Overdue Item

by Peter Menadue

  "What's the bible got to do with the murder out here?"

  "I don't know: maybe a lot, maybe nothing."

  Cochrane frowned. "You've been very busy, haven't you? Got bored being a librarian and decided to play detective."

  The detective obviously preferred to see the library murder remain unsolved, rather than see an amateur - a librarian to boot - solve it.

  She said: "I was just trying to help."

  "Then you should have told us about your suspicions a lot earlier, instead of calling that guy in England."

  "I didn't think you'd believe me."

  "Of course we would have," Cochrane said without conviction.

  "What're you going to do now?"

  "We're going to call up Scotland Yard and see if the Arthur Cheshire at your Library is the Louis Barker they're hunting."

  "And if he is?"

  "If he's wanted for murder in England, we can at least arrest for that. But we'll need more evidence before we can charge him with the murder in your library."

  "OK. And what do you want me to do now? Anything I can do to help?"

  "No, you've done enough - too much. Go back to work and stop playing detective: act like nothing's happened - nothing at all. And, for God sakes, don't mention this chat to anyone, especially Cheshire."

  "Of course I won't. But what about Gary Clarke? He thinks he's in big trouble."

  "He is in big trouble, until I notify him otherwise, understand? Tell him nothing."

  "OK, OK."

  "If you want, you can call in sick and stay home for a couple of days, until this is resolved."

  Then she'd miss the action and leave Gary without support. No way. Adventure had burst into her small, cramped life. She was going to savour every moment. "If I do, Mr Cheshire might smell a rat. I'd better go to work. But don't worry, I'll play dumb."

  "Good. We'll keep you informed."

  When Julia re-entered the library, she was relieved to find that 'Mr Cheshire' and Gary weren't around. She replaced Tom Birkett at the borrowing counter and he strolled outside on his lunch break. A few minutes later, Bronwyn emerged from her office and made another of her rare - but increasingly frequent - forays to the counter.

  She put her forearms on the counter and leaned close. "I've got to go to a dentist's appointment. Won't be back this afternoon. Will you hold the fort?"

  She obviously had no idea that the police had re-interviewed Gary and made him their main suspect. Nor did she know that Julia had just popped over to the Police Station to accuse 'Mr Cheshire' of murder. But Julia couldn't reveal any of that. Detective Cochrane specifically told her to keep her trap shut.

  "No problem. Have you seen Gary around?"

  A scowl. "Gary? The little bugger has gone home sick. Claimed there was something wrong with his tummy. I've got to get rid of him, I really do."

  Julia said: "I'm sure he'll be back tomorrow."

  "That won't be a blessing. Anyway, see you then."

  Bronwyn strolled out the door and Julia stayed at the borrowing counter until closing time. She spotted 'Mr Cheshire' a couple of times, shelving books, but didn't have to talk to him. For once, at closing time, she didn't bother to lock up. 'Mr Cheshire' and Tom Birkett could do that. She raced out the door instead.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Julia woke several times during the night and worried the detectives either wouldn't follow up the lead she gave them about 'Mr Cheshire', or would and, for some reason, discover it was bullshit. Then it would be revealed she had falsely accused a co-worker of murder. In the public service, they send you to hell for a bad joke that hurts someone's feelings.

  She was tired and nervous when she got to work. As usual, there was a light under Bronwyn's door, which meant she was already there, doing whatever she did.

  She sat at the borrowing counter and nervously awaited 'Mr Cheshire's' arrival. When he wandered past, heading towards the workroom, her heart thumped - surely, he could hear it - and she prayed he didn't try to chat. Fortunately, true to form, he silently stole past and disappeared into the workroom.

  However, she did have to talk to Gary. She still sat behind the borrowing counter, waiting for the computer to boot up, when he arrived looking morose and smelling of dope.

  She said: "Morning."

  He stopped and grunted, now just a pale shadow of the chirpy know-it-all she once knew.

  "How do you feel?"

  "Like shit on a stick."

  She was tempted to tell him that, if the cops did their job properly, his worries would soon be over. However, she'd promised to stay mum. "I think you're overdramatising this."

