sure hadn’t been any different for Tara. He studied Eileen across the table. She had done some digging. He was impressed with how hard she’d tried to find Brigid. It was her missing person’s report that first caught his attention when he hacked into the Dublin police files. But a person without proper resources and without the help of the garda could only get so far. “What did the other women in the cleaning crew say?” Sam asked. “Didn’t they know where she lived?”
Eileen shook her head. “They were glad she was gone.”
“Why?”
Eileen wiped her sugar-dusted fingers on her apron. “Well, besides the fact that they thought she got special treatment, they blamed her for the disappearing books.”
“The disappearing…books?”
“Yes.” The corner of Eileen’s mouth tilted up. “Soon after Brigid started working there, the librarians would come into work in the morning and find that some of the books from the lower shelves were missing.” She sent Sam a look over her mug. “You have to understand that every book in the library is shelved with incredible attention to detail according to the topic and time period. This process can take weeks, sometimes months, of extensive research.”
Sam nodded. “Of course.”
“You can imagine how the librarians felt when their system was…compromised. First, they accused the cleaning crew of stealing, but then they started to find the books shelved in other places. To the librarians, that was almost as bad as stealing and they wanted to fire the entire cleaning staff. But the other girls came to me together and told me it was Brigid. They’d seen her moving books at night without telling anyone. Naturally, being the manager, I confronted her about it.”
“And…?”
Eileen paused to take a sip of her tea. “She said she was moving them to their proper place.”
Sam’s brows shot up.
“I know,” Eileen said. “You can imagine how I felt when she said that. It was my job to oversee the proper cataloging and organizing of the books. But Brigid was adamant that the books she moved were shelved in the wrong place and she had corrected the mistake.”
“Was she right?”
“Well, you see. That’s what’s so strange about all this. When I looked into it, I realized she was right. In every case, some small detail had been overlooked and the book belonged exactly where she put it.”
“Did she explain why she’d moved each book?”
“No. She never had an explanation. And she couldn’t possibly have known without access to the information we had in our archives. She wasn’t even a very good reader. But she had some sort of strange sixth sense about it.”
Eileen paused as a siren screamed to life a few streets away. She waited for it to die down. “In every case except for one. There was one book—a story about selkies.” She glanced up. “You’re familiar with them?”
Sam snagged another cookie off the plate as the skin on the back of his neck started to prickle. “Yes.”
“Well, there was an old fairy tale—a legend about a white selkie. She insisted it belonged in the section with the mermaids.”
Sam paused, the cookie halfway to his mouth. Mermaids?
“You see,” Eileen went on, “the selkie stories are in one section—under Irish mythology. The mermaid stories are in a different section—under general mythology. You’d think those sections would be close to each other, but they’re not. The Irish have a lot of pride for their own culture and legends. And while we respect the legends and myths of the world, we’d rather put our own on special display in our country’s premier literary museum.”
“Of course,” Sam murmured, thinking back to the theory Tara had voiced in the pub yesterday—that maybe Brigid hid the book in a specific spot in the library to give them a clue. “Did she move any of the other selkie stories to the mermaid section?”
“No.” Eileen shook her head. “Only the one. Which is why
Eileen shook her head. “They were glad she was gone.”
“Why?”
Eileen wiped her sugar-dusted fingers on her apron. “Well, besides the fact that they thought she got special treatment, they blamed her for the disappearing books.”
“The disappearing…books?”
“Yes.” The corner of Eileen’s mouth tilted up. “Soon after Brigid started working there, the librarians would come into work in the morning and find that some of the books from the lower shelves were missing.” She sent Sam a look over her mug. “You have to understand that every book in the library is shelved with incredible attention to detail according to the topic and time period. This process can take weeks, sometimes months, of extensive research.”
Sam nodded. “Of course.”
“You can imagine how the librarians felt when their system was…compromised. First, they accused the cleaning crew of stealing, but then they started to find the books shelved in other places. To the librarians, that was almost as bad as stealing and they wanted to fire the entire cleaning staff. But the other girls came to me together and told me it was Brigid. They’d seen her moving books at night without telling anyone. Naturally, being the manager, I confronted her about it.”
“And…?”
Eileen paused to take a sip of her tea. “She said she was moving them to their proper place.”
Sam’s brows shot up.
“I know,” Eileen said. “You can imagine how I felt when she said that. It was my job to oversee the proper cataloging and organizing of the books. But Brigid was adamant that the books she moved were shelved in the wrong place and she had corrected the mistake.”
“Was she right?”
“Well, you see. That’s what’s so strange about all this. When I looked into it, I realized she was right. In every case, some small detail had been overlooked and the book belonged exactly where she put it.”
“Did she explain why she’d moved each book?”
“No. She never had an explanation. And she couldn’t possibly have known without access to the information we had in our archives. She wasn’t even a very good reader. But she had some sort of strange sixth sense about it.”
Eileen paused as a siren screamed to life a few streets away. She waited for it to die down. “In every case except for one. There was one book—a story about selkies.” She glanced up. “You’re familiar with them?”
Sam snagged another cookie off the plate as the skin on the back of his neck started to prickle. “Yes.”
“Well, there was an old fairy tale—a legend about a white selkie. She insisted it belonged in the section with the mermaids.”
Sam paused, the cookie halfway to his mouth. Mermaids?
“You see,” Eileen went on, “the selkie stories are in one section—under Irish mythology. The mermaid stories are in a different section—under general mythology. You’d think those sections would be close to each other, but they’re not. The Irish have a lot of pride for their own culture and legends. And while we respect the legends and myths of the world, we’d rather put our own on special display in our country’s premier literary museum.”
“Of course,” Sam murmured, thinking back to the theory Tara had voiced in the pub yesterday—that maybe Brigid hid the book in a specific spot in the library to give them a clue. “Did she move any of the other selkie stories to the mermaid section?”
“No.” Eileen shook her head. “Only the one. Which is why
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