The Silence Of The Library

Diesel stretched out on his side of the bed and warbled to let me know he needed more attention. After rubbing his head and along his spine for a bit, I made myself comfortable and picked up Spellwood Mansion. I was in the mood to read more Veronica Thane, and it would pass the time while I waited for a response from Kanesha.

Veronica was being ministered to by her best friend Lucy, I recalled, when I last put the book aside. I found my place once again.

“What happened, Lucy?” Veronica reclined against the pillows. “What time is it?”

“It will soon be eleven. You’ve been asleep all day.” Lucy patted Veronica’s hand. “We don’t really know what happened. When you didn’t return home last night, your guardian became worried. She asked Artie and me if we had heard from you, and when we told her we had not, she became even more agitated.”

“Dear Aunt Araminta,” Veronica murmured. “I regret so deeply that she was worried about me. And dear Artie, too.”

Arthur Marsh, known to his intimates as “Artie,” was a classmate of Veronica Thane and Lucy Carlton. Tall, handsome, and athletic, he was the son of Mrs. Buff-Orpington’s lawyer and chief advisor, Horatio Marsh. He was devoted to Veronica and often escorted her to dances and social affairs. His best friend, Anthony Rutherford, was Lucy Carlton’s frequent escort.

“She knew you would not do such a thing on purpose,” Lucy assured her. “She suspected that you might be in the midst of another adventure, and she asked Artie if he would search for you.”

“I was on my way home from visiting our old chum Mary Ferris in Trentville,” Veronica said slowly. “There was a frightful storm.”

“Yes, it was certainly fierce,” Lucy agreed. “Artie suspected you might have had an accident, driving in such conditions, but he said nothing of that to your guardian.”

“Where did Artie find me? And my car? Is my car damaged?” Veronica had great affection for her trusty red roadster, for it had served her well.

“Your car is fine,” Lucy assured her with a smile, well aware of Veronica’s attachment to the vehicle. “Artie found you, sound asleep in it, just a couple of miles outside of town along the river road. He was unable to rouse you, you were so deeply asleep.” Her troubled expression revealed her affectionate concern for her best chum.

“How very strange,” Veronica murmured. She did not remember feeling tired driving home from Trentville. But the storm—something about the storm. The memory teased her with its elusiveness. She expressed her frustration to Lucy.