The Darkest Days (The Adventures of Xavier & Vic Book 6)

by Liza O'Connor

  “Ferguson.” She breathed in and out. “I’m very glad you’re going to help me.”

  “We will need to interview your servants.”

  “Don’t bother, they evidently don’t hear anything.”

  “Or perhaps they are embarrassed to admit it,” Vic added.

  The old woman tilted her head for a moment, then smiled. “You may have something there. I noticed Liza kept yawning when she dressed my hair at three. The ghost made a terrible ruckus last night, worse than normal. Yes! Definitely question the servants, including Branson, my butler. They have all insisted they hear nothing, but you’ll get the truth out of them…just as you’ll discover my nephew’s address.” She then smiled. “You are everything Edith promised me. I am most pleased you have agreed to help. How long will it take to evict this ghost?”

  “I’m not sure. We will try to resolve this within a week.”

  Her smile faded. “Why so long?”

  Xavier spoke up. “We have other cases, some of a critical nature, which must be addressed at once.”

  “Oh! Of course, forgive me.” She refocused on Vic. “I will knit you a scarf.”

  Vic grimaced. “I dare not wear a scarf. Some criminal would strangle me with it. However, I have a bloodhound puppy. If you could knit him a jacket for the winter…or brown shoes perhaps.”

  “No knitting is necessary,” Xavier scolded and stood. “Let us get to the interviews and be gone.”

  He stormed from the room leaving Tubs and Vic behind. Vic shook her head. “He’s in a bit of a rush today.”

  Lady Haughton laughed. “No need to apologize. Edith prepared me for his rudeness.”

  The old woman hugged Vic. “Take as long as you need, and your pup will have boots and a coat for this winter.”

  Vic headed to the door and stopped. “Oh…does Jeffrey have a key to the house?”

  “No…I offered him one, but he forgot and left it on the counter.” A heavy sigh followed.

  Vic nodded and left the room with Tubs in tow. Damn it all! Vic hated that the resolution of the case was going to break the poor woman’s heart.

  Still, the fact he didn’t take the key was odd. Vic had been so certain of the answer; she’d almost failed to ask the question.

  Why hadn’t he taken the key?

  ***

  Lady Haughton was correct. All the servants refused to admit to hearing noises, even as they yawned and stared at her with half-masked eyes.

  Twelve-year-old kitchen scrub, Piper, was barely able to keep her lids open.

  Vic’s heart went out to the child. “Which is worse, the moans or the banging?”

  Piper groaned. “The banging for sure.” A second after she spoke, her eyes flew open and she slapped both hands over her mouth in horror.

  “You are not in trouble,” Vic whispered.

  Tears welled over the lids of her bloodshot eyes. “But I am. Mr. Branson said anyone who claims to hear ghosts will be fired without a letter.”

  “It’s our secret. Don’t worry. If he asks I’ll say you didn’t hear a thing.”

  “Truly?”

  Vic nodded. There was something about the girl she liked. “And if you confess on your own and he fires you, then come to this address and my butler will give you a job.”

  The girl took the card and put it in the sole of her shoe. “There’s a good chance that will happen because he always seems to know what we’re thinking.”

  “I know the feeling,” Vic muttered, then noticed the door open slightly. “So let us begin. Did you hear or see anything?”

  “No, sir,” she replied.

  “Never?”

  “No, sir.”

  Vic stood up. “Thank you for your time.” She shook the little girl’s frail hand and hurried to the door. The butler stood on the other side. “Mr. Thorn and the other man are waiting in the carriage.”

  Vic smiled, noticing Tubs standing behind the butler. “Well, I’ve no doubt you’re right about Mr. Thorn. Ready, Tubs?”

  She hurried to the front door, knowing Tubs would be right behind her.

  Once inside the carriage, Xavier declared the woman a loon. “Not a single servant heard anything.”

  “And yet they all look so very tired as if something is keeping them up all night.”

  Xavier barked a sharp “Ha! Shall we presume the butler silenced them?”

