Amanda Cadabra and The Hidden Depths by Holly Bell (good book recommendations TXT) 📗

at the cricket do,’ Amanda recalled, as they sat before the fire with tea and biscuits, ‘and then again, at the dedication of the new clinic. You don’t think … what happened at the library was somehow …?’

‘Connected to Ryan keeping you under surveillance? I wouldn’t put it past Samantha Gibbs to be in on some shady business.’

‘Quite.’ agreed Amanda, dunking her gingernut into her tea.

‘Had any more thoughts on possible suspects?’ Trelawney waited patiently while she enjoyed her biscuit.

‘Hm! Sorry. Yes, I’ve been going through them in my mind, thinking of who would be strong enough to pull those shelves down. Simon Lawley. Could he have been involved with Samantha? I know it’s not supposed to, but these things do happen between tutors and students. Could Samantha have been down in the stacks to meet a rival suitor? And Simon killed her in a fit of jealousy?’

‘A crime of passion? It’s possible. I haven’t met Mr Lawley yet. Next?’

‘Well … say the motive for the murder was to do with books. Humpy knows about them, and Hillers is easily strong enough to topple shelves! She can cut down trees, and you should see her make short work of any heavy lifting. I feel bad mentioning it as they have both been very kind to me.’

‘Humpy knows about books, you say?’

‘Yes.’

‘Still … their own granddaughter … they don’t seem …’

‘Oh, all that blood-is-thicker-than-water thing is a total myth,’ Amanda pointed out, returning to her tea and biscuit with enthusiasm.

It sounded appallingly cynical to Trelawney, but then he knew that Miss Cadabra’s own experience had more than brought the truth of this home to her. He had also frequently observed this to be the case in the course of his work. Why only last month, ‘Picklock’ Pethick had sold his father down the river for the Bolvenor bank heist of ’72. This was a case previously unsolved. It had got ‘Picklock’ a reduced sentence for the Pirate Costume and Jewellery Shop break-in on Gocky Street.

‘Indeed,’ he could not but agree.

At this juncture, Tempest deigned to honour the humans with his presence. Stalking in through the door, he first set about the short, light task of staring the inspector into submission. Next, he leapt gracefully up onto the sofa beside Amanda. Her familiar made much ado of preparing his place then wound himself into a neat spiral of cat, with his back to Trelawney. Just to confirm how uninteresting he found the man; he shortly commenced a series of gentle snores.

In spite of himself, Trelawney found the creature both alarming and mesmerising. He wrenched his attention back to the discussion.

‘Anyone else?’

‘Oh, don’t mind Tempest, Inspector. You may not realise it, but he’s actually paying you a compliment of no mean order.’

‘Really?’

‘Yes, giving you his back is a measure of trust. I’ve never seen him do that before. Except with Grandpa.’

‘Ah. Right,’ responded Trelawney doubtfully. It looked more to him like a measure of Tempest’s contempt. But fair enough. ‘Well. Good. Yes, to return to the, er, suspects.’

‘Dale’s mother. Says she’s frail, but I’ll bet she’s as strong as a horse!’

‘She wasn’t at the party.’

‘Yes, Dale said she was minding the shop. But it’s not like they get a constant stream of traffic. Lots of phone orders, I think. So, she could have left the premises, and no one saw her. Especially as the people most likely to spot her would all be in the library.’

‘Do you know of any connection between Miss Gibbs and the Hillands?’

‘No. They’ve just moved in here, and I don’t think they knew Samantha at all. Dale might have given her a flower if she was passing. I think he gives a single bloom to all of his female customers, or potential ones. Just marketing. And that’s my lot for now.’

‘Thank you, Miss Cadabra. You’ve been very helpful. And thank you for the tea and shortcake. I shall be off to my next interview. Back at Madley Towers!’

***

‘Thank you for seeing me, Mr Ford.’ The inspector seated himself once more on the white sofa opposite his interviewee.

‘Oh come now, it’s Ryan between us surely?’ the cricketer replied with easy bonhomie.

‘Yes, but that was as team members. I’m afraid this is official business.’ He was aware of the inconsistency. John had remained ‘John’. But then Bailey-Farrell’s links with the deceased were far more tenuous. Also, he was not keeping Amanda under surveillance, for some still unfathomed reason.

‘I understand.’ Ryan shook his short sunny locks, a frown creasing the brow of his face, still light-golden-tanned from last season. ‘It’s a dreadful affair. How can I help?’

‘I gather that you and Miss Gibbs were friends?’

‘Her father is a sponsor of the team. Consequently, she seemed to think she had certain … privileges regarding team members.’

‘I think I can guess what you mean, but please could you elucidate?’

‘She was very flirtatious towards whomever she chose.’

‘Especially?’ Trelawney prompted.

‘Well me, unfortunately.’

‘You didn’t return her romantic inclination?’

‘No,’ Ford asserted. ‘She was too young and possessive and really not my type. But …’

‘But?’

Ryan leaned back and gestured with interlaced fingers. ‘I was in a difficult position, with her father being who he is. And she also appeared to have a special relationship with another key sponsor, as you may know.’

‘But your interactions with her were not by choice?’

‘No. Absolutely not by my choice at all.’

‘So, you were not meeting her in the stacks?’ Trelawney asked bluntly.

‘No. Absolutely not,’ Ryan repeated.

‘Have you ever been down there?’

‘No. I don’t think I’ve ever been inside the library before. I would have no reason to.’

No, thought Trelawney. He was, in Miss Cadabra’s words ‘the sort that would buy books rather than borrow them.’

‘Do you remember seeing Miss Gibbs on the day of the incident?’

‘At the party? Yes, I noticed her. She wasn’t the kind of person you could miss,’ Ryan added, a shade defensively.

‘Did you see her going into the door leading to the stacks?’

‘No, Inspector.’

‘Did you see her talking to anyone during the party?’

‘Well … she was