former librarian haunting the place. But that is not all. There is something strange about the basement, several of us have felt it, a powerful feeling that comes over one suddenly, a cold chill, creaks and groans.’
    â€˜This is a very old building.’
    She continued as if I had not spoken ‘… a rush of cold air. I have experienced it myself. The librarian’s wife, Mrs Lennox, she was a sensitive, as they call such people. Mr Lennox confided in me that she had second sight. Two years ago, she came to help unpack books. Afterwards, she was white and shaking. She would say nothing but she looked at me with such … I thought it was pity, at having to be here, in this place. A week later, she took to her bed and never recovered. There is something evil at work here.’
    This was upsetting to hear, but it gave me a perfect excuse. ‘Then what you need is a man of the cloth, the vicar from the parish church, or the minister from Mill Hill.’
    â€˜We have such a man. He will be here this evening.’
    â€˜That’s all right then.’
    â€˜It is Father Bolingbroke. He is a Roman Catholic priest, versed in these matters, here on a sabbatical, studying the works of St Thomas Aquinas. Mr Lennox has prevailed upon him to bless the building.’ I waited. Something told me that I was not off the hook. She leaned forward and this time clasped her hands as if in prayer. ‘He needs two acolytes who know the library and who are completely trustworthy. You are one. Mr Lennox is the other.’
    â€˜Could you not take my place?’
    â€˜I am a coward. Something in me revolts against the whole idea. I feel I would be overcome. You have the courage to do it. Afterwards I will be able to tell the counter assistants that you were here. That will make a difference.’
    This was very flattering, but also absurd. I did not want to ridicule her fears and while I wondered how to respond, she continued. ‘It was Dr Potter who suggested you.’
    â€˜Was it indeed?’ I must remember to thank him, and find some way to return the favour.
    â€˜He said that as the only lady on the committee, you are the perfect choice as far as discretion. Also, he believes that it would be difficult to enlist a staunch Protestant, or a strict non-conformist. They wouldn’t do it. A Catholic would need permission from a parish priest. A fervent atheist would laugh. Say you will, Mrs Shackleton.’
    â€˜So it’s because of my sex and lack of religiosity.’
    â€˜Not only that. Dr Potter thinks highly of you as a detective. He paraphrased Shakespeare. There is more on heaven and earth and in our basement than we dream of. He said that if anyone could discern the “more” that is in our basement, it would be our lady detective.’
    He would have had his tongue firmly in cheek, but there was little point in saying that. Mrs Carmichael had me cornered. It was time to recognise defeat. I agreed as graciously as annoyance would allow.
    â€˜Oh good. Thank you very much.’
    Leaving Mrs Carmichael to her work, I took my leave.
    I treated myself to lunch at Schofields. I