  “Yes, I tricked one of them into admitting he threatened to fire anyone who claimed to have heard any noise.”

  “Nonetheless, the matter will have to be set aside. Right now we have real work to do,” Xavier warned.

  “But it is too early to rescue Barns…if he hasn’t already gone home.”

  “I meant other work. I’m not about to allow the real Renoir to be stolen just because you’ve yet to identify the thief.”

  “Hey! Without me, you wouldn’t even know where the Renoir lay hidden.”

  “True enough. However, I do know, and I wish to remove it and put in a forgery, just in case matters do not go as we plan tomorrow.”

  “Oh… an excellent modification to my plan. But how do you know which Renoir it is? Not to mention we’ll have to switch it out tonight, for the Rembrandt will be leaving tomorrow morning.”

  Xavier glared at her. “I may not be able to pull facts out of thin air, but I do know most artwork. Fortunately for us, I happen to know someone who has sketched an excellent copy of this particular Renoir. We won’t even have to break into the house to get it.”

  “You have a key?”

  “No. The butler was once informed to obey my orders in all matters. So I will simply demand entrance and acquire the sketch.”

  “Here in London?” Vic challenged.

  “Of course. We haven’t time to travel further.”

  Vic frowned. She could only think of one person foolish enough to give Xavier such carte blanche and possessed a home in London as well as an estate. “Jacko sketches fine art?”

  “Of course not! However, his wife does.”

  Vic grinned. “Alice. I know she paints very fine watercolors, and she likes to learn from the masters, so it makes sense she could duplicate a Renoir as well. Where did you see it?”

  “It’s in the library.”

  Vic didn’t remember a forgery in the library, but then she didn’t have Xavier’s knack for noticing every little item in a room.

  “We all have our special skills,” Vic said as she leaned against Xavier and sighed with happiness. “Good thing Alice already did the sketch. Otherwise, we wouldn’t be able to use her skill and we’d have to go with my plan alone.”

  Tubs patted the foot she rested on his bench. “The forgery improves the plan a great deal.”

  She smiled up at Xavier. “Yes, the old dog still pulls his weight.”

  ***

  When they arrived at Jacko’s house, the butler opened the door at once. “Master Jacko and Mistress Alice are in the country.”

  “Yes, I am aware,” Xavier replied. “We recently broke him out of jail and proved him innocent of murder.”

  “Dear Lord! Thank you for doing so!”

  Xavier headed straight to the library. “My pleasure. Ah, here it is!” He walked to the wall and took down the ersatz Renoir. “If all goes well, I will return this tomorrow.”

  “Sir, the artwork is not authentic. Mistress Alice painted it.”

  “Sketched,” Xavier corrected the man. “And she did so beautifully.” He then headed out.

  “My mistress and master are fine?” the butler asked Vic.

  “Yes. I left them happy and well. However, I am certain you have a phone. Call them for yourself if you don’t believe me.”

  Vic and Tubs hurried from the house and joined Xavier in the carriage. They headed straight to the British Museum. The place was dark and foreboding without any lights on. A tall wrought iron fence with sharp spikes surrounded the perimeter. After stopping the carriage, the three made their way to the back fence.

  Xavier extra
cted his picks, but the door swung open when he leaned his arm against the bars.

  They all pulled their guns in unison.

  Silently they held to the shadows, following the tree line. Fifteen minutes later, they arrived at the back door. Tubs inserted the key he’d discover in the door earlier in the day and entered first. Xavier motioned Vic second and he followed.

  A click behind her caused Vic to turn, gun ready to fire, but it was only Xavier bolting the door against any other late night visitors. They softly eased down the hall to the locked storage room. Tubs tried the same key and disturbingly, it worked.

  It shouldn’t have. For security reasons, the outdoor and internal doors should have different locks.

  A full moon shining through a window lit the museum hall fairly well, but that changed once they entered the storage room. Fortunately, Tubs had grabbed the lantern from the carriage and with a flick of a match, illuminated the room. Vic and Xavier ran to the Rembrandt.

