by Sara Rosett
Robert’s always-ready smile faded. “You mean you were serious? The book is a…what did you call it?”
“A palimpsest. Yes, I was completely serious. It could be extremely valuable.”
Robert plopped into a chair.
While Poppy had moved out of Ivan’s arms once the police arrived, Zoe noticed that Poppy had remained close to him. She dropped down to her knees by the coffee table and ran her finger along the edge of the book, then lifted the cover an inch to look at the inside. “You were going to hand this over to Justine…for me?” Poppy looked up at Ivan.
He smiled down at her. “Of course.”
“Are you crazy? What were you thinking?”” Robert asked then noticed the lingering gaze that Poppy and Ivan were exchanging. “Oh—it’s like that, is it? I thought she drove you crazy.”
Ivan smiled. “She does.”
A blush filled Poppy’s cheeks.
Zoe whispered to Jack, “Well, that’s a turn I didn’t expect.”
Jack shrugged a shoulder and said quietly, “I guess it’s true, that saying about the opposite of love. It isn’t hate, but indifference.”
Zoe tilted her head back and forth, thinking over their own relationship. “I’d have to agree that I never felt indifferent toward you. You did drive me crazy. Still do in fact. Speaking of driving me crazy, I can’t believe you rushed Justine. We need to have a chat about reasonable actions. You’re supposed to be the measured, thoughtful one in this relationship.”
“Oh, come on. You’d no more standby and let her get hurt than I would. You did your part creating the distraction quite nicely.”
“Just don’t do anything like that again, okay? We’re going back to Dallas, and you’re going to consult with clients about their security systems, a nice safe job.”
Jack looked up at the ceiling. “Fine. And in a few weeks you’ll be bored out of your mind, longing for another assignment from Harrington.”
Zoe had to laugh. “You’re probably right.”
“And you,” Robert finally found his voice as he looked to Poppy. “You hate him. Always have. Ever since I brought him home that summer.”
“Yes, I suppose it started then.”
Robert rolled his eyes and reached for the book. “I hope I never fall in love. Turns people into blithering idiots. As in this case, here we have a book possibly worth a million pounds, and you two can’t stop gazing at each other to look at it or at this letter.” Robert plucked the delicate paper from the table where it had fallen. “I don’t know a thing about old books, but I know this isn’t ancient Greek. I still can’t read it, though.”
“Koine,” Ivan corrected.
Zoe peered over his shoulder. “That looks similar to the handwriting in the journal.”
“Here let me see.” Poppy dragged her gaze away from Ivan and perched on the arm of Robert’s chair. “No, I don’t think this is Agatha’s handwriting. It has more loops and embellishments. Perhaps it is Annabell’s handwriting.” Poppy looked at the date at the top. “Yes, it was written…um…I’d have to check the dates, but I think it was right before she died.” She flipped it over to the back.
“That does look like the signature on Annabel’s paintings,” Zoe said.
“It does, doesn’t it?” Poppy turned back to the beginning of the letter. “Let me see if I can make it out. It is addressed to ‘Whomever shall find this precious book.’”
“Go on,” Robert said. “What’s this word here? I can’t make it out.”
Poppy batted his hand away and focused on the letter. She read, “‘My sister, Agatha, and I brought this book back from one of our travels. We have an interest in all things devout and Holy and, being assured it was a copy of one of the gospels, we—of course—bought it. We purchased it from a little stall in Cairo along with a few other sacred items. We both felt that it was our duty to look after these precious things lest they be lost to someone who would not care for them or respect them. However, upon our return from our travels, we had difficulty convincing anyone of repute to examine it, for we are only women and what can women know of important relics? Years passed, and I am rather ashamed to say that this book lost its place in our thoughts. We grew quite busy with our own interests. Unencumbered by spouse or children—which we longed for, but because we were not so blessed—we pursued our interests. Travel, which we jointly delighted in as well as Agatha in her writing and books, and me in my paintings.
