“It wouldn’t make a difference,” Max said when they were alone again.
“The more on the side of reporting the theft, the better.”
“The other voices are louder,” Max said. “Louder and more influential.”
Liesl was waiting for a sign, hoping that the question of the missing books would resolve itself in her mind, but with every day that passed, with every conversation she had, the knot got more tangled. Liesl was dismayed at how uncertain she still felt, about the police, about all of it, her opinions so unused to having weight that they were still just vapor. Liesl and Max left the imperfect privacy of the empty booth and took a walk to the outer ring, deciding they would spend some time digging through the disorganization.
The pair were up to their elbows for forty-five minutes, Liesl passionately digging, become more and more consumed with finding a treasure for the library and less consumed with the troubles of the library as the time went on. Meditating on how that library had the power to shake her and soothe her in the same moment, Liesl smiled at a thousand-page recipe book for marmalade from 1909 which wasn’t appropriate for the library’s collection but made her fingers tingle nonetheless. Max came up with a copy of Der Eigene, a German-language magazine said to be the first gay periodical. Liesl was having fun. Christopher’s illness, the missing Plantin, the disappearing Miriam, it all receded when they shared congratulations on the addition to the library’s collection.
“There will be questions at the reception tonight,” Max said. “About Chris, about the Plantin.”
And then it all came back.
“I hadn’t intended to go. For that very reason.”
“Won’t look good.”
“Neither will the answers to those questions. In this case, people’s assumptions are less damaging than the truth.”
“What truth is that?”
“Let me ask you, what do you think of the theory that it was Miriam who took the Plantin?” Liesl said.
“Our Miriam? In the ill-fitting sweaters?” he said. “Is that your theory or Francis’s?”
“Why would you think it came from Francis?”
“You two have been talking a lot.”
“We have. But why can’t it be my theory?”
“Well. Is it?”
She was jumpy again; she was on the opposite side of the argument again.
“If I had to theorize,” he said, “Miriam is not where my mind would go.”
“Why, then, did she disappear into thin air?”
“How would I know?” said Max. “Perhaps she’s taken a lover.”
“Why do all men immediately leap to that?”
“Did Francis suggest that too?”
“He did at first, but he talked himself out of it.” She began to explain but stopped herself from going deeper on Francis’s theory. It felt like a betrayal of his confidence.
Max made a face like he was chewing on an especially sour lime. They had all worked together for decades, but it was the first time she sensed something broken between the two men.
“And this lover, is that why Francis told you not to report Miriam missing?” Max asked.
“You just said the same thing. That you think Miriam ran off with someone.” She was getting too worked up defending Francis. “Are you now saying that you think I should report her missing? What are you saying?”
“It’s nothing.”
“It’s not. You’re trying to imply something.”
“That I don’t think it was Miriam.”
The books Liesl was carrying were getting heavy. Max didn’t offer to hold them.
“Yes, you’ve made that clear,” Liesl said. “A meek woman in ill-fitting sweaters could never be a thief.”
“Tell me,” Max said, “but don’t get upset. Have you wondered at all why Francis is so resistant to the idea of the police?”
“Because Christopher would be.”
Max looked around, and when he was sure there was no one within earshot, he went on.
“He doesn’t know what Christopher would do any more than you or I do. A piece of religious history is missing. A woman is missing. And Francis’s daily focus is making sure you don’t call the police.” He picked at an invisible speck of dust on his immaculate sleeve.
“You can’t suspect Francis.”
“Oh, yes I can. I can if he can suspect Miriam. I can be suspicious of someone who is acting suspicious.”
She waited before responding. Smiled at a woman who walked past, close enough to hear.