Mr. Dixon disappears: a mobile library mystery (8 page)

But to Israel, now, this morning, Tumdrum was like Shangri-la.

'God, it's good to be back,' he said.

'Watch yerself,' said Ted. 'Don't be gettin' all misty-eyed on me now.'

'It's just…'

'Aye, all right,' said Ted, with a dismissive wave of his hand. 'Ye ready for Linda?'

'Aye,' said Israel, sighing. 'I suppose.'

'What did you say?' said Ted.

'I don't know,' said Israel. 'I suppose?'

'Ye said "Aye",' said Ted.

'I did not,' said Israel.

'So ye did,' said Ted.

'I did not!' said Israel.

'You're turnin',' said Ted. 'You want to watch yourself. You'll be singing "The Sash" next.'

'The sash!' shouted Israel, leaping up in his seat.

Ted braked. 'What?' he said. 'Holy God. What's the matter with you now?'

'The sash! They asked me about the sash, Ted. Where was the sash worn?'

'What? Who was asking ye?'

'The police were.'

'They were asking you where the sash was worn?'

'Yes. What is the sash?'

Ted cleared his throat.

'You all right?' said Israel.

'Just clearing the pipes,' said Ted, who then began to sing, "'It was worn at Derry, Aughrim, Enniskillen and the Boyne."'

'Right,' said Israel, none the wiser. 'And what is it?'

'What?'

'The sash? It's a song, is it?'

'Ach, Israel, you're having me on, are ye?'

'No. They were asking me about it.'

'You'll be asking me next if we're governed from Dublin.'

'No! What was the other thing?'

'Another question?'

'Yes. I know! How many counties are there in Ireland?'

'Counties?'

'Yes.'

'Well, what do ye think?'

'I don't know.'

'In the name of God, boy. We've six. The other lot have twenty-six. Wouldn't ye've thought they'd be satisfied?'

'Right. And can you name the three Glens of Antrim?'

'The three?'

'I think they said three. Are there not three?'

'How long have you been living here?'

'Too long,' said Israel.

'Or not long enough,' said Ted. 'The Green Glens of Antrim are calling to me?'

'Are they?'

'Glenarm, Glenaan, Glenariff.'

'Right.'

'Glencorp, Glenballyeamon, Glendun.'

'Is that it?'

'Glencloy, Glenshesk and Glentaisie.'

'How many's that?'

'Nine.'

'And they all begin with G?'

'Correct.'

'Oh, right.'

They were turning into the council car park.

'What in God's name are they asking you about the Glens for?' said Ted.

'I don't know. They thought I was an immigrant.'

'You are an immigrant, sure.'

'Yes, but not that sort of immigrant.'

'Aye, right, what sort of immigrant are ye then?'

'I'm…Well, you know what I mean.'

'Aye, I know exactly what you mean. You think we're predujiced—'

'Prejudiced,' said Israel.

'Predujiced, aye,' said Ted. 'But you're no better yerself, ye know.'

'No, Ted, that's not what I meant.'

'You're still a foreigner to us, ye know.'

'Yes, thanks, I know I'm a foreigner. They kept going on about me being Jewish as well, the police, at this interview. And my name.'

'Why?'

'I don't know,' said Israel.

'It is a funny name,' said Ted.

'It's not a funny name.'

'Sure it is.'

'It's my name.'

'Aye, exactly,' said Ted.

He turned off the engine.

'I tell you what,' said Israel, 'if I was called Ali Akbar I'd probably still be in there now.'

'Don't be daft.'

'I would. I bet if your name wasn't Ted, but…Tedinski or…Muham…ted or something, they'd have you in for questioning.'

'Ach, give over, Israel.'

'Michael Caine, his real name is Maurice Micklewhite, d'you know that?'

'Fascinating,' said Ted. 'Good luck!' And he waved Israel out of the car. 'I'll be waiting.'

Israel went up to the second floor and knocked on Linda's door.

There was no answer, but just as he was about to leave Linda appeared in the corridor. She was wearing a billowing tiger-print blouse, with boot-cut black trousers and high-heeled boots which added at least three inches to her diminutive natural height, raising her to at least five feet tall. She was red-eyed and was clutching a paper tissue in one hand, a paper cup in the other. She looked as though she'd been crying.

'Linda,' said Israel. 'Are you all right?'

'Mr Armstrong,' sniffed Linda. 'Yes, thank you.'

'Er. Good. Well…' Israel couldn't think of the next logical supplementary question. He gestured at her paper cup. 'Cappuccino?'

