Page 9 of The Amsterdam Enigma (The Continental Capers of Melody Chesterton #3)
W ith their working hypothesis in place, the group spent some time debating their next steps. The most obvious starting point was for Rat to attempt to decipher the scrap of manifest, assuming it was a cypher.
Alessandro decided he would continue to leverage his journalist connections to uncover more about the deceased man, whose code name was Vermeer.
This left Melody. She recognised it was one thing for the two men reluctantly to accept her involvement in the investigation, but another entirely to assign her actual tasks.
It would be all too easy to allow herself to be sidelined while Rat and Alessandro paid lip service to including her, only to struggle, very conveniently, to find tasks for her to assist with.
Once their impromptu meeting had concluded, Alessandro left the hotel, Rat retreated to his room to contemplate the meaning of the manifest, and Melody was left alone with her thoughts. She reflected on what they understood, or at least what they had as their working theories.
They knew Germany was involved in orchestrating false flag events, but it didn’t seem there was certainty about the nature of all those activities.
She resolved to go to the local circulating library to see if she could discern any patterns in recent events.
There was only one issue: she couldn’t speak or read Dutch.
She knew that, in London, one might visit the library to peruse newspaper archives.
However, what use would those be to her if she could not translate them?
Melody picked up her large satchel that was perfect for carrying her notebook and made her way down to the lobby.
She was relieved to see the ever-helpful Robert on duty.
In the lift on the way down, she’d considered what innocuous reason she might provide for wanting to read the archives.
She’d decided to explain that she was assisting her brother with some research on an ancestor’s legal case.
She couldn’t imagine that Robert would scrutinise her motives too closely or try to delve too deeply.
It seemed that Melody’s supposition was correct, and Robert helpfully informed her about the Anglo-Continental Lending Library.
He mentioned it provided weekly, and in some cases daily, English language summaries of bulletins from the major Dutch newspapers, particularly focusing on politics, crime, and labour issues.
What intrigued Melody was that Robert also noted that the library offered colonial news briefs, including shipping reports, trade figures, and even localised uprisings.
He then provided her with detailed directions on how to reach the library.
This was more than Melody had dared to hope for.
She thanked the desk clerk and then set off in the direction Robert had indicated.
The library was just a few minutes’ walk from the hotel, situated in a bustling area full of banks, travel offices, and even some consulates. The entire vicinity appeared to cater to international visitors, making it sensible that this was the library’s location.
Housed in a respectable-looking narrow brick townhouse, the only indication that Melody had arrived at the correct building was a discreet brass plaque next to the door that read: “The Anglo-Continental Lending Library she would ask Alessandro what he knew about the writers.
All in all, it had been a very productive two hours. Though, now she looked at the clock on the wall, Melody realised it had been closer to three hours. No wonder she was hungry; she’d missed lunch in the hotel altogether.
As she packed up her notes in her satchel, Melody heard a woman’s voice behind her. “Good afternoon, Miss Chesterton.”
She couldn’t imagine who she knew in Amsterdam who would be in this library. It wasn’t Fatima’s voice, of that much she was sure. Melody turned around and her heart sank as she saw Miss Edwards standing there, an annoyingly friendly look on her face.
“Miss Edwards, what a surprise meeting you here.” It was the first thing Melody thought to say, and immediately kicked herself; was it really a surprise meeting a fellow British traveller in the Anglo-Continental Library?
Particularly as the other woman had been laden up with books when Melody had met her the day before.
“Oh, I do not know what I would do without this library,” Jemima confided. “I am here almost every day, returning books and getting out new ones.” Melody stood there, holding her notebook and pen, unsure what to say.
Jemima Edwards seemed not to feel the awkwardness that weighed Melody down. Glancing at the bound periodicals Melody had stacked up on the table for collection by the clerk, she asked, “Whatever are you researching, Miss Chesterton? I only take out romances and the occasional penny dreadful.”
This was asked in a bright, unassuming tone, yet Melody was immediately on alert; was it merely a coincidence that they had met here, or had Jemima followed her from the hotel and watched her while she did her research?
Immediately, all sorts of suspicions ran through Melody’s head. Did Rat just bump into the young woman in the library, or had the entire interaction been planned to lure him into Jemima’s web? And if so, for what purpose?
Melody decided to be as nonchalant as possible about her reading material. “Whenever we arrive in a new country, I am always interested in learning what I can about its current political and social situation. I find that reading back issues of newspapers gives me some interesting context.”
Even as she said this, Melody was embarrassed by the lie; not the fact of lying to Miss Edwards, but rather that this wasn’t something she actually did when they arrived somewhere new. Perhaps, in the future, she should make a habit of doing the very thing she just lied about doing.
Melody felt so awkward that she wanted nothing more than to escape the conversation with Miss Edwards.
She picked up her pretty bolero jacket that was lying on the table and put it on.
Trying her best to sound carefree, she forced a bright smile and said, “Well, I must let you get on your way. I understand you are meeting my brother shortly. Good day, Miss Edwards.” Without even waiting for a response, she turned to leave.
“So lovely to see you again, Miss Chesterton,” Jemima called after her retreating back.