For a long moment, I stared at the long-lost manuscript, silently gloating. Well, silently between sneezes. The ancient dust was horrible on my sinuses.
I leafed through the pile to see if all the pages were there, which in this case meant peeking at the last sheet. The End. So yes, with the possible addition of the one on the desk, we had the whole book.
The temptation to start reading was almost overwhelming but I managed to choke it back. The Scotts needed to see it first.
As if conjured up by my thoughts, footsteps trod softly on the stairs. Was Kieran back from London already? It didn’t seem possible.
Oliver appeared in the doorway. “Molly. There you are.” Since I was seated, he loomed over me. “What’s that?”
My gaze fastened on the orange sneakers he was wearing once again. Were they a sign of his innocence or guilt?
“I just found Among the Ruins.” I patted the chaise longue. “It was under the upholstery where someone stuffed it.” Who, when, and why were questions still unanswered.
He trod across the room with careful footfalls, as if approaching some kind of grail. Perhaps it was, to him. He reached out a hand. “Can I see?”
I clutched the pages to my chest. “In a minute. I want to tell Kieran and Lady Asha first.” I snapped a couple of pictures and sent them to Kieran, sprinkling the text with excited emojis. Oliver stood over me, watching. “Can you step back, please? You’re looming.” I had a thought. “Why aren’t you at St. Aelred?” When did the man teach? It seemed lately that he was always out here.
He moved back a couple of steps. “Dr. Cutler tore a couple of strips off me this morning. I had to get away for a while.”
“Oh no.” Text sent, I looked up at him. “I’m sorry. The whole thing is terribly unfair.”
Oliver folded his arms. “It certainly is. I wouldn’t respond to Thad’s blackmail so this is what I get. Unjustly written up and scrutinized. Cutler told me he wants to see all the papers I mark up this term. Then we’ll discuss how I graded them.”
The blackmail remark spurred a brief thought, one I couldn’t quite grasp, so I moved on. “How ridiculous. At this point in your career, you don’t need to be monitored like that.” I could see it for student teachers, maybe. “Why is he doing this? Why didn’t he brush off Thad’s complaint? After all, he’s—” Dead. I stopped myself there.
“Because Thad’s parents are big donors. Dr. Cutler wants to stay on their good side. If throwing me under the bus is a suitable sacrifice, he’ll do it.” His tone was bitter. “He knows my options are limited.”
“Unless you do quit and write that bestseller.”
“Why do you think I’ve been obsessed with Selwyn Scott and my own writing? It’s saving my sanity.”
“I get it.” Using the seat, I hoisted myself to my feet. “Why don’t we go downstairs where it’s a little more comfortable? You can read while I keep going with the inventory.” As long as he didn’t take the manuscript out of the library, I was sure it would be all right to let him look at it. Not that I really had a say, except that, in the absence of Kieran and his parents, I was the de facto library steward.
I gathered the loose page from the desk and we descended the tower stairs. “Back to work,” I said as we entered the library, so warm in comparison to the garret. “This an okay spot?” I set the bundle on a different table.
“Perfect.” Oliver pulled out a chair and sat, absorbed within seconds.
We’d need to make copies of that, so it wouldn’t get damaged from people handling it. One thing I’d noticed, though, was that the paper was much thicker than our paper today. Made to last.
I got back to work, checking my phone now and then for a text from Kieran, who was probably somewhere without service. Or busy with his father’s appointments.
“Knock, knock.” We looked over to see Sophie Verona in the doorway, casual but elegant in a black leather jacket, skinny jeans, and ankle boots. Her hair was down around her shoulders, shiny and loose.
Oliver pushed back in his chair. “Sophie. I wasn’t sure when you were coming.”
She made a face. “Me either. My last tutorial canceled, though. So here I am.” She strolled through the room, taking it all in. “I could spend years in this library.”
“Me too,” I said. “And might be, slow as this inventory is going.” I was a little annoyed that she’d shown up and interrupted my streak.
“We’re going out to dinner in Hazelhurst,” Oliver said, as if he had to keep me informed. “Kieran knows we’re meeting here.”
I waved a hand as if to say it didn’t concern me, which it did not. Continuing to enter books into the library program, I pretended not to listen, although I couldn’t help it.
“What’s that?” Sophie asked, taking the seat next to Oliver. She pulled it close, so they were almost touching, thigh to thigh.
“It’s another manuscript by my ancestor, Selwyn Scott,” Oliver said. “Very exciting find.”
Sophie glanced at it then said, “I have some disturbing news.”
“What’s that?” Oliver sounded alarmed. “Did they figure out who—”
Her headshake was abrupt. “No, no. You know I’ve had Amy take over the books. For the Institute.” She paused for his nod. “She found some irregularities.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him pull back, frowning. “Irregularities? Like what?”
“Like missing money.” Sophie’s tone was vicious. “The little weasel was stealing from us.”
“No, really? I can’t believe it … Why?” Oliver honestly sounded confused. “His family is richer than God.”
