Devious: Book Five in the On The Run series

by Sara Rosett

  “I am sorry,” he said, “I asked Felix to take a look at the report, and he doesn’t see anything that would indicate a need for further tests or retesting.”

  Zoe thanked him for his help then hung up and looked at Jack, her shoulders sagging. “Nothing special with the other painting either, just another run-of-the-mill Victorian landscape.”

  “We’re getting quite good at finding those, it seems.”

  Zoe rubbed her head. “There’s got to be a reason for all the interest. People don’t steal paintings and bribe guards for no reason.” Zoe went back to the photos on her phone. “It must be the handwriting on the back of the painting. There’s nothing else left.”

  “Can you read it?” Jack asked, looking over her shoulder.

  “Yes, most of it. It’s similar to the writing in the journal. Not exactly the same, but I managed to decipher most of those words, and there’s not a lot here.” It was actually a single line of text followed by several rows of numbers.

  Their food arrived and Zoe worked out the text as they ate their flaky pastries. It took her a few minutes because the writing was so cramped and the flourishes on the letters added to the confusion, but as she pushed her empty plate away, she wrote out the text on a paper napkin. “Okay, I’ve got it. It says, “Look to the first journey. Then it’s a bunch of numbers.”

  Jack pulled the phone toward him. “It’s a code.”

  Zoe stared at him. “Are you sure?”

  “Pretty sure. It’s a simple one.” Jack took the phone from her and pointed to the rows of numbers. “I think it’s a book cipher. See the three columns? They tell you exactly where to find the message. The first column is the page, the second is the line, and the third is the letter. Elegant and simple and difficult to crack unless you know the key,” Jack said, regret in his voice. “Unfortunately, you have to have the correct book, and you have to have the correct edition of the book to make it work.”

  “But we know which book. It tells us right here.” Zoe tapped the napkin with the block printed words, Look to the first journey. “Agatha Foley’s book about their first trip, A Journey Through the East.”

  19

  ZOE IMPATIENTLY PUNCHED THE BUTTON in the hotel elevator. Agatha Foley’s A Journey Through the East was waiting for her upstairs in their hotel room. She wanted to check out the rows of numbers and see if they were right, if it was a code with Agatha’s book as the key. She had sent the photos to Jack’s email address, and he’d stopped off at the hotel’s business center to print the photos, saying that it would be better to have a paper copy and to have them blown up to a larger size. She’d agreed, so they’d split up. She couldn’t wait around for a printer to spew out pages when the reason for A View to Edinburgh’s sudden popularity might be only a few minutes away.

  “Zoe?”

  Zoe turned around and saw Poppy hovering behind her. She had on a chic long black cardigan with khaki pants and a brightly flowered scarf. Her hand rested on the handle of a small rolling suitcase.

  “Oh, it is you,” she said. “I wasn’t sure. You came through the lobby so quickly I didn’t get a good look.” Poppy had been poised on one foot as if she were about to step away, but when she recognized Zoe, she shifted into a standing position. “I apologize for showing up like this. I should have called you, but it was a spur-of-the-moment kind of thing.” She grimaced. “I don’t usually do that kind of thing, but this time, I thought why not? Why shouldn’t I go to Salzburg? I’ve always wanted to go…when I read about it in Agatha’s diaries I wanted to see it, and every time I see The Sound of Music, I promise myself that I’m going to visit, but I never do. Well, I’m not putting things off, not anymore. Funerals have a way of making you see things more clearly, you know?”

  “Um…you don’t have to apologize. Spontaneous is kind of my thing, so I’m fine with it, but you must not have gotten my messages.” Poppy’s face looked open and relaxed.

  “Messages?” She pulled her phone from her pocket and checked the display. “Sorry, no. I switched my phone to silent this morning during a meeting and forgot about it. What’s happened?”

  Zoe swallowed. “A lot.” She spotted Jack making his way across the lobby and felt a little more shored up. If she was about to get fired, then at least they could commiserate together. “First, let me introduce you to my husband, Jack, who also works with Harrington. Jack had the opportunity to join me so he’s been helping me look into the situation around the painting.” Poppy’s eyebrows drew together in the beginning of a frown. Zoe hurriedly added, “But at no extra charge. He’s sort of a bonus.”

