The Blake Adventures: A Storybook Ending
April 1960
Lucien Blake awoke slowly, the sunlight streaming through the gap in the curtains of his bedroom. He blinked a few times, trying to orient himself. He caught a glimpse of the clock at his bedside and was surprised at the hour. He rolled over to find the other side of the bed neatly made up. Curious as to the reason for all of these things, Lucien got out of bed and dressed quickly.
When he went down to the kitchen, he found Jean cooking a full fry-up at the stove. She sensed the movement and turned to greet him with a big smile. "Lucien! Good morning," she said brightly.
"Good morning, Jean," he replied politely. "What have we here? Is there some holiday I'm unaware of?"
"No special reason. I just wanted to make you a nice breakfast is all."
"I didn't mean to sleep so long. Won't I be late?" he asked.
She shook her head. "Your only appointment today rescheduled. Mrs. Foster asked if she could come in a few weeks instead, since her children are out of school for the week of the Easter Holiday at the moment. I told her it shouldn't be a problem and wrote her in your appointment book."
"Thank you, Jean."
"And since you don't have anything for today, I thought I'd let you have a nice lie in. You didn't come to bed until awfully late last night, and you need your rest," she pointed out.
Lucien smiled and kissed her cheek. "That was very sweet of you, love."
"The Morning Edition is on the table for you. Charlie and Mattie did have a look at it before they left earlier, but I did try to put it back in order. You sit down, and breakfast will be ready in just a moment." Jean went back to mind the stove as Lucien made himself comfortable.
He sat and opened the front page, slightly rumpled as it was. He was actually quite surprised that the morning bustle of Mattie and Charlie getting ready for work didn't wake him. "It was quite nice to sleep. I am sorry I was so late last night, though."
"I know how preoccupied you can get," she said understandingly, a small smile playing on her lips.
"Quite right. Though I did get through what I wanted last night. It looks I do have a very free day today. How daunting," he realized, eliciting a slight chuckle from her. "Jean, do you have any work to do in the garden today?"
"There are a few plants that need a bit of tending, yes," she answered dubiously.
"I'd like to be of assistance to you, if I may. Perhaps I can remember some of the names of your beautiful flowers this time," he offered.
Jean placed a plate of eggs and toast and ham in front of him. "You are too sweet." She kissed his cheek and promptly wiped the lipstick off him. "There, now you eat up and I'll do some cleaning, and we can go out to the patio and see what needs doing."
Their domestic day was quickly cut off before it began. The phone rang, and Jean went to answer it so Lucien could finish his breakfast. She came back quite quickly. "Lucien, that was Constable Hobart. You're needed at the library."
He took one last bite of toast and a final sip of coffee before standing up. "Right. Should have known a free day was too good to be true," he said resignedly. "Ah well, duty calls. I expect I'll be back later for lunch." And with that, he fetched his bag and put on his hat and went on his way.
Upon arriving at the public library, Lucien found the strangest juxtaposition of chaos and quiet. There were two enormous bookshelves toppled over, their books scattered all over the floor. But the police officers and small handful of witnesses were speaking in hushed tones, barely above a whisper. Perhaps it was the natural, ingrained response to being in a library.
It took Lucien a moment to realize why he'd been called in. There was a body lying amidst the piles of books. He didn't wait for Charlie or Bill Hobart to tell him what was going on. He went right to the body.
The deceased was a woman, likely in her sixties. She wore the most dour clothes Lucien had ever seen: tweed skirt and heavy stockings and starched white blouse in the middle of spring. And her graying hair was matted in a pool of blood.
"Ah, Dr. Blake, you're here already."
Lucien turned to see Chief Superintendent Carlyle walking toward him. He, unlike everyone else, was speaking at a casual and regular volume. "Frank, yes, Hobart called me a short while ago."
Carlyle nodded and stood near Lucien, but out of his way. "You have a cause of death pinned down?"
"Upon initial viewing, it looks like a blow to the head. But I'll need to examine the body further to determine whether she was struck, or if she just fell and hit her head."
