The Silence Of The Library

Eagleton stepped closer to me and spoke in a low tone. “I wondered if you might do me a favor.” His eyes flicked away for a moment across the room. I followed his gaze to where Gordon Betts leaned against the bar, his head down on his arms. “Do you think you could possibly see Gordon to his room? I’m afraid I can’t manage it myself. Bad back and all that, you know.”

I suppressed a sigh of irritation. Why didn’t he simply pour water over Betts’s head and send him on his way? That’s what I was tempted to do. Innate good manners kicked in, unfortunately, and I found myself agreeing to help.

Eagleton beamed with gratitude. “Thanks ever so, old chap. You are truly most kind.”

“Think nothing of it.” My wry tone seemed to escape him as he bustled away, headed for Della Duffy still grazing at the dinner table. The woman certainly was putting the food away.

Teresa joined me. “Need any assistance? I couldn’t help overhearing.”

“No, I think I can manage,” I said. “Why don’t you go on? I’m sure you’re as ready to get away from here as I am.”

“Definitely.” Teresa grinned. “This evening was like something out of a really bad play.” She paused. “If you’re sure you don’t need me?”

“I’m sure. Go on.” I patted her arm before she headed quickly for the door and let herself out.

I turned toward the bar and stared at Betts for a moment. He didn’t appear to have moved.

I frowned. Was he still breathing? I couldn’t detect any signs of life, and suddenly my heart started pounding. Surely he hadn’t died? I started toward him.

A loud snore reassured me. When I reached him and put a hand on his shoulder to shake him awake, he stood and blinked at me. Then he frowned. “What happened?”

“You passed out,” I told him curtly. “Why don’t you let me help you to your room. The party’s over.”

He shook his head. “Don’t need help.” He took a couple of steps, almost tripped over his own feet, but managed to steady himself. “Maybe you’d better,” he said with a weak grin.

I took hold of his left arm and steadied him. “What room are you in?”

He stared at me. “Room?” He paused. “Oh, right, hotel. Room. Um, seven-oh-three?” He nodded after a moment. “Yeah, seven-oh-three, that’s it.”

“Do you have the key?”

He thrust his right hand into his pants pocket and pulled out a card. I took it from him.

“Okay, then, let’s go.” I started leading him to the door. When I paused to open it, I glanced over to Eagleton and Della Duffy, both steadily clearing the table by eating every scrap of food.

I got Betts out the door and down the hall without much trouble. In the elevator I propped him in the corner before I pressed the button for the seventh floor. He had closed his eyes and appeared to fall asleep again. I roused him after the brief ride up two floors and tugged him out and toward room 703. He stumbled alongside me.

I had to lean him against the wall while I inserted the key card in the lock. He managed to lurch in on his own, and I followed him to make sure he didn’t fall and bang his head against something, such as the sharp corner of a desk.

His suite was more lavish than Eagleton’s, I thought, but I didn’t have much time to examine the furnishings. Betts tripped near the sofa and fell headlong onto it. I rushed forward to catch him, but he hit the cushions before I could reach him.

His face, fortunately for him, hit one of the cushions, but his arm flopped over the end table and knocked the lamp to the floor with a muffled thud. The luxurious carpet softened the blow, and the lamp remained intact.

“What was that?” Betts raised his head for a moment, then it dropped back down before I could answer.

I couldn’t leave him prone on the sofa. He might suffocate like that. I managed to turn his body so that he was on his back, head on a cushion, and legs stretched out. He started snoring, and I figured the best thing now was to let him sleep it off.

I restored the lamp to the end table and was about to leave when I noticed how cold it was in the room. I had better find a blanket for Betts; otherwise he might take a chill if he didn’t wake up soon to find one for himself. I found the bedroom and rummaged in the closet. As I expected, there was a spare blanket on the shelf.

Back in the living room, I unfolded the blanket and covered Betts with it. I turned, ready to go, when I spotted the dining table on the other side of the room.

There were seven or eight stacks of books atop the table, and I simply couldn’t resist going over to see what they were. Typical of bibliophiles like me, even though Betts might consider it snooping. He owed me this much, I figured.

The piles consisted of Veronica Thane books, as I’d expected. Beautiful copies, too. Pristine-looking jackets protected by Mylar covers. I bent to read the spines of the first stack.

Several of the titles were in languages other than English. I recognized French and German. Was that one Swedish? I wondered.