  Poppy ran her gaze over him then grinned at Zoe. “I imagine he is.” She put out her hand. “Poppy Foley. Delighted to meet you.”

  Jack inclined his head. “The pleasure is all mine.”

  “Perhaps we should sit down,” Zoe said, motioning to a group of chairs at one side of the lobby. “I have bad news about the painting.”

  Once they were seated, Poppy gave Zoe her undivided attention. “What’s happened?”

  “It’s been stolen,” Zoe said. Jack wasn’t in her line of sight, but she could feel him cringe. She knew he was probably thinking that she should have broken the news to Poppy more gently, but Zoe thought sometimes being blunt was better than beating around the bush.

  “So it is valuable, after all?”

  “No, we don’t think so.” Zoe went on to explain the test results on Poppy’s painting and how the riddle referred to the painting of the fog.

  “But someone stole A View of Edinburgh anyway?” Poppy asked.

  Jack said, “Yes, perhaps someone who had knowledge about the painting and about the story associated with the Foley treasure.”

  “I saw a picture of Theodore Cooke,” Zoe said. “It wasn’t him. This guy didn’t have red hair. His hair was dark, and he was smaller and lighter. He had a completely different vibe than I got from the picture of Theo Cooke. Theo Cooke looked…scary. Not the sort of person you want to confront. The man who took the painting was…well, almost charming.” She decided to leave out the part about his dimple. She didn’t think Poppy would appreciate that detail.

  “Right up until he took the painting,” Jack said.

  “It was only a few seconds,” Zoe admitted, “but he sailed into the room with confidence, smiling the whole time, saying something about not worrying then he scooped up the painting and called out that he’d take good care of it.”

  Poppy swiped at the screen on her phone. “I bet he had a cute little chin dimple, didn’t he?” Poppy asked in an irritated tone.

  “Yes, he did,” Zoe said. “How did you know that?”

  “Is this him?” Poppy passed the phone to Zoe.

  She didn’t have to look twice at the photo of the smiling dark-headed man with the dimple in his chin. “Yes. That’s him.”

  “He’s my brother, Robbie.”

  Poppy put down the phone and rotated her shoulders. “That’s the second time this week that I’ve had to call off the police. Much more difficult to do in a foreign country, but I think they understand that they don’t need to pursue it.”

  They were still in the hotel lobby. While Poppy was on hold, waiting to talk to the police, Zoe had explained that they’d found the matching painting and summarized the findings on the analysis of the second painting. Zoe had glossed over how they got a look at the back of the painting and, fortunately, just when Poppy was about to ask more about it, the police had come back on the line. Zoe had used the opportunity to dart upstairs and grab the books Poppy had lent her. She now had the hardbound copy of A Journey Through the East in front of her, her finger holding it open to one of the pages that had been listed on the back of the canvas.

  “So the police are backing off?” Jack asked.

  “Yes, I think I convinced them that Robbie is my brother and that everything is fine.” She checked something on her phone then shook her hair off her face. “Of course, it’s not fine because Robbie isn’t returning my ca
lls, but the police don’t need to know that. I’ll sort Robbie out.”

  Zoe went back to decoding the list of numbers. She wouldn’t want to be there when Poppy caught up with Robert. At least, they now knew that the painting was in the possession of one of the Foley family members. It wasn’t an ideal situation, but it was better than only having a description that hinged on a charming smile and a dimple.

  Poppy put the phone away and shifted closer to the low round table where Zoe and Jack were bent over the large black and white images of the rows of numbers that Jack had printed earlier. As Jack read off each number, Zoe found the coordinating letter in Agatha’s book and called out the letter, then Jack wrote it down. “I still can’t believe that the painting was matched up with a related painting with a code on the back. It’s extraordinary, like something out of The Da Vinci Code.”

  Jack and Zoe exchanged glances. “Let’s hope we’re not dealing with something as…charged…as that,” Zoe said.