Charlie came to join the two men. "This is Mildred Arnold. She's been a librarian here for over thirty years. No family. She was supposed to close up last night, and she was the only one here, so far as anyone knows. Miss Parget came to open the library this morning and found the doors unlocked and Miss Arnold in this state."
"Yes, based on the level of rigor, I'd say she died sometime last night. Charlie, could you arrange for the body and inform Dr. Harvey that I'll meet her?" Lucien asked.
"Of course, Doc." Charlie went off to make his calls.
Lucien had no reason to suspect anything more than a librarian getting knocked over by a bookshelf, so he didn't linger at the crime scene. But it was suspicious that the bookshelves should have fallen over at all. He stepped over a pile of Agatha Christie books and made a general survey of the library.
He'd spent a lot of time in this place as a boy, but it had been many years since he stepped foot in the Ballarat Public Library. Very little had changed in forty years. Unconsciously, he'd found himself in the nonfiction section. These dusty old books had been his first real introduction to science. His father had always told him that if he was curious, he should read books in the library. Thomas Blake had all the medical texts in his study, but wouldn't let young Lucien touch them. To this day, Lucien cherished those books, still not quite feeling worthy of them.
"Doctor Blake, we're going to be transporting the body now," Charlie told him.
"Right. Thank you, Charlie."
"I hope we didn't wake you this morning," he said in a quieter voice. "Jean told us to be very quiet."
"No, I slept through everything. I was just finishing breakfast when Bill called for me to come down. It was very nice of you all to let me rest," Lucien thanked kindly.
Charlie just gave a curt nod. "Well, this shouldn't be too complicated, so I'll probably be home for lunch."
"Yes, I think I will, too. Jean's been in a strangely good mood today. I think we might be in for a nice treat later."
"I think that has more to do with you than me, but I'll be happy for whatever comes of it," Charlie agreed.
Lucien then left to go to see Alice for the autopsy. Together, he was sure they'd be able to figure out whether Mildred Arnold had been pushed, struck in the head, or had just fallen down. It didn't look like murder so far, but Lucien wasn't satisfied.
"The body arrived just before you did," Dr. Alice Harvey stated, not wasting time on pleasantries.
"The librarian died in the library, all alone. And I'd like to whether or not someone did this to her," Lucien said.
Alice nodded. "Well then, I think we should get to work."
They examined the body in excruciating detail, as they always did. They found slight bruising on Mildred's temple and some on her arms, torso, and legs, but it was the crack in the back of her skull that had killed her. Lucien requested her prior medical records, to see if some condition she'd had contributed to her death in any way. But getting that file would take a little time.
"Based on this bruising, I'd say she was hit across the head from the front, causing her to fall, and cracking her skull on the wood floor of the library killed her."
"And how would you explain these other bruises?" Lucien asked, hoping they'd be able to come up with an explanation between them.
"From the fall?" Alice guessed.
"I think the bookcase and all those books might have fallen on her. But the police didn't move anything off her, and she would have been knocked unconscious by hitting her head this hard, so she didn't move anything off herself," Lucien thought aloud. "Whoever knocked her down might've tried to help."
"Hm. Trying to rescue her? Showing remorse, perhaps?" she ventured.
Lucien didn't answer right away. His mind was churning with the implications of that idea. "Perhaps."
"It's nearly one o'clock now. I'm going to take a lunch break and come back with fresh eyes. You're welcome to join me," Alice offered.
"Thank you, Alice, but I told Jean I'd be home for lunch."
"I'll call if I find anything else," she told him.
They each went their separate ways, both consumed with the strange unanswered questions of what exactly had happened to Mildred Arnold.
Lucien went home to find Charlie already there having a sandwich Jean had made for him. "Ah, Charlie, tell me, anything new from the library?"
"No one seems to know what might have happened. No reason the bookshelves might have fallen. No one knows much about Mildred Arnold, so we have no reason to suspect foul play, or any motive of anyone to hurt her," Charlie relayed.
"Alice found bruising on her face, so she might have been hit and knocked to the ground," Lucien informed him. "But no obvious suspects?"
