Irene raised her hand to get Vale and Singh’s attention. ‘Would you mind if I ask Bradamant a couple of questions, gentlemen? To fill in a part of the story on my side.’
‘Certainly, Miss Winters,’ Vale said. Singh gave her a brief nod.
Irene turned back to Bradamant. ‘I saw a card in Wyndham’s safe. It was embossed with a gold mask and signed with the name Belphegor. Was that you?’
Bradamant sighed. ‘Yes. It was. I had the plans of the house from a local contact—’
‘This Dominic Aubrey person?’ Vale cut in.
Bradamant glanced to Irene, with an I see you’ve been giving away all our local secrets look, then nodded. ‘He and Wyndham had been acquaintances for a while. I think Aubrey may have actually been rather indiscreet in what he told Wyndham, but that’s a different problem.’ Just as you’ve been with Vale, was the unspoken message. ‘Anyhow, I came in by the roof while Wyndham was at his party downstairs. It was comparatively easy to deactivate the alarms on the display case where he kept the book – ’
‘Oh, was it now,’ Singh muttered.
– ‘and after I’d taken the book, I left the card in the case before leaving, by the roof again. I don’t know why it should have been in the safe.’ She shrugged.
‘What time was this?’ Singh asked.
‘About half past eleven,’ Bradamant answered. ‘The party was in full swing downstairs. I didn’t expect anyone to come up to Wyndham’s study at that point.’
Singh nodded. He turned to Irene. ‘According to our forensic specialists, Lord Wyndham was slaughtered somewhere between midnight and one o’clock. It is difficult to tell with vampires, but the fact that his head was found on the palings outside at one o’clock gives us some idea of the time frame.’
Irene wasn’t sure whether or not that was supposed to be a joke. ‘I see,’ she said neutrally. ‘So in that case, who put the card in the safe? Lord Wyndham himself?’
‘It seems the most likely hypothesis,’ Vale agreed. ‘The man – I apologize, the vampire – was beheaded in his study, at his desk. Some of the other guests at the party said that he went upstairs at midnight, saying that he was going to arrange a surprise.’
Kai nodded. ‘So when he walked in to find the book gone, he determined to preserve Belphegor’s card for future investigation. Though it seems overly careful to put it in the safe rather than simply leave it in a drawer of his desk. But then he was attacked?’
‘That is so,’ Singh said. ‘By members of the Iron Brotherhood. I have information from some of our agents. We believe they must have been masquerading as guests. They simply lopped his head off, walked out normally, and impaled it upon the palings as they left.’
Irene frowned. ‘But then Wyndham’s murder was before the Opera explosion and change in command in the Brotherhood. Is there a connection?’
Singh and Bradamant traded glances. ‘That is a very interesting question, Miss Winters,’ Singh said. ‘But at the moment, I am more interested in knowing the whereabouts of the book which Madame Bradamant stole.’
Bradamant regarded him stonily. ‘It was a fake.’
For a moment everyone was talking, mostly along the lines of What? and Are you certain?
‘And I know it was a fake,’ Bradamant said, cutting through the noise, ‘because when I took it back to my superior, he looked at it and then explained to me that he was not interested in facsimiles. Especially those which were missing certain relevant parts.’
‘Which relevant parts?’ Irene demanded. She was fairly sure who the superior in question must have been. Bradamant answered directly to Kostchei, just as Irene answered directly to Coppelia. The possibility of someone else having been involved, and giving Bradamant orders . . . well, it wasn’t impossible, but it was too unlikely. At the moment the principles of Occam’s Razor, starting with the most obvious answer, seemed the best plan. ‘Did he tell you?’
‘No,’ Bradamant said bitterly. For a moment her face betrayed genuine emotion: anger, bitterness, and sheer thwarted curiosity. ‘I was given the strong impression that it was better for me not to know.’
Irene worked out times and dates in her head. ‘Then, when you met myself and,’ she almost said Kai, but caught herself in time, ‘Mr Strongrock, on our way to our assignment, this was after you’d discovered the book was a fake?’
