Devious: Book Five in the On The Run series

by Sara Rosett

  “But we had our reasons,” Robert said quickly. “We didn’t know you.” He pointed to Jack and Zoe. “You might have received the information from your art expert person and disappeared. We couldn’t take that chance. We didn’t have any other choice but to watch your hotel and follow you the next day. We knew you’d have to pick up the painting from the art dealer at some point.”

  “But how did you even know we were in Salzburg?” Zoe asked.

  Ivan looked quickly at Poppy then away. “I—ah—saw a message on Poppy’s phone.”

  Poppy had been looking at a portion of the roof, but she turned quickly, an angry look on her face. “The night you came to ask about the painting.”

  Robert said quickly, “Water under the bridge. We’re at this point now. We shouldn’t focus on what happened days ago. We have to concentrate on moving forward.”

  “Yes,” Ivan said. “I don’t want to cause trouble, but I think we should reexamine the meaning of the word ‘spire.’” He sent a worried look toward Poppy. “I think your reasoning is good, but there’s nothing here.” He waved the beam of light from his cell phone around. “And I think you’re right about the chance of something being on the exterior of the roof—that’s a long shot.”

  “Go on,” Poppy said. “I’m all for a new theory.”

  Robert stopped tapping on a beam and looked toward Ivan as well. “If we’re back to assuming it refers to some church spire, then it could take us years to work our way through all the churches in Edinburgh.”

  Zoe turned slowly away from the area she had been tapping on. “But that’s so broad. If someone went to all the trouble of leaving the clues and the code, then surely they meant for them to lead to a definite conclusion.”

  “Unless they had a sadistic streak,” Poppy said.

  Ivan said, “No, she’s right. We’re missing something. We just have to work out what it is. The word spire has to refer to a specific spire, not just any spire in Edinburgh.”

  “There’s the spire in the paintings,” Robert said, his voice quickening. “The Scott Monument. It’s prominent in both paintings.”

  Poppy wrinkled her forehead as she shook his head. “You think a little old lady hid something in the Scott Monument? You’ve seen it. There’s nothing there but stone and mortar.”

  “But there are crevices and niches. It could be tucked away there.”

  Ivan shook his head. “It’s a public place. Risky to leave something where anyone might discover it.”

  “Especially if she went to the trouble of setting up the trust for this building,” Jack added.

  “As far as Staircase House, there are no other spires here except in pictures,” Robert said as he headed for the stairs. “Tomorrow I’ll go out on the roof.”

  “No spires except in the pictures,” Zoe murmured to herself, her thoughts racing. She turned toward Jack, gripped his arm. “The spire is in the painting.”

  She turned eagerly back to the group, but Jack put a hand on her arm. “I think they’ve almost worked it out for themselves.”

  “The painting. Oh! The spire in the painting,” Poppy said, “Of course, that’s it. It’s not a physical structure, Robbie. The spire in the painting points the way.”

  Robert frowned at her, then his face changed, relaxing into a smile. “How could we be so dense?”

  Ivan glanced between the brother and sister. “I’m afraid you’ll have to clue me in here because I’m lost.”

  “Of the two paintings in the set Annabel painted, only one had a visible spire, A View of Edinburgh,” Robert said. “In the other painting, fog covers the spire of the Scott Monument.”

  “A View of Edinburgh has hung in the same place for years,” Poppy said moving toward the stairs, her voice quickening with excitement. “Probably since Annabel and Agatha lived here. I’ve looked at some photos from Edwardian times, and all those paintings in the sitting area of the minstrel’s gallery were as they are now.”

  “As they were until a few days ago,” Robert added.

  Ivan and Robert thundered down the stairs after Poppy. Jack and Zoe followed more slowly. Zoe said, “You wanted them to have the thrill of figuring it out.”

  Jack shrugged one shoulder. “Solving a puzzle together is a pretty good way to strengthen a relationship.”

  Zoe smiled back at him, thinking of the puzzles they’d untangled together. It had brought them closer—rejuvenated their nearly dead relationship, in fact.

