by ‘I see what you are thinking,’ said Mr. Elvyng, looking at me. ‘I realise what the obvious solution must appear to be. But I beg you to believe it impossible. What motive might either I or my daughter have, for faking the theft of our own grimoire?’
A good question. I wanted to ask about insurance money; Crystobel had mentioned that there had been an insurance valuation made of the grimoire, which suggested a policy also. But the Elvyngs were rolling in wealth. Everything about them proclaimed as much. Why go to such lengths for even more?
‘We made no claim upon the insurance policy,’ continued Mr. Elvyng, and I began to feel unnerved. Were my thoughts written so clearly upon my face? Or was he actually reading my mind?
‘Thank you for clearing that up,’ I said crisply. ‘One has to consider all the possibilities, of course.’
‘Of course.’
All right, so if they hadn’t even tried to claim the insurance then it wasn’t a scam. But why hadn’t they? Purely because it might look suspicious?
Well, they had no need of the money, and obviously hadn’t purchased the grimoire as an investment. But then why have an insurance policy at all?
‘Mr. Elvyng,’ said Jay. ‘Do you have any idea who might have taken the grimoire? Was there anyone who had shown signs of excessive interest in it, or who might have a grudge against your family?’
Mr. Elvyng was shaking his head. ‘You must understand, a family in our position will always have its detractors. There are those who envy our prosperity, or who disagree with our values, and who are quick to say so. But I am not aware of anyone with any serious grudge. As for interest in the grimoire… again, such an acquisition must attract interest, but we have never widely publicised our possession of it. I doubt that many people even knew that we had it.’
‘And what about within your own household?’ I said. ‘Who had access to this house four years ago?’
Mr. Elvyng gave a sigh. ‘Yes, I understand the direction of your thoughts. I have had the same ideas, but I have of necessity dismissed them.’
Charming naivety, or just wishful thinking? ‘I believe it must be considered our first line of investigation,’ I said gently. ‘Someone knew when you and your daughter would be away from home. Someone has managed to get past the charms placed upon the case, arguing a familiarity with the enchantments. And someone has got hold of a key, either one of the original two or an excellent copy. It must have been someone who had access to you or your daughter — more likely both of you — and opportunity enough to purloin your keys.’
‘Perhaps also someone who could move about this house without exciting comment,’ added Jay. ‘Someone whose presence here would not be questioned. No one broke in, did they?’
‘The police found no signs of forced entry,’ agreed Mr. Elvyng. He looked diminished suddenly; tired? Or weighed down with regret?
‘Who was here four years ago?’ I prompted. ‘Had they been with you for very long?’ I had a feeling Mr. Elvyng had a good idea who might have taken the grimoire, and he didn’t like it.
‘I cannot fault your logic, Ms. Vesper,’ said he. ‘The problem is, there was no one else with access to this house, four years ago.’
My mouth opened in surprise. I had not seen that coming. ‘No one?’ I echoed dumbly. ‘But what about that nice butler who admitted us?’
‘My health has deteriorated in the past two years, enough that Crystobel has persuaded me to add to my staff here. Mr. Baker and his associates save me a deal of effort and they are trusted employees, but they are all of recent hire. I had no need of such, four years ago.’
‘Cleaners?’ said Jay. ‘Gardeners?’
Mr. Elvyng’s faint, crooked smile appeared again. ‘Accomplished by magickal means, Mr. Patel. Then, and now.’
The Elvyngs had so much magick to throw around as to keep this entire manor — and its grounds — in perfect order without a single human employee? Giddy gods. What a glittering magickal heritage and a supply of raw argent couldn’t do.
I cleared my throat. ‘Er — and what about friends? Family members?’ I hesitated to ask the question; no one wanted to consider that their nearest and dearest might have betrayed them.
‘I have a sister,’ said Mr. Elvyng. ‘Her name is Anna Mason. She lives in America with her husband and children, and does not often come back. At the time of the theft, neither she nor her family had been near this house for at least a year.’
‘Forgive me,’ I said, ‘but you are certain of that?’
‘Yes. We have hired other investigators in the past few years. One of them conducted an exhaustive investigation into every connection of ours, and their traceable movements at the time. Anna was at home in Washington, together with Crystobel’s uncle and cousins. My own cousin — Jessica — was in London. None of my friends or Crystobel’s — few enough as they are — were seen anywhere near here that week, and I believe alibis were established for them all. So you see, it proved a fruitless line of enquiry.’
I exchanged a look of consternation with Jay. Everything Mr. Elvyng had said suggested a culprit known to the family, intimate with them; and yet, by this account, that was impossible.
What next, then? Could it really be the case that someone totally unconnected with the Elvyngs had pulled off such a seamless crime?
If so, we were dealing with — as Val had put it — a considerable power.
Mr. Elvyng did not conduct us himself to the grimoire’s annex. Considering his obvious ill health, I had not expected it of him. It was the butler (or whatever he was), Mr. Baker, who extracted us from William Elvyng’s fireside, and took us to the library. We left the Elvyng patriarch with a great many thanks (on both sides), and an invitation (from him) to call anytime we found ourselves with further questions.
