‘Sorry Jenny, you haven’t heard have you, there was a man stabbed in the car park. I was the one who found him.’
‘Oh my God,’ said Jenny, ‘Is he…?’
India nodded, confirming the unfinished question.
‘How awful,’ she gasped, ‘Are you Okay?’
‘Been better, but anyway, what happened here?’
‘Don’t know much, but the firemen are making the building safe as we speak. Apparently they managed to contain the worst, but there is still a lot of damage.
‘How did you find out?’
‘On call,’ said Jenny, ‘Emergency key holder, though why they asked me to come out, I don’t know. By the time I got here they had broken the doors down anyway. I feel like a bit of a spare part to be honest, been here for bloody hours.’
‘Then why don’t you go and get some rest?’ asked India, ‘I’ll take over.’
‘Oh there’s no need for that,’ said Jenny, ‘That’s not why I called you.’
‘Why then?’
She pointed at a man in plain clothes stood next to a land rover speaking into a mobile phone.
‘He asked me to.’
Constable Deeley led them over to the car.
‘Have to go!’ said the man into the phone, looking up as they approached, ‘Speak later.’ He snapped down his clamshell mobile and turned to speak to the women.
‘Miss Sommers, I presume?’ he asked.
‘Please, call me India,’ she answered and held out her hand.
‘Thanks,’ he said, ‘I’m Detective Inspector Walker, Brandon Walker.’ He turned to the police officer. ‘That’ll be all,’ he said, ‘Could you ensure Mrs Evans gets home safe? There’s nothing more she can do here now.’
Jenny looked a bit disappointed she wasn’t going to be included in the conversation but gave India a hug of encouragement.
‘Give me a ring later, honey,’ she said.
‘Will do,’ said India and watched Jenny being led away. She turned to the detective. ‘What’s this about then? I hope you don’t think I have anything to with this?’
‘First things first,’ he answered, ‘I need a coffee.’ He opened the car door. ‘Coming?’
She stared at him for a while before answering cautiously.
‘Okay,’ she said, ‘But this had better be good, I’ve got the mother of all hangovers and after the night I’ve had, I would rather be in bed.’
‘Thanks for the offer,’ he smiled, ‘But a coffee will be fine.’
‘Very funny,’ she said, ‘You know what I meant.’
‘Sorry,’ he said, ‘Couldn’t resist. Anyway, all will be revealed in good time. Jump in, I know a lovely little coffee shop not far from here.’
‘And it will be open this time of the morning will it?’
‘Trust me,’ he said and, flashing a disarming smile, opened the land rover door.
India lifted the lid on her coffee and blew it gently as the detective tucked into his sausage and egg Mc Muffin.
‘Think they would have learned their lesson about that,’ he said between bites.
‘Who?’
‘Mc Donald’s.’
‘I’m sorry?’
‘The temperature of their coffee,’ he said, ‘That woman in America got hundreds of thousands of dollars in compensation when she spilt one of their coffees in her lap.’
‘I thought that was an urban myth.’
‘Nope, it’s true. She spent seven days in hospital, as I recall.’ Silence fell again as he finished his roll. ‘Sorry about that,’ he said, finally wiping the sides of his mouth with his paper napkin, ‘Long night.’
‘What’s this about?’ asked India, ‘Why have you brought me here?’
He took a sip of his own coffee and sat back in his chair, staring at the pretty librarian.
‘Okay,’ he said, ‘I’ll get straight to the point.’
‘About bloody time,’ she murmured.
‘Basically India,’ he said, ignoring her remark, ‘I need your help.’
‘With what?’
‘In solving a mystery and in the process, perhaps finding the killer of that man you found last night.’
‘I don’t understand,’ she said, ‘How on Earth can I help? You’re the policeman, I am just a librarian.’
‘You are, but a very special one. I understand you are also a history lecturer and a numismatist to boot.’
‘Part time lecturer,’ she corrected, ‘And coin collecting is only a hobby. There are far better experts in both fields than me. Whatever this is about you would be better off going to them.’
‘I agree,’ he said, ‘But you are intrinsically linked to this whole situation. The guy who died, the necklace, the burning of the library, they all have one thing in common, you! If I didn’t know better you could almost be a suspect.’ He paused, taking another sip as he let the implication sink in. She looked shocked.
‘Anyway,’ he continued before she could say anything, ‘I have spent most of the night researching the experts in coins and ancient history but your name keeps coming up and you have certain strengths in both fields. It makes total sense to use someone who can call on both disciplines.’
‘I don’t understand,’ she said, ‘How can anything I know be of any help?’
‘Before I go on India,’ he said, ‘I need to know you are with us on this. If you agree to help then there is no going back. I have no idea where this investigation may lead but there may be danger involved, and there is a faint possibility you could be hurt.’
‘Hurt!’ she said, cutting him short, ‘Now just you wait a minute here. This is the twenty first century not a fifties film. How can the police recruit someone they know nothing about to do their dirty work for them? You know nothing about me. I have a job, a family, and as for getting hurt, excuse me but even if this weird offer has any substance, as a responsible organisation I think you will find you have certain responsibilities. What about duty of care, what about risk assessments, what about health and fucking safety?’
He smiled at her outburst, amused at the cursing coming from such a pretty face, and took another sip of his coffee.
‘Okay,’ he said, ‘Let me put it like this. First of all I think you have been wrapped in that little cocoon of yours for far too long. As for knowing nothing about you, your name is India Sommers. You live on your own in flat nine, Station Road. You are twenty six years old and have been a librarian for four years after getting degrees in history and English at Aberystwyth University. Your hobby is coin collecting and you lecture part time in ancient history in your local college. Do you wish me to go on?’
‘Please do,’ she said astonished.
‘You are single and your last relationship with a man called Nigel ended four months ago due to infidelity, his not yours. You drive a Renault Clio, your parents live in Swindon and your cat is called Winston. When you were nine you were taken down the local police station by your father to get a bollocking when you were caught nicking sweets from the local shop. Your favourite colour’s red and your hair is dyed. Would you like me to bring up your sexual preferences?’
‘Okay stop,’ she hissed, looking around in embarrassment. She leaned forward across the table, ‘How do you know all this?’
‘Police database,’ he said, ‘Think of it as big brother’s version of Google!’
She sat back, trying unsuccessfully to stare him out.
‘Okay,’ she said eventually, ‘And if I agree to do this, what about my job?’
‘You just say the word and you will be on unpaid leave from the council with immediate effect.’
‘Unpaid!’
