The Eternal Investigator: An Oxford Key Mysteries Novella

by Lynn Morrison

  H somersaults in the air, twisting to hover in front of my face. “Bruv, I’m ‘onoured ya asked me. Of course, ya can… Is it about a dame?”

  “No,” I reply, chuckling at the mere idea. “Women problems are the least of my worries now, I assure you. I see a park bench up ahead. Let’s have a seat and I’ll tell you the whole story.”

  H proves to be a better listener than I expected as I recount my tale of the missing funds. His eyes grow wide and his expression grim as the size of my challenge becomes apparent.

  “Lor luv a duck, Bartie,” he groans. “That sure is a right problem. Now I wish it ‘ad been lady troubles.”

  I grimace at the truth in his words. “I’ve exhausted all routes of investigation and I haven’t a clue where to look next. We always kept the college funds under tight control, and even more so since the start of the war.”

  H taps his snout with a black talon, a stream of black smoke leaking from his nostrils. “Not tight enough, I’d say. Maybe we should back up a step, take a fresh look at 'ow ya ‘andled tha funds when ya were alive. Tell me about one of yer typical days.”

  “A typical day?” I cast my mind back to the weeks before my death. “That shouldn’t be difficult. Let's see… Every morning I set aside time to meet with the various departments at the college, to review their expenditures against their budget.”

  “I bet those meetings are a right laugh,” H mumbles. “What about yer afternoons?”

  “Those were spent in my office reviewing the daily transaction records and updating our accounts receivables and accounts payable.” When H looks confused, I explain, “I'd make notes of all the money the college spent, and track that against the payments we received from student fees and the military. At the end of each month, I'd review our budget and bank balances with Dr Gardner."

  H nods his understanding, now clearer on what I did in my role as Bursar. "I can see 'ow ya would be tha one ta discover money was missin. But what made ya think Dr Gardner and Penny would be able ta pull off tha theft?"

  "Normally when my balance fails to match, I can trace the error back to a single transaction or to a specific department. That's what makes it so hard for someone outside of a small group to embezzle money without getting caught straight away."

  "But this time?" H prompts, waving me to continue with my explanation.

  "The theft was methodical. I found dozens of small transactions which didn't match up. For example, there were invoices for supplies we never received and receipts for goods which were practically illegible. I'm loathe to admit it, but the thief was rather brilliant in their approach. If they had spread their efforts out over several months, rather than doing it all in one, I might not have caught on to what they were doing. I'd have written them off as incidentals."

  "That still doesn't explain why ya think Dr Gardner or Penny did it," H points out.

  "Remember when I said that Dr Gardner and I met every month to review the books?" I ask and wait for H to nod. "Dr Gardner keeps a very close eye over the budget. Our meeting would last most of the day because she would make me go over every line item in our expenditures to make sure the college money is well spent. Penny was on hand to make notes of any actions needed. The three of us were the only ones who knew every department's purchasing habits. That is what you'd need to know to embezzle monies in small amounts."

  Seeing my dilemma, H huffs a cloud of smoke out of his snout. "Bartie, mate, ya 'ave a real mystery on yer 'ands. And no offence, but a boring one at that. A day-long meeting ta discuss buying foodstuffs and stationery?" He mimes a giant yawn to make his point.

  The sight of a wyvern faking a yawn is too much for me. I chuckle while replying, "Accountancy isn't meant for everyone, H. Poor Penny and Philip were often flagging by the late afternoon." I shake my head, remembering the two of them trying to keep themselves awake.

  "Eh?" H gives a smoky cough and looks at me with confusion writ large across his scaly brow. "Philip? Who's Philip?"

  "Didn't I mention him?" I jog my memory and am surprised to find I left him out. "He's my assistant. New assistant, I should say. He arrived at St Margaret several months ago, to convalesce after an injury on the battlefield. He was due to be dismissed from service, but he asked to stay on, helping at the college."

  "Ya 'ave an assistant and ya didn't put 'im on yer suspect list?" H stares at me, his voice deadpan.