Sophie shrugged. “Maybe it was a sport to him, you know, see what he could get away with. Anyway, that’s where that stands.” She sighed heavily. “Want to get out of here? I could use a drink.”
Oliver checked his phone. “We can do that. Need to make a call first, though, to one of my students. Hang on.” Still staring at the device, he wandered out of the library. A moment later, low tones drifted from the other room.
Sophie glanced over and caught me staring. Her smile was fixed. “Molly. How are you?”
“Fine,” I said, trying to sound casual even though my pulse was banging. This was the first time I’d had a chance to talk to Sophie alone. What should I say? Should I plunge right in and talk about Thad?
In the end, caution won. “I’ve been taking part in the Gothic Institute activities,” I said. “It’s been really amazing. I went on Amy’s Gothic tour, for one.” And saw you kissing Oliver.
Her face lightened. “I’m so glad to hear that. Putting on an event like that is such an effort and I always worry it won’t quite go off.”
I rolled my eyes. “Totally hear you. I think the same whenever the bookshop has a reading.” Rapport established. “Amy said you want to hold it in Paris next year.”
Her gaze went down. “Ah. Yes. Well. Perhaps. If we can raise the money.”
Amy said you’ve gotten some big sponsors. Sidestepping, I nodded at the manuscript. “Maybe Among the Ruins can be unveiled there. That would be a huge draw. With any luck, it’s as good as The Fatal Folio.” Unless someone steals that manuscript as well. Maybe I shouldn’t have drawn attention to it.
“Have you read The Fatal Folio?” Sophie had an odd, almost mocking expression on her face. “It’s one of my class assignments.”
“I’m reading it now,” I said. “Totally engrossed.”
“The core premise of the book raises great debate among my students. Some, including Thad, believe that the notion of retribution from an unseen hand is mere fantasy.” I must have looked confused because she added, “Enough said. I don’t want to spoil it for you.”
The word retribution sounded familiar. I’d seen it somewhere recently. Where, though?
Whistling, Oliver strode back into the room. “Ready?” In answer, Sophie rose to her feet and slung her handbag strap over her shoulder.
As Oliver guided Sophie out, fingertips on her lower back, he said, “Tell Kieran I’ll catch up with him later.”
“Will do. Have a nice night.” I’d learned something new today. Thad’s sketchy ventures went beyond selling other people’s books. He had embezzled from the Gothic Institute, it sounded like.
Or had he? Convenient that he couldn’t defend himself.
I glanced out the window, noticing that dusk was falling. A few more books and I’d head for home. If I came back tomorrow and worked all day, I should be able to make a real dent in the project. That, along with the discovery of Among the Ruins, would make my next report a happy one. Before I left, the manuscript was going in the closet and I would hide the key and tell Kieran where it was.
Speaking of Kieran, I still hadn’t heard a word, which wasn’t like him. He was usually prompt in his responses.
I hope nothing is wrong. Pushing aside a sense of foreboding, I turned to the next book in the pile.
The bookshop was closed when I got home, so I dropped my bags and hurried through to the kitchen. Here, all was warmth and good cheer—Aunt Violet busy at the stove, Mum pouring wine into three glasses, and Sir Jon sitting at the table, both cats vying for his attention.
“Sir Jon,” I said, taking off my coat and hanging it on a peg. “Good to see you.” Inwardly I cringed, hoping he wasn’t here to scold me for barging into his investigation. Not that I didn’t have legitimate reasons to be at Dubold’s.
“Nice to see you as well, Molly.” Sir Jon rubbed Clarence under his chin and the old cat purred so loudly we all laughed.
“You have the touch,” Aunt Violet said, wiping her hands on her apron. Her cheeks were pink from heat—and dare I say it? Sir Jon’s presence. “Potatoes are almost ready.”
“What are we having?” I pulled a bottle of brown ale out of the fridge and popped the top. “It sure smells good.” Something savory was in the oven.
“Kilmarnock pie,” Aunt Violet said. “Beef and gravy.” She poked the potatoes with a fork and turned off the gas. “Runner beans and mash.”
My mouth was already watering. Aunt Violet made delicious mashed potatoes using lots of milk, butter, salt, and pepper. One of my go-to comfort foods.
“Is there anything I can do?” I asked. Mum, who was setting the table, shook her head, so I went to sit beside Sir Jon and pat cats. And drink beer.
“I was surprised to see you earlier,” Sir Jon said dryly. “What brought you to Reginald Dubold’s?”
I glanced at Aunt Violet, worried she might get upset again at the mention of the crooked bookseller. She continued to mash potatoes without a hitch so I went ahead and told Sir Jon about Amy’s books. “Sean Ryan was here earlier and he promised to help me get them back for Amy,” I concluded. “I have a pretty good idea who sold them to him.” He looked interested so I went on. “Thad Devine. Amy had lent him the books.”
“The student who was murdered?” Sir Jon rubbed his chin. “Hmm. Not to his credit, is it? Selling your friend’s books.”
