Oooh, list. I loved lists. “Can I have a copy of that?”
“Of course! Anything I can do to help. You’ll warn the other owners?”
“First thing,” I assured him. And meant it. I also wanted to verify who still had their copy and whose had been stolen.
Jere’s expression turned anxious. “What can you do now?”
“Well, I actually called in a colleague. She’s a Woodland Elf, amazing tracker. I’m hoping she can pick something up from here that we can follow.”
Jere seemed to realize the problem quickly. “There are a lot of free-floating scents and magic in here.”
“Like I said, really hoping.”
“I suppose there’s not much in the way of clues, not after all this time.” He looked around again, as if seeing the room with fresh eyes. “I have a maid who comes in once a week to clean. She will have dusted away any evidence.”
Crap on a stick. There went any possibility of fingerprints.
“If you have a maid, then wouldn’t she have noticed the damaged lock?”
“Apparently not,” he sighed, shoulders slumping.
“Yeah…I’d like to talk to her anyway. Here, sit, give me a list of names of people who knew you had the ninth volume and where you kept it.”
Jere sat in the same spot, still slumped and depressed. “I mean, anyone who read the paper would know.”
“I’m referring to the ones who personally knew you and would know where you kept the book.”
“Oh. It’s rather a long list. I didn’t really make a secret of it.”
“Tell me anyway. Too much information is better than none at all.”
It started with his maid’s name. Then family and friends, branching out into colleagues and the book broker who had been interested in purchasing it.
By the time we got through all of them, Niamh had arrived. She knocked at the door and Henri popped up to let her in.
“Ah, Kingsman Niamh, I’m happy you got here so quickly. This way, please.”
Niamh sailed through with a feline grace. Despite her height, she could move so silently she barely stirred the air. I’m told I move like that now, after Belladonna’s enhancements, but it’s hard to see it in yourself.
Niamh greeted Jere with a polite nod. “Hello. I’m Kingsman Niamh.”
“Pleasure, Kingsman. Jere Mortimer, at your service.” Jere looked at her with a sort of masculine awe, as if she’d stunned him on some level. She probably had.
I indicated the open cabinet on the other wall. “The grimoire was stored in there. I’m afraid it’s been about thirty days since he last handled it, so we’re not sure when it was stolen.”
Niamh’s expression turned pained. “I’m not sure if I can pick anything up if it’s been that long. But the theft may have occurred more recently, correct?”
“Correct. Just try. I don’t know how your tracking ability works, so if you can pick something up, that would be awesome.”
She approached the area, eyeing it from every angle, and explained as she went, “My people don’t rely on a singular sense in order to track something. It’s part scent, part visible aura, and part instinct that’s hard to describe to the other races. You don’t really have a sense like ours.”
Of course Henri had to ask, “If you were to attempt to explain it, how would you do so?”
Pausing, she cast him a glance over her shoulder. “Which way is up? Which way is down?”
Henri pointed up then down with his finger.
“How do you know?” Niamh asked with a wry smile. “You see? It’s something you instinctively know but there’s no way to explain it. It just is.”
“Ah. An excellent explanation, thank you.”
“Thank you for asking.” She rolled her eyes. “It gets irritating when people assume I’m omniscient. Now. As for this case….”
I stood well back to give her room to work. It was one of my pet peeves, having someone hanging over my shoulder while I was trying to work. I tried not to do it to other people.
Niamh looked the scene over carefully, stepped back several times, and even turned and stared hard at Jere for a moment. Then she turned back and shook her head.
“No, I’m sorry, I’m not picking up much. There have been three people near this case who interacted with it recently. I’d say within the past three weeks or so. I can barely discern one aura from another, and Detective Edwards’ presence is the strongest. Also the most recent.”
“Because she opened the case today.” Jere let out a low sigh.
As little information as she’d given us, it interested me. “You said three. If we rule out Jamie and Jere’s maid, that still leaves one person.”