'I wish,' said Linda, dabbing at her eyes. 'I'm on the herbals.'

'Right.'

Linda went into her office, Israel following.

'Peppermint,' she said. 'Did you ever try Atkins?'

'The diet?' said Israel.

'Aye, the diet,' said Linda.

'No,' said Israel.

'Tried it last year,' said Linda mournfully. 'It worked for me. But the wind, honestly.' She gave a little burp, as if in demonstration. 'I lost nearly two stone.'

'Right. Good.'

'Put it all back on again. Missed the scones. Trying this GI thing now.'

'OK.'

'Did you…?' said Linda. 'Sshh.'

Linda raised a finger for Israel to be silent and she gazed around the room suspiciously. Israel followed her gaze. The office was much messier than he remembered–papers and reports everywhere. The plants on the windowsill didn't seem to be thriving.

'Sshh. Did you…Can you…Can you hear anything?' said Linda.

'Like what?' said Israel nervously.

'Just, a wee noise?'

'No. I don't think so. Are you sure you're all right, Linda?'

'Yes. Thank you. The noise though. No noise? Definitely not?'

'No. I don't think so. What sort of noise?'

'A wee sort of squeaking?'

'No. Definitely no squeaking.'

'Hmm. Only, I think I've got a mouse in here.'

'A mouse?'

'Aye. The caretaker says it's because of all the crumbs, see. Haven't been able to catch him so far, the wee blighter. Haven't seen him even. He leaves his droppings, like, but otherwise you'd never know he was there. I can't decide if I can hear him or not.'

'Right.'

'Sending me demented so it is.'

She took a long indraw of breath and slowly got down on her knees and stared at the skirting board.

'Mr Mouse!' she called quietly. 'Mr Mousey! I know you're there!'

'Erm, Linda, shall I…'

'Ah,' sighed the crouching Linda. 'It's the mouse, you see, and the diet, and the…Honest to God. All these little things, they add up to—'

'Small changes in some variables can cause disproportionate results,' said Israel.

'What?'

'Chaos theory, isn't it? I read a book about it once.'

'Right, I'm sure,' said Linda, distracted.

'Butterfly wings and tornadoes.'

Linda stood up. 'He's a wee hole here somewhere, but I'm damned if I can find it.'

'Uh-huh. Should I perhaps go and come back later, Linda?'

'No! Not at all.' Linda threw back her shoulders and plumped down into her imitation leather swivel seat and took a sip of her herbal tea. 'Anyways,' she said. 'How can I help you?'

'You asked me to come and see you. Ted brought me.'

'Ah, yes. Course. Couple of things. First…' She rifled through a teetering pile of papers on her desk, and plucked out a plastic folder. 'Aha! Yes, there's the plan to relaunch all mobile learning centres as Ideas Centres and—'

'What?'

'The Department of Entertainment, Leisure and Community Services have a plan to relaunch all mobile learning centres—'

'Mobile libraries,' said Israel.

'Yes, if you must.' Linda peered over her glasses. 'As Ideas Centres. So they're going to be much more ideas-focused.'

'Ideas-focused?'

'Yes.'

'OK. So when were you going to tell me about this?'

'I'm telling you now, Mr Armstrong.'

'Right. You're just going to repaint the sign on the vans, or…what?'

'No, no, no. You'll have to read the report,' said Linda, who seemed to be losing enthusiasm for what she was saying even as she was speaking. 'It's all still blue skies at the moment–we're just throwing things at the wall to see what sticks.'

'Throwing things at the wall?'

'That's right. To see what sticks. But I wanted you to have a glance at the report, see what you think, get your feedback.'

'I think I know what I think about an Ideas Centre, Linda.'

'Yes, well. Let's not rush to judgement, eh? If you wouldn't mind looking at the report and then…'

'Yes?'

'Reporting back.'

'OK. If you want me to. That's fine.'

Linda took a long thoughtful slug of her herbal tea.

'Anyway, that was one thing,' she said. 'Point one.'

'Yes?'

'And the other…Point two. Is…'

'Yes?'

'Is that a suit you're wearing, Mr Armstrong?'

'Yes.'

'Hmm. It's…It's smarter, certainly. But maybe a little long in the…'

'Yes.'

'Anyway. Where were we?'

'Point two.'

'Point two?' Linda stared at Israel. 'Egg on your chin?'

'Mmm. Yes. Sorry.' Israel wiped it away. 'That was Point two?'