“It certainly isn’t,” Aunt Violet said. “What a low move on his part.” She slid mitts on and opened the oven, where four small pastry pies sat on a cookie sheet. Mum went to stand beside her, helping serve the food and ferry it to the table.
After we were all served, Sir Jon said grace and we dug in. After a few bites of potatoes smothered in gravy and tender meat, I said, “Can you share anything about today’s raid?”
“Raid?” Aunt Violet asked. Then understanding dawned on her face. “Reginald’s crimes finally caught up to him, huh?”
“Nothing gets past you, my dear,” Sir Jon murmured. He gave each of us the look before saying, “This has to stay here, understand?”
“We understand,” we all murmured.
“Reginald Dubold has been on our watch list for a while. We got a tip that he’d started trading under the table again so we went in today.”
“Did you find the Fatal Folio manuscript?” I asked, my heart leaping with hope. Maybe they also knew who had sold it to Reginald. Who had stolen it right under our noses at Hazelhurst House. It couldn’t be Thad, although the connection would tie in with Amy’s books, since he was already gone when the theft occurred.
Sir Jon shook his head. “I’m sorry to report that we did not. Other books on the list, yes. Mr. Dubold won’t be selling books for a while.”
I sagged back in my chair with disappointment. “You didn’t? Where can it be?”
“Maybe the thief still has it,” Sir Jon suggested. “I’ll ask Reginald about it next time we question him. Find out if they approached him.”
“I hope they didn’t sell it to someone else. Though I can’t imagine who.” How would university students find a collector content with black market purchases? “I was so sure … there’s already a connection between Reginald and the students at St. Aelred. Thad had his card, and like I said, Amy’s books ended up there.”
“We’ll find it, Molly,” Sir Jon said. “Sooner or later.”
At least we had the new manuscript, which I had put in the closet at Hazelhurst House for now. Anxious now about not hearing from Kieran, I took a look at my phone.
Finally a text in my inbox. Sorry to be out of touch. Dad was admitted today. His blood pressure was too low. Turned out to be electrolytes. Staying overnight.
Phew. I’m so glad he’s going to be OK. I hope you’re sitting down. If you aren’t then, do.
What? He sent a frightened face emoji.
It’s good news. Really, really good news.
Okay, spill, will you?
I found Among the Ruins. It was tucked inside the chaise longue up in the tower.
Oh. I saw the pictures but I didn’t quite get it. Too distracted. A comical string of exclamations and emojis followed that made me laugh.
“What’s so funny?” Mum asked pointedly.
“Sorry to be rude. Kieran gave me an update on his dad and then I told him the big news. He’s pretty excited.” I felt a grin break over my face. “I haven’t told you either, have I?”
“No,” Aunt Violet said with a sniff. “You haven’t.”
“I found a second Selwyn Scott novel. It’s called Among the Ruins and was never published. Lady Asha wants to and can, now that we actually located it.”
“I didn’t know there was a second book,” Aunt Violet said. “How did I miss that?”
“No one knew,” I said. “I found a reference to it in a letter to Selwyn Scott’s publisher. For some reason it was never published. Now it can be.”
“What a wonderful discovery,” Mum said. “You’re a real book detective.”
I took my last bite of potato and gravy. “I like the sound of that.” Searching out books would probably be a lot safer than the murder investigations I kept stumbling into.
After dinner, Aunt Violet and Sir Jon went to the Magpie to listen to Celtic music. Mum and I stayed in to read more of The Fatal Folio.
The Fatal Folio, cont.
I was almost to the lit window when I heard Estella calling out behind me. “Signore Marlboro. Matthew. Wait for me.”
What was she doing out here, in the dark, alone? When she arrived at my side, I conveyed these sentiments to her.
“After I saw the light,” she explained, “I went out onto my balcony to get a better look. Then, a few minutes later, I saw you leave the house.” She put a hand to her chest, trying to catch her breath. “I am as curious as you to find out who it is.”
“You’ve never seen anyone here, at the monastery?”
She shook her head. “Not for a long time. Years. My father always warned me to stay away from the ruins. He said they were dangerous.”
“He was right. Stay close so we can look out for each other.” Leading the way, I navigated the overgrown grass and tumbled stones.
Soon we reached the window, discovering that the sill was too high for us to peer inside. What now? I scanned the walls, trying to find a way in.
“Lift me,” Estella said. “So I can look through the window.”
I considered the idea, measuring the distance and her height. It might work. “All right, we can try it. Be careful not to get spotted. Don’t say anything.”
She regarded me with amusement. “I think I can manage that.”
Crouching down, I laced my hands together so she could step onto them. She placed her tiny foot on my palms and I lifted her upward.
Her hands gripped the edge of the window as she strained to see over the stone lip. Then her leg began to waver and she tipped back, forcing me to hastily throw my arms around her to break her fall. Regardless, we both tumbled to the ground.
“Why did you do that?” I whispered, rubbing my elbow and knee.
Instead of answering, she stared up at the window, her mouth agape. Following her gaze, I soon understood her surprise.
A hooded monk stood in the window. “You can come through the door,” he said in a deep voice. “It would be easier.”