Page 46 of The Devil in Oxford
“I am beginning to wonder if perhaps the answer to our problem lies in the past. I made a very curious discovery today. About a decade ago, Julius Harker stole a book from the Bodleian. It has since been returned, but I think the police believe the two crimes are connected.”
Leona stiffened at the mention of the book.
At long last, Mary snapped to attention. “Are you speaking of theRadix?”
“You know of it?” For if she did, she might be the only person besides Julius Harker and our killer to be aware of its existence.
Mary shot Leona a curious look before turning back to me. “I remember that affair quite well. It was years before you came to work at the museum, Leona.”
Leona did not respond, intently studying an imperceptible stain on the floor some three feet from where she stood.
Mary tugged her glasses from her face and continued. “It was allanyone could talk about for months. I mean honestly, to go as far as to steal the book, then hand it back to the library, sacrificing his entire career—only a madman would do that.”
“A madman indeed,” Leona murmured.
There was something odd in her body language. The tension in her shoulders, the sudden withdrawn quality to her features—but I could not concern myself with her secrets, not when I had found someone who had knowledge of the blasted book. I was as jubilant as Mr. Owen’s fictional Great-Aunt Penitence after confession. “What was special about it? Have you ever seen the thing?”
“Never laid eyes upon it. But they say it has to do with witches. It’s very old, and from what I understand incredibly valuable. My best guess is Harker meant to sell it, but he’d have had a very hard time finding someone to fence it for him.”
I let out a startled sound at the rather detailed knowledge Mary had of the darker aspects of dealing in antiquities.
She let out an exasperated sigh and laid her palms on the desk before her. “Miss Vaughn. I work in a museum. Artifacts have been known to go missing, only to be found years later in private collections. It is sadly the way of things in our line of work.”
“Do you know anything else about theRadix Maleficarum?”
Leona frowned, her dark brown eyes wide. “Are you certain of the title, Ruby?Thatis the book the police are interested in?”
I nodded, careful to not tip my hand as to my source of said knowledge, lest I expose my own innumerable crimes committed in the name of lady-detectiving—as Mr. Owen would say. While I did not believe Leona was involved in harming Julius Harker or Mr. Mueller, she still had secrets—and until I knew what they were, I could not trust her completely. Not with this. “Does that book mean anything to you?”
She worried her lower lip. “Only that it’s the second time someone has mentioned that book to me in as many days.”
My skin pricked at the newfound information. “Was it Professor Reaver?”
“Goodness no. Frederick is not at all interested in any text before it’s reached a thousand years old.” She laughed. An odd expression on her face. “No. No. It was someoneelse.”
Elsewas a loaded word. Meaning all sorts of possible things, and in our current predicament it was a word I did not much care for. “Museum, else? Orelsewhereelse?”
Leona darted a worried look to the door before shaking her head. “Not here. This is not the place for such conversations.”
We could discuss cocaine and murder here, but not missing books? Something was not right. Not right at all. I fiddled with the smooth, cream-colored button of my jacket as Leona rushed to her desk and jotted down a note on a torn scrap of paper before thrusting it in my hand.
“Take this to Jonathan Treadway. He should still be at the natural history museum.” She checked her watch. “At least for another hour.”
I furrowed my brow—the name achingly familiar.Jonathan Treadway.I’d seen it somewhere. “Is he the one who mentioned the book to you?”
She shook her head. “Tomorrow, Ruby. No more questions now. I’ll tell you everything else then, I promise. Meet me at the club at our usual time.”
I took the paper from her outstretched hand. She held my gaze for several seconds. Leona was trusting me with something important—only I had no idea what that thing was. I started for the door.
“Ruby?” Leona called after me, halting me in my tracks. “Tell Jonathan it’s important. He’ll…” She hesitated, the darkness shrouding her features. “He’ll know what it means.”
With a looming sense of dread, I hurried out the door toward the wide stair leading to the main floor of the museum. I brushed into the fragrant holiday greenery along the balustrade on the wayup the steps, taking them two at a time, when I came face-to-face with Frederick Reaver, who was on the way down. His cool affect washed over me. The man glowered at me from where he stood three steps above.
Chin defiantly high, I looked at him.
“Miss Vaughn…” His eyes traced over my wounded temple. “It looks like you’ve had a bit of trouble this morning.”
My pulse thundered in my veins. “Just clumsy is all. I fell down the townhouse steps.”
