The Silence Of The Library

My prime suspect was Gordon Betts—a notion based more on my antipathy to the man than on anything concrete. He boasted he had the largest collection in the world of Mrs. Cartwright’s books. Did he have a copy of the variant printing of the first book, though?

A whisper of memory teased at me. What was it Mrs. Taylor had said the last time I saw her? Something to do with Gordon Betts.

I thought hard and finally dredged it up. I heard her voice in my head saying, Gordon may think he has everything, but I know better.

Could she have been talking about her copy of Spellwood Mansion?

No, it couldn’t be that, surely, because her possession of it was right there on the Web for anyone to see. Gordon Betts, obsessive collector that he allegedly was, surely wouldn’t overlook a piece of information as significant as that.

No, I decided after further thought. There had to be something else Mrs. Taylor had that he didn’t.

If he killed her then, he probably did so for a different reason.

Another idea struck me. Unless she had a better copy than he did. I knew serious collectors would trade up, as it were, replacing an inferior item in their collection with one that was in better condition in some way. Gordon Betts could have wanted her copy for that reason.

I was tempted to e-mail Kanesha with these speculations, but I came to my senses before I did. I doubted she would thank me for complicating the issue. Better to wait until I knew whether Mrs. Taylor’s copy was missing.

A glance at the laptop screen reminded me I hadn’t quite finished my e-mail to Bronwyn. I had better get back to work and finish it.

Twenty minutes later I hit Send then shut down the laptop. In my earlier excitement I hadn’t realized that my neck and shoulders ached from hunching over the computer. I rubbed the back of my neck with both hands, and that helped. A hot shower would help even more, but I thought I’d stretch out on the bed for a bit first.

I made myself comfortable and picked up Spellwood Mansion. I probably should have put it away without finishing my reread, but I would be careful with it. I needed to get Mylar jacket covers and put them on all the books, I decided. That would protect them much better.

I found my place and began to read.

“Tell me, Mrs. Eden, the source of the danger,” Veronica urged once again.

“The story is a long one.” Mrs. Eden spoke in a low voice. “I can hardly bear to think of the horrible, vicious man who is at the root of all my troubles. But I must share the details with someone.” She paused for a deep, sobbing breath.

Veronica was concerned that Mrs. Eden might lose her fading strength altogether, unless she had some kind of restorative to bolster her strength and her spirits. “Might we ask for some tea? I am quite thirsty myself, and I believe the hot tea would revive us both.”

Mrs. Eden nodded gratefully. She pointed with a trembling hand to a bell pull on the wall by the fireplace. “If you will be so kind as to summon Bradberry, he will see that refreshments are brought.”

Veronica complied with the request and immediately resumed her place beside her hostess. Moments later the door opened, and the butler entered the room noiselessly.

“What do you require, Madam?” He gazed intently at his employer, and Veronica found his expression slightly menacing.

“Tea, if you please, Bradberry, and a few sandwiches, if Cook will be so kind.” Mrs. Eden’s voice died away to a mere whisper on the final words.

“Certainly, Madam.” Bradberry inclined his head before he turned and glided quietly out of the room.