‘It was,’ Bradamant agreed. See how honest and forthcoming I’m being, her vague smile said, her expression under control again. ‘I thought that if I could intercept you on the way, then I could try to find the real book without your interference. Pardon my phrasing.’
‘Of course,’ Irene said blandly. She was conscious of the three men listening. ‘So after that, you decided to come through anyhow?’
‘I had the advantage of already knowing this place,’ Bradamant said. ‘I didn’t expect you to work as fast as you did.’
Irene glanced round at the three men. Somehow they shared a similar demeanour, whatever their reaction to this new information. Perhaps it was a kind of aristocratic poise, an inbuilt certainty that the world was going to cooperate with their needs.
She wished she shared it.
‘Wyndham is the obvious candidate to have created the fake, since records show he had the original book,’ Vale said briskly. ‘Inspector Singh, if you would – ’
‘Of course,’ Singh said. He pulled a sheaf of papers from his briefcase. ‘The clerks and difference engines at the Yard have tabulated records of Lord Wyndham’s last few weeks. He only obtained the book two and a half weeks ago, at an auction of the late Mr Bonhomme’s effects. And it was certified as genuine by the auction house at the time, which resulted in a quite remarkable price being set on it.’
Vale nodded. ‘I managed to trace one of the proxy bids to Lord Silver, through the solicitor that he employed. We can be sure of his interest.’
‘There were some threats after the auction, too,’ Singh went on. ‘This all resulted in the book being under tight guard. So if he had the fake made, then it was within that time period.’
‘Could it have been done that quickly?’ Irene asked, startled.
Vale leaned back in his chair. ‘There are precisely three forgers in London at the present moment who could have done it,’ he said. ‘And even they would have taken at least two weeks to do so.’
‘So there are,’ Singh agreed. ‘And a delivery came from one of them—’
Vale held up a hand. ‘Matthias?’
‘No, Levandis,’ Singh said smugly.
‘I thought Matthias was the one he’d dealt with before,’ Vale said.
‘Possibly why he chose not to deal with him this time,’ Singh said. ‘In any case, one of our people was watching Levandis at the time – the Severn matter, you know – and she confirms that he was making daily trips to Wyndham’s house. The servants agree that he called, but they had him down as a workman doing some alterations on the panelling in Wyndham’s study. They can confirm that was where he was spending his time daily. He sent a final delivery to Wyndham three days before Wyndham’s murder, and didn’t visit again after that.’
Vale nodded. ‘Convenient.’
‘Sometimes we get lucky,’ Singh agreed. ‘She wasn’t able to determine what was going on at the time, but given this other business . . .’
‘Wait,’ Kai said, frowning. ‘Assuming that Wyndham had a forgery made for some reason and then displayed it, what did he do with the original?’
‘He hadn’t given it to Lord Silver,’ Irene said thoughtfully, remembering the encounter in Wyndham’s study. She saw Singh’s lips twitch in an expression of distaste. ‘Silver was searching Wyndham’s study and his safe, and I think it was the book that he was looking for. Maybe Wyndham had intended to give it to Silver, or promised it to him.’
‘If Silver’s involved, there could be all sorts of reasons Wyndham might have had a fake made,’ Bradamant agreed. ‘If the book was hugely valuable, Wyndham might have wanted to safeguard it by only disp
laying the fake. Or perhaps he meant it as bait for Silver to attempt to steal it; we know that the Fae love things they can’t have. Also they had a very close, if antagonistic relationship at times – the papers have made a great deal of that. Maybe Wyndham wanted to show off by loaning Silver the real thing, or had even promised him it to repay a favour. Or maybe he meant to fob him off with the fake. It’s impossible to know without questioning Silver.’
Or maybe the copy was meant for Alberich, Irene thought. Was that where Alberich fitted in all this? But if that was the case, then why didn’t Alberich already have the book?
‘Lord Silver was certainly Wyndham’s best-known ally and contact,’ Vale was saying. ‘As well as one of his best-known enemies. Fae relationships.’ His lips pursed in disapproval. ‘But in that case, the book may still be in Wyndham’s house.’
