‘The library will be closing soon,’ Trudy whispered to Vincent gloomily. ‘We’ll have to come back and finish this tomorrow. I haven’t managed to get through all the Mail and Times stuff yet.’

‘I’ll do it,’ Vincent heard himself volunteer, and felt slightly surprised. He had no idea why he’d done it. Sitting in a mausoleum of a library, going cross-eyed skim-reading newsprint on the off-chance that a name might spring out at him wasn’t his idea of fun, but something stubborn inside him wouldn’t allow himself to admit defeat.

‘Oh, thanks,’ Trudy said, and meant it. ‘Be sure to make a complete note of anything you might find, no matter how innocuous it seems. And no matter how tenuous a link it might be.’

‘I’ll be sure to do that,’ Vincent promised, mollified by the genuineness of the smile of gratitude she gave him. ‘Wouldn’t it be wonderful, though, if we could just type a name into some super-computer somewhere and have the answers printed out for us a few seconds later?’ he added, stretching his arms and loosening his aching shoulders.

Trudy rolled her eyes. ‘It would be my idea of Shangri-La,’ she whispered back. ‘You have no idea how many records I have to …’ She stopped abruptly as one of the librarians leaned back in their seat and sent a stern look their way.

Shame-faced, and taking the hint, they gathered up their belongings and stole away like naughty children.

Once outside, Vincent nodded at her awkwardly, and said, ‘Well, I’d best be off. Dad will be home soon, and I was going to make something for supper …’ He heard himself wittering on and abruptly stopped. ‘Goodnight,’ he added firmly, and strode determinedly away.

Trudy watched him go, slightly puzzled by his abrupt departure, then shrugged, and turned in the opposite direction to head to St Aldates, and the police station. Once there, she pushed open the door to the office gingerly and looked around, but there was no commotion. No grinning PC Rodney Broadstairs warning her that the inspector was on the warpath and wanting her to report to him the moment she showed her face. No notes from the inspector saying the same left on her desk. No sign, in fact, that Inspector Jennings had found the submerged toxicology report yet and was thus out for blood (namely hers!).

With a sigh of relief and a weary eye on the clock, which was already saying that her shift was officially over, she reached for the pile of paperwork that had been left next to her typewriter and set about sorting out other people’s messes and responsibilities.

Chapter 24