in both fields than me. Whatever this is about you would be better off going to them.’
‘I agree,’ he said, ‘But you are intrinsically linked to this whole situation. The guy who died, the necklace, the burning of the library, they all have one thing in common, you! If I didn’t know better you could almost be a suspect.’ He paused, taking another sip as he let the implication sink in. She looked shocked.
‘Anyway,’ he continued before she could say anything, ‘I have spent most of the night researching the experts in coins and ancient history but your name keeps coming up and you have certain strengths in both fields. It makes total sense to use someone who can call on both disciplines.’
‘I don’t understand,’ she said, ‘How can anything I know be of any help?’
‘Before I go on India,’ he said, ‘I need to know you are with us on this. If you agree to help then there is no going back. I have no idea where this investigation may lead but there may be danger involved, and there is a faint possibility you could be hurt.’
‘Hurt!’ she said, cutting him short, ‘Now just you wait a minute here. This is the twenty first century not a fifties film. How can the police recruit someone they know nothing about to do their dirty work for them? You know nothing about me. I have a job, a family, and as for getting hurt, excuse me but even if this weird offer has any substance, as a responsible organisation I think you will find you have certain responsibilities. What about duty of care, what about risk assessments, what about health and fucking safety?’
He smiled at her outburst, amused at the cursing coming from such a pretty face, and took another sip of his coffee.
‘Okay,’ he said, ‘Let me put it like this. First of all I think you have been wrapped in that little cocoon of yours for far too long. As for knowing nothing about you, your name is India Sommers. You live on your own in flat nine, Station Road. You are twenty six years old and have been a librarian for four years after getting degrees in history and English at Aberystwyth University. Your hobby is coin collecting and you lecture part time in ancient history in your local college. Do you wish me to go on?’
‘Please do,’ she said astonished.
‘You are single and your last relationship with a man called Nigel ended four months ago due to infidelity, his not yours. You drive a Renault Clio, your parents live in Swindon and your cat is called Winston. When you were nine you were taken down the local police station by your father to get a bollocking when you were caught nicking sweets from the local shop. Your favourite colour’s red and your hair is dyed. Would you like me to bring up your sexual preferences?’
‘Okay stop,’ she hissed, looking around in embarrassment. She leaned forward across the table, ‘How do you know all this?’
‘Police database,’ he said, ‘Think of it as big brother’s version of Google!’
She sat back, trying unsuccessfully to stare him out.
‘Okay,’ she said eventually, ‘And if I agree to do this, what about my job?’
‘You just say the word and you will be on unpaid leave from the council with immediate effect.’
‘Unpaid!’
‘Yes, they will be told you have gone on holiday for a few weeks while the library is being refurbished. Fewer questions that way, but don’t worry, you will be adequately reimbursed by us.’
‘How adequately?’
‘Twice your current salary plus expenses.’
‘And when it is over?’
‘Your job will be there waiting.’
She finished the coffee and stared at the legend around the rim. ‘ Danger, very hot liquid’ it said, stating the bloody obvious.
‘That reminds me,’ she said, ‘One more thing. About the safety aspect, you never said anything about how dangerous it may be.’
‘Oh yes,’ he said, ‘Difficult to say really but as far as the good old Health and Safety Executive goes, do you want the official view or my