worry, not much further.’
Finally we reached a door marked LIBRARY , and she stopped and indicated another door nearby with a label ROSALIND on it. ‘My room is close by, you see? So convenient.’
The library door opened into a small room lined with bookcases on three walls, the fourth with tall French windows leading onto another veranda and dense greenery beyond.
‘The library is Anna’s special baby,’ Rosalind said. ‘There were no books here before she came. We used to sit like zombies in front of the TV, but now we have a reading group. We have a section of normal-print books …’ she indicated one wall, ‘as well as large-print books, and over there audio books.’
There were several armchairs, one occupied by a silver-haired woman wearing headphones, who seemed marginally less comatose than the folk in the corridors.
‘Wait here and I’ll see if I can find Anna for you.’
While I waited I idly scanned the authors on the shelves—Sayers, McDermid, Paretsky, Christie, Walters, Lord, Cornwell,Evanovich … It took a moment for the penny to drop. When I opened the covers I found ‘A. Green’ written inside many of them, some yellowing with age. I remembered a conversation with Luce years before, joking about her flatmate’s choice of reading matter. Anna had three kinds, strictly segregated into separate piles on her floor, as if she were afraid they might contaminate each other—coursework textbooks, feminist theory and crime fiction.
‘Anna will be along in a moment.’ Rosalind had reappeared at my side. ‘Do you like murder mysteries, Mr Ambler?’
‘Er, not much. Do you?’
‘Oh yes, I’m an addict—many of us are. And the wonderful thing is that, at our age, we can read them again and again without remembering who done it. Why do you look puzzled?’
‘Well, don’t you find the idea of murder, death, a bit …’ I was embarrassed, but she helped me out.
‘A bit close to the bone?’ She laughed. ‘Not at all. Bring it on, the more gruesome and gory the better. Goodness, I worked for thirty years in the coroner’s office. I saw plenty of the real thing.’
‘Is that right? I bet Anna’s interested in all that. Do you talk to her about your time there?’
‘Yes, of course. She’s always checking forensic details with me to make sure the authors have got it right. Can you tell time of death from stomach contents? Can you fit a silencer to a revolver? That kind of thing.’
‘But what exactly attracts you to stories like this?’
She cocked her head and fixed me with her bright eyes, and said, ‘Resolution, Mr Ambler. Something sadly lacking in the real world, you might say.’
Over her head I saw Anna standing in the library doorway.‘Thank you, Rosalind,’ she said, ‘it’s time for your rest now,’ and my guide smiled sweetly and left.
Anna looked at me cautiously. ‘What are you doing here, Josh?’
‘I’ve brought you the police report. Damien came good; he dropped it in at the hotel.’ I handed her the package, which she took, hesitating for a moment before opening it and reading the title of the report.
‘Have you read it?’
‘Not yet.’
‘Made a copy?’
I shook my head, then followed her to an office further down the corridor. On the way I caught a glimpse of an entrance hall with a receptionist’s counter.
‘What on earth were you doing, coming in the back way?’ The office was tiny and crowded with machines and files. She opened the lid of a photocopier and slid the report in.
‘The entrance wasn’t clearly marked. Where’s your office?’
She shot me a rueful glance. ‘This is it.’ She turned the page. ‘Want a cup of tea?’
‘Where’s the cocktail bar?’
She smiled. ‘Four blocks away. The cluey ones sometimes make it there. Take a seat anyway.’
I cleared a pile of magazines from the only chair and squeezed onto it. ‘How long have you worked here?’
‘A couple of years. I had an aunt living here I used to
Finally we reached a door marked LIBRARY , and she stopped and indicated another door nearby with a label ROSALIND on it. ‘My room is close by, you see? So convenient.’
The library door opened into a small room lined with bookcases on three walls, the fourth with tall French windows leading onto another veranda and dense greenery beyond.
‘The library is Anna’s special baby,’ Rosalind said. ‘There were no books here before she came. We used to sit like zombies in front of the TV, but now we have a reading group. We have a section of normal-print books …’ she indicated one wall, ‘as well as large-print books, and over there audio books.’
There were several armchairs, one occupied by a silver-haired woman wearing headphones, who seemed marginally less comatose than the folk in the corridors.
‘Wait here and I’ll see if I can find Anna for you.’
While I waited I idly scanned the authors on the shelves—Sayers, McDermid, Paretsky, Christie, Walters, Lord, Cornwell,Evanovich … It took a moment for the penny to drop. When I opened the covers I found ‘A. Green’ written inside many of them, some yellowing with age. I remembered a conversation with Luce years before, joking about her flatmate’s choice of reading matter. Anna had three kinds, strictly segregated into separate piles on her floor, as if she were afraid they might contaminate each other—coursework textbooks, feminist theory and crime fiction.
‘Anna will be along in a moment.’ Rosalind had reappeared at my side. ‘Do you like murder mysteries, Mr Ambler?’
‘Er, not much. Do you?’
‘Oh yes, I’m an addict—many of us are. And the wonderful thing is that, at our age, we can read them again and again without remembering who done it. Why do you look puzzled?’
‘Well, don’t you find the idea of murder, death, a bit …’ I was embarrassed, but she helped me out.
‘A bit close to the bone?’ She laughed. ‘Not at all. Bring it on, the more gruesome and gory the better. Goodness, I worked for thirty years in the coroner’s office. I saw plenty of the real thing.’
‘Is that right? I bet Anna’s interested in all that. Do you talk to her about your time there?’
‘Yes, of course. She’s always checking forensic details with me to make sure the authors have got it right. Can you tell time of death from stomach contents? Can you fit a silencer to a revolver? That kind of thing.’
‘But what exactly attracts you to stories like this?’
She cocked her head and fixed me with her bright eyes, and said, ‘Resolution, Mr Ambler. Something sadly lacking in the real world, you might say.’
Over her head I saw Anna standing in the library doorway.‘Thank you, Rosalind,’ she said, ‘it’s time for your rest now,’ and my guide smiled sweetly and left.
Anna looked at me cautiously. ‘What are you doing here, Josh?’
‘I’ve brought you the police report. Damien came good; he dropped it in at the hotel.’ I handed her the package, which she took, hesitating for a moment before opening it and reading the title of the report.
‘Have you read it?’
‘Not yet.’
‘Made a copy?’
I shook my head, then followed her to an office further down the corridor. On the way I caught a glimpse of an entrance hall with a receptionist’s counter.
‘What on earth were you doing, coming in the back way?’ The office was tiny and crowded with machines and files. She opened the lid of a photocopier and slid the report in.
‘The entrance wasn’t clearly marked. Where’s your office?’
She shot me a rueful glance. ‘This is it.’ She turned the page. ‘Want a cup of tea?’
‘Where’s the cocktail bar?’
She smiled. ‘Four blocks away. The cluey ones sometimes make it there. Take a seat anyway.’
I cleared a pile of magazines from the only chair and squeezed onto it. ‘How long have you worked here?’
‘A couple of years. I had an aunt living here I used to
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