The Silver Bough by Lisa Tuttle Read Free Book Online

question.
    “
I
know that. But there must be a space underneath: the original room without a door. Of course, if Alexander Wall
did
create a special, hidden room for his daughter, he must have been psychic, to know she’d grow up crazy, because she’d only just been born when he designed it.”
    His eyes were glittering now, making Kathleen think of Coleridge’s Ancient Mariner. “I’d give a lot to read his journal—it ought to be in the local collection. It’s listed in the card catalogue, but I can’t find it. I think that Mr. Dean took it off the open shelves and hid it away. It’s not right, you know; it was left to the public library, and it belongs to the people.” He gave her an affronted glare, and had the air of a man winding himself up for a good, long rant.
    Unhand me, grey-beard loon,
she thought, glancing at her watch. “I don’t want to rush you, Graeme, but it’s four minutes to five. If you’re meeting someone off the bus…”
    He let out a comical yelp and slapped himself on the forehead. “Late again! Thanks. Look, I’d really like to have a word with you about Wall’s journal…”
    “Of course. Anytime.”
    She watched him pull up his hood, tuck his briefcase securely under one arm, then dash, shoulders hunched and head down, through the front door, out into the pouring rain. Then she went back to the counter, where Miranda was counting up the day’s issue and entering the total in the big red ledger.
    “Why is it that nothing at all happens for hours and hours, then, in the last fifteen minutes, you get enough to keep you thinking all day?”
    “Sod’s Law,” said Miranda, shutting the ledger and putting it back beneath the counter. “Which five rare and valuable books did he want you to order for him today?”
    Kathleen smiled and shook her head. “He’s all right, though—isn’t he?”
    “Oh, sure. He’s a joker, and he gets awfully intense sometimes, but he means well. Never stolen a book—not from us, anyway. His kids are great readers, which I call a good sign. His wife’s a lovely girl. He and Mr. Dean didn’t get along, but I wouldn’t call that Mr. Walker’s fault.”
    “Do you know anything about Alexander Wall’s journal?”
    “I know he’d like to read it.”
    “Is there some reason why he can’t?”
    She held up empty hands. “I don’t know where it is. Arnold Dean hid it somewhere and took the secret to his grave.” She smiled to show she wasn’t serious. “It’s probably in that locked bookcase upstairs. It’s just a matter of looking—but Connie and I haven’t had time to do anything but keep this place ticking over. Those three months before you were hired were awfully difficult. Of course, it didn’t help that Mr. Dean had been unwell for a while before he died. There were too many things he’d always done himself, in his own way, and he just wouldn’t
let go.
I’m not sure you’re caught up yet—are you?”
    “Just about.”
    Miranda gave her a motherly look. “Unpaid overtime. You shouldn’t do it, you know.”
    “We’d be closed another day a week if I didn’t. Anyway, it won’t be like this forever. And speaking of overtime…Isn’t that Mark waiting for you out front?”
    They both looked through the window at the car idling in the rain.
    “Bless,” said Miranda fondly.
     
     
    After she’d gone, Kathleen locked up the front, turning off the lights in the reading room and main library, and went back to the office to do whatever it was she’d forgotten earlier. It wasn’t important and could certainly have waited until the morning, but she would feel more comfortable with her desk cleared. Half an hour later she reminded herself that she was working on her own time and should go home. But with home only a few steps away—the Library House, built onto the side end of the museum—and no one waiting for her there, she couldn’t work up any urgency. She stood hesitating in the empty reference room, listening to the