Read Online The Herring in the Library by L. C. Tyler - Free Book Online Page B

Fiona, snapping her phone closed, ‘but it’s likely to be ten minutes or so.’
    ‘Excellent work all round,’ said Colin.
    ‘What on earth are they doing?’ asked Felicity. ‘They need to get this door open fast.’
    ‘Annabelle’s over by the desk with Robert,’ Colin reported. ‘Can’t see what she’s doing exactly. Ethelred’s heading this
way.’
    And finally, after the metallic rasping noise of bolts being pulled back, the door opened. We all pushed past Ethelred and stood in a sort of loose circle round the desk looking
at Robert.
    Then we all rather wished we hadn’t. Colin and Fiona asked us all to give them space while they tried resuscitation, and we were happy to give it to them. But they
didn’t look that hopeful.
    Strangled. With the rope. In the library.

 
    Six
    It all happened so quickly.
    When Annabelle hurried me out of the dining room, leaving Elsie behind, I was not quite sure where we were going – only that we needed to get there fast.
    I was led at a brisk trot out of the front door and round the side of the house. It was now almost dark and I stumbled once or twice on the uneven surface. There were rose bushes under the
windows, which snagged my trousers at least once as we squeezed between them – but there was no time to check for possible damage. We stopped on the soft earth, by a tall, well-lit window.
The interior of the library could be seen clearly – the book-lined walls, the armchairs, the large antique globe and, in the centre of it all, Robert slumped, face down, on his desk, as
though he had pitched forward in the middle of writing something.
    I tried pushing the window, but it wouldn’t budge. It had been securely fastened from inside.
    ‘We’ll have to break the glass,’ said Annabelle. She handed me a large flint; this was, in her view, quite clearly Men’s Work.
    It was an iron casement window with leaded panes. That we should not break windows is something so firmly instilled in us from childhood that I paused for a moment, flint in hand, before
striking the centre of the pane closest to the latch. I felt a brief moment of exhilaration as I heard the glass fracture and fall inwards. I knocked away some of the jagged fragments still
clinging to the lead beading, then gingerly put my fingers through, opened the window and hauled myself in.
    ‘Give me a hand,’ ordered Annabelle. ‘I can hardly be expected to climb up there in this dress unaided.’ I quickly apologized and pulled her in after me.
    We stood for a moment by the window, my hand still holding Annabelle’s. Robert had not stirred at all. In the stillness of the library, there was no sound of breathing, no rhythmic
movement of Robert’s back as his lungs drew breath. It was not looking good. We glanced at each other, then at Robert, lying face down, a whisky glass beside him, his favourite pen neatly
capped and lying beside the blotter on the vast mahogany desk. There was something odd about his neck, but I couldn’t immediately see what. While I was still wondering what to do, Annabelle
took charge.
    ‘Let Colin in,’ she said, relinquishing my hand and heading towards Robert.
    The door was not in fact locked, but was bolted at the top and bottom. The bolts were stiff and it took me a few seconds to push them back. Once I did, and the door had swung open, the rest of
the dinner party surged past me. At the same moment I heard Annabelle behind me give a gasp and turned to see her, white-faced, looking helplessly in my direction. I looked again at Robert and now
saw what had been odd about his neck. A thin cord had been wound several times around it and then tightened by means of a pencil, inserted into the cord and twisted. Fortunately at this point Colin
and Fiona took over. Fiona untied the ligature and together they lowered Robert to the floor. Colin checked Robert’s pulse, then listened to his chest.
    ‘No signs of life at all,’ he muttered. ‘How long since we called