Page 20 of The Devil in Oxford
“Miss Abernathy? What does she think you can do?” He gave me a quizzical look from beneath furrowed brows. “Such a sweet girl, but I fear there’s nothing to be done. The police will not listen to reason.”
Ten minutes, the constable had said. I had ten minutes and I’d already wasted a good two of them. I glanced over my shoulder to the thick metal door and sighed. “Believe me, I have asked myself that same question all the way here. But I came to see if you had any idea who might have killed your colleague.”
Mr. Mueller made a weary sound. He was clad in powder blue cotton pajamas, his feet bare and slightly bloodied. They must have roused him from bed and brought him straight here, not even bothering to let him dress himself. I shuddered at the needless cruelty of it. No wonder Leona was adamant about freeing him.
“I do not know.” He rubbed his palm with his thumb. “If I did, I would have told them the first time they questioned me.”
“Thefirsttime? Did they talk to you twice?”
“Indeed. I spoke with them at length at the museum and they thanked me for my time and asked that I share any information I recalled about his enemies should I think of anyone. I was sick overwhat happened, utterly sick. I went home, poured myself a drink, and went to bed. Then the inspector was at my door before my head hit the pillow.”
My brows knit together. “Do you not find that strange that they’d let you go, only to fetch you back immediately? Was there any mention of cause? Evidence?”
“I do not know whatisordinary in such things, but I promise you, Miss Vaughn, I did not harm Julius. He was my friend. I do not know what evidence they could find for something I did not do.”
I took a step closer to Mr. Mueller, crouching before him to see his face more clearly. There was no doubt that he was speaking the truth. But if not him, then who? I laid a tender hand on his forearm. “And have you any idea who might have wanted to harm him? I’ve been told he had been making a lot of enemies lately.”
Mr. Mueller blinked away the dampness in his eyes. “Oh, turning friends to enemies was Julius’s forte to be sure. I have thought upon the matter all night long. And while he had dozens of enemies, I cannot think of a one who would wish himdead. He might have crossed people but…” He caught himself, shaking his head.
“But what…?”
“But he wasright.” Mr. Mueller weighed his words cautiously as he searched my face for any sign of sympathy. “Julius never trulyharmedanyone who didn’t deserve it, and even then, it was more a matter of nicking their pride.”
I raised an eyebrow. People have killed for far less than wounded pride. “Professor Reaver told me that there had been some scandal about forgeries lately. Do you know anything of that?”
He ran his hands over his face roughly. “Of course, but tell me, Miss Vaughn, how much sympathy do you have for the sort of man who would empty another’s grave to decorate his dining room? It did not bother me in the least what Julius did to those men. I only wish he’d have left them unaware of the false sarcophagi and forgedmarbles they’d squandered their fortunes upon.” He sighed, wary eyes darting to the closed cell door behind me. “I did notice that he had been secretive as of late. More than usual. He kept going on about how he’d finally figured out how to get us out from under the yoke of oppression.”
“Yoke of oppression?” I raised my brows. “That sounds rather radical for an archaeologist. Was he the revolutionary sort?” Politics might be a motivation, at least the start of one.
“Heavens, no. Julius stayed clear of politics for the most part, more interested in his scholarship than anything else. I can only think he meant Reaver. The two men had been at each other’s throats since their time together at Oxford. I half wonder if it wasn’t their disagreements that sent Reaver fleeing for Egypt before the war. But since Reaver’s been back… he and Julius had been constantly fighting.” Mr. Mueller winced, shaking his head. “I told Julius he shouldn’t tweak Reaver’s nose so, but each month there would be another new public quarrel between the two. There were wagers whether they’d come to fisticuffs at the lecture that Julius missed a few nights ago.” His voice cracked at the dawning realization that Julius missed said lecture because he’d beendead. “They had been rivals for decades, but after Julius was thrown out of the University, he’d only grown more captious. I think a part of him resented Reaver for his own misfortunes.”
Captious.What a delicious word. I filed it away for future use with a frown. Frederick Reaver had gone missing before the body had been revealed. Convenient, as he was not there for questioning. I wet my lips cautiously. “Was Reaver the reason that Julius was thrown from the University? He’d mentioned something about Mr. Harker having stolen something.”
Mueller gave a slow shake of his head. “Julius was innocent of the crime of which he’d been accused. Of that I am certain.”
We were running out of time. I glanced back to the door behind me. A minute, perhaps two remained? I had to hurry. “Doyou think Professor Reaver could have been involved in poor Mr. Harker’s death?”
Mr. Mueller inhaled sharply. “Perhaps. Perhaps not. Reaver is not the idealogue that he’d have you believe. He’s every bit the radical Harker was, not that anyone in the academy would believe it.” Mr. Mueller glanced past me to the closed cell door. “If I had to guess… knowing what I do, with how erratic Julius had been as of late, I think he was about to sell something worth a fortune.”
“Sell?” My brows shot up. “What would make you think that?”
“Money buys freedom, Miss Vaughn. With enough of the stuff, one can do as they please.”
As plausible as any hypothesis and certainly more than I had thus far. “Do you know what he was going to sell, or to whom?”
“If only.” He rubbed his thumb over the sores on his wrist from his iron restraints. “He’d spent hours in his office—staying long after we closed, arriving hours before we opened. I think he’d taken to sleeping there rather than at home. He had to be doing something—perhaps he left some answer in his papers or perhaps it is hidden somewhere in the collection.”
I wet my lips. “You truly believe Mr. Harker was doing business with his killer.”
“I do. It is the only thing that makes any sense.”
“Someone he’d offended, or… cheated?”
Mueller made a sad low sound in his chest but did not respond. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Everyone was at the museum that night. And probably half of the people in that room had reason to hate him. But why should any of them kill the only truly interesting man in Oxford?”
Mr. Owen had said something similar about Harker. I gnawed on the inside of my cheek. Why indeed?
Angry voices outside the cell door drew closer. Time was running short.
