'Now, don't be silly. No one's saying it's your fault, Mr Armstrong. You really must learn not to take things so personally.'

'I'm not taking it personally!'

'I think you are now.'

'I'm not!'

'You are, sir, actually. You are raising your voice, and you're invading my personal space.'

'Yes, that's because-'

'If you could just step back please. Thank you.'

Israel took a step back.

'Thank you. The council runs courses, actually, for our employees to address these sorts of issues-bullying and etcetera-and you'll doubtless be recommended for an appropriate course when the time comes. But'-and she raised a finger here as Israel was about to speak-'in the meantime you are employed to sort out the problem of the missing books. That's your job.'

'That's not my job!'

'It is, actually.'

'I'm a librarian!'

'Yes. And you need to find your books.'

'No. I'm not Father bloody Brown.'

'There's no need for that sort of sectarian language, thank you.'

'Oh, Jesus Christ!'

'Mr Armstrong!'

'Right. OK. Sorry.'

'Good. So I'll take it that I can leave it with you then.'

'Oh yeah, sure, yeah,' said Israel, exasperated. 'Fine. Yeah. OK. I come all the way over here to this godforsaken hell-hole to play Inspector bloody Morse.'

'Please, Mr Armstrong. That's the second time I've had to warn you about your offensive language. I'm issuing you now with a verbal warning. One more time, and I shall have to fill in a report about your behaviour.'

Israel walked away across the empty library.

'Right. OK. Sorry. Excuse me. Fine. I'll tell you what, I'll solve it for you. I'll solve it for you right now; I'll solve your little mystery. Easy. Who has a key to the library?'

'I do, obviously.'

'Right. So did you steal the books?'

'No! Of course not. Don't be silly.'

'Fine. You're eliminated from my enquiries. Anyone else have a key?'

'Ted.'

'And that's it?'

'That's it. There's only two sets.'

'Right,' said Israel. 'So if you didn't steal them, there's no sign of a forced entry, it must, by a process of logical deduction, be Ted who's stolen them. Case solved, thank you very much, ladies and gentlemen, goodnight, I'm going home.'

Israel started to walk off.

'Hold on,' said Linda, picking at something stuck in her teeth. 'Hold on, hold on. Are you accusing Ted of stealing the library books?'

'Well, he stole the mobile library van, didn't he?'

'Ah, yes.' Linda now seemed to have got a hold of whatever it was that was stuck in her teeth, and was examining it on the end of her finger. 'He told you about our arrangement then?'

'Yes, right, that was your totally bonkers arrangement where he steals the mobile library and you buy it back from him? I mean-'

'Well. That was a…difficult situation,' said Linda, sniffing the end of her finger. 'You have to understand that the people who stole the van saw it as a civil rights issue.'

'A civil rights issue?'

'This is Northern Ireland, Mr Armstrong.'

'Right. Fine. Well, maybe they saw it as a civil rights issue to nick the library books as well.'

'Really! And what do you think they'd have done with fifteen thousand library books?'

'Read them?'

'Don't be silly,' said Linda.

'Sold them, then.'

'It's possible, I suppose,' said Linda, who now delicately chewed whatever it was that was on the end of her finger and started ferreting around in her bag again. 'But why would they want to do that?'

'To buy drugs and guns?'

'Please,' said Linda. 'This is Tumdrum. Not north Belfast. Any other bright ideas?'

'Well,' said Israel thoughtfully, 'no, not really. Are they chocolate brazils?'

'Yes. Would you like one?'

'All right, yes, please. Thanks.' It might help him think.

'Yes. Well, I see. If you've got suspicions about Ted, shouldn't you have a word with him?'

'Who, me?' said Israel, cracking the chocolate brazil between his teeth: the last thing he wanted to do was have a word with Ted. 'Can't you have a word with him?'

'I hardly think that would be appropriate, Mr Armstrong, do you?'

'Why not?'

'Because you're his line manager.'

'What do you mean I'm his line manager?'

'Ted is the driver of the mobile library. You are the librarian with responsibility for the mobile library. Any issues arising concerning his performance of his duties, it's your responsibility in the first instance to deal with it before referring it up to senior management.'

'And who's senior management?' asked Israel.

'Me,' said Linda.

'Right. Well, I'm referring it up to you.'

'And as your line manager I'm advising you to deal with it.'

Ted was still sitting outside smoking. He stood up as Israel approached. 'Well?' he asked.

'It looks like they've been stolen.'

'The whole heap?' said Ted.

'Yep.'

Ted blew out a long stream of smoke. 'Och. Any idea about who stole them?'

'Well, according to Linda, there's only two sets of keys.'

'I see.'

'She has one. And…'

Israel took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. He felt rather bad about saying this. Ted hadn't been entirely unhelpful since Israel had arrived, not absolutely entirely-he was rude and aggressive and physically threatening, but he had a certain charm about him, a certain undeniable winningness, a kind of huge, twinkly-eyed hoggishness-and it gave Israel no pleasure to be in the position of accusing Ted of theft. He could feel his head throbbing, and his sore ankle, just at the thought of it-but…

'What?' said Ted.

'What?'

'You were saying, about the keys.'

'Yes. Linda has one set. And you have the other one. So.'

Ted was silent.

'And we were just wondering…'

'We?'

'Me and Linda.'

'Aye.'

'We were wondering…You don't know anything about it at all?'

'About what?' Ted huffed.

'About where the books are? I mean, I was just thinking, because you…'

'What?'

'Well, because you, you know, you stole the mobile library…'

'Aye, right. I see, Columbo. Now get this right: I did not steal the mobile library. I hid her. Along with a number of other concerned citizens who were standing up for the rights of this community.'

'Yes, well.'

'And now the council have her back.'

'Yes.'

'And so now they've got her back they're trying to frame me for stealing the books, is that right?'

'No.'

'That'd be about right.'

'No, no. No one's trying to frame you for anything, Ted. I'm just asking if you have any idea what might have happened to the books?'

Ted threw away his cigarette butt.

'So you don't have any idea?' repeated Israel, rather weakly.

Ted kept his silence for a moment and then he looked Israel in the eye, and reached a vast, hard hand towards him.

'Here,' he said, giving Israel his keys to the library.

'What?'

'Keys.'

'What do I want them for?'

'Well, if you and auld two-face in there think you can go around accusing me of this, that and the other, and expect me to sit here and take it, you've another think coming. You might be from London and what have you, but you've got a lot to learn, let me tell you.'

'Ted-'

'You want to mind yourself.'

'Hang on, Ted!'

'You put a tramp on a horse and he'll ride to the devil,' were Ted's parting words, as he turned his back on Israel, and walked away.

'What?'

'You heard me. You're on your own now, son. Good luck. You're going to need it.'