Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
‘Is it true?’
It was an unnecessary question. As soon as Laura Bennett entered the staff room at Whitby Community Library and saw Jane Wilkinson’s face, she knew the answer.
Jane Wilkinson had worked at the library for years.
She was the longest-serving member of staff and knew all the regular patrons by their first names.
She knew where they lived and their reading habits.
She liked them all, too, even the crabbier members of the community.
She’d had to take a couple of days off when elderly Dilys Ravenscroft was knocked down and killed on the zebra crossing outside Sainsbury’s, and when Fred Wootton was diagnosed with terminal cancer, she’d organised a charity event to help his wife pay for the funeral.
Jane stood by the kettle waiting for it to boil and tears were streaming down her face.
‘I can’t stop crying,’ she said.
Laura jumped forward and grabbed her boss by the shoulders, pulling her into a hug. She walked her over to the ancient chairs and sat her down.
‘Do they know what happened?’ Laura asked. She fished in her handbag for a handkerchief and passed it to Jane.
‘Mrs Globe in the paper shop said one of the police officers said she was strangled,’ she said after blowing her nose.
‘Oh my God! Who would do that to her? She was always a happy girl, always smiling.’
Jane shook her head. ‘That’s what I can’t understand. She wouldn’t harm a fly, would she? She didn’t deserve this.’
‘Did she come in on Monday as usual?’
Jane sniffed and nodded. ‘Yes. It would take more than a storm to stop her on library day,’ she said, the hint of a smile breaking through the tears. ‘Anthony was telling her his bad jokes and she was laughing. She borrowed Alice in Wonderland again.’
‘Bless her. Do you think we should do something; maybe a whip-round or something?’
‘I don’t know. Maybe we could send some flowers from us all. For the funeral, perhaps.’
‘Shall I make you a cup of tea?’ Laura asked.
‘I was just about to make one when you came in. The kettle’s not long since boiled.’
‘I’ll do it.’ Laura shook off her coat and went over to the kettle. She flicked it on, and it took no time to boil. She was pouring the hot water into mugs when a thought came to her. ‘How do you think Anthony’ll react to the news?’
Jane looked up. ‘I don’t know. He was very low when Fred Wootton died, wasn’t he? And he really liked Alice.’
‘I know,’ Laura smiled. ‘He used to watch out for her every Monday afternoon.’ She handed Jane a mug of tea.
‘I think he was quite sweet on her.’ She took the tea and wrapped her hands around it.
‘He was too old for her, surely.’
‘Maybe in years, but I think, mentally, they might have been on the same wavelength.’
The sound of the door opening and closing following by tuneless whistling told them both that Anthony had arrived for work.
‘Do you want to tell him, or shall I?’ Laura asked.
‘I’d best do it. I’ve known him the longest. You go and turn the heating on. It’s perishing in there this morning.’
Anthony came into the staff room with the usual smile on his face and a spring in his step. He loved his job at the library.
‘Good morning, Miss Bennett. Good morning, Mrs Wilkinson,’ he said.
‘Hello Anthony. Are you feeling better today?’ Laura asked.
‘Yes. Just a cold. I’m better now. Oh no, I forgot to bring those hot chocolates again, but I’m going home at dinner time to change my trousers, so I’ll bring them this afternoon.’
‘That’s fine,’ Jane said. Laura hurried out of the room. ‘Anthony, come and sit down for a moment, there’s something I need to tell you.’
His face lit up. ‘Is it about the supervisor’s job? Did Mr Graham say I could have it?’
‘What? Oh, no, it’s not about that. Just … come over here for a moment.’
Anthony sat down on one of the large armchairs. Jane pulled up a chair to sit opposite him.
‘Have you heard the news this morning, Anthony?’
He looked up as he thought. ‘No. Hang on, that’s weird. We didn’t have the radio on this morning. We always have the radio on while we’re having breakfast. I didn’t notice.’
‘It doesn’t matter. The thing is there’s been some sad news. You know Alice Patterson, don’t you?’
Anthony’s smile wavered. ‘Yes.’
‘She died on Monday night.’
‘Died?’ He knitted his eyebrows.
‘Yes.’
‘Why?’
‘I … I don’t know why, Anthony. She was killed. Someone killed her.’
‘Someone killed her?’ he repeated. ‘Who?’
‘I don’t know. The police are investigating.’
‘The police?’ he asked, a look of worry on his face. ‘Will they come here?’
Jane frowned. ‘I’m not sure. They might do.’
‘What will I say?’
‘I don’t know. I don’t know what they’ll ask. We’ll just say we knew her as she came in here regularly.’
‘What happened to her?’
‘Someone strangled her, Anthony.’
‘Who?’
‘A very bad person.’
Anthony didn’t say anything. He continued to stare straight ahead.
‘Are you all right, Anthony?’
He blinked hard a few times. ‘I think so. I liked Alice.’
Jane smiled. ‘I know you did, Anthony. We all did.’
‘Was she killed after she left here on Monday in the storm?’
‘I don’t know, Anthony. I don’t know any of the details.’
‘Maybe if she’d stayed here a bit longer, she wouldn’t have died.’
‘Maybe.’
Jane looked down and saw that Anthony was wringing his hands together. His huge, thick fingers were knotting together, and his knuckles were almost white.
‘Are you sure you’re going to be all right?’ Jane asked.
He looked up at her and smiled. ‘Fine. Will you be all right?’
Jane’s smile dropped. She felt a shiver run down her spine. ‘Eventually.’
Whitby Times. Wednesday 12th October 1983.
Yorkshire Press. Friday 14th October 1983.
The Sun. Monday 17th October 1983.
Daily Express. Tuesday 18th October 1983.
The Sun. Tuesday 1st November 1983.