Singh was shaking his head. ‘If it is, sir, then it’s very well hidden.’ Irene suspected the sir was due to the presence of outsiders. ‘We, ah, searched the place thoroughly after Lord Wyndham’s murder. We did find a number of interesting items and documents, which have been enlightening with respect to other cases, but the Grimm book was not there.’
‘It could perhaps be very well hidden,’ Kai said hopefully.
‘We had our best searchers on the job, Mr Strongrock,’ Singh said, in a tone which closed the subject.
‘So the real book is not in Wyndham’s house,’ Irene reiterated, thinking aloud, ‘and the forgery Bradamant stole couldn’t have been started until Wyndham actually had the book. This would have taken at least two weeks to create. So was it moved during that period or copied before it arrived?’ She turned to Singh. ‘Can we confirm that the book entered Wyndham’s house directly after the auction, and remained in a public place there until it was stolen?’
Singh nodded. ‘We can. And after it arrived, testimony from the servants confirms that the book – or a very good copy of it – was in Lord Wyndham’s study all day every day, madam. The maid who dusted it was quite definite on the subject. Lord Wyndham wanted it kept in perfect condition.’
‘Very good. So . . . either the real thing or an excellent copy was on display throughout, but Bradamant definitely picked up the fake. And the real book cannot have been removed until the forgery was ready. If the forgery was only ready a few days before Wyndham’s murder – given that the auction was a little over two weeks before the murder, and the forgery would have taken two weeks – then the real book must have been taken from the house in those last few days. That is, if it isn’t there now.’
‘An interesting train of thought,’ Vale murmured, and Irene had to work to suppress a blush of pride. It’s nice to have just one little daydream come true. And it’s even better when it’s actually deserved. ‘But why not keep it in the house?’
‘There is a risk of theft – from someone other than Belphegor, that is,’ Singh suggested. ‘His safe might be impregnable to the Fae, given that it was cold iron, but human thieves could have opened it.’ He gave Bradamant a meaningful look. ‘If the real book wasn’t hidden very thoroughly, and it came to light, it would show Wyndham’s display copy was a fake – whatever the reason for all this cloak-and-dagger subterfuge. I wonder what he was up to . . .’ Finally he nodded to Irene. ‘I agree with your theory, madam. Although it does mean we’d have to assume Lord Wyndham handled the book himself, rather than passing it to some agent or third party to deal with.’
‘Let us commence with that as a working hypothesis,’ Vale said briskly. ‘In those three days, where did he go? And when could he have been carrying a book with him? How large is the book, in any case?’
‘A large hardback,’ Bradamant said, sketching the shape in the air with her hands. ‘Leather-bound and illustrated. Perhaps six inches by eight. Impossible to conceal under a fashionable coat. It could be carried in a briefcase easily enough.’
‘Excellent,’ Vale said. ‘That limits the possibilities. Lord Wyndham did not favour overcoats. What can you give us based on that, Inspector?’
‘Just a moment, please, sir,’ Singh said, flicking through the papers. ‘I have some statements here from Lord Wyndham’s valet, concerning his comings and goings over the last few days before his murder. We managed to assemble quite a timetable of the gentleman’s movements while we were establishing who might have wanted to kill him. He didn’t make that many outings during that period, so I believe we should be able to rule out a number of possibilities.’
Tension hung in the room. The seconds went by painfully slowly. Irene considered suggesting that they all help by taking a paper each and checking them separately. Then she decided it was a stupid idea. Then she considered it again. Then she watched Singh’s moustache and beard twitching as he muttered under his breath and turned pages.
With an effort, she glanced towards the window rather than watching Singh read. The weather outside still seemed to be good – for this alternate, anyhow – with high-flying clouds and sunshine. The dream-catcher that she’d noticed earlier was dark against the pale sky.
She wondered what sort of dreams Vale had, that he, sceptic and logician, should hang a dream-catcher in the window.
‘Ah,’ Singh finally said. ‘I think we may have something here.’