  “Oh, I agree,” Poppy said quickly. “I only meant the clues and codes. It’s like an old-fashioned treasure hunt. And I actually wouldn’t be surprised to find that this is some elaborate scheme that the aunts cooked up to entertain guests that got blown out of proportion and became a rumor. It would serve Robbie right if that’s what it is.” She pointed to the list of numbers. “That clue probably leads back to a box in the attic of Frampton with…I don’t know…china trinkets or playing cards or some other useless things.”

  Jack read off the last lines of coordinates, and Zoe called out the letters. After a long pause from Jack, she asked, “What’s next?”

  “Nothing. That’s it, and I’m stumped. See if you can make it out.” He handed the paper over with a string of letters. Poppy switched to a seat beside Zoe so she could see the paper as well.

  “The code doesn’t have spaces, so you have to figure out where the breaks are for each word, but it doesn’t form a single word, at least not that I can see.”

  Zoe puzzled over the line of letters, but no matter how she divided them, they didn’t make a word, much less a sentence. “Maybe it’s a code within a code?” she asked, looking to Jack. “I don’t know anything about codes except what I’ve seen in movies, but this isn’t making sense. There has to be more to it.”

  “It could require an additional step, a substitution for certain letters or possibly all of them,” Jack said, “but unless we know what the substitution is…” Jack shrugged.

  “Does it mean anything to you?” Zoe asked Poppy. “Anything associated with your family? Initials of a person or an address maybe?”

  Poppy studied the paper for a while then handed it back. “No. I’m as perplexed as you.” She reached for the image of the writing on the back of the painting. “This was the only thing on the back?”

  “Aside from the cataloging mark.” Zoe handed her the rest of the photos Jack had printed. “You were right, by the way, Agatha did catalogue all of Annabel’s paintings. I found the list in Agatha’s journal.”

  Poppy raised her head and stared at Zoe. “The journal. That’s where we should look.”

  “The journal? You mean Agatha’s journal?”

  Poppy scooted forward on the seat. “Yes, I gave it to you, didn’t I? Aggie’s first journal of their travels.” She went back to the page with the close-up of the handwriting on the back of the canvas. “This word, it could be journal, not journey.”

  “Yes, it could,” Zoe said. The swooping lines forming the letters were faded and written so closely that the letters at the end of the word were difficult to read. “That would mean we’re supposed to use Agatha’s first travel diary, her journal, to decode the message.”

  Fifteen minutes later, Zoe put the pen down and looked at the new line of words. Poppy carefully closed the journal and retied the strings around it. Zoe had handed it off to her to look up the individual letters as Jack called them out. It had taken them quite a while to find all the letters because the pages in the journal weren’t numbered, and they had to consult over the twisty embellishments on some of the letters to decide which letter of the alphabet it represented, but they had the letters now.

  Jack picked up the pen and drew a line after the first three letters. “I think we’re pretty safe in assuming the first word is ‘the.’”

  Zoe agreed and they quickly worked out the rest of the divisions. Zoe slid the paper toward Poppy. She picked it up and read the words aloud, “The spire points the way.”

  She dropped her hand back into her lap. “That’s it? That’s barely a sentence. What can it mean?”

  “Well it is a sentence. At least it’s coherent, much better than our last attempt.” Zoe settled back against the cushions of her chair. “A spire could mean a church. Is there a church on your property?”

  “You mean at Frampton?” Poppy asked. “No, only the village church, and it was bombed during World War II. The whole thing was gutted and rebuilt from the ground up, so if that was it, then I’m afraid the search ends here. It wasn’t a dramatic steeple, anyway. I’ve seen pictures,” Poppy explained. “The sisters rarely spent time at Frampton, though. They much preferred Edinburgh.”

  “Lots of churches in Edinburgh,” Jack said.

  “Too many to even know where to begin,” Poppy said.

  “The other clues were all decipherable. This one seems too vague. We must be missing something. What else has a spire…” Zoe murmured as she stared at the ceiling. She sat up. “Doesn’t the turret at Staircase House have a spire?”

  Poppy said slowly, “Yes, it does.” The cadence of her words quickened. “The sisters lived most of their lives there. It was where they stayed when they were home. And the trust restrictions…” her voice trailed off as she murmured to herself. “Yes, that makes sense.”