“Quite probably our thief,” Henri mused. “And you said within the past three weeks? Is there any way to narrow that down further, I wonder?”
It was a good question and one I didn’t have an answer for.
“Niamh, you said you could barely tell the three auras apart. If I put you in front of someone who had been here, could you identify their aura?”
“I think so. But I can’t make promises. It’s very faint.” She shrugged, expression screwed up in a half-grimace.
“No harm in trying. Assuming I can figure out who that third person is.” I half-turned to look at Henri. “We’d better go and talk with Lady Radman and Elfrida Bramwell. At the rate things are going, those two might also be missing their volumes. Or in danger of losing the one they’ve got. We’ve got to call anyone who has one, really. I’m afraid of who else might be missing one at this point.”
He didn’t look too happy with the idea, but he didn’t argue against it, either. To Jere, he swore, “We will figure this out. I don’t think the thief really understands how to handle the grimoires properly. Although, at least yours was stolen with the protective box.”
“No,” he sighed. “It wasn’t. That cabinet is the protective box. I made mine larger so I didn’t get into the habit of carting it about.”
I looked at the cabinet with dismay. “Oh, dear.”
Henri looked outright pained. “No individual box for yours? Truly, you just made the cabinet?”
“It seemed a good idea at the time.” Jere grimaced in a deeply pained way. “Oh, past self, that was a really stupid decision.”
I’ll say. I very kindly did not agree with him out loud. Instead, I said, “One way or another, they’ll leave a trail.”
Jere didn’t look reassured by this—rather the opposite. “I agree that’s the case, but Henri—that means some very dangerous fireworks will likely erupt at some point in Kingston. This many grimoires without protective cases? It’ll be a disaster and will likely harm a lot of people. I’m not sure if I can wish for that.”
Now, there’s a mental image for you. And I was with Jere on this one. That did not sound like my idea of a good time.
We drove to Lady Radman’s next, as she was logistically the next choice. I maintained the right to drive, which amused Jamie, but I didn’t trust her lead foot on these rain-slick roads. It had stopped raining for the moment, at least.
Niamh chose to continue helping Foster track down book brokers, so it was just us and the Felixes in the car. For once, the felines were curled up in their basket between us, taking a chance to nap. With such little sunlight today, they might well be operating on low energy reserves.
“After we speak with the two ladies, I think I want to track down the broker,” Jamie mused aloud.
“Sasson Walcott?”
“Yes, him. Let’s stop by first thing in the morning since it’s past office hours now. I’ve got lots of questions for the man. It’s been said a few times that each individual grimoire in this set is expensive, that trying to sell the set as a whole is nearly impossible because it would have an insane price tag. So, why would a book broker try to collect the set to sell it?”
I saw where her thought process was leading. “He must have a buyer in mind if he’s going through all this trouble.”
“Right? I really want to know who. The very rich do not take the answer no well, after all. Some foul play might be mixed in with this. At the very least, I have some questions for the man. I’d also like to know if he’s the type who can’t take no for an answer.”
It was a good question and one I entertained as well. “Should we alert the palace about the thefts? I would think with the palace wards up, their volume would be the least likely to be stolen.”
“Yeah, I agree, but I’d like to know if the broker spoke to them about buying the grimoire. If he was truly assembling the full set, then he’d have talked to them as well.”
“We’ll get to a phone and start calling people next. I believe this is her house now.”
The circular drive was bracketed by two stone pillars with a modest sign attached to one, claiming: Radman Residence.
When one thought of a noblewoman’s property, certain characteristics came to mind. It was clear at a glance the Radmans did not enjoy a great deal of wealth. This was a nice enough home, a two-story limestone with beautiful gardens in the front yard. But it was more of a cottage to the wealthy, really. Not all aristocratic families managed their wealth wisely, and this was a case in point.