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
‘The day before his murder, Lord Wyndham visited his bank,’ Singh said. ‘It wasn’t a scheduled visit. Apparently he couldn’t be seen immediately, and he made a few complaints, which caused some of the tellers to recall his visit when we were questioning them. While none of the statements there confirm that he was carrying a briefcase, they don’t say that he wasn’t either. It’d be quite the normal sort of thing for a gentleman consulting his banker to be carrying.’
‘Who did he bank with?’ Bradamant asked.
‘Lloyds,’ Singh said. He frowned. ‘I’ll need to get a search warrant if we’re to look inside his safe deposit box, sir. That’ll take a few hours at least. And it’d be easier with a bit of evidence that we could take before the judge.’
There was a glum silence throughout the room.
‘Not impossible, of course,’ Singh added. ‘But it might get us a warrant a trifle faster.’
‘If the Iron Brotherhood were behind last night’s attack on the Embassy, and they’re looking for this book too, then they might try and steal the deposit box from Lloyds,’ Irene offered hopefully.
Singh looked disappointed in her. ‘I said evidence, madam. Not conjecture.’
‘Well!’ Vale brought his hands together in a brisk clap. ‘Inspector, I suggest you set that in motion – and if there’s anywhere else that the gentleman might have concealed the book, we can review the possibilities while we’re waiting. Is there anywhere else that’s reasonably plausible, or even possible?’
‘There is one other thing,’ Singh said. He turned back to one of the earlier pages in his bundle of papers. ‘Apparently Lord Wyndham did regularly donate books to various museums around London. They were usually ones which he had collected earlier, but which were no longer of interest to him or his associates.’
Irene twitched at the very notion. Give books away? ‘How very frivolous,’ she finally said.
‘More altruistic than keeping them to himself,’ Vale corrected her. ‘Please go on, Inspector.’
Singh rustled his papers, just enough to emphasize that he was in charge of the situation. ‘Two days before Lord Wyndham’s murder, he sent a small box of such books to the Natural History Museum. Herbariums, bestiaries, that sort of thing. My men looked into it as a matter of course while in the process of investigating the goings-on before his murder. The clerk to whom they spoke said that nobody had got round to looking at it yet. Please don’t stare at me like that, madam. It’s quite regular for persons of quality to make donations to the museums. It might be months before anyone gets round to checking it, unless they’d been specifically notified that there was something of importance in it.’
Kai frowned. ‘Are you suggesting that he
hid the genuine book in the crate of donations? Wasn’t that, well, extremely risky? If even one person had found it there, he would have lost it. His bank deposit box seems much more likely.’
‘No, I can see the logic of it,’ Bradamant contradicted him. ‘If there is a backlog of such donations, it could have been as much as a year before anyone opened it, and he could have asked for it back if he needed it to present to Silver – or to anyone else,’ she added thoughtfully.
‘Well, the gentleman was a vampire,’ Vale agreed, ‘so it would fit certain scheming aspects of his character – even though one should probably not speak ill of the undead.’ He paused, but nobody laughed. ‘Oh, very well. Are there any other possible ways by which the book could have been smuggled out of the house, Inspector?’
‘Possible, certainly, sir,’ Singh said cautiously, ‘but none plausible. I had my men check the cellars very thoroughly. There are no connections to the local sewers, or to the Underground. Of course, if he trusted it to one of his servants, then we have a whole new set of possibilities. If that’s the case, then we might do better watching the black market for such things to see if it shows up. Or we could see how the Iron Brotherhood go about finding it – if they’re after the damn thing too.’
Irene and Bradamant glanced at each other, and Irene could guess what the other woman was thinking. If they did have to resort to scouring the black market, or liaising with secret society members, then it might be better for Bradamant to break away from the group. She could then use any contacts that she’d made as ‘Belphegor’, rather than be known to be working with Singh and Vale. Of course, Bradamant could then find the book, and be the one who took it back to the Library. So which was more important for Irene? Finding the book herself, or making sure that it was found? She knew what the answer should be, but that didn’t mean that she liked it.
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