The library at William Elvyng’s manor was (dare I say it) slightly disappointing. I suppose I had got carried away with my imaginings, considering the illustrious nature of the erstwhile star of the Elvyngs’ book collection. I’d expected a library to rival that of the Society. Instead, we were conducted into a handsome enough room, with a full complement of mahogany bookshelves, glass cases, polished desks and silken reading-chairs, but the actual quantity of books was rather modest. Probably they kept a great deal of their collection at the Academy, either for the daily use of the students, or in that cellar repository Jay had once talked of. These were just Mr. Elvyng’s own books.
I took note of the environs as we walked among those immaculate shelves. Only one door lead into the room, and that opened onto a panelled corridor connecting the library to the drawing-room and whatever lay beyond. We were on the first floor, one level removed from the ground; I made a note to ask, later, about the staircases.
A second door occupied space on the far wall, but that led into the grimoire’s annex. There was, as Mr. Elvyng had said, no other door there; certainly no way to get straight into that room from the outside. Whoever had taken the grimoire must have gone through a few other rooms at least, in order to reach this one. But then, I’d been working on the assumption that there must have been someone else in this sprawling pile of a manor at the time of the theft, even if Mr. Elvyng was away. But if that wasn’t true, the thief had enjoyed the luxury of waltzing through an empty house on their way to steal the grimoire; there hadn’t been anyone here to challenge them. All they had to do, then, was get in and out, without leaving any obvious signs that they had done so. Once inside, they would have had totally free rein.
Which made it strange that they hadn’t taken the opportunity to empty the house of valuables while they had been inside. But the police report had clearly stated that nothing else was reported missing.
The annex proved to be tiny. It had space enough only for the sizeable glass case, set upon a sturdy and ornate carved-oak pedestal, within which the grimoire had once been housed. Besides that, there was nothing; only polished wood panelling and the window Mr. Elvyng had mentioned, which I saw at once was too small for anyone to fit through, unless they had done so by magickal means. But again, why would anybody need to do that, if the house was empty? They could come through one of the doors, and wander up the stairs at their leisure. Provided they managed to switch off or disable the house alarms, which such a manor would certainly have.
Jay, having prowled optimistically around the compact annex as though he might trip over something noteworthy, leaned over the grimoire’s case until his nose almost touched the glass. ‘Was all this built just for the grimoire, Mr. Baker?’ he said. ‘That you know of?’
‘I’m afraid I couldn’t say,’ said Mr. Baker, who had taken up a discreet post just inside the door, and stood waiting with hands folded. ‘It was before my time.’
Jay nodded. Whatever he was doing with his face two inches from the glass, I hoped he was uncovering something useful about the charms upon it.
‘This must have been,’ I said, patting the corner of the great glass box. ‘It looks sized for a specific book.’ There was an indentation in the velvet-covered interior, a perfect little nook in which a certain priceless grimoire could nestle. ‘Maybe the whole annex, too. It has the appearance of a converted airing cupboard.’
‘I was thinking the same thing,’ said Jay. ‘I wonder who built it?’
‘And when? Was it done around the same time the grimoire was purchased, or more recently?’
Whoever had constructed the annex might never have known what it was intended to house. But then again, they might have — or made some guesses about it, later. Or perhaps whoever had stolen the grimoire had been able to consult with the builders, and gained some information from them, as to the location and security of the room. I made a note to enquire with Mr. Elvyng shortly as to the date of the annex’s construction. If it had been thirty years ago, perhaps it was of no relevance now.
Jay and I left William Elvyng’s manor feeling discouraged.
‘I can see why multiple unnamed investigators abandoned the case,’ I said despondently as we got into my car. ‘There are no leads here at all.’
Jay shook his head, and sat staring sightlessly through the glass as I backed up and turned around.
‘You didn’t detect anything interesting about the glass case?’ I prompted.
‘Nothing. Whatever charms used to be on it are long gone.’
I sighed. ‘So someone outside the Elvyngs’ circle somehow managed to get into the house, past the alarms, and through the impenetrable enchantments on the glass case, which they somehow unlocked; proceeded to extract the grimoire, and then left again without leaving any trace behind?’
Jay said, ‘Apparently.’
‘Fingerprints?’ It was a faint hope.
Swiftly dashed. ‘Police report says no.’
‘Footprints?’
‘Nothing.’
‘Jay. We’re actually going to fail at this, aren’t we?’
‘No.’
‘The police and three different investigators came up with nothing. What have we got that’s going to make us different?’
Jay began ticking things off on his fingers. ‘The finest, if untried, magickal sleuth in England, and her improbably musical sidekick.’
My eyebrows went up. ‘That’s us?’
‘Resources of an unusual nature, presided over by the best librarian and book-sleuth in England.’
‘Val and the magickal dark web.’ I nodded. Fair.
‘Breathtakingly high stakes.’
‘You mean the inevitable and total decline of magick in all of Britain if we don’t find Crystobel’s crummy grimoire?’
‘Motivating, no?’
I muttered something incomprehensible, even to me.
‘Exactly when did it go from the most exciting book in the world to a “crummy grimoire”, by the way?’ said Jay.
‘About halfway through our fruitless meeting with the obliging William Elvyng.’
‘I wouldn’t say it was fruitless. We have discovered several ways not to investigate this crime.’
‘That would be more helpful if either of us could think of a single way to investigate this crime.’
‘You’re the great detective,’ said Jay, tapping out some unrecognisable melody on the dashboard of my car. ‘You can do this.’
‘You believe in me.’
‘I do.’
‘Thanks.’
‘Anytime.’
