“The room is warm and smells like dust, and just the presence of so many books make it easier to breathe. Its remarkable how being around books, even those you’ve never read, can have a calming effect, like walking into a crowded party and finding it full of people you know.” – Mackenzie Lee
I’d only read a few pages of “Murder by the Minster” and already made two wonderful discoveries. One, the author’s wonderful dedication:
“For all the librarians.”
The second was that chapter one took place in a library, Vale of York University Library to be precise.
Simply put…I love libraries.
The reasons for this long running affection are too varied, or numerous to list here, but one is that I’ve always been a reader whose enjoyed the quietude of any place where one could sit down and get lost in a book, libraries always provided that tranquil kind of atmosphere. As I got older, and my life became more hectic, I could sometimes be seen making a quick stop at the local library, my sublime oasis from the hectic world outside…
But back to the first chapter of the book, I was further delighted that Cox took the time to describe this particular library:
“Towering oak bookshelves, stained glass windows and high ceilings painted with ornate murals.”
I’ve never been to York, but considering everything I’ve read and heard about it, I imagine visiting it as the heart of the British experience. From the city’s highest point, York Minster’s central tower, to the twisting cobbled lanes of the medieval streets of the Shambles far below, this city is brimming with the great structures, stories and artifacts of the past and even with my bit of knowledge of this wonderful place, I know for sure that Helen Cox was right to help us “see” the settings of these early scenes by spending some time in description of their grandeur.
Next, I was introduced to Kitt, the copper-red headed librarian of the Woman’s Studies Section. I read that she was a creature of habit, starting with her work uniform:
“Ankle length navy skirt, white shirt, navy blazer and tan belt.”
Kitt’s workplace fashion choices may have been predictable, but that, I soon learned, should not cause one to assume her to be predictable in inclination or force of personality. She possesses a mind of her own, and an inquisitive one at that, but also, she’s an incredibly loyal and caring friend…not to mention the owner of a maroon trebly and Jane Eyre quote pendant (truly impressive).
Right from the start, Kitt fascinated me and based on the first chapter clues, I guessed her to be an astute and resourceful woman who some in this story may choose to underestimate.
Still in the opening pages of chapter one, Cox introduces me to Grace, Kitt’s library assistant. The positive momentum of this chapter continued as I read of this psychology student with shoulder-length, brown-black curly hair, a turquoise sleeved cardigan, blue jeans and a white shirt. She came across as fun, comfortably stylish with winning personality, in short, a woman enchanting and fashionable enough to single-handedly keep “Cool Britannia” alive.
By this point it would be almost impossible to derail my engagement of his opening chapter. Even the entrance of Kitt’s rather unfortunate supervisor Michelle, (her lips turned down at the corners without any effort on her part, even her bobbed, mouse-brown hair looked limp with displeasure), offered little resistance to my enthusiasm.
Things were going swimmingly, then without warning, Cox threw me her first curveball, ending the chapter with the entrance of two police officers, both walking toward Kitt with an “air of brisk authority…”
The appearance of these police officers in no way derailed my enjoyment of the story, but it did temporarily distract me. The reason was that his particular scene brought to mind a similarly unexpected “law enforcement moment” of my own.
My wife and I were living on an acreage at the time of this particular incident and since my work shift was early and the commute a far distance, I fell into the habit of waking early to go running…outside…in the winter no less. It was in the winter months that it was pitch black when I was running on the road, which, I soon learned, came to be a concern for a few of my neighbors who happened to be driving on the range roads at those early morning hours.
One morning I was running up a hill and when I reached the top, I noticed a light of a police car up ahead. As I neared, the car I began wondering what the officer was doing on the road at such an hour, and more distressingly, if I was somehow the reason for them being here. I drew nearer, noticing a lone female officer alighting her squad car.
“Excuse me, do you regularly run on his road at this time?” She asked.
“Yes,” I replied, now stopping.
“Well sir,” she continued, “We received a call from one of our neighbors who drives the road, so we waited here to talk to you about this concern.”
“What is the nature of the concern?” I asked.