  "You know, I've been wondering what my parents will do if I'm charged with murder."

  "Like I said: you're overdramatising this."

  "No I'm not."

  "I bet they'll be very supportive."

  "Bullshit. They'll accuse me of fucking up again. And you know what? They'll be right. My whole life has been a fuck-up. I see that now."

  She wanted to tell him to pull himself together and be a man, but there was no point - his mojo had fled. "Since you're not going to be charged with anything, you've got nothing to worry about, have you?"

  "Easy for you to say."

  "Look, let's have lunch together. I'll try to cheer you up."

  "Won't work."

  "I'll try anyway."

  A sigh. "Thanks, I'll let you know."

  Gary did little work when in tip-top mental and physical condition, and was far below that now. She said: "You should go home - take another sickie."

  "Can't - then I'll have to deal with Mum. I'm going to make a cup of coffee. You want one?"

  "No thanks."

  Gary shrugged and strolled off towards the kitchen.

  Soon afterwards, Tom Birkett wandered in, wearing his motorcycle gear and carrying his helmet. She was pleased to see him because, apart from being adorable, he had nothing to do with the murder of the old guy, so she didn't have to do any acting.

  However, as he flashed a pearly smile, she wondered if he was as innocent as she thought. Gary claimed there was something fishy about his sudden appearance on the scene. Maybe he was right. Oh, stop being stupid. You're tired and paranoid.

  He said: "You OK?"

  She plastered on a smile and tried to stop it flapping in the breeze. "Yes, why?"

  "You look a bit upset."

  She focused hard. "Oh, I've got a few things on my mind."

  "Care to share them?"

  His nosiness increased her suspicion. She gave him a wan smile. "Umm, no, just personal stuff - it'd bore you to tears."

  A shrug. "Fair enough. You know, since the detectives returned, Gary hasn't looked happy."

  Still probing. She countered with a shrug. "I haven't noticed."

  "Really? Do you know why the cops wanted to talk to him again?"

  Even if his curiosity was innocent, she liked Gary too much to gossip about him and told a white lie. "No, he didn't say."

  "Too bad."

  She shrugged. "Anyway, I'd better clean out the overnight chute."

  She strolled over to the chute and started putting the returned books on a trolley.

  A little later, she opened the front doors and, as patrons flowed in, returned to the borrowing counter. She sat next to Tom Birkett and, to make conversation, asked which place he enjoyed most during his long sojourn overseas. He described hiking around Nepal and staying in a high-altitude monastery, but she only half listened because she kept imagining 'Mr Cheshire' strangling the homeless old guy.

  Tom was describing the time he saw a snow leopard - was he bullshitting? - when Detectives Cochrane and Dryden strode purposefully into the library with three beefy uniformed police officers behind them.

  Chree-ist.

  Cochrane made a bee-line towards her and ignored Tom Birkett. "Where's Cheshire?"

  Her heart fluttered. "Why do you want him?"

  Cochrane leaned forward and spoke softly, though loudly eno
ugh for Tom Birkett to hear. "We want to arrest him."

  "For what?"

  "Murder.'

  "Cripes. You've spoken to Scotland Yard?"

  "Yes, he's wanted in England for murder, arson and stealing a rare book. They say he's highly dangerous, so we won't take any chances. Where is he?"

  Instead of doing a sports-star fist-pump, like she wanted, she pointed at the workroom. "In there."

  "Any exits?"

  "No, it's sealed off."

  "Good. Is the door locked?"

  "Of course not. It's our workroom."

  "Excellent." Cochrane turned to the others. "Alright, follow me."

  He led his small group over to the workroom, flung open the door and charged inside, his team on his heels.

  After some loud yelling and crashing sounds, there was about a minute of silence before Cochrane emerged from the workroom, leading a red-skulled 'Mr Cheshire' with his hands cuffed behind his back. Detective Dryden followed them and the uniformed officers brought up the rear.

  Most patrons were now standing and watching, goggle-eyed.

  As the police contingent passed the counter, Cochrane looked over at her: "Thank you for your help."