“‘Of course, we treated the book carefully, always keeping it dry and secure in the box we had made for it in Egypt, but it was only when we made the acquaintance of a certain doctor of Oriental studies from Cambridge within the last fortnight that it again became the focus of our attention. As we believed, it was indeed something of great importance. Unfortunately, our so-called friend proved to be exceedingly greedy. I will not list his name here for “vengeance is mine, saith the Lord.” It is not our place to judge him. His perfidy was his undoing. His actions, while disloyal, did reveal to us the incredible worth of this book. I am glad that Agatha knew the real value of it. It delighted her in those last days. But now I am alone and have no one I can trust—my nephew is a wastrel. It would be folly to entrust it to him. Agatha and I discussed it. He would simply sell it away to the highest bidder with no thought to scholarship or what light it can shed on our already accumulated knowledge of ancient texts. Therefore, I leave it in the hands of Providence. I have carefully constructed a method for it to be found. Nothing too simple that it can be worked out straightaway, but challenging enough that it will be a task to reach the end. If you are reading this missive, then you are the new possessor of this precious gift. Handle it carefully. The responsibility rests with you.’”
Poppy looked up, her eyes wide. “Blimey.”
“Well said, Sis.” Robert seemed more subdued than he had been earlier. “Ivan, you better figure out who we should have look at this.”
Zoe and Jack stepped out of the hotel elevator into the lobby the next evening. “Poppy didn’t say why she wanted us to come to Staircase House?” Jack asked.
“No, she only said she had news that she wanted to share with us in person. I hope she’s still a satisfied client,” Zoe said as they crossed the lobby. When Zoe and Jack left Staircase House last night, Poppy had certainly been happy, glowingly happy even, but Zoe was sure that had more to do with the budding relationship between Poppy and Ivan than the successful recovery of the painting (for the second time) and the discovery of the ancient book. Zoe and Jack had spent the day answering questions for the police. By the time they’d finished, the sun had set, and they’d returned to the hotel to pack and prep for their flight, which Jack had rescheduled for the next day.
Jack held open the heavy glass door to the street, but Zoe turned back when she heard her name called. A desk clerk hurried across the tile floor, carrying a small square vase filled with a mix of gerbera daisies, mums, and pale cream roses. “This just arrived for you, Mrs. Andrews.” The woman handed them to Zoe and shot a conspiratorial grin at Jack before returning to the front desk.
“Oh, Jack, these are gorgeous, but you didn’t have to.”
“I hate to admit it, but I didn’t.”
“What?”
“I didn’t send those. At this moment, I wish I had, but I didn’t. Do I need to be worried? Got another admirer?”
Zoe tilted her head. “I think we’re past that stage, don’t you? You’re the only one for me. So this must be a mistake.” Zoe caught sight of a card with her name on it.
She pulled the envelope out and handed the flowers to Jack so she could open it. She read it aloud, “‘Congratulations on the successful conclusion of your first assignment. Well done. Harrington.’” Zoe took the flowers back and inhaled. “That was so nice of him.”
Jack said, “Hmm, with Harrington around, I can see that I’m going to have to step up my game. Not many employers send their consultants flowers. Of course, not many consultants have their first job turn out to be so
convoluted either.”
“I guess this means that Poppy is still happy. I doubt Harrington would have sent these if she’d complained to him.”
“What does she have to complain about?” Jack asked.
“I don’t know, but I suspect she’s one of those people who usually finds something wrong.”
“Then let’s go see her. I bet you’re completely mistaken.”
“I hope so,” Zoe said as they returned to the elevator to drop the flowers off in their hotel room.
When they arrived at Staircase House, Ivan opened the door and invited them in. Poppy was all smiles and offered them coffee or a drink, which Zoe and Jack declined. “Then come in and sit down. I thought you’d want to know what’s happened. All of this is supposed to be hush-hush, but it seems there are leaks already.” She frowned up at the minstrel’s gallery. Looking up, Zoe caught a glimpse of Robert as he paced to the railing then turned away, his cell phone pressed to his ear.
