Chapter Five
The librarian was quite amenable to meeting us early. The library was tucked in the basement of the town hall, its door up alongside the garage for the fire trucks and other emergency gear. I smiled as Jack and I stepped into the small vestibule. There was just something about libraries. They brought a sense of calm to me – a sense of peace, order, and that the world was at my fingertips. All I had to do was reach out a hand and bring it in.
There was no need for me to ask where to go. We turned right toward the adult fiction and began watching the authors’ names. Z. Y. X.
We came to the Ts. Tolstoy … Tolkien. My heart thumped hard against my ribs. It was like discovering the lost city of Troy. There was no telling what we’d find here.
Jack reached out for The Return of the King, the third book in the Lord of the Rings trilogy. He murmured, “This is the one with Rath Dinen. It’s where Faramir’s father tries to burn him alive.”
I nodded, staying silent.
We took the book over to the pair of stuffed, comfortable chairs and sank down into them. Jack paged through the book and I watched him, wondering what types of thoughts were going through his head. It must have been rough, growing up in that situation. Being just a child and watching your world unravel around you.
He pointed. “There we are. On page 128. Gandalf asks Denethor, ‘Where is your son, Faramir?’ and Denethor replies, ‘He lies within, burning, already burning.’”
He handed the book to me.
My brows drew together in annoyance. “Someone’s been writing in this.” It always irked me when a person defaced a book. Books were precious treasures, to be –
I blinked. “Look! He’s underlined certain letters! This is Tony’s message to you!” I handed the book back over.
He stared at it more closely. “I can see it now. Faint pencil-marks under letters. The P in Pippin. The A in Authority. U in Anduin.”
I pulled out my smartphone and began typing the letters into it as he recited them. When he finished, I looked up.
“It says pauper william white. What do you think that means? Is it another story, like Great Expectations?”
His brow creased. “I don’t think so. Tony was more into the fantasy-adventure than those classics. It might be … we used to go to the Pauper’s Cemetery all the time. It was right down the road from where we lived.”
“Sure, I’ve been there, doing genealogical work for the Sutton Historical Society over the years. It’s a small cemetery, about sixty graves, all simple white blocks of stone. It was used in the eighteen hundreds and early nineteen hundreds for those unable to pay their own costs.”
Jack ruffled the pages in the book before him. “Tony always liked it there. Said no matter what a man did in life, he’d still at least have this. A sign that he lived. That his name and years mattered.”
I punched a few buttons on my smartphone. “OK, here’s the webpage with the names of the people resting in that cemetery.” I ran my eyes down the list. My breath caught. “And here he is! William White, 1856 to 1864. So he was only eight when he died.”
Jack took in a breath. “I remember that, now. Tony fixated on that grave. A kid, just like him. We wondered why he died. What he’d liked doing. All that kind of stuff. He’d only had eight years on this Earth. That’s not enough time.”
I looked to Jack. “So what do we do next? Take a drive out to the cemetery?”
He held the book in his hands. “I really should take you back to your car and get you home. You must be exhausted, and I’m dragging you around as if –”
I crossed my arms in front of my chest. “We’re nearly there! And you’re going to abandon me now?”
The thought hit me suddenly that he might want to take this final step on his own. Who knew what it might reveal about his missing brother. I pushed down my desire to know and offered, “But of course, if you’d rather –”
“No, no, I would like for you to come along. You’ve done so much for me already. I never would have known any of this if it hadn’t been for you. I just didn’t want to impose.”
I chuckled. “This is what I live for. Solving puzzles. Seeking out the truth.” I dropped my voice. “Righting wrongs.”
He nodded and put the book down on the small table between us. “In that case –”
I picked up the book. “If you don’t mind, I think we should check this out. Keep it with us.”
His brow creased. “You think it has more to tell us? I didn’t see any other writing in it, and that clue seems fairly clear.”
I gave a small smile. “Clear to you, maybe, because you knew your brother well. Others might have had more of a challenge figuring it out. Still, if that cop saw me driving my loops around 146, maybe others did as well. And I get the sense that Tony meant for only you to follow his thread. I don’t want to give anybody else the chance to take a look. You did say Tony was involved with a dangerous group, after all.”
He nodded. “You’re right, of course. I think I was so caught up in wanting to know what he left for me that I didn’t consider others might be on our heels.”
I held the book up. “That’s why we make a good team.”
His eyes held mine, and for a moment, the world faded away.
Rumble Strip - A Blackstone Valley Mystery Novelette Page 5