The Blue Girl (3 page)

“I’m sorry?” I said.

“A writer,” the woman said. “He donated this library upon his death.”

“I see.”

“You looked overwhelmed and I thought you might like to know a bit of the history of this place. I haven’t seen you in here before, have I?”

“No. And I certainly haven’t seen you or I’d remember.”

The woman blushed and sat back down, using the plume to hide her face. She had her auburn hair done up in a chignon and she wore glasses on a chain around her neck. Even with those standard accoutrements, she didn’t fit my notion of a librarian.

“I’m Pringle.”

“And I’m Veronica. Are you new to the neighborhood?”

“I was thinking of moving to the neighborhood and now I’ve made up my mind.”

“What’s decided you?”

“I’ve met you.”

“You may want to look at the rest of the neighborhood first. Or perhaps another neighborhood entirely.”

“I’m quite decisive.”

“As am I. That’s why you may want to look elsewhere.”

Ah. But I am resolute in the face of rejection. A woman’s mind is easily changed. So the saying goes, and I believe it.

“I’m returning something for a friend,” I said. I held up the book the old priest had given me.

“Leave it on that table.” She waved her feather in the general direction of the entrance.

I set the book down. I had skimmed through it, but it wasn’t the sort of story I like. All the girls in it are ill-used, poisoned, even dismembered. I prefer women who are whole and happy, and who enjoy my company. Veronica the librarian didn’t qualify. Not yet. But adjusting one’s tactics often helps. As does the occasional outright lie.

“I haven’t been honest with you,” I said.

“Men rarely are.”

“I’m Inspector Pringle of the Yard.” I was glad I’d changed my clothes. My suit was not the sort that a detective would wear every day on the job. It was much too nice, but I didn’t expect her to notice that. She was a librarian, after all.

“Is that so?” she said.

“It is. And I’m on the trail of a dangerous killer.”

“And it’s led you to my library? Goodness.” But Veronica didn’t appear the least bit concerned. She turned her attention to the pile of cards on the desk and the white plume of her pen bobbed and weaved as she scribbled. She wore a diamond ring on the third finger of her right hand and it clicked against the shaft of the pen. I saw no ring on her other hand and my hopes rose.

“I wonder if you’d mind answering some questions?”

Veronica didn’t look up. “Are you still here?”

“There’s no need to be rude, is there?”

She set her pen back down on the desk and looked up at me. “Are you really a police inspector?”

“Would I lie to you?”

“You lied to me when you said you were moving to the neighborhood.”

“But that was only meant as a conversation starter.”

“Well, it didn’t work. Anyway, your killer isn’t here. There’s nobody here except you and me, and I’m not sure why you’re here.”

“You’re still being rude.”

She sighed. “What can I help you with, Inspector?”

“Thank you. I’m looking for a Mr Cream.”

There was a clear shift in Veronica’s attitude as her attention was engaged. Even her hair seemed to shimmer and I was tempted to reach out and set it free of the chignon.

“Which Mr Cream?”

“This is the Cream Library, no?”

“It is. But, I believe I mentioned that Robert Cream donated this library upon his death. You’ll have some trouble speaking with him now.”

“Did you say Robert Cream?”

“Yes.”

“Surely not the same Robert Cream who wrote
Marriage, Custom and Practise
?”

“You know it?”

“I’ve read it.”

“You surprise me. You hardly seem like the marrying kind. Or even the kind that reads.”

“We are all full of surprises. Do you have that book here?” I gestured at the multitude of books around me.

“Of course I do.”

“I’m wondering whether a young woman might have checked it out recently.” And learned from it to put a sixpence in her shoe. “Is that something you can tell me?”

I expected her to look at the cards or go to a shelf, but she shook her head. “No. We have three copies of that book and they’re all right here on the shelves, where they belong.”

“You’re certain about that?”

“I know everything about everything in this room.”

“What about the things outside this room?”

“I know virtually nothing of the things outside this room. Nothing that isn’t in a direct line to my home.”

“That seems a shame. Perhaps a nice dinner and a stroll along the . . .”