  “I’m sorry,” Zoe said, “What makes sense?”

  Poppy had been staring at the floor, lost in her thoughts, but at Zoe’s question she looked up. “I recently found out from the lawyers that there are certain stipulations in the will Annabel left. We found out today that we can’t sell Staircase House. I thought it was something that could be worked around, but the will stipulates that the building never be torn down, remodeled, or sold to anyone outside the Foley family.”

  Jack said, “So they went to extensive lengths to protect the building. Were they interested in architectural preservation?”

  “Not especially, no,” Poppy said. “So perhaps they wanted the building to stay unchanged to protect something inside the building,” Zoe said. “Is that what you’re thinking?”

  “Amazingly, yes.” Poppy shook her head. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but the Foley treasure might be more than a box of chipped crockery after all.” Poppy handed the paper back to Zoe and gripped the handle of her suitcase. “Looks like I’ll have to put off seeing Salzburg a little longer.”

  20

  ZOE PULLED HER SUITCASE OUT of the overhead bin and followed Poppy out of the airplane. Once they were inside the Edinburgh terminal, she and Poppy paused to wait for Jack. Their last-minute ticket purchase had meant that the three of them had been spread out around the plane. Jack was in one of the rows at the back of the plane.

  “It’s too bad you didn’t get to see anything in Salzburg,” Zoe said. She had told Poppy that she and Jack would be happy to return to Edinburgh without her and let her tour Salzburg.

  “And miss all the fun?” Poppy had said. “No, I’m seeing this through to the end…whatever that is. Then we can put this family legend behind us. It’s already caused so much trouble. And then I’m going back to Salzburg. Even if it’s just a weekend trip. I’m going to take the time to do it.”

  The people continued to flow off the plane. “One good thing did come of the trip.” Poppy pulled out her phone and switched it on. “It’s looking less likely that Robbie was mixed up with Theodore Cooke. The description you got from the guard of the two men who came to see the other painting…well, one of them fits Robbie’s description, but th
e other guy’s description didn’t sound like Theodore Cooke, so that’s a relief.” Before Zoe could tell her that Inspector Homes had informed her that Theo Cooke was in police custody, Poppy’s phone buzzed as it powered up. “Finally, three missed calls and a voicemail, all from Robbie.”

  Poppy had been calling and texting Robbie every half-hour since they’d worked out that they needed to go back to Edinburgh, but he hadn’t responded. Her phone rang. “Finally.” She punched the button to answer and turned slightly away from Zoe, but Zoe could still hear Poppy’s side of the conversation.

  “So glad you could work me into your busy schedule.” She was silent a few minutes then said, “Is that right? You’re in Edinburgh?”

  Jack finally appeared, spotted Zoe, and came over. Zoe tilted her head toward Poppy. “Robert is on the phone.”

  “There’s no need for me to leave the key with Mrs. Reid,” Poppy said into the phone. “I’m in Edinburgh, too. I’ll meet you there…it’s no problem,” Poppy said as she watched the people walking through the airport. Zoe noticed Poppy’s eyes narrow. “In fact, I insist.”

  Zoe looked to see what was so interesting. She touched Jack’s arm, and pointed toward a man with dark hair striding in their direction as he spoke on his phone.

  “So how long have you been in Edinburgh?” Poppy said into the phone as she grabbed her suitcase handle and hurried across the corridor toward the man. Zoe and Jack followed her but they both slowed down, giving Poppy some space as she stepped into the man’s path and pulled her phone away from her ear. “Hello, Robbie.”

  Robert dropped the phone from his ear. “Oh. You’re here. Right here, in the airport.”

  “Been here a few days? Odd that you’re at the airport.” She glanced down at the rolling bag the man was pulling. “With a suitcase.”

  From a distance, Zoe had thought that the man looked like the guy who grabbed the painting, but when he put his phone away and smiled then extended one arm so that he could give Poppy a sideways hug, Zoe was sure it was him. The dimple was there, and he oozed charm as he said, “Mom said you were leaving Edinburgh today. There’s no need for you to stay.”