Page 21 of Fangs, Frost, and Folios
He rocked in the swivel chair by the desk. “And what happened to the other fifty percent of all that?”
“She doesn’t tell you that part at all.” She looked at the letter in Giovanni’s hand. “It’s not Shakespeare. We have to look broader. Remember, the first clue was in Marlowe’s section. Missing poetry. Missing play.”
“Is this reference to Marlowe?” Giovanni held up the letter. “I’m fairly well-versed in his work, and I don’t—”
“Not Marlowe.” She plucked the letter from his hand. “Love’s wit in Ben’s best story.” She looked at Caspar. “Ben, not Will or Kit. Ben Jonson. Ben’s best story isThe Alchemist. Love’s wit is Lovewit, one of the main characters. And Face…?” She cocked her head. “It’s another character. The butler, I think?”
Giovanni turned to Caspar. “The butler?”
“Well, now I’m embarrassed that I didn’t guess it,” Caspar said. “So obviously your next task is to find a copy ofThe Alchemist.” He waved at the screen. “I have a feeling that Penny’s next clue will be there.”
Beatrice patted her sides as she approached the library doors, reassuring herself that her daggers were there and within easy reach. Nick had opened the front door on her first knock, much to the dismay of the irritated housekeeper, and shown her into the library where René du Pont was already at work.
Not in the Renaissance literature area. No, the French vampire was rustling about in the maps and geology section.
Beatrice crept toward him in utter silence and slowly let her amnis spread outward, flooding the air with her energy until René dropped the book in his hand and spun toward her.
“Beatrice.”
She leaned against a heavy bookcase. “René.”
The vampire dragged his gaze up and down her body. “May I say you look stunning in leather?”
“You may, because it’s the truth.” She’d dressed for comfort that night, in jeans and a simple black T-shirt, her leather jacket concealing her weapons. “What are you doing?”
He shrugged. “You have your job; I have mine. I am looking for the journal, of course.”
“In the geology section?”
“Charles Mortimer was an amateur geologist, no? That was why he was with the British Army in the Khyber Pass. My thought was that the journal he absconded with might be contained in some records from his trip there.”
It was actually a decent theory, so she let it pass. “Did you try to kill my nephew?”
He barely blinked. “I believe that could be classified as a misunderstanding.”
“Twice?”
René frowned. “Twice seems excessive. I really only meant him harm once.” He frowned. “And to be fair, he has tried to kill me an equal number of times.”
“Was he human or vampire?”
René smirked. “That one has always been vampire. Even when he was human, he was vampire.”
“Fair point,” she muttered. “Come on. We’re looking for a Ben Jonson play tonight.”
René looked over her shoulder. “And where is your charming mate? Wiping the memory of the human and his fiancée?”
That brought Beatrice up short. “Is the girlfriend back? Did you meet her?”
“No, the housekeeper mentioned her, but we did not meet.” René started toward the Renaissance fiction section. “And Giovanni?”
“One of Terry’s men took him to London.” She followed René down the center aisle. “He had some questions for a dealer there that he knows. Probably trying to feel out what this play could potentially be worth.”
“Millions, obviously. A genuine first folio recently sold for just under ten million US.”
She smiled. “Doing your research, I see.”
“Mon Béatrice, this library is a gold mine.” He turned, spreading his arms out and looking around the massive bookcases. “Do you know how many valuable editions are in here? And completely unguarded. I could break into this place with my… pinky finger.” He held it up. “Perhaps I have been sleeping on the rare book market.”
