by Clea Simon
‘Would you mind elaborating, Mr Griddlehaus, on what you said before?’
‘Oh.’ He blinked at her. ‘It was during my own student days—’
‘No, not the hot sauce,’ Dulcie interrupted, with a smile. ‘I meant, that this kind of thing has happened before?’
‘Well, I can’t say with any certainty.’ He paused while the server put down their drinks: a mug of hot tea for Griddlehaus and a Diet Coke for Dulcie. ‘Nor should I be talking about it.’
‘Why not?’ Dulcie leaned forward, ignoring her drink.
The bespectacled librarian didn’t respond, and instead turned to the departing waiter and called, half rising from his seat. ‘Excuse me? Would you have some honey?’
Dulcie waited, but even as her companion settled down, he seemed unduly engrossed with his tea, dipping the bag as if to make it steep more quickly and then stirring as if unhappy with the result.
‘Mr Griddlehaus?’ Dulcie wasn’t even sure he had heard her. The waiter returned with a squeeze bottle of honey and her companion focused on that, measuring out two teaspoons and stirring until they had been completely dissolved.
Dulcie waited as he took a sip and then, with a resigned air, removed the tea bag to the saucer and looked up at her once again, his oversized glasses magnifying the sadness in his eyes.
‘I should never have said anything.’ He shook his head slowly. The waiter returned, carrying their burgers. Dulcie almost wished he had been slower. But when Griddlehaus only toyed with the edge of his plate, she knew he was going to talk. To keep herself from pushing too hard – and because she was hungry and the burger smelled delicious – she lifted hers with both hands and took a big bite.
‘To explain, perhaps, I should give you a little history.’ His voice was lower even than usual, but back here Dulcie could hear him quite clearly. ‘I was not always planning on going into library science, you know. Even conservation was only a sideline for me. A passing interest, I believed at the time.’
She nodded to encourage him and took another bite.
‘I imagine you cannot see it in me now,’ he continued. ‘But back, oh, it must have been close to thirty years ago now, I was committed to a life in academia. On the research and writing side of academia,’ he corrected himself.
Now that he’d started talking, Dulcie noticed, he was sounding a bit more like himself. He even lifted his burger and took a small, neat bite. Dulcie, wanting to make her burger last, dragged one of the crispy fries through the hot sauce and ate it while she waited for him to go on.
‘I do have my doctorate, of course.’ Griddlehaus seemed to be reviving as he ate, his voice growing louder and more confident. ‘After several years in Classics, I had decided that there was only so much room for another scholar of Akkadian and had gone a bit wild.’ He smiled, although Dulcie wasn’t sure if it was the memory of youthful indiscretion or Lala’s excellent cooking that prompted the change of expression. ‘At any rate, I was about to begin a post-doctorate program that would have allowed me to apply my area of expertise to the metaphysical poets. A more lightweight usage, I agree, but I saw it as a transitional role. Something to help me bridge my formal education with some of my more, well, colloquial interests.’
‘I didn’t know,’ said Dulcie. Perhaps it was just as well. If she had known the librarian considered the Metaphysicals ‘lightweight,’ she might never have dared share so much about her own enthusiasms.
‘I don’t want you to think I still hold that prejudice.’ He must have seen something in her face. ‘I was, well, perhaps the university was a little different back then. Before, you know …’
Dulcie nodded. Neither had to mention what had happened in the eighties, when new theories of education and one particularly enthusiastic dean had resulted in a radical restructuring of the university curriculum.
‘Whatever happened to Dean Allworthy, anyway?’ The question slipped out before Dulcie could stop herself. The last thing she wanted was to interrupt what was already a very slow-flowing story.
Griddlehaus simply shook his head. ‘At any rate, I was here for the summer and with my slight alteration in focus, I had not picked up any sections, and so I was seeking part-time employment.’ She nodded. The drill hadn’t changed that much in the ensuing decades. Grad students taught; that was how they paid their bills. ‘I saw a notice about catalogue help. This was when we were just beginning to digitalize everything. Of course, at the time, nobody knew what would happen.’ He paused. ‘Nobody could have.’
‘Of course not.’ Griddlehaus didn’t have to explain further. He didn’t get the chance.
