Page 17 of The Devil in Oxford
He shifted the umbrella, brushing against my arm. “I returned to Oxford two years ago, and that’s when I first met Miss Abernathy. She’d been doing translations alongside Mary, down in the archives. But when I was brought on as Keeper of the Egyptology collection, I employed her as my aide. We’ve been sorting through the old collection for much of the last year. There’s been an influx of items coming in since the war and even more in the month since Howard Carter’s discovery. I’ve been tasked with ascertaining the provenance of some of the older pieces as well as sorting out which are authentic, and which are clever forgeries.”
“I didn’t realize she had such an interest in antiquities.”
Reaver laughed, his expression softening. “She is a constant surprise to me as well, but her childhood in Egypt and her skill with language has made her invaluable in this task. She tells me you are also a polyglot.” He cast me an assessing glance as we continued along.
My skin pricked. How much had Leona told him of me? I tugged my coat tighter as we passed by a cheerful bakery. The door opened, filling the street with the scent of bread. “You know an awful lot about me.”
“It’s my business to know a lot about people.”
I stiffened, pausing on the sidewalk.
“Does it bother you that I know these things? I told you yesterday, I am a blunt man. I do not have time for pleasantries. Some don’t appreciate my manners, but others… others grow accustomed to me.”
Others,like Leona? I brushed the thought away, taking hold of the conversation yet again. “What took you from the museum the night of Harker’s death? I don’t believe either of you returned…”
It was his turn to be discomfited. He sniffed, looking down at me. “I see I’m not the only one to pay attention to details.”
“It’s only fair.”
His cold blue gaze held mine for several seconds. “I needed her assistance in translating something.”
“At nine o’clock at night?” I raised a brow.
“She is very useful.”
The urge to look away was strong, but I could not. Could not even blink, lest he win whatever battle of wills we were fighting. “Is that all she is to you… useful?”
He sniffed and turned away, giving me the strangest sense that neither of us was the victor in this first skirmish. He took off, heading down the sidewalk. “My meeting is soon, we should keep going.”
A shiny new automobile passed along the street, splashing water onto the sidewalk as a paperboy shouted out the news of Harker’s death and Mueller’s arrest.
“A tragedy,” Reaver said with a shake of his head as we passed by. “An utter tragedy.”
“Harker’s death?”
“No.” Reaver glanced at traffic before gesturing for me to cross the street alongside him. “It’s a tragedy that the police think that Mueller did it. Mueller, who may be the only person in this town who still gave two damns about Julius. I cannot understand why they would focus upon him when there are any number of likely culprits out there.”
“Leona said the same.” A sharp cold gust of wind pricked my lungs as I hurried along after him. “Harker had enemies, then? I heard that he was kicked out of the University, but no one knowswhatexactly he did.”
“You are a curious cat, aren’t you?” He hesitated, rubbing at his jaw with the back of his oxblood glove. “Julius always had a keen eye for antiquities and an uncanny knack for spotting a fake from a mile away.”
“Wouldn’t that be an asset at the museum? Particularly with this project you and Leona have been working on?”
Reaver’s mouth curved up into a dry smile as he saw the ornate Town Hall in the distance. “Julius and I did not see eye to eye on many things. He had also made some powerful enemies over the years who never would have allowed him to return to academia without a fight. Certainly not after what he did.”
Tugging my jacket closer around me, I brushed a dark curl back from my face. “Leona said there were rumors he’d dabbled in the occult.”
Professor Reaver let out a cynical sound. “Utter nonsense. Julius landed in a spot of trouble a dozen years ago that got him kicked out of Oxford. He’s lucky it didn’t land him in prison. I cannot imagine what he was thinking.” Reaver hesitated, weighing his words as a pall came over him. “But I suppose he was not lucky in the end.”
“What… what did he do?”
Reaver readjusted his scarf, tucking it deeper into his jacket for warmth. “He took something that was not his to take and paid the price for it.”
“Do you suppose that what happened then had anything to do with his murder?”
He shook his head, gesturing for us to continue down Cornmarket Street. “No, I suspect it’s his recent dealings that caused his demise. Julius had a nasty habit of rubbing people’s noses in the fact he was cleverer than they. It was obnoxious at the University, worse yet when he no longer had his position to protect him. Then after what happened three years ago…”
I leaned closer. “Three years ago?”
