The Invisible Library (The Invisible Library #1)(66)
‘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?’