Page 55 of The Bookshop of Forbidden Books

“Did you find the real culprit?”

“The only culprit here is you, and I will prove it eventually; I don’t care who claims they were with you on the night of the murder. But you seem to have an alibi. Enjoy your brief reprieve – and it will be brief. I know this is just one more lie, and soon everyone else will too.”

A uniformed officer escorted Mitch back into the main lobby of the station. At the intake desk, the clerk handed him his belongings: his wallet, some crumpled bills and loose change, his shoelaces, watch and keys.

Mitch looked around the lobby. A third of the large space was cut off from the rest by a metal chain-link screen, turning it into a holding cell. Inside, a visibly drunk woman had been left on a bench to sober up, her upper body swaying slightly. Next to her, a pickpocket was mumbling incoherently through a split lower lip. Two men who’d been arrested for brawling were handcuffed to bars on either side of the door, staring daggers at each other, ready for round two. A sex worker paced from wall to wall, pausing occasionally to hike up her sagging chest beneath her corset.

Mitch walked out the station door, leaving this modern-day Court of Miracles behind.

Evening had fallen early, bringing with it the kind of drizzling rain that soaks into your bones. Pedestrians hurried past the station with their heads hunched into their upturned collars. But Mitch, savouring his freedom, had eyes only for the vivid colours flaunting their existence defiantly against the grey backdrop: the bright umbrellas jostling for space on the sidewalks, the gleam of rain-soaked car hoods, the wet asphalt shining under the glow of the street lamps. How much time had passed since his arrest?

The honking of a car horn made him look around. A van parked at the curb was blinking its headlights at him. As he approached the passenger door, he saw Anna behind the wheel, motioning for him to get inside.

“Sorry I didn’t wait for you in the lobby,” she said as he climbed in, “but I don’t feel too comfortable in places like that – besides, I didn’t want to tempt fate.”

“How did you find out I’d been arrested?”

“Funny story,” she said, turning on the engine.

She had come to the bookshop to see Mitch in the early afternoon. It was empty, but she’d gone inside anyway.

“I heard whispering in the back room, and I thought…”

“Thought what?”

“I thought you were back there with another woman! But when I went in, I saw a couple I didn’t know. They both looked upset. The man was comforting his wife, telling her there must have been some mistake, that you couldn’t possibly have killed anyone.”

“She’s not his wife.”

“If you say so – but I hardly think that matters right now…”

“It sort of does, actually. I’ve messed everything up,” Mitch groaned.

He explained the importance of the afternoon rendezvous for Verner and Madame Ateltow, and Anna wondered if she found it attractive or simply bizarre that he seemed more distressed by the idea of having ruined their secret encounter than by his own arrest and murder accusation.

“Or maybe,” she said and laughed, shifting gears with a crunch, “you could just see it as having given them an afternoon they’ll never forget.”

She ran a red light and honked at the driver she cut off, who was forced to slam on his brakes.

“Think of the story they’ll be able to tell,” she added, reaching over to touch Mitch’s cheek.

As she drove, he stared out the window, watching the sidewalks flash by, filled with people and lights.

“You don’t need to worry anymore. I’m your alibi,” Anna went on.

“Except I wasn’t with you the night Salinas died.”

“I know. And I’m sorry,” she said softly. “Stupid thing is… I really missed you. Even if that’s not something you’re supposed to say.”

Mitch turned to look at Anna, just as moved as she was.

“You holding up?” she asked.

He took a moment before answering. No, he wasn’t holding up. He was still in shock, just trying to take it all in, his mind on the future that awaited him.

“I lived through two different periods in prison,” he explained, his voice weary. “In the first one, I missed my life as a free man every single minute. The smell of coffee in the morning, taking a hot shower in my own bathroom, walking to the station, waiting for my train on the platform and cursing when it was late. The particular smell of that train. The morning sunlight through the smears on its windows. Then the walk to my bookshop, and the sound of the key in the lock. I’d go over every little detail – things I’d never given a second thought before – with this weird, almost painful clarity. And then, one day… it just changed. And I didn’t even notice when it happened…”

He trailed off mid-sentence. Anna took her eyes off the road for an instant to glance over at him. He was dishevelled, pale and haggard, lost in a world she knew nothing about but whose terrible harshness she was beginning to understand. The van veered toward the shoulder, and she swerved to bring it back into the lane.