  “Barns,” Tubs whispered. Vic almost dropped her side of the Rembrandt when she saw the crumpled body of Barns on the floor.

  “Vic, pay attention,” Xavier snapped in a quiet but very angry whisper.

  She refocused on setting the Rembrandt down on the floor. She intended to go to Barns, but Tubs checked him over and declared him fine.

  “Then why isn’t he insisting this is his case?” she challenged and approached Barns, ensuring he had a pulse.

  “He knocked himself out.” Tubs pointed to the hole in the ceiling. “He did manage to find a way in. I didn’t think it possible.”

  “Vic, help me put the Rembrandt on the wall,” Xavier hissed.

  “You have to switch out the Renoirs,” Vic reminded him.

  That earned her a cuff to the head. “What the bloody hell do you think I’ve been doing?”

  Once Vic assisted re-hanging the painting, he glanced at Barns. “Tubs bring him along.”

  Less than five minutes later, they were back in the carriage. “What about the mess Barns made?” Vic demanded.

  Xavier sighed. “I was under the impression the ventilation system was secure.”

  Tubs nodded. “Me too. Seth had the man who designed it kidnapped and questioned. He believed it was impenetrable.”

  Once they got to the office, Xavier used salts to awaken Barns. After a coughing fit, he sat up and looked around. “How… Ouch! Did someone beat me up?” He glared at Tubs as he asked this.

  “All Tubs did was rescue you,” Vic snapped. She hated when everyone tried to blame Tubs for acts of violence and thefts. “Which is a good thing, since otherwise, Stone would have no doubt been called to arrest an attempted thief, only to discover it to be you.”

  Barns grimaced in pain and looked up at Tubs. “Thank you for the rescue. Being arrested would have ruined my life forever. My father would have no doubt shipped me off to Australia.” He then looked at Xavier. “I apologize, sir. Tubs told me to come down, but I wanted to find the way in, because we had checked every other possibility, so I knew there had to be an entrance.”

  Xavier patted his shoulder. “Generally speaking, when someone more experienced advises you to do something, you should listen.”

  He sat up and grimaced. “What happened to me?”

  “You appeared to have found a way in. However, you fell through the ceiling instead of lifting a tile and climbing down.” Xavier sat down behind his desk and stared at the young man.

  “On the positive side, you clearly proved you have persistence and determination, tonight,” Vic added.

  “Don’t praise me too much. A half-hour after Tubs advised me to come down, I was so lost I didn’t know how to get out, but I was too proud to call for help. The reason I didn’t remove a tile and climb down is because I was wandering around in the pitch dark desperately feeling for the ventilation shaft.”

  “How’d you escape the ventilation shaft?” Tubs asked.

  Barns pulled out a handful of screws. “I dismantled a metal wall.” His demoralized eyes met Xavier’s. “I don’t think the thief got out my way. In several places, I had to squeeze through holes so tight I think I’ve dislocated my shoulder.”

  “Then let’s get you to Connors. You need to be in top shape tomorrow,” Xavier said.

  “Why?” Barns asked as if dreading the answer.

  “You will be arresting an art thief.”

  “I’m not sure I could arrest a ferret at the moment.”

  Vic was so proud of Barns for admitting his current state. “Lucky for you; you are not alone. You are working with a highly skilled team.”

  Chapter 25

  After a sleepy Dr. Connors put Barns to right, Xavier, Vic, Tubs, and Barns returned to the British Museum. At three-thirty in the morning, they entered through the back door and Vic searched Powers’ office for a list of keys and who possessed them.

  Vic had yet to find it when Tubs released a shrill whistle, his warning someone was arriving.

  She reset the lock on the door and closed it behind her, running to meet the others in the hall.

  Xavier’s right eyebrow rose, asking if she found it. Her brow wrinkled in response. Then the back door opened and Powers jumped back as if in shock. “How the blazes did you get inside?”

  Xavier replied before Vic could. “A key was left in the backdoor. It has a number imprinted upon it. Do you keep track of who has each key?”

