Page 6 of The Marriage Deal
"Okay."
She took another deep breath. "We believe Richard III killed the princes in the tower; technically, they weren't princes, one was a king and the other a duke." She chuckled nervously. "Of course, you of all people know this. Anyway, we believe we can find concrete proof that Richard III was responsible."
"Concrete?" I swallowed a snicker at the idea. The case happened hundreds of years ago, and little evidence of what really happened is left. It's why it's regarded as history's greatest mystery.
"Not concrete exactly, but as sure as we can be. Better evidence than those stupid letters."
"I'm listening." The longer she spoke, the more she sounded like the people she was ridiculing. She was probably a historical conspiracy nut. There were plenty of those in my field of study, but I was too curious not to let her continue.
"We think we can prove your theory. The knife you mention in your book. Fantastic book, by the way. We've been using to research—"
"Elizabeth."
"Sorry. Sorry. So we believe we have three crucial things that can prove your theory. The knife." The knife was a contentious piece of evidence, considering we don't know how they died. "And the bones." The bones had a less than zero percent chance of getting tested since the royal family was against it. "And Johnson’s letters."
I sat up straight, my elbows leaning on the desk as I pressed the receiver close to my ear. "You have access to Johnson’s letters?"
"Not necessarily, but we have a way of getting to it."
I leaned back in the chair, deflated. "That's not the same now, is it?"
"That's why we need your help. We believe the letters are part of a collection that's going to be on auction at Christie's in two months' time. And we're afraid that the society that shall not be named will get its hands on that collection, and they will hide the evidence."
This time, I chuckled out loud. "Those people are a nuisance and can act like K-Pop fangirls, but they're historians at the end of the day."
"You don't know them like I do, Professor. They've been working on not only discrediting your book, but your reputation."
That took me back. As far as I was concerned, my reputation was under fire because I walked into an interview unprepared and got ambushed by a biased interviewer. I didn't know she was going to bring on someone opposed to my theory and skewer me for an internet audience. The words:Stupid Professor Destroyed by Facts and Logicare burned in my retina. I willed it away.
Elizabeth was still talking. "It's part of a large collection that would have information those Richard III fangirls would like, and if they get hold of it, who knows what they would do."
"So where do I come in?"
Elizabeth took another deep breath. "It's a priceless collection."
"I can imagine." So this is about money. I should have guessed. It was probably a scam. Elizabeth didn't sound like a scammer. But isn't that the best scam?
"The starting bid is two million dollars."
I whistled.
"And we would love to have your backing. We've been trying to raise funds, but what we have is nowhere near the bid."
"How much have you raised?"
"Fifty thousand."
I bellowed out a huge laugh. "Thanks for making my day, Elizabeth. I was feeling down, but you've made it better."
"If you help us buy the collection, you can keep it for yourself—"
I ended the call there. I was stupid enough to be ambushed by smart journalists, but not stupid enough to fall for an obvious scam. The phone rang again, but I ignored it. Still, I was curious. So I did what I wouldn't normally do, I looked her up and her society. Two hours and several phone calls later, I was organizing a meeting with one of the members of the MMQ Society who lived locally. He was a medieval history professor I knew very well. An old friend from my short stint at Yale. We had dinner together and he told me all about their project.
"It was awful what they did to you," Francis said as he swirled the red wine in his glass.
I casually dismissed him. "I'll survive." My eyes darted again around the room to see if she was there. We were at the same restaurant as the one Elvira and Wyatt were supposed to be tonight, but I didn't see any sign of them. My chest tightened at the thought of the two of them tangled in bed while some gaudy ring shone on Elvira's hand. I wiped the offending image from my head. What Elvira did with her life was none of my business. I turned my attention to my companion, who in his tweed suit that was not far from my own looked like a quintessential history professor. Francis had added inches around his waist since I last saw him, but it fit him. Together with the thinning white hair, it made him appear like the dictionary definition of a historian.Together, we must look like a bunch of nerds. Or a gay couple, if the looks our server had given us were anything to go by.
Francis took a sip of the wine. "You should think of legal action. They can't drag your name in the mud like that." His voice was getting louder as the alcohol kicked in.