‘Dulcie, there you are!’ A familiar voice caused Dulcie to pivot in her seat. Ruby was making her way between the tables with more enthusiasm than grace. In her wake, Kyle was grabbing a napkin holder that the large woman had knocked over and restoring it to a startled family. ‘I should have known.’
Without waiting to be invited, Ruby plopped down in the chair next to Dulcie’s, leaving Kyle to squeeze his skinny frame into the seat by Griddlehaus.
‘Hi Ruby, Kyle.’ Dulcie turned toward Griddlehaus to make introductions, when she realized that, of course, the three already knew each other. ‘Were you looking for me?’
‘I figured you’d want to hear the latest,’ said Ruby, as she flagged down the waiter.
‘I heard about the Islington.’ Dulcie waited while the two placed their order. ‘Is there anything else? Did they catch somebody?’
‘Almost as good.’ Ruby reached into the bread basket. ‘Hope you don’t mind. Interrogation makes me hungry.’
‘Wait, they couldn’t think that you …’ Dulcie looked from her friend to Kyle and back again.
‘Ruby’s exaggerating,’ said the red-headed guard as he took a piece of bread. ‘As usual.’
‘Easy for you to say,’ Ruby managed around a mouthful.
‘I believe I am missing something here,’ Griddlehaus, who had been sitting silently, interjected. ‘Do the authorities have a suspect already?’
Ruby, mouth full, shook her head.
‘They can’t still think that Mumbles – that Jeremy Mumbleigh – was involved,’ said Dulcie. ‘Can they?’
‘I don’t know about that,’ said Kyle. ‘I mean, I do know that they still think he was involved somehow.’
‘But he’s in the infirmary,’ Dulcie protested, as the waiter brought out their plates.
‘Maybe he’s the mastermind,’ said Ruby as she picked up her own burger with both hands. ‘Maybe he’s organizing everything from the secure vantage point of a hospital bed.’
‘Ruby.’ Dulcie was disappointed. The man was seriously injured. ‘I don’t know if he’s regained consciousness. You can’t think that he really …’
‘No.’ With one sauce-splattered hand, she waved Dulcie’s objection down, and then reached for a napkin. ‘I don’t. Not really. But it could be. I mean, he knows the university library system well enough.’
Dulcie looked at her friend, but Ruby had followed up her curious statement by taking a big bite.
‘Of course,’ Griddlehaus responded instead. ‘Jeremy – Mr Mumbles – was quite familiar with the stacks, as well as with all the access tunnels.’ He looked at Dulcie. ‘He worked with me that summer, you know.’
‘But, no …’ Dulcie wanted to follow up, to ask the director of the Mildon what he knew about Jeremy, but she had more pressing questions. ‘Ruby, what did you mean when you said it was an inside job? Have they found some clues?’
‘Gotta be.’ She wiped her mouth. ‘Whoever broke in knew about tunnels that haven’t been used for, what, like twenty years. They came through a section of wall that was so old that there weren’t even any alarms on it.’
‘No alarms?’ Dulcie was confused. ‘But the Islington Bible – surely that was alarmed.’
Nobody answered, and Dulcie watched as the three exchanged glances.
‘Wait,’ she asked. ‘It wasn’t?’
‘The alarm
system on the Islington’s case had been disconnected,’ said Ruby, leaning over the table. ‘It was tied in with the fire alarm system, and that had to be disconnected because of the plumbing work. It was temporary and nobody was supposed to know.’
‘I don’t believe you.’ Dulcie sat back and looked at her friend hard. ‘If nobody was supposed to know …’ She paused. ‘You two are having me on, aren’t you?’
‘No!’ Ruby managed to get the syllable out despite having taken another hefty bite. Even as she chewed she shook her head for emphasis. ‘Nuh-uh.’
Kyle, meanwhile, was looking down at his plate.
‘I believe our other dining companion may be our source,’ said Griddlehaus quietly. ‘And if he is, then, Ms Schwartz, I suspect his information is quite reliable.’
The table fell silent, as all eyes turned to Kyle.