We stopped in front of the door, and I parked the car before taking Phil with me. Clint hopped out on his own, but Tasha chose to ride on Jamie’s arm. All three still wore their official vests proclaiming them as part of the Kingston PD. It was cute but also made for a rather strange sight.
Jamie beat me to the door and gave it a firm knock with the brass knocker. It was opened a moment later by a woman in a plain black-and-white maid service uniform.
“Detective Edwards and Dr. Davenforth to see Lady Radman,” Jamie informed her.
The maid’s expression cleared. “Ah, of course. She’s expecting you. Right this way, please. Can I take your coats?”
As ours were semi-damp from rain, I was agreeable to this. I handed my coat and hat off to her, Jamie doing the same. The foyer was beautifully done in polished hardwood. It smelled of lemon, too, indicating it had been recently polished.
The maid led us directly into what I initially thought was the sitting room. After a blink, I realized this was more a lady’s morning room, as it was appointed with delicate furniture and pastel colors. The windows making up one wall would let in a great deal of warmth and light even on a day like this. I assumed as much, since it was sunset and a soft light still filtered in.
Lady Radman sat in a chair near the sandstone fireplace, enjoying the heat coming off the embers, ensconced in several layers of shawls. She looked…aged, was the kindest way to put it. Her skin was paper thin, so much as to give her an air of translucence. Her hair was pure white and done up neatly in a bun, but her eyes were a sharp and penetrating blue.
“Detective Edwards and Dr. Davenforth to see you, ma’am,” the maid relayed with a respectful nod.
“Thank you, Mildred,” Lady Radman said. “Bring us tea, please.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
With a wave of her hand to the settee nearby, Lady Radman encouraged, “Do sit. I’m very curious as to the purpose of this visit. You said it was in regard to the Reaper’s Set?”
“Yes,” Jamie answered as she got comfortable. “We’re investigating it at the moment.”
“That doesn’t sound like a good start to this conversation. Before we begin on that, do clarify something for me, Dr. Davenforth. Are you in any way related to Ophelia Davenforth?”
I blinked, startled to hear that name coming out of her mouth. “She’s my mother. Are the two of you acquainted?”
Lady Radman’s expression lit up in nostalgic joy. “We are, in fact. I was her tutor, once, when she was but a girl. I haven’t seen her in ages. Is she doing well?”
“Very well. Aside from me, she has a daughter, too. And now a grandchild. She’s very busy in society, trying to improve things and help people as she can.”
“I’m delighted to hear it. I really should call upon her, I think. Maybe have tea and catch up.”
I encouraged her with a smile. “Please do. I think she’ll be quite happy to hear from an old friend.”
“I shall, then. I wish I’d known you were related to her when you first called and requested an interview. I would have been more cordial.” Her caution eased openly, making her more candid. “Now, what’s brought you to my doorstep? I hope the Reaper’s Set isn’t causing trouble?”
“I’m afraid it is,” I answered with a grimace. “We’ve discovered that three volumes have been recently stolen.”
Lady Radman didn’t have much color in her cheeks to begin with, but she looked faint at the idea. “NO! Whose?!”
Jamie ticked them off on her fingers. “Leor Purves, Jere Mortimer, and a book broker had his stolen at the Kingston book faire.”
She thumped her hand against the chair’s arm in outrage. “A book broker? Wind and stars, what was one of the Reaper’s Set doing with a book broker?”
“Apparently, being sold. He got it at an estate sale.” Jamie shrugged, hands splayed.
Lady Radman groaned, clearly upset and not at all trying to hide it. “I cannot believe this. Which volume was stolen from the faire?”
“The fourth volume,” I supplied. “I was informed it once belonged to Secilia Bardoff?”
Her outrage cleared, but only slightly. “Secilia Bardoff. She recently died, I’m afraid. Her health was always poor. It could be her family was unaware of the understanding between us and sold the volume while liquidating her estate. Oooooh, I really should have followed up on that more quickly. I was trying to give them space and time to grieve. I apparently gave them too much of both.”