“Inspector, I don’t understand how you could possibly mistake my intent. I’m not the least bit interested in your company.” She held up her hand to be sure I saw the diamond ring. I decided not to point out that it was on the wrong hand. Custom dictates that a wedding ring be worn on the left hand, not the right. I didn’t need to consult Robert Cream’s book to know that. I had no idea what the ring signified to Veronica, but she clearly hoped it might ward off any Pringles who stumbled into her library.

“I see,” I said. “Well then, we were talking about a book.
Marriage, Rot and Bother
.”

She rose and walked to the far side of the room. I watched her carefully as she climbed a ladder and reached out. A moment later, she descended and held two books out for me to see. Her frown had become more pronounced and I tried to picture her with a smile. My imagination wasn’t up to the task.

“You said there were three copies,” I said. “This is only two.”

“Oh, so you’re one of those detectives who is also a mathematical genius. Yes, one of my copies is missing.”

“And you’re sure nobody’s borrowed it?”

“Quite sure. I’d know.”

“So someone has stolen it.”

“I don’t see how. I know everyone who comes in and . . .”

I watched her face as she broke off and stared out the big picture window. Pearly fog moved behind the glass.

“You know who has it,” I said.

“I don’t.”

I took out the sketch of the blue girl and held it out for her. “Have you seen her in here?”

“No. Never.”

“You’re sure.”

“Quite.”

I folded it again and slipped it back into the pocket of my waistcoat. “Do you know something that might help me?”

“Nothing.”

“I think you do.”

“I don’t like to say anything. It’s perfectly ordinary, nothing suspicious about it. Certainly nothing to warrant the attention of a detective.”

“Shouldn’t I be the one to determine that?”

“Do you know how a circulating library works, Detective?”

“Of course I do.”

She told me anyway. “Every resident of this district, upon paying a modest subscription fee, is eligible to borrow a reasonable number of books for a reasonable amount of time. Here, one might pay a pound and a shilling or one might pay as much as five pounds for a year, depending on how many books one would like at a time. I keep track of every book that comes in and out of this library.”

“And yet someone has borrowed
Marriage, Foolishness and Folly
without your knowledge.”

“Nobody has borrowed the book you mean. I’ve simply misplaced it.”

“I don’t think you’ve ever misplaced so much as an errant thought. Who else is employed here?”

“Nobody.”

“What about Robert Cream? Did he have relatives? I imagine they would be allowed to roam free here, graze where they like amongst the books.”

She returned to the ladder without answering and began to climb, the books in one hand. I held out my hand and stopped her.

“I’d like to borrow a copy, if you don’t mind. Brush up on all that custom and practice.”

“You’re not a member of this library, sir.”

“Let’s call it official police business then.”

She sighed and appeared to weigh the two copies of the book, deciding which to give me. To my eye they were identical, twin volumes with cheap blue bindings. Finally, she settled on one and handed it over. I tucked it under my arm and smiled.

Something borrowed, something blue.

“Thank you,” I said. “And not just for the book. You’ve been terribly helpful.”

“I certainly have not.” She kept her gaze on the shelves. “I haven’t said a word to you.”

“Of course. I may come back if I need more help. I’ll have to return anyway. To give back the book.”

“Please keep the book. I hope never to see you again.”

Sometimes they protest too much.

•   •   •

Dr Kingsley was in his laboratory when I returned to University College Hospital. He looked up when a white-collared nurse ushered me into the room.

“Ah, Constable, you’re just in time to see what there is to see.”

“I only came to return something your daughter lent me.”

“I thought perhaps you were here to learn more about the young lady you found.”

“Is there more to learn?”