  “No…but henceforth I will.” His face paled. “Oh dear God! Has the museum been robbed again?”

  “No, we felt obliged to remain here and ensure no thefts occurred. However, since someone clearly intended to break into the museum, I had Barns return into the ventilation system and assess its security while I checked the various rooms’ locks.”

  “That was presumptuous,” Powers snapped.

  Xavier tilted his head. “Do you not wish to know what I found? Or should I bypass you and go to Arthur, the Chairman of the Board for the British Museum?”

  “No! I wish to hear what you discovered,” Powers stammered.

  “The same key left in the back door opens the supposedly secure room.”

  The horror on the man’s face looked genuine to Vic. If Powers were acting, he belonged on stage.

  “Dear God… I will call a locksmith at once.” Powers turned and headed in the direction of his office.

  “I’m not done,” Xavier snapped.

  The man returned. “There’s more?”

  “Considerably more. Did you contact the architect concerning whether it is possible to enter the room from above?”

  “No, I haven’t had the time.”

  “What pray tell was more important than securing this building?”

  Powers eyes rounded in outrage. “I am in the middle of several complex negotiations at the moment!”

  “Such as the Rembrandt trade today?” Vic asked.

  “Yes!” His eyes rounded. “Nothing has happened to the Rembrandt, has it?”

  “Well, Barns did make his way through the ventilation system and came through the ceiling tiles, but rest assured, no paintings were harmed.”

  The news sent the man running to the storage room, opening it and rushing in.

  Vic noted the key he’d used to open the door. It was silver rather than the copper key Tubs had found in the back door. She watched the curator closely as he ran to the Rembrandt. He made no attempt to pull it off the wall to check the backing. Instead, he moved down the line of paintings, checking each one for damage.

  Finally, he looked up and focused on Xavier. “I was told by the former curator taking out paintings in the crawl space was not possible. But clearly he was mistaken. So this is how they removed the Renoir.” He sighed heavily. “Thank you, I will notify Scotland Yard.”

  “You may do so if you wish, but if you stop my investigation before it can be concluded, you will be billed for the hours we have spent on this case. Honestly, it will be cheaper if you let us see it to the end. Then you will be billed on the hours spent looking fo
r the thief and your insurance company will pay our finder’s fee for recovering the Renoir.”

  “If you recover it,” Powers challenged.

  “I am confident we will,” he stated.

  Vic smiled, envious of the way Xavier could make anyone back down when bombarded with his impressive arrogance and sense of self-importance.

  Neither crime lord nor parliament ministers could stand against him. He was a force that conquered all before him.

  “Then continue your investigation.”

  “To do so, we will still need to accompany your exchange.”

  “That’s not possible.”

  “It was possible yesterday,” Vic snapped.

  Powers ignored her and focused on Xavier. “There evidently isn’t enough room in the carriage.”

  “How many of your people are accompanying the painting?” Xavier asked.

  “Three.”

  “You require three people to move a painting?” Vic challenged.

  “Yes, and a driver.”

  “Well, he is not in the carriage,” Xavier corrected. “So you need three to carry the piece unharmed from the carriage to the museum?”

  “Yes, and before you say your people can do it; that is not possible. The painting is priceless.”

  “I understand. However, on the ride there, the painting does not need to be carried, it needs to be protected. So here is my compromise. Your men will follow in our carriage while we ride with the painting.”

  “And how do I know you aren’t planning to steal it?” Powers challenged.

  “Before we wake up Arthur from a sound sleep and get his opinion on this matter, may I suggest a compromise which will ease your worries? One of the persons in the carriage with the Rembrandt will be an officer of Scotland Yards.”

  “I thought you didn’t want them involved,” Powers said with a sneer.

  “I have no issue with them being involved. I only take issue if we are not paid for our efforts. Involving Scotland Yard will not lower your bill to me.”

  Normally, Vic would correct him since she was his partner. He should have said ‘us’. However, Powers clearly had no respect for her, so his statement meant more when it was one bull set against another.