  When they emerged into the sitting area of the minstrel’s gallery, Poppy, Ivan, and Robert were all gathered around the area of paneling where the landscape painting had hung.

  “There’s a seam here.” Ivan traced his hand along a section of paneling above the empty space on the wall. “Got a knife or something thin?”

  Poppy went to a small desk in the corner and opened a drawer. “Would a letter opener work?”

  “Perfect.” Ivan inserted the thin blade in the space between two sections of paneling and worked it back and forth.

  “Careful,” Poppy said. “Mum will not be happy if we destroy antique paneling.”

  The wood flexed then came away from the wall, revealing an alcove about four inches high and eight inches long. “Shine a light in there,” Poppy said, but Robert reached in. “Oh, Robbie. No. There might be bugs or mice or—” She broke off as Robert pulled out a wooden box slightly smaller than the opening.

  It must have been heavy because he used two hands to transfer it to the coffee table in the sitting area. They all moved as a group to circle the table. Zoe shot a look at Jack, widening her eyes. The atmosphere had changed, shifting away from excited anticipation. Now tension vibrated through the group. Poppy ran her hand gently over the elaborate carving on the outside of the box. “It looks Oriental.”

  “Go on, open it,” Robbie said. “It’s not Pandora’s box.”

  Poppy pulled her hand away. “I’m not so sure.” She stepped back. “You do it. You were the one who always believed in the treasure.”

  “Don’t worry, Sis. It’s just a box, no curse.” He unhooked the ornate leather latch then flipped the box open.

  Zoe got a glimpse of fabric inside the box before she heard a sudden in-take of breath, and a flurry of movement near Poppy made everyone look up.

  “Don’t even think about moving,” Justine said. She had one arm looped around Poppy and had a chef’s knife pressed to Poppy’s throat.

  22

  “EVERYTHING WILL BE FINE IF you all do exactly what I say.” Justine’s voice was smooth with an almost singsong quality to it. “I don’t want to hurt anyone.”

  Zoe thought that was quite a statement for someone to make while holding a knife to another person’s throat, but she kept silent. Poppy’s frightened gaze skittered around the group, but she held the rest of her body completely still. She had her head angled back as far from the knife as she could, but the silver edge of the huge blade pressed into Poppy’s throat under her jaw, leaving a long indention in her pale skin. Zoe looked around quickly to see if there was anyone else with Justine, like a large man with red hair—could he have gotten out of jail, made bail somehow—but Theo Cooke was nowhere in sight.

  Zoe eyed the window with the fire escape, but it was closed. Then she shot a quick glance down over the railing into the main room below, but the doors and windows all appeared to be shut. Then she remembered her theory that Justine had a key to Staircase House. She must have unlocked the front door, just as she had the first time Zoe met her when she’d been pretending to be Poppy. She’d slipped inside while they were all in the attic. She must have grabbed the knife from the kitchen then waited until they’d pulled the box out of its hiding place before sneaking up on Poppy. They’d all been so focused on the box that they hadn’t noticed Justine moving in on the group.

  Robert took a step toward the women, and Justine moved back, dragging Poppy with her, pressing the knife deeper into her skin. “Stay back, Robert. I’ll have no foolishness. Remember, I’m a
nurse. I know exactly where to cut her.”

  Robert immediately held up his hands, palms out. “Fine. Right. No one is moving. See, we’re all standing still. But there’s no need for this.” He leaned toward her and lowered his voice slightly as if he were sharing a secret with her. “Justine, isn’t it?” She nodded her head sharply once, and Robert pulled back, a wide smile on his face. “I thought I recognized you. You’re the one who took such good care of my father. Look, you can lose the knife. Just tell us what you want. It will all be fine.”

  Zoe and Jack were standing beside each other, their arms touching. She looked at him out of the corner of her eye. He gave a tiny shake of his head, and she knew he was conveying not yet. Their hands were each at their sides and she moved her fingers a bit so that her fingers slid into his palm. She squeezed his hand.