  'Mr Cheshire' heard him and glared at Julia. "You're responsible for this, are you, you sneaky bitch? You stole my book too didn't you, and sold it to Markov?"

  Her mouth was stone dry. "I don't know what you're talking about. Who's Markov?"

  'Mr Cheshire' frowned. "Nobody".

  Dryden gave him a shove and they continued towards the entrance.

  Cochrane glanced at her. "What was that about? Who's Markov?"

  "No idea." she said honestly.

  He shrugged. "Anyway, thanks for your help. I'll keep you informed."

  As he followed his team out of the entrance, Tom Birkett exhaled loudly. "Wow."

  A ghost-faced Gary stepped from behind some bookshelves and looked at her. "Were they the cops?"

  He obviously didn't realise they'd just arrested 'Mr Cheshire'.

  "Yes."

  "What did they want? Did they w-w-want me?"

  A broad smile. "No, they arrested someone else."

  "Who?"

  "Mr Cheshire," she said triumphantly.

  Gary's eyes ballooned. "Jesus, you're serious?"

  "Of course."

  "What for?"

  "He's wanted in England for murder, arson and the theft of a rare bible."

  "You're kidding?"

  "Nope."

  "What about the murder of the old guy? Have they arrested him for that?"

  "I don't think so. He obviously killed the old guy, but they haven't got enough evidence against him, yet."

  Tom Birkett interjected: "So you told the cops he was wanted for murder in England?"

  "Yes."

  "How'd you find out?"

  "Oh, I did a bit of detective work that paid off."

  "Such as?"

  She quickly explained to Tom and Gary how she became suspicious of 'Mr Cheshire' and started snooping around. She even described how, after breaking into Bronwyn's office, she phoned the Oxendale Library in Manchester and discovered 'Mr Cheshire's' true identity. "Don't tell Bronwyn I looked in her office, OK? Keep it to yourselves."

  They both promised to keep quiet.

  "Good."

  Tom Birkett started to look excited. "You said he stole a book from the British Library. Do you know what happened to it?"

  "No idea at all."

  "Really? He just accused you of stealing his book and selling it to someone called Markov - what was that about?"

  "I honestly don't know."

  A gleeful-looking Gary interjected. "I told you he was nuts, didn't I? We're bloody lucky he didn't murder us all. Does Bronwyn know what's going on?"

  They all looked at the closed door of her office. Bronwyn had spent two years driving Julia nuts with her peevishness and laziness. Julia looked forward to telling her that she hired a murderer who'd just been arrested. "No, I guess I'd better tell her."

  "Can I watch?"

  "Afraid not."

  "OK. But I want to hear every last detail. Have fun. And thank you, thank you very much, for saving my worthless arse."

  She felt quit regal. "Think nothing of it."

  Julia gently prised open Bronwyn's door and found her talking on the phone to a gossip-pal. "I had some people over to dinner the other night, and all Trixie did was gnaw at the table-leg and then pee in the corner ... I know, I know ... "

  Bronwyn noticed Julia and spread her hand to signal "five minutes".

  Julia shook her head and pointed at the floor to indicate she was staying.

  Bronwyn cupped her hand over the receiver and whispered "Later - I'll come and see you later."

  Julia shook her head again. "This can't wait."

  A frown. "Why not?"

  "The police were just here."

  "Bloody hell. Why?"

  "To arrest Mr Cheshire."

  Bronwyn dropped the receiver as if it was piping hot. "My God, what for?"

  What planet was she on? "Murder, of course."

  Looking dazed, Bronwyn hung up the phone without even saying goodbye to her gossip-pal. "Murder? You mean he murdered the old guy in our library?"

  "Actually, they've arrested him for murdering someone in England - but it's obvious he also murdered the old guy."

  "You mean, he's murdered two people?"

  "Yes."

  "How do you know that?"

  She had no intention of telling Bronwyn about her snooping. "The detectives told me."

  Bronwyn rocked back in her chair and stared at the ceiling as if looking for salvation from above. "Jesus Christ Almighty. This is just a little local library, for God sakes, and he's just a librarian."