‘I don’t understand,’ said Dulcie, when it became clear that the young guard was not going to volunteer anything. ‘Kyle, were you the one who interrupted the break-in? I’d thought I heard that a woman—’
‘No, it wasn’t me.’ He addressed the plate, which still contained most of a burger. ‘I mean, I wasn’t the one who heard them. But, well, I did hear something. About the alarm, that is. And about how whoever broke in had to have access to the original plans, both from the original architects and from all the renovations from the last fifty years. And that the police were going to be interviewing everyone who has worked at the library who is still in the library.’
‘Were you eavesdropping?’ Dulcie wasn’t sure how to read the young guard. At times sullen and taciturn, he could suddenly turn talkative.
But, no, he was shaking his head.
‘Tell her.’ Ruby was staring at him. Hard.
‘You don’t know my name, do you?’ His expression was inscrutable. ‘I mean, my last name?’
‘No, sorry,’ said Dulcie, feeling a little sheepish.
With a bigger sigh than her response seemed to merit, he explained. ‘My folks split up when I was little, and my mom moved away and remarried. But when I couldn’t find a job in Cleveland, she kind of pushed me to look up my dad. I don’t know. Maybe she thought he owed her – I guess he was kind of a jerk. And it was good at first. I think he was lonely. I think he was glad I came back to Cambridge, even if he didn’t want me working here.’
‘Wait.’ Dulcie wasn’t following. ‘Who’s your father?’
Another sigh. ‘My full name is Kyle Truckworth. Stuart Truckworth is my dad.’
‘The head of facilities …’ Dulcie thought back to the harried older man she’d run into outside the library. ‘He didn’t want you to work as a guard?’
‘Hardly.’ Kyle looked down, but Dulcie could still see the color rising in his face. ‘I mean I didn’t either at first. I wanted to work with him. I’m pretty good with my hands. I’d been talking with him about something in maintenance, and we were getting close again, I thought. But there weren’t any openings for the kind of thing I was qualified for, so when this job was posted I went for it and he kind of flipped. I thought he’d be happy that I was showing some initiative, that I’d gone out and gotten it for myself.’ Kyle shrugged. ‘I guess he only wanted me around if he could keep an eye on me.’
Just then, a buzzing interrupted the table. Ruby and Kyle reached for their phones. Griddlehaus merely looked at them, blinking.
‘This has got to be the alert about the library break-in,’ said Dulcie, popping a last fry.
‘Not very timely, is it?’ Ruby was busy punching in her code.
‘Oh, wait, I’ve got something else.’ Kyle was using his finger to scroll down, clearly skimming a message of some length. ‘Huh, interesting.’
‘What is it?’ Dulcie, her curiosity piqued, wiped off her hands and reached for her own device.
‘News, I assume?’ Griddlehaus looked from one of his companions to another.
‘Wait I’m not seeing anything,’ said Ruby. ‘I mean, this is just the alert.’
‘I’ve got – hang on, they got it back,’ said Kyle. ‘The Islington Bible, they got it back.’
‘They made an arrest?’
‘No.’ Kyle was reading. ‘They found it. It’s been damaged. The cover was removed. Torn off, this says. They found the insides, about thirty feet down the tunnel.’
‘Well, that’s a blessing.’ Griddlehaus’s brow was knit. ‘I would assume that such thieves were more interested in the cover than the text and therefore unwittingly discarded the part of the Bible that was actually of greater value.’
Dulcie, who had finally gotten her phone opened, nodded in agreement. ‘Yeah, they must have gone for the jewels.’
‘No, wait.’ Kyle was still reading, flicking the page to read more. ‘They have also found the cover. With all the gold and jewels intact.’
SIXTEEN
‘Good thing they were interrupted.’ Ruby was the first to speak. ‘Lord knows, we have enough negative publicity to deal with right now without a million-dollar heist.’
‘Publicity?’ Dulcie looked at her friend, who was draining the last of her soda.
‘The work in the Yard.’ Ruby reached for another napkin. ‘The tour guides are all complaining. They come into the library and whine to me like I have some say over it.’
‘It is a relief, though, isn’t it?’ Kyle looked from one to the other. ‘I mean, bad enough that someone broke into the library.’
Dulcie was about to agree when she noticed how glum her remaining friend still seemed. ‘Mr Griddlehaus?’