  “You can drop the friendly act,” Justine said, “And forget flashing your charming smile. It won’t work. You’ll save us a lot of time, if you do as I say. I know that this is the only way to get what I want.” Justine’s fingers on the knife handle flexed and tightened. Poppy sucked in a breath.

  “Okay. You’re the boss,” Robert said, his smile still firmly in place, but Zoe could see the rise and fall of his chest through his shirt. He was breathing like he’d finished a sprint.

  Justine tilted her chin toward the box. “Take it out. Unwrap it.” Robert leaned down and pulled the fabric away. At first Zoe thought it was another wooden box inside because whatever was in there was the same dark brown color as the wood, but then she realized it wasn’t wood, but aged leather. Robert pushed the fabric farther away, revealing the uneven edges of pages.

  “It’s a…book?” Justine said, her tone incredulous. “I chased you all over blooming Europe for a book?”

  Zoe looked at Justine and, since Zoe had shifted her attention away from the knife blade, she noticed a knitted gray stocking cap half-tucked into one of Justine’s pockets. “You were the backpacker I saw in the airport. You were also in Salzburg…” Zoe paused, working it out. “And I saw you another time, too. At the Mirabell Gardens. You didn’t have the hat then, but you were following us.” Zoe glanced at Jack. “Remember, I thought for a second I had seen Poppy, but it was you, wasn’t it?”

  Justine only gave Zoe a quick glance out of the corner of her eye, and didn’t respond to Zoe. Justine refocused on the book. “Go on, open it,” she directed Robert.

  He reached for the cover, but Ivan stretched out a hand and took a half step forward. “Careful. It will be delicate.”

  “Quiet,” Justine said, and Zoe noticed her voice had lost its singsong quality and was edging into shrillness.

  “He’s a book expert. Librarian,” Robert said easily as he slowly lifted the cover. “There’s a piece of paper here. Looks like a letter. Old-fashioned hand.”

  “Forget the letter. What’s inside the book?” Justine asked. “It’s probably just a hiding place.”

  Poppy spoke for the first time. “Give her the book, Robert. Take it, Justine. Just take it, and walk away. We’ll forget the whole thing.”

  Justine tightened her arm and pressed the knife deeper into Poppy’s throat. “I don’t want a book. I want the treasure.”

  Robert removed the letter, which was folded. He set it on the table without opening it then delicately fanned the pages of the book. “It’s—ah, it looks like it is a book.”

  From where Zoe was standing, she could see that writing in black ink dominated the pages, but another text in a faded light-brown color was interspersed between the dark black text.

  Justine cursed under her breath, and Ivan said quickly, “But it could be a very valuable book.” He stared at the pages. “May I?”

  Justine frowned, and Robert said, “Like I said, Ivan needs to look at it. Books are his thing. Head Librarian.”

  Ivan didn’t look away from the book as he said, “Antiquarian books are my specialty.”

  “Fine,” Justine said, “Hand it to him. Be quick about it. No, stay apart. Just reach out and hand it to him.”

  Robert extended the book, and Ivan took it. Ivan sent Poppy a quick look before focusing on the heavy volume in his hand. He fingered the texture of the pages and examined the writing on a few of them, then looked up. “I can’t be sure, not without tests and extensive study, but it is extremely old. It’s actually parchment—animal skin, not paper—and the writing is Greek—”

  “I don’t care about all that,” Justine said impatiently, and Poppy sucked in an unsteady breath as the knife grooved deeper into her neck. Zoe’s stomach clenched as she watched, afraid that she was about to see blood.

  Justine said, “I only care about—”

  “Yes, the treasure. We know, but if you’ll listen a moment, I’ll explain. The Greek writing is what makes it valuable,” Ivan said, overriding Justine. “The book is a palimpsest.” He tilted it so that Justine could see the pages. “See these faded letters?” He pointed to the dim outline of light brown letters that covered the page under the thick strokes of the dark ink. “It’s called an undertext, also in what I believe is Greek. Books were rare and hard to come by in the ancient world, even in the first century. Often, the original text of a book was scraped off and the book was reused with new writing on top. That’s what has happened here.”