Kingsley beckoned me forward. Sometimes the hazards of my job have nothing to do with physical injury. There are things people aren’t meant to see. But there was no way for me to leave without finding out what the doctor had discovered. I reluctantly followed him. The blue girl lay on her wooden table. She was small; the table stretched on beyond her feet and her long hair spread out over the other end of the table without draping over the edge. Kingsley had been at work on her body. Her chest cavity was open and many of her organs had been removed to shallow metal basins. I glanced at the body and looked away, swallowing hard as my gorge rose. But there was nowhere I could look without seeing something horrible. My gaze fell upon a mottled purple organ that rested on the table next to her. It looked like something that might be waiting for a butcher to wrap, some dense piece of freshly washed horse meat resting in a shallow pool of pink water. It glistened in the lamplight.

“The body is only a shell, Constable,” Kingsley said. “Only a machine that has wound down and ceased its work.”

“It all seems a terrible indignity.”

“Perhaps. But the true indignity was performed on her by someone else. That indignity ended her life and we have the opportunity to restore some of it to her memory.”

I imagine it was something he told himself every day as he worked at taking people apart and putting them back together. For me, the rationalization didn’t work. Whether she inhabited that broken machine anymore was a question for priests and philosophers. To my mind, she was still a girl and we men had not yet completed our bloody business on her body.

“You’re back already?”

I turned at the sound of a girl’s voice. Fiona was entering the room through the door at the far end, her sketchbook crushed to her slight bosom. I moved between her and the grisly sight on the table.

“I think you shouldn’t be in here,” I said. “Not right now.”

She smiled, but her eyes were bright and sad, and there was no amusement in them. “I’ve seen her already, Mr Pringle. But I thank you for your chivalry.”

“She wasn’t choked to death after all,” Kingsley said. But I didn’t turn around.

“How can you tell?” I said.

“Will you look at her lungs? I have one of them here on the table to show you.”

“I have seen it and would prefer not to see it again.”

“May I describe it to you?”

“Will you be discreet about it?”

“You are a strange sort of policeman.”

“I’ve finished being a policeman for the day. At the moment I’m just a man trying to finish some business before retiring somewhere warm with someone pleasant and drinking my fill of strong ale.” I thought of my shopgirl. She had blond curls that hung loose over her ears.

“They are spongy.”

“I beg your pardon.”

“The girl’s lungs. This is the left lung, if you will only turn around and look at it.”

I heard the sound of flesh smacking lightly against flesh, but I didn’t move. Fiona set her tablet down on an unoccupied table. She reached out and took my hand and held it. There was nothing romantic in the gesture; it was a simple human thing. I relate this with a certain degree of shame, but I feel sure that decency and propriety are more important traits for a man than a hard heart and a cast-iron stomach. I closed my eyes.

“Very well,” the doctor said. “When I press on this lung, water gushes forth as if I were crushing a canteen. These lungs have absorbed a great deal more water than they would have done if she had been choked and her lifeless body thrown into that canal.”

“The marks on her throat?” I said.

“They are finger marks. But she went into the water alive.”

“Damn it all.”

“Yes. She was quite cruelly used by someone.”

I was surprised by the emotion in his voice. It was soft, but I heard it. I had the realization then that Kingsley took no great joy in his work. In his way, he was doing his duty for the girl. And, of course, I had my duty to do as well.

I opened my eyes and pulled my hand from Fiona’s grasp.

“Did you discover anything else?” I said.

“Only her teeth.”

“What about them?”

“They’re nearly perfect.”

“Good for her.”

“I mean she’s had quite a lot of expensive dental work.”

“Money, then?”

“I’d guess she had a good deal of it. Or her family did.”

“It didn’t help her in the end, did it?” I said.

I reached into my jacket pocket and produced the small blue book Fiona had given me. I placed it in her hand and nodded. “Thank you.”

“You’ve read it?”

“Parts of it. As I said, I’m not much of a reader and today has been a horribly bookish sort of day. But I have my own copy now.”

“You surprise me.”

“You sound like someone I just met.”

“Who?”

“Never mind.”

I left without saying good-bye to the doctor, and without seeing that desecrated blue body again.

•   •   •

The Cream residence was enormous, a sprawling castle set back from the road and surrounded by a high wrought iron gate. Shrubberies guaranteed a degree of privacy from passersby, but when I arrived the gate was standing open and I stepped carefully onto the crushed gravel path that led to the door.