Ivan, who had taken a seat beside Poppy, put his arm along the back of the sofa behind her. “He can’t help it if he’s getting calls.”
“Yes, but I suspect he made a few of his own,” Poppy said then shook her head and leaned back against Ivan’s side. “Anyway, I thought you deserved an update since you were instrumental in finding the Foley Codex.”
“Foley Codex?” Zoe asked. “Does that mean…”
“It sounds fancy but it’s just a name for the book,” Ivan said. “It’s what they’re calling it while they do the tests and examine it.”
“Ivan was right,” Poppy said. “It is extremely old, from the first century and—well, you should tell them Ivan.”
“The underwriting is an early copy of the Gospel of Mark, which was the earliest Gospel recorded. Tests are still preliminary, but it looks as if it is complete. If it dates to before the fourth century,” Ivan raised his hand, “well, it will be a phenomenon. It could be the earliest complete gospel ever discovered.”
“And extremely valuable,” Jack said.
“Yes,” Poppy said, “but we—Robert, Ivan, and I—have agreed to donate it to the university. We’re having the legal paperwork arranged.”
Zoe blinked. “That’s very generous of you.” And it wasn’t at all what Zoe had expected to be the outcome of their little treasure hunt.
Poppy said, “Well, it took quite a bit of talking to convince Robert that it was the way to go, but it was what the sisters wanted. There was something about Annabel’s letter…she went to such trouble to insure it was safe, and then saying she left it to Providence…” Poppy shifted. “After reading that, we all realized the codex wasn’t just a means to wealth. Annabel went to such lengths to protect it, creating the riddle, putting the code on the back of the other painting and sending it to her cousin in Salzburg, then creating the storage spot for the book here in Edinburgh, where her nephew rarely visited. I did some digging into Agatha’s letters. She mentioned how much he detested Staircase House. He preferred London so I imagine they were fairly certain he wouldn’t visit here and find the painting by some fluke. And then she set up the trust for the house to insure it couldn’t be sold or remodeled, all the while trusting that the person or people who found it would do the right thing. It was…well, the only way to put it is that it was entrusted to us, and we had a responsibility to make sure it was handled properly. Some of us saw it that way sooner than others…” her voice trailed off as she looked overhead. “But it is all settled now. This way, it can be studied and examined, but we’ve stipulated that it must also be on display, too. The sisters didn’t want it hidden away so that only scholars could see it. They wanted it available to everyone.”
Ivan leaned forward and said in a lower voice, “The fact that we agreed to let Robert handle the media attention and the rights for any print or movie deals, helped convince him.”
“Really? You think there will be a book deal?” Zoe asked.
“Yes, the media has already picked up the story. He’s had three calls about it today, and an option for the movie rights has already come up,” Ivan said.
“That sounds perfect for Robert,” Zoe said, and she could picture him savoring the media attention, charming television hosts as he relayed the story.
Poppy said, “He’ll probably have a ghostwriter lined up by tomorrow, which is fine because I don’t want to deal with any of that media stuff.” She shuddered. “No, I’d much rather focus on the museum.” Poppy scooted forward a bit and said, “I’m going to turn this place into a museum, devoted to the Foley sisters. Once Mother heard the whole story of what had happened with the Foley Codex, she agreed that we shouldn’t try to sell Staircase House. We’ll catalogue, collect, and display Annabel’s paintings, and we’ll have Agatha’s books and notes here for historians to consult.” Poppy looked toward Ivan. “Ivan is going to help me with the antiquarian books.”
“Sounds perfect,” Zoe said.
“We’ll host school field trips and have art lessons for kids and maybe adults.” She turned suddenly to Ivan. “What about talks? We should host talks about Victorian travel, art, and books. The talks could be interactive, too. We could have a display recreating Agatha and Annabel’s travel kit or maybe a stuffed camel. Agatha wrote about riding a camel. Kids would love something like that.”
Ivan laughed. “Sounds excellent. I’ll leave it to you to find a camel.”