‘I understand that the university will count this as a win, both in terms of material costs and our public relations. However, we cannot forget that a book was vandalized. If you don’t mind, I’d like to get back. I’m sure the Bible is being taken to the conservators, but I have an interest.’
‘Of course.’ Dulcie looked around for the waiter. ‘I’ll join you.’ Griddlehaus blinked up at her. ‘It’s not like they’re going to let me back down to my carrel any time soon.’
Ten minutes later, Dulcie and Griddlehaus were once more crossing the cold and wind-blown Yard. Ruby had already declared her intention of taking the rest of the day off, and Kyle had shrugged off Dulcie’s invitation to join them at the conservators with a casual excuse.
‘I’m going to see if I can find out anything else,’ he had said. ‘If I do, I’ll let you know.’
Now as the pair walked in companionable silence, Dulcie found herself wondering about the young guard – and about how even a troubled family connection afforded special access.
‘So you knew that Kyle was the facilities manager’s son?’ She leaned over to talk to her friend, the wind pulling her words away.
‘I did.’ Griddlehaus was hunched over. ‘I used to know his father rather well, too, although we have drifted.’ He glanced over at her. ‘In fact, we met that summer that I started to tell you about. He was another graduate student.’
‘Stuart Truckworth?’ Dulcie heard the surprise in her own voice. Despite the university’s reputation, she hadn’t thought that an advanced degree was necessary for what was essentially plumbing and carpentry. Nor, she realized, had she correctly calculated the librarian’s age. ‘But he’s so much older than you.’
Griddlehaus smiled and shook his head. ‘He has to deal with much more bureaucracy than I do, Ms Schwartz. That will wear on a man. However, we are of an age. He was studying literature, same as you, Ms Schwartz. And keen on an academic career as well, until that summer.’
‘Oh my! What happened?’ As soon as the words were out, Dulcie regretted them. Her tone, she knew, was one of horror – as if her companion had just told her that the grey squirrel that had darted up the bare oak in front of them had once been a French tutor.
‘Same thing that happened to me, I gather.’ They had arrived at the lab, and Griddlehaus reached for the door. ‘We both were working what seemed to be a summer job,’ he said as he held the door for Dulcie. ‘And before we knew it, our supposedly te
mporary jobs had taken over our lives.’
‘I’m sorry,’ she interrupted. ‘But before, back at Lala’s, you were saying there was a similar breach – an “inside job” of some sort?’
‘Yes, well, I’m not sure I should be speaking of it, really.’ He turned toward her with an apologetic half-smile. ‘It was kept confidential at the time, for reasons that will become clear. Is that your phone?’
Dulcie looked down. Yes, her messenger bag was mewing, one of Esmé’s more urgent sounds. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I turned it on when we left the library out of habit.’
‘Please, don’t apologize.’ He pointed to the buzzer. ‘Simply ring when you’re free.’ He disappeared inside.
‘Lucy.’ Dulcie would have let the call go straight to voice mail, were it not for Griddlehaus’s courtly gesture. Maybe, she thought, that was a message in its own right. ‘I’m sorry I didn’t return your call.’
‘Not to worry, Dulcinea. I know you can hear me.’ Dulcie smiled to herself. Her mother may have a bad case of empty-nest syndrome, but her psychic self-confidence would never let her feel too bad. ‘What I’m worried about is your companion.’
‘Mr Griddlehaus?’ She had been surprised. Immediately, she wished the words back in. ‘That’s – I was walking with a librarian friend.’
‘No, no, not him.’ Lucy sounded peeved. ‘The other one – the young one.’
‘Chris? He’s at his mother’s this week. I told you.’ Dulcie caught herself. The wind was picking up, and she very much wanted to be inside. That was no reason to snap at her mother, though. ‘I did get your message.’ She tried to remember the exact wording. ‘About bonding with the beast?’
‘Very good, Dulcie, but it’s not about you.’
‘Oh?’ Dulcie’s feet were going numb. Was it possible that her boot was still damp?
‘Not entirely.’ Her mother’s voice was fading, a not uncommon occurrence where Lucy was concerned, although the commune’s phone system might have been to blame. ‘You’re not the only one with a spirit animal, a companion. There’s a message.’