'No! Silly. Point two? Ah, yes! You're in trouble again, I hear.'

'Ah, yes, well—' began Israel.

'Ah, yes, well,' interrupted Linda, who had developed an annoying habit of imitating the way Israel spoke. Ted did it as well, and George. It was like having gone to a new school in a new town and being bullied by the locals, but because Linda was a Chinese Northern Irish woman Israel didn't feel he could reciprocate; and besides, his only Northern Irish accent was a Gerry Adams, which was pretty wide of the mark for a Chinese Northern Irish woman from North Antrim. So he just smiled in response. 'Go on,' said Linda.

So, Israel explained to Linda what he knew about the theft at the department store and Mr Dixon's disappearance, and the fact that his fingerprints were on all the safes, and how they'd come to be there.

Between sips of her tea Linda fixed Israel with a hard stare.

'Well, Mr Armstrong, I'm afraid I do have to ask you this question.'

'Right. Yes.'

'As your line manager, you understand. I have a responsibility.'

'Yes. Fine, Linda. Go ahead. Ask away.'

'Did you steal the money from Dixon and Pickering's?'

'No, Linda. Of course I didn't steal the bloody money from Dixon and f—'

'Mr Armstrong!'

'Sorry. No, of course I didn't steal the—'

'And you know nothing about the disappearance of Mr Dixon?'

'No! I'm a fu—'

Linda merely raised a finger at this threatened obscenity.

'Fun-loving librarian,' said Israel.

'Well, you understand that I had to ask.'

'Oh, yes. That's fine, you and everyone else assuming I did it because I'm—'

'I was simply asking, Mr Armstrong.'

'Yes, sure. Because you're Perry bloody Mason, aren't you?'

'I beg your—'

'You know, Linda, I have spent all morning with—'

'What did you say?'

'I was saying, I have spent all morning—'

'No. Before that.'

'What?'

'You said I was like Perry bloody Mason.'

'Well, yes, I—'

'I resent the implication, Mr Armstrong.'

'What implication?' said Israel.

'Clearly, I am not a man,' said Linda.

'No one said you were a man, Linda.'

'And I am certainly not a bearded man.'

'I didn't say you were a bearded man.'

'Or an overweight bearded man.'

'Linda, come on, it was a—'

'Joke?'

'Exactly.'

'Well, I'm afraid many of us here don't seem to share your fancy London sense of humour, Mr Armstrong.'

'No. That's right,' said Israel. 'You don't. Because everyone in this bloody country has had a sense of humour bypass.'

'Thank you, Mr Armstrong. Less of your racial stereotyping would be appreciated,' said Linda. 'But anyway.' She took another–unconvinced–sip of her herbal tea, and fixed Israel with a stare. 'I'm afraid given the seriousness of the charges we're going to have to suspend you from your duties.'

Israel was having trouble following Linda's logic: he wasn't guilty of anything, after all.

'But—'

'With immediate effect,' said Linda.

'From now?'

'That's correct. That's why I've had to call you in today. That's what immediate effect usually means
over here
, Mr Armstrong, in this
bloody
country. I don't know if it carries a different meaning over in England's green and pleasant land?'

'No. It doesn't. It means the same.'

'Well then.'

'Suspended with immediate effect.'

Linda waved a finger at him, in dismissal.

'But—'

'There's nothing I can do about it, Mr Armstrong, I'm afraid.'

'But I haven't done anything wrong. I was in the wrong place at the wrong time.'

'Well, I believe you obviously. I hardly think you'd be capable of pulling off a daring and audacious robbery.'

'Thank you.'

'You're welcome. But, I doubt the Mobile Library Steering Committee will be of the same opinion I'm afraid. So…'

Linda made for the door.

'Hang on,' said Israel. 'That's it?'

'Yes,' said Linda. 'That's it. Thank you, goodbye.'

'Hang on! Who's going to be doing the mobile?'

'Ted. He'll be doing it on his own for the moment, when he can, although we'll have to be operating a reduced service, obviously.'

'But…'

'Ah, yes!' said Linda. 'Which brings me to the third thing. Point three. Before you leave, please.' She walked back behind her desk and sat down. 'Sit down. Please,' she said. 'Sit down! Thank you. Yes. About your lovely assistant on the library.'

'Ted?'

'No. Not Ted! Rosie.'

'Rosie?'

'Rosie Hart has been helping you out, I believe, in the fulfilment of your duties.'

'Yes. That's right. She's very good with the readers.'