  I sit back, flabbergasted. "Philip as a suspect? But he's barely been in his role for a couple of months. Surely he couldn't be the one…"

  "Bruv, 'ow could ya miss 'im? Dr Gardner, Penny and ya 'ave all been at St Margaret fer years with nary a problem. Then this new muggins shows up and suddenly funds are missing? Philip should 'ave been at tha top of yer list, mate."

  I groan, annoyed with myself for having overlooked the obvious. Philip. The person who sat idly around the college grounds for two months, learning how everything worked, was likely scheming all the while. And now, the same young man has access to all of the college's transaction records, petty cash and receipts.

  I assumed one would need years to build up the insider knowledge required to pull off the crime, but that was my own naivety. A determined individual with the right access could accomplish the same in a matter of weeks.

  Realising I need to take action posthaste, I spring to my feet and square my shoulders. "I've got a thief to catch," I announce and then stride off towards St Margaret.

  "Wait fer me, Bartie," H calls out. I hear his wings flapping furiously behind me. "Iffen yer going ta stop tha man, ya'll need all tha 'elp ya can get."

  ❖

  H and I are deep in conversation as we walk in St Margaret's front entrance. That's the only excuse I can offer for why I didn't think to warn Catherine Morgan before bringing a wyvern into our halls. When her eyes land on my companion, she nearly tumbles out of her portrait.

  "Bartholomew Kingston, what is that?" she asks, her shocked tone breaking through my conversation with H.

  "Not a what, but a who," I reply, holding up my hands up in reassurance. "Catherine, meet H, an Eternal from the Bodleian. H, may I introduce you to Catherine Morgan?"

  H flies up to hover at her eye level. "'Ello, missie. Pleasure ta meet ya. Sorry we didn't come sooner, but we didn't know St Margaret 'ad any Eternals yet."

  I would have said it wasn't possible, but somehow Catherine's eyebrows climb even further up her forehead. "We?" she asks, looking to me for an explanation.

  "Oh Catherine, I have so much to tell you," I say, looking chagrinned. "Would you be amenable to joining us for a walk so I might give you a full update of the last twenty-four hours?" I hold out a hand to help her step down from her resting place on the wall.

  When she is standing on her feet beside me, she offers a hand to H, grimacing only slightly at the sight of his sharp, black talons. "The pleasure is all mine, H. It is clear that I've been remiss in not travelling beyond the college walls. I am very curious to hear what else I've missed."

  Our unlikely trio walks the halls, moving towards the gardens. Soldiers and students alike pass through Catherine and me, none the wiser to our existence. H, however, attracts minimal attention as the people step wide, allowing the strange cat to pass between them without comment. Seeing Oxford's magic at work is still an amazing sight.

  Catherine and I lay claim to an empty park bench set in a patch of bright sunlight while H darts off to investigate a rustling sound in a nearby flowerbed. As soon as we are settled, I launch into an overview of my previous night.

  Catherine gives me a stern look. "I'm not surprised to hear of Penny's innocence. Had you shared your suspicions with me, I might have saved you a trip. The poor girl is working herself to the bone. I've been weighing the idea of calling Dr Gardner's attention to the matter."

  "I have well and truly learned my lesson, Catherine. Moving forward, I will endeavour to seek your council more frequently. As to Penny, having seen firsthand her situation at home, I think a whispered word would be i
n order. If anyone can find a way to help her family manage through, it is Dr Gardner."

  Having settled that discussion, I segue over to my morning. Catherine laughs when I tell her of opening my eyes this morning to find a wyvern staring down at me and my subsequent tumble from the park bench. But her humour quickly turns to wonder as I tell her about the meeting of the Eternals. She is less interested to learn Lawrence of Arabia resides in our sphere, her attention pulled towards my description of Lady Petronilla.

  "Lady Petronilla? Of Barnard College?" Her eyes open wide.

  I turn my head, surprised. "You know of her?"

  "Of course, I know of her, Bartie! She was one of the historical figures who inspired me to donate to St Margaret. Her husband retains credit for the college foundation, but without her help, it certainly would not exist today." Catherine shakes her head before adding, "I shouldn't be surprised to hear she has returned as an Eternal. I would love to meet her."

