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“Well?” The Sergeant asked.
“It’s all going according to plan.” The sergeant then turned as if someone was watching him. He then stepped into the alley and walked away. The colonel stood there in silence and finished his smoke with a defeated look.
I hate this. He thought to himself as he stubbed out the cig and started the walk down Archangel Lane. He knew that he had no choice. The Sergeant made it clear that if he didn’t hold up his end of the bargain, his life as he knew it would be over, but Reggie Winters was in a terrible situation: he was falling in love with the woman he was using as collateral damage.
Trottie Book was an amazing woman. She was fierce, and oh so smart. She was becoming a light in his darkened eyes, and she was the sun to his vitamin D deficiency. Every second that he spent with her brought him genuine happiness, and he could see himself calling her his wife. Unfortunately for him, someone else already does.
He had no problems with Mr. Book. He had only met him once and shared a few words with him. He was a soldier. He was simply following his orders.
Without realizing it, he found himself entering Mr. Book’s Books.
The bell rang as he walked in. The bookshop was a marvellous place and was filled with books that looked to be in no particular order.
“Can I help you, sir?” Mr. Book was standing on a ladder and was putting books onto the third shelf.
“Well, I am not entirely sure what I am looking for.” It wasn’t exactly a lie. The Colonel didn’t even have a clue as to why he was there. Perhaps he could try to talk to him about Trottie.
“I see. Well, give me some ideas, and I am sure that we have it.”
“There is probably nothing of the sort, but do you have anything on marriages?”
“Marriages? We have tons of books on marriages. Are you looking for anything in particular?”
“Perhaps a book where the woman is unhappy after some years.” Slowly, Reggie realized that he was asking for books about Trottie. Perhaps this could be a way to start the conversation.
“Are you scared about the possibility for your wife?” Mr. Book looked at him over his glasses with a questioning expression.
“No, nothing of the sort. I am a widower. This book is more so for a friend.”
“I see. Perhaps I can recommend Forbidden Notebook by Alba de Céspedes. It tells the tale of a woman who is stuck in her marriage. Is that something that would fit the situation?” Mr. Book was now off his ladder and was walking the book to Mr. Winters.
“I would say she wonders if she made the wrong choice, that she mourns what she never had.” The colonel was looking out the window at a particular shop that sold wallpaper.
Mr. Book immediately followed his line of sight.
“Forgive me if I am mistaken, are you perhaps friends with my wife?” Mr. Book didn’t have the expression of anger on his face. He didn’t have the face of someone who was being accused. He was simply asking the question.
“Trottie, yes. I’m sorry about the way I asked the question. I am questioning a couple things.”
“What are your concerns with my wife and the happiness of our marriage?”
The colonel knew that if he told Mr. Book that he not only kissed his wife, but loved her and wanted to marry her, that he might end up as a dead man.
“We have become friends since we first met. We have, I would say, a good relationship.” He had a look in his eye that told Mr. Book all that he needed to know.
“Trottie has her own life; I have mine. It is quite mutual respect. We got married young and realized that we love each other in other ways.”
“Wait- so you and Trottie aren’t together?” Why would two people who didn’t love each other get married? The Books have no children, so that wasn’t the reason. Why would they marry?
“Yes, we are together,r and I love my wife very dearly. What exactly is your relationship with her?”
“I love her. And I think I have made a huge mistake.” The words came out so fast that Mr. Book almost missed them.
“Love her? Excuse me?”
“We started chatting over tea more and more, and then we went to an-”
Mr. Book stopped him before he could finish.
“You said you made a mistake. What mistake was that?” Mr. Book wasn’t calm and collected anymore. The man had a fierce look in his eye that included worry.
“Sergeant Morris saw us meet for tea for the first time and followed me home afterwards.”
“What exactly do you mean?”
“He knows!” Colonel Winters was not an emotional man. He was a military man, for Christ's sake, but what he was doing to not only a woman that he loved dearly, but also a man that he respected was eating him alive.
Sure, homosexuality was illegal, strange, and weird, and most people disagreed with it, but the war changed him a little. During the war, there was a brief time that because of sheer need for manpower, people looked the other way about people's extracurriculars when they joined. He fought next to great men who helped him come home alive, and for their return, they were arrested and publicly humiliated. Because of his experience with people who were ‘that way’, he knew what most people didn’t; they were completely normal people who lived normal lives. His views changed during the war, but for most, their views got stronger and were driven by fear against the wrong people.
“Knows what.” Mr. Book was pale as he sat down. He already knew the answer. He knew that if the Colonel made one phone call, he could be thrown in prison.
The Colonel sat across from him.
“Around the time when we first met, the Sargent got a call from a man who was turning in a “queer” that tried to approach him at a bar.” Winters used quotes around the word, and his voice exaggerated it a little.
“Morris thought nothing of it until he heard the description of a 6-foot man with red hair and red glasses. He knew exactly who the man was talking about. Morris doesn’t like you, by the way, and when he saw me with Trottie, he cornered me.”
Gabriel let the man continue.
“He said that I needed Trottie to admit that your relationship wasn’t real or he would ruin my life. He knew things about my past that I thought were gone and threatened to throw me in jail and ruin my reputation if I didn’t do what he wanted.”
Mr. Book let Winters compose himself. This clearly looked bigger than something from his past.
“He threatened to go after Trottie. He knows that technically she isn’t breaking any laws by marrying you, but he would force her into an interview. The second she would say anything about your marriage, she could be charged. He wants to destroy you and Trottie, and even Jack. He told me I had to choose who would hang, you or everyone, including me. I am terribly sorry. I genuinely love Trottie, but I can’t do this to you.”
“Y-You want to help me?” Mr. Book was an observer, but he also was a realist. The likelihood that this upper-class man would help a homosexual is very rare. There is always a catch in situations like this.
“I can’t do this anymore. I can’t keep looking over my shoulder wondering when he is going to arrest you or wonder if he is going to ask me for more and more and more!”
Winters was standing up now and was pacing in the bookshop.
“We need to stop him.”
“And what do you propose to do that?” Mr. Book was standing up as well.
“If he has dirt on you and knows about me, then what possible leverage could we have?”
“He has no proof. He has one phone call that he took notes on and one file that he stashes in Scotland Yard. I have seen Jack hold his own. If we got this file, we could take away his leverage on you.”
“And what about you? If what you say is true, then the second we take away his gun from him, he is going to pull the trigger on you. Everything that you are trying to protect would be destroyed.”
“Everything I care enough about to protect is tied to you.” Winters was looking him dead in the eye.
“The only thing I want is Trottie safe. If that means that I can’t be with her, then so be it. I’ll get over it eventually.”
No, I won’t.
“Not that it matters right now, because we have something bigger to worry about, but Trottie is free to do what she wants. That part of this marriage will always be true. Anyway, are you serious about trying to steal a police file from a police station?”
“Yes. If we can take away the bullets, he has no gun.”
“I think it is time I call my friend.”
“Who, the Inspector?”
“No. Someone better”