“It’s that they find it difficult to see you in the dark and are worried that they may accidently run you over.” She clarified.
I was searching for a response when I noticed that she was reaching into the back seat of her car, soon retrieving a yellow and bright red safety vest, the neon strips of which would’ve sufficiently illuminated me, but the garment also featured a built-in, battery powered set of blinking lights, bright enough, I thought to land a Boeing 747.
“Please wear this from today forward,” she stated with a smile, but a tone of voice that indicated she wasn’t really asking.
“I will, thank you,” I replied as I snapped on the vest.
“Oh, and one more thing,” she said as she opened her notebook, “I’ll need our name and phone number for my supply report.”
I gave her my contact information, she in turn handed me her card, we then parted ways.
Later that morning when I was walking into the house, my wife began laughing, asking me where I got the neon vest. I told her the entire story to which she replied, “You gave your name and phone number to a strange woman you met on a dark, deserted road?”
We still laugh about it today.
Anyway, that was the story that came to mind as I read the end of the first chapter of “Murder by the Minster.” The two law enforcement officers were Detective Inspector Malcolm Halloran and Detective Sergeant Charlotte Banks. They ask for Kitt and take her aside, asking her if she knew a man named Owen Hall to which she replied that she did, as he was the ex-boyfriend of her best friend Evie.
They ask if she knew him well, which she admitted that even though he’d dated her best friend for a few years, she never really got to know him all that well. They asked if she knew how they broke up and Kitt, registering disgust shared hat he broke up with her over Facebook Messenger. By now Kitt is genuinely confused, pressing the detectives for the reason for all these questions. Banks and Halloran glance at each other, seemingly deciding to tell her:
Owen Hall has been murdered.
The murder, Halloran gently explains, appeared to be premeditated as the victim was poisoned. Banks then speaks for the first time, confirming that the police suspect Evie as she appears to be the only one with sufficient motive. Kitt vehemently protests, forcefully advocating for her friend, she couldn’t have possibly murdered Owen, or anyone else for that matter.
The officers ignore this, instead questioning Kitt as to her whereabouts on the night in question. She states that she and Evie were together that evening for a movie night a Kitt’s home, and no, there is no one else who could corroborate this. It’s at this point that Banks makes a casual comment about the possibility that Evie may have had an accomplice.
Kitt asks about the nature of the murder, “Was it random?”
Detective Halloran confirms that the poison was slipped into wine, the same brand, the police learned through Facebook, that Owen purchased for Evie on several occasions. And there appeared to be no forced entry, all of which lead to Evie as a suspect. Kitt continued to force her opinion that the police had it wrong about Evie which prompted Halloran to add that there was a note pinned to he dead man’s chest, a note that contained he same opening sentence, (I don’t know how else to say this), as the breakup note Owen had penned to Evie before.
The conversation wraps up with the detectives leaving, but warning Kitt to remain in the local area for questioning. A few hours later, Evie herself makes her way to the library to be consoled by her best friend. The conversation that ensues has Evie telling Kitt that the police informed her that the note was pinned to Owen’s chest by stabbing a fountain pen through the note, then through his heart.
Despite the horrid details of the story, Kitt’s librarian nature kicks in, causing her to realize that this particular murder scenario reminds her of a story she’d read entitled, “A Study in Scarlett” which was a Sherlock Holmes book. Apparently, the story is about a murder that results from a broken heart.
“What brand of fountain pen?” Kitt asks.
“I think they said it was a Stanwyck,” Evie replies in confusion.
It was at this point I’d decided that I was going to love Helen Cox’s “Murder by the Minster,” and as the story unfolded, I became more and more invested in the characters and the incredible happenings going on in their worlds. Who could resist a story containing the illicit weekend activities of a hotel receptionist? An arrest at a ball? A stationary loving serial killer? An elusive hooded figure? A chilling incident taking place on a suitably frightening street (Mad Alice Lane)? An assertive, brash female TV reporter that reminds us why the British press is considered he most intrusive in the world? And a heart-pounding first kiss you’ll not soon forget…
Helen Cox has crafted a truly spellbinding “cozy mystery.” I highly recommend this one!