  "Easy enough to arrange," I quip. "She and I are due to meet next week at the University Parks for an afternoon amble. You're more than welcome to join us."

  Catherine's eyes light up. "Lady Petronilla… I shall have to brush up on my history between now and when we meet with her."

  I interrupt her reverie. "Before you get too carried away, we have a more pressing issue to resolve."

  Her expression shifts from delight to grim. "Ah yes, our missing funds. I take it you have a new suspect in mind?"

  Before I can reply, H reappears from the shrubbery, pausing to set fire to a leaf stuck to his barbed tail. "Ya, we've got our man. Tha suspect was as plain as tha nose on 'is face, Cathy. I can't believe Bartie overlooked him in tha first place."

  "He's right, Catherine. I was looking at our long term staff, assuming only they would have the requisite knowledge to pull of the theft. In doing so, I missed an obvious candidate."

  Catherine thinks for a second. "Philip."

  "Yes, Philip." I huff in frustration. "My junior bursar. I've brought him along to most of my meetings and spent hours training him. He was so rarely alone with the ledgers that I didn't think he'd have had the chance to make any changes to them — or even know where to begin. However, looking back on some of the questions he asked, I realise he wasn't confused, he was simply sizing the opportunity to take advantage of our controls."

  I shake my head, my disappointment evident. "I taught him everything he needed to know to, and he used it to steal from right underneath our noses. If I don't find a way to stop him, there is every chance he'll get away with it. No one is looking in his direction."

  H thinks for a minute and then flies up to land beside me on the bench. "I'm right convinced, but I need ta ask. Are ya absolutely sure Philip is the thief? Ya were wrong before…" He trails off, leaving me to fill in the blank.

  I hesitate before responding, wanting to give his question due consideration. Am I rushing into baseless plots again, as I did with Dr Gardner and Penny? I don't think that I am, and really, there is no one else who could have pulled this off.

  I shift, turning my attention to Catherine, checking to see what she thinks. She meets my gaze, her face clear of any signs of doubt. I cock my head to the side, asking silently for confirmation. Her grim smile is answer enough.

  "Yes, H. I am sure," I confirm. "It has to be Philip."

  "Well, then, mate. Sounds like we need a plan to convince 'im ta turn 'imself in ta Dr Gardner." H somersaults off the bench, landing before us to pace on the garden path. "'Ere's what I think we should do…"

  Chapter Eight

  It doesn't take us long to agree on our plan. At first, I'm skeptical that it will work, but both Catherine and H have been Eternals for much longer than I have and they manage to convince me.

  The first step in the plan is simple enough. Dr Gardner's calendar offered an opportunity to make sure Philip is guilty. At the appointed time, I go into Dr Gardner's office and take up my now normal spot standing in the corner of the room. I watch as she calls Penny and Philip to come in for a budget review meeting.

  Philip arrives, his brown hair artfully mussed and his arm heavy with notebooks and stacks of papers. "Has he brought every single bill and receipt with him?" I wonder aloud, but of course, no one answers.

  Philip sits, his uniform creasing as he folds his lanky form into the waiting chair. I can see hints of the muscular young man he must have been prior to taking a bullet in his leg. The doctors fought hard to save the limb, but the months abed took a toll. He will likely require the use of a cane for the rest of his life.

  The meeting begins as an informal discussion of the latest news from the college departments. Philip starts off well, but soon mixes up information, causing Dr Gardner to stop and correct him. It also makes me pause, as he must surely know these simple details. When he does it again, five minutes later, I begin to suspect he is faking his incompetence. Having worked beside him for more than a month, I know how quickly his mind grasps information.

  I hesitate for a moment, but then find the courage to reach over and pluck the top notebook from his pile. I freeze in place, but no one in the room appears to notice the notebook seemingly hovering in mid-air. The magic is hard at work.

  Flipping through the pages, my suspicions are confirmed. His logs are in perfect order, every row of figures adding up as it should. I can see only one reason why he would pretend to know less than he does.

