The Silence Of The Library

TWENTY

The rest of the way home I pondered the motive behind Eagleton’s dinner party but realized that I didn’t know the man well enough to discern what lay behind any of his actions. Based on what Carrie Taylor had said, I suspected he might be doing his best to woo Mrs. Cartwright so that he could wring a contract from her for the unpublished Veronica Thane novels. That seemed the most likely.

The garage was empty when I pulled in, and no cars lined the street in front of the house. That meant Diesel and I had the house to ourselves. While the cat visited the utility room, I headed upstairs. I felt like putting my feet up for a bit and doing my best to think about something other than Carrie Taylor’s untimely death.

Diesel returned from his pit stop, hopped on the bed beside me, and stretched out while I made myself comfortable, propped up against a couple of pillows. I picked up The Mystery at Spellwood Mansion and found my place, the beginning of the second chapter.

Veronica felt a chill creep along her spine as Mrs. Eden uttered those ominous words. What kind of danger did the poor woman fear?

The plucky girl’s sturdy common sense took hold. Mrs. Eden’s appearance proclaimed her an invalid of some years’ standing. Perhaps she suffered from a nervous disorder, and her mind was disturbed by fears that came only from a fevered imagination.

The girl decided she must ascertain as adroitly as possible the truth of Mrs. Eden’s claims. If the poor lady was truly in terrible danger, then Veronica resolved to do her best to assist Mrs. Eden. Should the danger prove imaginary, however, Veronica would need to use every ounce of her considerable tact. Adversity had tempered the girl with a maturity beyond her years.

Veronica spoke gently to the woman. “What is the source of your danger, Mrs. Eden? And why do you dare not leave the house? Does the danger come from without?”

A small moan escaped Mrs. Eden’s quivering lips. “Oh, Miss Derivale! Dare I trust you? I feel so alone, betrayed by those who should instead tend to my well-being.” She gazed hopefully into Veronica’s eyes.

Veronica knew she must gain Mrs. Eden’s trust if she were to be able to help her. Therefore she decided to make a bold move and declare her true identity. “You are under a misapprehension, Mrs. Eden, one I did not bother to correct until now. I am not Miss Derivale, whoever she may be. I am Veronica Thane, and I happened upon this house when I needed refuge from the storm.”

“Veronica Thane,” Mrs. Eden gasped. She gazed more intently into her guest’s eyes. “I believe I have heard of you. Were you not the girl who aided Mrs. Finison Webster in tracking down her lost jewels?”

“Yes, I was able to assist Mrs. Webster,” Veronica replied modestly.

“Then I will trust you,” Mrs. Eden said impulsively, her hands clutching at Veronica’s. “I need a friend so desperately, and there is none in this accursed house.”

Unbeknownst to the two conferring on the chaise longue, there was a secret listening post, constructed in the days of the War Between the States, when Spellwood Mansion was the home of a notorious Confederate spy. As Veronica and Mrs. Eden talked, an unseen presence listened to every word spoken between them.

“Veronica Thane.” The listener barely whispered the name. Recognizing the threat implicit in the girl’s true identity, the listener stole softly away to make certain nefarious preparations. The girl must be dealt with, and at once!

“Tell me, Mrs. Eden, the source of the danger,” Veronica urged once again.

I turned the page, thinking I remembered the sad tale of Mrs. Eden’s situation, but my cell phone interrupted my reading. Mrs. Eden and Veronica would have to wait, because I recognized the public library’s main number.

Bronwyn barely waited for me to say “Hello” before she spoke. “Sorry to bother you, Charlie, but I wondered when you were going to bring the books you promised me for the exhibit. I don’t have to have them today, unless you just happen to be out and about this afternoon. Monday morning would be fine.”

I couldn’t believe I hadn’t remembered to take the cartons this morning as I’d originally planned. The thought of running over to the library this afternoon didn’t appeal much. “If you’re sure Monday morning is soon enough,” I said, “I can bring them by first thing, before I go to work at the college.”

“Sure, that’s fine,” Bronwyn said. “But I really do need to have the books that morning. All I have left is to make labels for them before I put them in the exhibit cases.”

I felt guilty because I should have taken them today. She would have to rush on Monday morning to get things done if I waited until then. But I so didn’t want to get in the car again right now.

Inspiration struck—a solution good for each of us. “I tell you what, I’ll e-mail you with the titles and authors and a brief note about each book. How does that sound?”