  “And that makes it worth money?” Justine said slowly, her tone suspicious.

  “Yes,” Ivan said, his gaze going to Poppy. Zoe noticed that Ivan was quite pale and that his hand shook as he repositioned the heavy book in his palm.

  “How much?”

  “Well…a library recently raised a million pounds to keep a book like this, a codex, in its collection.”

  Justine licked her lips.

  He closed the book and held it out. “Here. Take it.” He extended his other arm to Poppy. “Just let Poppy go. You can walk out of here, just as she said. We won’t stop you.” Ivan flexed his fingers as if he could draw Poppy to him.

  “No,” Justine said sharply, and Zoe tensed. She felt Jack shift his feet slightly, and Zoe knew he was poised to move. It gave her a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach, the thought of him charging Justine with her long knife.

  “Here’s what you’re going to do,” Justine said. “You put that book down there on the fabric on the table and back up. All of you, back up.” Ivan moved slowly and put the book down as Justine had instructed. “You back away, too, Robert. No, another step. Good. Now,” Justine looked toward Zoe, “You. When I tell you, wrap the fabric around the book and hand it to me.”

  Jack gave her hand two quick squeezes, and Zoe’s insides surged. It was a signal. Jack was going to do something. Zoe stepped to the table and wrapped the book in the fabric.

  “I want you to hand it to me, slow and easy,” Justine said. “Then Poppy and I will go down the stairs together.” She tilted her head, indicating the set of stairs against the wall that opened into the main floor below. “If you’re all good little boys and girls and stay here, when I get to the bottom of the steps, I’ll let Poppy go, alive. I get to disappear, and she gets to live. Everyone understand?”

  The tense group nodded.

  Justine motioned her chin at Zoe. “Go on.”

  Zoe inched forward and wrapped the fabric, some sort of shawl, she realized as she handled it, tightly around the book.

  Justine said, “Not like that. Looser, so that I have something to hold onto. Yes, better. Now, slowly hand it over.”

  Zoe gathered the corners of the fabric together and lifted it from the table, holding it like those old illustrations of a stork delivering a baby in a swath of fabric held in its beak. Zoe extended the bundle toward Justine. At the edge of her vision, she could see Robert tense as Justine reached out her free hand. A second before Justine’s fingers closed around the fabric, Zoe let it slip through her fingers. The book tumbled out, and the three men converged on Justine.

  It was over in seconds. Almost before Zoe blinked, Jack had twisted Justine’s arm away and force
d her to drop the knife. It clattered to the floor, narrowly missing the book. Robert tackled Justine, knocking her away from Poppy and out of reach of the knife. Ivan pulled Poppy away from Justine and into his arms.

  It took considerably longer for the police to arrive, and longer still for Inspector Homes to arrive, but once he was in Staircase House and heard the full story of what had happened, he bagged the knife, which Jack had prevented anyone from touching, and had Justine escorted away to await charges. “Since you were feeling well enough to leave the hospital,” he said to her before an officer escorted her out, “I’m sure you’ll finally be able to finish our little chat.”

  Once Justine had left the premises, Zoe relaxed and everyone else appeared to breathe easier, too.

  “So, this is all about a book?” Homes asked, looking toward the coffee table where Ivan had placed the book, which was now nestled in the scarf. Ivan described what he had told Justine about the book.

  “Sergeant Malone will enjoy this one,” Homes murmured in an undertone, a slight smile on his face. Jack looked at Zoe questioningly. She shrugged and mouthed, “No idea.”

  An officer entered the main room below and called up to Homes, saying he was needed. Homes said he’d be with him in a moment then turned back to them. “I will need statements from all of you, but I think that can wait until tomorrow. You can rest easy. Justine will not be able to leave our custody, and the other man who caused so much trouble, Cooke, is still detained.”

  As Homes trotted down the staircase to the main room, Robert slapped Ivan on the back. “Good show, mate, coming up with the story about the book. Ancient Greek, indeed.”

  “I never said it was ancient Greek. In all likelihood it is written in Koine Greek, but you’ll need to consult a linguistics expert.”