  I return to my post in the corner, waiting to see what Philip will do next. The answer comes when Dr Gardner moves to end the discussion.

  She pauses, deep in thought, and begins absentmindedly rubbing her forehead. Her stress is evident. "Philip, what of the missing monies? Have you had any luck in determining where they might have gone?"

  Philip shakes his head and shrugs his shoulders. "I'm sorry, Dr Gardner. As you can see, I'm still getting to grips with the way the college budgets are organised. I had hoped Bartie would have found more time to explain things to me, but he was awfully cagey in our weeks working together. Reticent to answer my questions, if you know what I mean."

  I stare dumbfounded, fury rising in my chest. Reticent to answer questions? I taught the lad everything I know!

  Philip leans forward as though he is about to speak, but stops suddenly and leans back again. His movement is enough to catch Dr Gardner's attention.

  "Did you have something else to add, Philip? If so, please speak freely here."

  His body language screams hesitation, but I see a crafty glint in his eyes when he happens to glance my way. "I hate to speak ill of someone who isn't here to defend themselves, but…"

  Dr Gardner waves him to continue. "Out with it, Philip."

  "It's about Bartie. I've been thinking about the missing money and from where I'm sitting, he's the only one capable of committing the theft. If he's run off with the college funds, there is little we three can do about it. We might as well move on."

  "Move on?" I seethe. "Move on? I'm sure you'd like them to abandon their search and write me off as a lost cause."

  "I fear you are right, Philip," Dr Gardner answers, looking pained. "Unless someone magically steps forward and admits their guilt, or unless we can uncover where Bartie has disappeared off to, we've not really got any other choice."

  With Dr Gardner's words echoing in my ears, I step through the wall and stride towards the front entrance where Catherine and H are awaiting the final go-ahead for our plan.

  ❖

  Catherine and H were adamant that we needed to wait for nightfall before setting the next stage of our scheme in motion. After all, what better time than the dark of night for a ghostly vision to appear?

  Getting Philip to stay around after hours is the easy part. Catherine waits until she spots him walking alone in the corridor. She sidles up next to him and whispers in his ear, "So much work on your plate, and you all alone to handle it. You're tired… worn out. You deserve a rest."

  I watch as she gently guides him to a darkened room, one rarely used in t
he afternoon. "Lie down here and sleep deeply." When she is satisfied he is sleeping deeply, she leaves, making sure to reach through the door and flip the lock behind herself.

  After sending H off to beg food from the dining hall, Catherine and I take up posts on either side of the room. The shadows on the floor grow longer until they disappear completely. Thanks to the lengthening days, by the time it is dark outside, we are confident few are left in the building.

  Catherine gives me a smile and a nod, and then begins walking away. I have a moment of panic and reach out to catch her arm before she can go.

  "Are you sure we can do this? That I'm strong enough?" I look deep in her eyes, searching for any signs of doubt.

  "I am positive you can do what you need to do this evening, Bartie. You simply need to concentrate and believe, and the magic will do its part." She pats me on the shoulder and then spins around to go, calling her final words back over her shoulder. "We're Eternals, Bartie. We do whatever it takes to help our college succeed."

  I let her words sink into my backbone, filling in any gaps in my inner strength. She's right. I've got to stop thinking of myself as a wisp-like ghostly presence. I'm not a ghost. I am an Eternal. I square my shoulders and get moving.

  My first task is simple — I need to wake Philip up. I unlock the door and push it open, its hinges squeaking. For good measure, I tap out a rhythm on the wooden doorframe until I see his eyes flutter open.

  Philip groans, stretching his arms out as he sits up from the sofa upon which he has been sleeping. He rubs his eyes and smacks his lips, failing to notice me standing across from him. Although I'm looking at him, all of my concentration is on one thought.

  "Become solid," I say to myself, over and again in my head.

  Apparently, it works. Philips shifts, rising to a half crouch when he notices someone staring at him from the doorway. His eyes narrow and then open wide in fear before he falls back onto the sofa.