‘We’re after more than small fry now.’
‘Then we need a big hook and a large net.’ Keedy replaced the book on the shelf and looked towards the librarian’s office. ‘I think he’s deliberately keeping us waiting. What’s he doing in there?’
‘He’s probably still trying to find out who supplied us with all that information about his feud with Cyril Ablatt. It riled him to think that one of his assistants had dared to betray him.’ He saw someone behind the desk. ‘It certainly wasn’t that lady.’
‘How do you know?’
‘It’s his wife, Mrs Fussell.’
Keedy looked at the portly woman writing something in a pad. She wore spectacles and had her hair pinned up at the back. Putting the pad aside, she reached out some books from under the counter and took them to a shelf nearby. As she stacked them wearily in position, she looked as if she was doing a tedious chore. Clearly, she didn’t share her husband’s zeal for the working at the library.
Marmion saw the door of the office open. The deputy librarian came out, followed by Fussell who beckoned the detectives over with a lordly crook of the finger. All three of them went into the office. After Keedy had been introduced to the librarian, they took a seat. A copy of the Evening News lay on the desk.
‘I hope that you’ve brought me some glad tidings,’ said Fussell.
‘I’m afraid not, sir,’ said Marmion.
‘You must have made some progress.’
‘We’re still gathering evidence.’
‘That takes time,’ said Keedy.
‘We have to sort out the wheat from the chaff, you see. The strange thing is that people don’t always tell us the truth,’ said Marmion. ‘Well, you’re a good example, sir. You told me what an outstanding assistant Cyril Ablatt was even though you’d done your level best to unload him onto another library.’
‘I explained that,’ snapped Fussell.
‘Indeed, you did — but only when someone had provided me with the facts.’
The librarian was tetchy. ‘Why are you bothering me again, Inspector? I would have thought you had plenty to keep you busy.’ He indicated the newspaper. ‘You have another case on your hands now and someone doesn’t like the way you’re handling the first one. You and the sergeant are more or less ridiculed in that article.’
‘Don’t believe everything you read in the papers, sir,’ said Keedy.
‘The impression given is that you’re both floundering.’
‘Appearances are deceptive,’ said Marmion, easily. ‘But let’s leave the press to its own peculiar ways. We came here to ask you about Father Howells. I believe that you know him, Mr Fussell.’
‘Yes — I’ve seen him here a number of times.’
‘He’s also a friend of yours, isn’t he?’
‘Everyone who comes into the library is a friend of mine. I make a point of fraternising with the readers. It’s important to understand their needs and to be aware of their likes and dislikes.’
‘You’re avoiding the question, sir.’
Fussell looked blank. ‘Am I?’
‘You knew James Howells as a friend, didn’t you?’
‘We often had a chat when he came in here, Inspector.’
‘And was the friendship no closer than that?’
‘Why should it be?’ asked Fussell.
‘When we visited the house where he lives,’ said Marmion, ‘we found his address book. Your name was in it.’
‘There’s nothing unusual in that,’ said Fussell, smoothly. ‘James — Father Howells, that is — was a regular visitor here. It’s not surprising that he kept the address of the library.’
‘But that’s not what he did,’ said Keedy. ‘He kept your home address.’
The librarian’s face was impassive but his eyes flicked to and fro.
‘Why did he do that, sir?’ asked Marmion, watching him intently. ‘Do you worship at St Leonard’s, by any chance?’
‘No, I do not,’ said Fussell, stiffly. ‘My wife and I are Roman Catholics.’
‘Did you ever meet him socially?’
‘What has this got to do with a violent attack in the night?’
‘You’re avoiding the question again, sir.’
‘No,’ retorted Fussell, ‘I did not meet Father Howells socially. I have, by choice, a very limited social life. After a long day here, all that my wife and I wish to do is to have a quiet evening at home.’
‘So you can’t explain how your name got into that address book?’
‘I don’t have the foggiest idea.’
The reply was assertive and bolstered by a defiant glare. Marmion thanked him for his time and rose to his feet. Keedy got up to follow him out. As they strolled towards the door, they walked past Mrs Fussell and saw her avert her gaze from them. When they came out into the fresh air, Marmion turned enquiringly to Keedy.
‘You were right,’ said the other. ‘I disliked him on sight as well.’
‘Why did he lie about having his name in that address book?’
‘That wasn’t the only lie he told us, Harv. When we walked out, you must have noticed his wife.’
‘Yes, she looked rather bored and unhappy.’
‘I don’t wish to be unkind,’ said Keedy, ‘but she’s not the most attractive woman. She looks as if she’d be very dull company. For all his arrogance, Fussell has got a real spark in him. Could you really imagine him spending all his spare time at home with a wife like that?’
Maud Crowther placed the flowers in front of the headstone then stood back to gaze down at the inscription. She had made her weekly pilgrimage to the cemetery and was weighed down by sad thoughts of her late husband. After all this time, she missed him as much as ever. They’d been happily married for a long time. Lost in her memories, she stood there in silence for almost twenty minutes. When she finally turned away, she lifted her chin and pulled her shoulders back. Having paid her respects to her husband, she went in search of a friend.
Horrie Waldron was waist-deep in a grave. He was aware that Maud would pay her customary visit to the cemetery but he knew better than to interrupt her. If she wanted to talk, she’d come to him. As a rule, she simply went straight home without even seeing him. Today, it was different. She was anxious to find him. When he saw her walking along the gravel path, he clambered out of the grave and used his arms to semaphore. Maud spotted him and went across the grass.
‘Good afternoon, Horrie,’ she said.
He gave a sly grin. ‘Nice to see you.’
‘Have you heard the news?’
‘I’ve done more than that, Maud. I’ve had the coppers out here after me.’
She was shocked. ‘They surely don’t think that you had something to do with it, do they?’
‘They’d pin every crime on me, if they could,’ he said, sourly. ‘Just because I had a spot of bother with them once or twice, they blame me for every damn thing.’
‘Did you mention me this time?’
‘No, I didn’t.’
‘Good — I don’t want them sniffing around my house again. It could get back to Stan,’ she said, worriedly, ‘and you know what would happen then. You’d need someone to dig your grave.’
Waldron cackled. ‘It’d be worth it, Maud.’
‘Don’t be stupid. I’d lose my son’s respect for ever.’
‘Then we make sure Stan never finds out.’
‘There’s one simple way to do that,’ she said, moving closer and clearing her throat. ‘Look, Horrie, I’ve been thinking about this for some time. Maybe we should stop taking all these risks. It’s silly at my age. I’m fed up with having to creep round and tell lies to everyone. The game is not worth the candle.’
His hackles rose. ‘Are you trying to get rid of me?’
‘We’d still be friends.’
‘What about my …visits?’
‘They’ll have to stop.’
‘But I don’t want them to stop, Maud.’
‘It’s starting to get too dangerous.’
‘Thought you liked danger,’ he said, looming over her. ‘It was all part of the fun.’ When she tried to move away, he grabbed her wrist. ‘You won’t get rid of me as easily as that,’ he warned. ‘I’ll be there at the usual time on the usual day. Is that clear?’