“That would be great.” Bronwyn sounded relieved and happy. “That way I can cut and paste to make the labels. So much faster, and besides, you know more about the books than I do, Charlie. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” I said. “I’ll get on it right now.” I glanced regretfully at The Mystery at Spellwood Mansion when I ended the call. Instead of finding out about Mrs. Eden’s terrible danger, I would have to work.

No reason I couldn’t be comfortable while I did work, however. The two cartons were here in my bedroom. All I had to do was retrieve the laptop from the den, and I’d be set.

“No need for you to come with me.” I grinned at Diesel, dozing on his side of the bed. He opened one eye, yawned, closed the eye, and appeared to doze off again.

I chuckled as I headed down the stairs.

A few minutes later, I had one of the cartons at hand and the laptop booted up and ready to go. I pulled a book from the carton and set to work.

For each book, I typed in the title, the author, the series, and the basic publication information. If I knew the name of the illustrator, I added that. One of the best known was Russell H. Tandy, a professional artist who did the covers and the internal illustrations for the first twenty-six Nancy Drew books. As I typed that information for an early printing of The Secret of the Old Clock, the first Nancy Drew book, I felt the faint stir of memory. Something about Russell Tandy and a particular Nancy Drew book. What was it?

I did a quick Internet search and found the Nancy Drew Sleuth website. It didn’t take long to find the information. Tandy had not illustrated the eleventh book in the series, The Clue of the Broken Locket. That was what that little niggle of memory was about. I revised my information in the e-mail and moved on to the next book.

By the time I finished the books in the first carton, I had begun to realize I’d pulled too many for Bronwyn to use effectively. There were sixteen in the first carton and probably as many in the second one. I pictured the exhibit cases in my mind and figured that twenty books would be about right for the space, by the time Bronwyn added the labels.

I set the laptop aside and went over to the second carton. After a quick examination of the items in it, I pulled three to go with the sixteen I had already written up.

Fifteen minutes later I was finished with those three. I read back through the e-mail, checking the titles and authors represented. I discovered that among the titles were two Veronica Thanes, but not the first, Spellwood Mansion. That one had to be included because it launched the series. Maybe I could finish rereading it over the weekend. Otherwise I would have to wait until the exhibit came down.

I picked up the book and examined it carefully. I pulled off the dust jacket to look at the binding. I frowned. There was no silhouette of Veronica and her two sidekicks, Lucy Carlton and Arthur “Artie” Marsh, on the front cover. That was strange. From what I recalled, all the books had sported the silhouette as part of the design.

I did another search, this time on Veronica Thane, and found a website with several pages devoted to the series. With the enthusiasm for these series books, I figured someone must have researched the publication history, and I was right. There was a page with pictures of the covers of every book in the series, and there were examples of the variations in binding.

And there it was, a picture of a Veronica Thane book sans silhouette. I scanned the long paragraph of information and learned that this particular binding was used only on so-called breeder sets for the first two titles in the series. There was an explanation of breeder sets, which sounded vaguely familiar. The publishers brought out the first two or three volumes in a limited print run to test the waters with readers, to see if the series might catch on. According to the website, the technique worked for Nancy Drew in 1930. The series was an immediate hit. Veronica had a more modest debut two years later.

What I read next made me sit up and whistle.

Diesel muttered in protest. I supposed my whistling disturbed his beauty nap. He rolled over on his back and stretched, and his tail switched back and forth. He stayed in that position with his head twisted to one side and went back to sleep.

I reread the paragraph that had piqued my interest.

A few years ago a collector and expert on the history of the Veronica Thane series, Jennifer Fisher, brought to light a little-known variant in the first printings of the first volume in the breeder set. This was recently confirmed by Mrs. Carrie Taylor, the publisher of The Thane Chronicles, the newsletter devoted to the author and her works, who reported that she has a copy in her extensive collection. In the final paragraph of this variant edition, the next volume of the series is named as The Clarevoyant’s Clew. The correct title is, of course, The Clairvoyant’s Clue. The error must have been caught quickly and corrected, though a number of the volumes with the wrong title did make it into the hands of readers. Copies of the book with the incorrect title have rarely surfaced, but recently a collector was reported to have paid over twenty thousand dollars for a near-pristine copy of the highly sought after item. Though the price seems extravagant, the purchaser certainly has the satisfaction of knowing he (or she) possesses a true rarity.

I wondered uneasily whether I had just discovered the motive behind Carrie Taylor’s murder.