"Not a one. And fingerprinting is a waste. It's a public library. There are dozens of fingerprints on everything in there," Charlie told him with disappointment.
Jean had sat at the table, listening to the men discuss the case. Her brow furrowed, thinking about what could have happened to that kind old librarian. "Were any books missing?"
Charlie turned to her with surprise. "I have no idea. There must be a hundred books strewn all over the floor."
"If someone was in there to get a book and Mildred caught them by surprise, maybe they panicked and knocked her down," she suggested.
"It was the mystery section," Lucien told her. "But that's a very good idea, Jean. Charlie, make sure someone checks with the library records to see what's been checked out and what inventory should be there."
"I'll let Bill know. He's on this case. I'm still following up with the theft cases."
Jean perked up. "What thefts?"
Charlie sighed, "It's the strangest thing. People keep reporting thefts of items that shouldn't have any value to anyone except the owners. Family photographs were taken from the living room of the Kelly house. Mr. Thompson's coronet is gone. An old gray horse is missing from the Walker farm. There's no reason they should be connected, except that they all happened in the last week. In a town like Ballarat, there shouldn't be that many missing things all at once like that."
"Hmm." Jean didn't say anything else.
Lucien watched her, knowing she was thinking more than she'd said so far. "I think I'll go back to the library after lunch. Jean, would you like to come with me?"
"Yes, I rather would."
Charlie stood from the table. "I'm going to head back to the station. I'll see you all for dinner."
Lucien finished his sandwich, then drove Jean and himself back to the library. Most everyone had gone, save Chief Superintendent Carlyle, who was none too pleased to see them.
"Blake, how many times do I have to tell you that you can't bring your wife to a crime scene!" Carlyle lamented.
"Frank, you like my methods because they get results. This is one of my methods," Lucien insisted. He took Jean's hand and walked right past the chief superintendent.
He led her right to the fallen bookshelves. "Alright, we're in the mystery section. You have a theory."
"Well I can't be sure, I haven't read those stories in quite a while but…the items Charlie said were stolen…they seem like they were taken right out of Sherlock Holmes stories."
Lucien cocked his head slightly, trying to remember those old mystery stories. "Remind me," he prompted her
"Well, the gray horse, that's Silver Blaze, the racehorse in the story. And then the coronet, that's The Beryl Coronet."
"And the family photographs from the Kellys?"
Jean had to think for a moment. "A Scandal in Bohemia. Irene Adler had stolen photographs from the King of Bohemia."
Lucien smiled. "You are brilliant."
"Yes, that's all well and good, but where does that lead? The thefts might be connected by Sherlock Holmes, but why would that cause the death of a librarian?" Jean asked.
"Alright, you be the thief. You have some fascination with Sherlock Holmes. You're recreating the mysteries as best you can in Ballarat."
Jean took over. "And I need to look back at the stories for more inspiration. I come to the library. Mildred notices I keep going back to this section. Perhaps I don't check out any books but I keep coming back."
"You're worried about arousing suspicion. Mildred comes to see if you need help because it's closing time," Lucien added.
"And I'm afraid of her knowing too much. I push her and run away."
"No," Lucien corrected, "You hit her across the head with the book. Mildred falls to the ground, hitting her head."
"And I push the bookcases over so she can't get up, and I make my escape," Jean finished.
"But you pick some books off of Mildred, you didn't want anyone to get hurt. And the book itself. Do you take it or leave it amongst the others?"
"I think you'll need to see an inventory list to be sure. Based on what I remember, those stories are all rather far apart in their publication. If they all came from one book, it would have to be a complete collection of Sherlock Holmes," she considered.
Lucien called out behind Jean, "Frank did you get that? We'll need an inventory of this section of the library to see if there's a Complete Sherlock Holmes missing." He smiled at his wife. "Well done, Jean."
She grinned at his praise. This wasn't the first mystery she'd helped him on, not by a long way. But being appreciated for any contribution she could make did feel quite good. Even so, there was still much unknown about this case.