“It shouldn’t be too hard…”
Zoe and Jack listened to their plans a little longer then admired A View of Edinburgh, which was again hanging on the wall, before they left. As they crossed the close, Zoe said, “I think they just wanted someone to share their plans with.”
“I think that was part of it.”
“I can’t believe they’re giving up the treasure, though. Do you think they’ll do it, donate it?”
Jack put his hands in his pockets and stared in front of him. “I think so. Robert is playing it like a true businessman. He recognizes that he’ll get a lot of value from the story itself, and donating it so that the public has access to it will only build goodwill toward him and his family. I’m sure he’ll be front and center, riding the wave of public interest as long as he can.”
“A real-life Indiana Jones,” Zoe murmured as they walked along. “I can see it. He’ll probably take to wearing a fedora.”
“Let’s hope he skips the whip.”
“I’m surprised that Ivan agreed to donate it as well,” Zoe said. “At the airport he seemed pretty intent on getting his cut. He even had a contract drawn up.”
“But he’s in love, so his brain is good and addled. You can look daggers at me all you want. But you know it’s true. You saw the way they were looking at each other. He’d probably go along with whatever Poppy suggested right now.”
“I guess it will be quite a coup for him, too. Not many librarians recover centuries old books worth millions,” Zoe said.
“I’m sure his library will have a new appreciation for him. If he’s smart, he’ll do what Robert is, and parlay that into a promotion or something.”
They turned the corner, and the hotel came into sight. “So, back home for us tomorrow,” Zoe said with a sigh. “Good-bye treasure hunting, hello bills and receipts. I’m dreading putting together an expense report for Harrington’s assistant,” Zoe said, thinking of all the crumpled bits of paper floating about her pockets and messenger bag.
“Maybe we can put that off for a day or two,” Jack said as he pulled a box from his pocket. “I got you something, too, to celebrate closing your first case. It’s not flowers, but I think you’ll like it. You told me girls like this kind of thing.”
Zoe took the flat box from him. It was small enough that at first she thought it was jewelry, but the box was too heavy. She pried off the lid and found a padlock nestled in a bed of tissue.
“A lock?” It took her a second to work it out then she smiled widely. “Oh, Jack. Can we?”
“Go back to Salzburg? I think we have to.” He turned the loc
k over. He’d written their names on it in permanent marker. “So what do you say? Can those receipts wait a day or two?”
She put her arms around his neck. “Definitely.”
* * *
THE END
* * *
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THE STORY BEHIND THE STORY
Thanks for reading Devious. I hope you enjoyed revisiting Zoe and Jack as much as I did. If you’d like an update when I have a new book out, you can sign up for my non-annoying newsletter, which only comes out when I have a new release. It’s the best way to stay up-to-date on books from me.
If you enjoyed Devious, I’d appreciate it if you posted an online review. Even something as short as a few lines can help potential readers figure out whether or not the book is their cup of tea. Thanks!
Agatha and Annabel Foley are fictitious, but my research about Victorian lady travelers inspired the characters, especially Agnes Smith Lewis and her sister Margaret Dunlop Gibson, world-traveling twin sisters who discovered an important codex in a remote monastery in Sinai. I very much enjoyed Janet Soskice’s account of their adventures in her book, The Sisters of Sinai: How Two Lady Adventurers Discovered the Hidden Gospels. You can read Agnes’ first-hand description of their journey to Egypt, Sinai, and the Holy Land in Eastern Pilgrims: The Travels of Three Ladies by Agnes Smith Lewis. The preparations described in Agatha’s journals in Devious are based on Agnes’s description of how she and her traveling companions prepared for their journey. Another adventurous Victorian female was Marianne North, who circled the globe, often traveling alone. She completed over 800 paintings of plants in their native environments. All of these women inspired me, contributing to the creation of Agatha and Annabel Foley.
The million-pound codex that Ivan refers to in the story does exist. It is the Codex Zacynthius, and it contains an undertext. Cambridge University Library raised one million pounds in September 2014 to purchase the codex from the British and Foreign Bible Society, according to the Daily Mail.com.