  Julia loved rubbing salt in her wound. "… and a double murderer."

  "Who did he kill in England? Why did he kill the homeless guy?"

  She didn't want to be drawn into a long conversation with Bronwyn. "I don't know. You'll have to speak to the cops."

  The phone rang - obviously her friend, wanting to know why the call was disconnected. Bronwyn frowned, picked up the receiver and slammed it down again.

  She gave Julia a peevish stare. "You know, I've never liked him. Always thought he was weird. In fact, I should never have employed him. They won't blame me for doing that, will they? I mean, I didn't know he was a murderer and nobody else wanted the job. It's not as if, when you interview a librarian, you think: has he bumped someone off?"

  Of course they would blame her. The top officers of the Council specialised in shifting blame. "You've got nothing to worry about."

  "You know, in a very personal way, I feel betrayed. I guess I'd better call the General Manager and tell him what's happened. He's going to be super unhappy."

  "Alright, I'll leave you alone."

  "God, there is going to be so much paperwork."

  "I'll leave you with it." As Julia left the office, she heard Bronwyn punch a number into her phone with one hand and pull tissues out of a box with the other.

  She returned to the borrowing desk, elated that 'Mr Cheshire' had been arrested. So far, in her shortish life, she'd seen a lot of bad things happen to good people; it was nice to see something bad happen to a bad person. Hopefully, she would never have to gaze on his wraith-like features again, unless he was sitting in the dock of a court. Yippee.

  Gary sat behind the counter, checking out a book for an old woman. When she was gone, he looked over at Julia. "How'd it go with Bronwyn?"

  "She's trying to work out who to blame, and it's not easy; she's up to her neck in raw sewage."

  "Very true."

  "Where's Tom Birkett?"

  "He went outside, for a stroll. Said he had to clear his head. The bugger obviously can't take the heat and ran off like a scaredy cat. Told you he was suss."

  "I'm sure he'll be back."

  Mrs Pim, the old woman who liked bondage books, shuffled up to the counter. "Ex
cuse me, dear, did a librarian just get arrested?"

  "Yes."

  "What for?"

  "Murder."

  "You don't say. Who'd he murder?"

  Julia couldn't resist teasing the old woman. "A couple of guys. He strangled one of them in this library."

  She cackled. "Good on him. He can murder me, if he wants. My time's up. Be doing me a favour."

  Julia didn't know what to say.

  The old woman left and, a few minutes later, Bronwyn emerged from her office and approached the borrowing counter. Worry lines criss-crossed her face. "I've got to go and see the General Manager. He doesn't sound happy."

  Because Tom Birkett had disappeared and Gary was allergic to work, especially when he was jumping with joy because he wouldn't be charged with murder, Julia was busy for the rest of the day dealing with patrons. She half-expected that, at any moment, a gang of news reporters and cameramen would besiege the library. However, the police didn't announce the arrest of 'Mr Cheshire' and none appeared.

  That evening, she strolled home slowly, savouring the arrest of 'Mr Cheshire' and her part in it. She opened the front door of their terrace and strolled up the short hallway. Her father stepped out of the living room, looking upset. Maybe he heard, somehow, that 'Mr Cheshire' was arrested.

  "Julia, something terrible has happened."

  "What?"

  "We've been robbed."

  "Shit. How do you know?"

  "Someone broke the lock on the back door. I just found out, when I went to feed the cat."

  "Really? What's been taken?"

  "I don't know. I mean, someone went through my bedroom, but I don't think anything's missing. You'd better check your room to see if anything's gone."

  She raced upstairs and did a quick survey of her room. At first, she thought nobody had intruded. Then she realised that several drawers and the wardrobe doors were slightly ajar. Knowing that someone had gone through her private stuff was a kick in the guts. However, a quick check revealed nothing valuable was stolen. Indeed, the thief ignored a couple of hundred dollars sitting on the side-board. Very strange. Maybe he was after her knickers or something like that. She checked those drawers. None were missing.

  She clumped downstairs and shrugged. "Looks like someone's been through my room, but hasn't stolen anything."

  "Mmm. It might take us a while to work out what's gone."