Page 86 of M for Murder

Vic glanced at Sutton and raised his eyebrows, then he looked back at Karen. ‘Oh, believe me, the pleasure is all mine.’

Boy! Have I lucked out here.

All thoughts of Jill Boleyn went out of the window as he locked his sights on Karen Harris, treating her to his most dazzling smile.

‘Would you like a cup of coffee before I take you in to meet Agnes?’ Karen asked, a hopeful tone to her voice. Vic nodded, wondering what the librarian looked like naked. Forget Rebecca Angell. This was a woman who obviously knew how to treat a man with respect. ‘Coffee would be terrific, Karen. Really terrific.’

‘Actually, I think we’ll save coffee for later, thank you, Miss Harris,’ Sutton said, butting in. ‘Right now, I think we should go have a chat with Ms Barnes.’

‘Oh, okay.’ Karen looked a little disappointed but didn’t say anything. She turned and led the way into the library.

Vic let out a loud sigh, flaring his nostrils. ‘What’d you go and do that for?’ he hissed at Sutton. ‘Couldn’t you see that she really liked me?’

Sutton arched a brow. ‘I thought you had a girlfriend, Officer Boaz?’

‘I do,’ Vic muttered, looking at his feet. ‘That doesn’t mean I can’t shop around though does it?’

‘Why, do you think you’re too much for one woman?’

‘I never said that.’

Sutton gave him a toothy grin. ‘You just don’t understand commitment, do you, buddy?’ he said, patting him on the back. ‘Come on. Work first and I’m sure you’ll have time to play later.’

Vic grunted, but let the matter drop. Sutton had let him come along. He didn’t want to screw up or the Fed might regret his decision. Work first and play later. Determined that he was going to get to play later, he turned and followed Karen Harris through the swing door.

She led them through the maze of bookshelves to a room at the back of the library, opened the door and motioned for them to go inside. The room was small and piled with books. On the floor in the midst of the chaos sat an elderly woman whom Vic guessed had to be Agnes. She was dressed in navy and her grey-black hair was scraped back into a tight bun, making her face seem somewhat gaunt. A pair of glasses hung on a silver chain around her neck; she perched them on the end of her nose as she looked up to see who had entered the room. She glanced at Sutton first, through the tinted rims, then at Vic and then at Karen.

Karen smiled at her. ‘Agnes. These are the policemen I was telling you about this morning. They’ve come to see what you can remember about Helen White.’

Agnes nodded, suddenly interested. She finished stacking the pile of books she had on the floor and smiled up at Sutton, nodding.

‘You’re here at last,’ she said, matter-of-factly. ‘Good. I’ve been waiting for you.’

The three of them sat in a booth in the Cloistered Oyster, a secluded diner set high on the cliff top overlooking the ocean, which Agnes Barnes claimed sold the best fresh seafood for miles. Despite her recommendation, none of them had seafood, Max ordering a black coffee, Agnes choosing a pot of tea and Boaz stuffing his face with a box of the diner’s speciality doughnuts and a large chocolate milk shake.

‘I understand you knew Helen White, ma’am?’ Max asked, having made small talk for a couple of minutes and now feeling it necessary to move onto the reason they were there. Agnes nodded slowly. ‘Oh yes, I remember Helen White. She was the widow of Professor White, you know. Completely threw her life away.’

‘She did? How?’ Max asked, curious.

‘Her husband was an English professor over at the local college. After the accident, Helen couldn’t cope by herself, not with the three boys to look after. And then of course there was her little problem.’

‘What problem was that?’

‘She had a drug problem, Mr Sutton,’ Agnes said nodding, as though to confirm the fact to herself. ‘Tried to pretend that she didn’t. But everyone knew it was a lie. You could tell just by looking at her. That, of course, is why she turned to prostitution. You know, to pay for her little habit.’

‘Prostitution, hey? She sounds like the perfect mom.’

Agnes snorted loudly through her nose, causing a couple of the other customers to look in her direction. ‘Hardly!’ she told Max, misinterpreting his sarcasm. ‘When she had the overdose, her three little boys were taken into care. Rumour has it that they were found nearly starved to death. She used to beat them as well, you know, Mr Sutton. I remember that poor little boy of hers, he was slower than most other children of his age. Helen used to punish him for it. She thought he was letting down the family. The poor child was always filthily dressed.’

‘That would be Rodney you’re talking about, wouldn’t it?’ Max asked.

Agnes frowned at him slightly. ‘I’m not good with names, Mr Sutton. Was he the oldest boy?’

‘We believe so.’

She nodded. ‘Then yes, it was Rodney.’

Max started making a few notes, trying to ignore the noise Boaz was making beside him as he sucked out his milk shake through the straw. ‘Do you know much about what happened to the three boys, Ms Barnes?’ he asked, trying to concentrate on the task at hand.