If she’d had the physical health to do so, I had no doubt she would have already been out of the chair and heading to the Bardoff family to have strong words with them.
“May I ask, what was the understanding?”
With a sigh, she focused on us again.
“It’s quite the burden, being the descendent of Kerey Radman. For all the man’s brilliance, he was terrible about common sense. He wasn’t one who handled life well, if you take my meaning. He was absorbed in the puzzle, in his research, and only when he was called to war did he realize what he’d crafted. What his legacy would be, I suppose.
“So much of his work could be twisted to very dark ends, and especially in a war, the temptation is strong. He was afraid of what people would do with the spells and hexes he’d created. It’s why he enclosed the volumes into the wall of the house, so they couldn’t carelessly be stumbled upon.
“His descendants understood, too, what damage these books could do. But there was so much good to be found in them, we couldn’t bring ourselves to destroy them. When I sold or gifted a volume, I impressed upon each recipient that, if they could no longer safeguard the grimoire, they were to give it back to me. I would find a new caretaker for it.”
All said, that was a very wise approach. I mentally applauded her for the caution.
“I take it that all agreed to this provision?”
“Yes. Each person was very aware of the pros and cons of owning such a powerful book, and they were careful with the grimoires. Or, I thought they would be, at least.”
She seemed peeved that the grimoires had been so easily stolen. I couldn’t blame her for that.
Jamie piped in with, “Each of them put their volume in a secure place. The locks were broken by the thief. I assure you, no one was being careless with them. But does this mean you can give me a list of who has each grimoire? Jere told us all the names he could remember, but his intel might be out-of-date at this point, as it’s years old. I assume your list will be current.”
Lady Radman did not seem assuaged but nodded readily. “I do. I’ll be happy to give you a list. I want this madness stopped. Do you have any leads on where the grimoires have gone?”
“Only tentative ones at this point.” Jamie gave her one of those professional, confident smiles. “We’re st
ill trying to wrap our heads around who all the players are in this case. I have colleagues combing through the book brokers’ stands and shops in the city, looking for grimoires and spreading word of the theft. I hope the thief is stupid enough to try and sell the volumes to someone.”
“That’s a good thought. I’ll spread the word as well.” A shark-like expression crossed her face. “Us old people, we only have time and energy to talk to people. I’ll leave the legwork up to you.”
That seemed fair enough to me. I did not underestimate this woman’s determination or contacts.
“Two more questions of you, if we may. You still have Kerey Radman’s diary?”
“I do. I’ll confirm the location for you before you leave.”
“I’d love to look at it,” Jamie said with a winsome smile. “We only have descriptions of what the set looks like. Seeing one of the volumes would help me identify the others.”
Lady Radman nodded firmly. “Consider it done. What else?”
“Have you been contacted by anyone wishing to buy the diary from you?”
She shook her head immediately. “No, I have not. But I doubt most collectors would be interested. The diary is very personal and contains no spellwork or magical information in it. It’s part of why I kept it in the family. It’s technically not part of the Reaper’s Set, aside from being penned by the same man.”
“Fair enough.” Jamie pulled out her notebook and made a note. “If that changes, do let us know.”
The maid came back in with a tea set, which she set on a low coffee table before pouring us each a cup. I took mine with two sugars, relieved to have a beverage. My throat was dry after so much talking today.
“Mildred,” Lady Radman directed as she accepted a cup and saucer. “Fetch me the black portfolio from my study, please. And the engraved box from the safe. It should still be open, as I was in it this morning, but tell me if I need to come and unlock it again.”
“Yes, ma’am.” The maid gave a nod before scurrying back out of the room to fetch the requested items.
Clint sauntered out of Jamie’s lap and headed straight to the distraught woman. He lifted up onto his back legs, tapping one paw delicately to her thigh. Lady Radman looked down at him with open curiosity.
Grimoires and Where to Find Them Page 8
