Grimoires and Where to Find Them by Raconteur, Honor (ebook reader for laptop .txt) 📕

The Davenforths were old money in Kingston, and they didn’t decorate like this.

I could see the same evaluation on Henri’s face, and we shared a speaking look.

The receptionist was back out a second later, smile still intact. “Come through, please. Mr. Walcott will speak with you.”

Excellent, maybe we’d get some answers. I sailed through, keeping my right hand free for a handshake, Henri directly on my heels.

Walcott wasn’t quite what I’d expected. If a gazelle were given human form, it might look like Sasson Walcott. He was tall in a gangly way, thin, and dressed in a light brown suit that blended so perfectly with his skin color it was hard to tell where suit ended and skin began. Even his hair was the same shade. Did the man not understand the beauty of contrast?

I kept the thought off my face as I greeted him. “Hello, I’m Detective Edwards. This is my partner, Dr. Davenforth.”

He shook my hand, the gesture weak and flimsy. His cuffs had some strange ink stains around them, but I suppose being in the book business, ink stains were just a hazard of the profession. He retracted his hand quickly, as if noticing my observation and hiding his hands in embarrassment.

“Detective. Doctor. Please, have a seat. I understand you’re here about some books that have been stolen?”

“Grimoires, to be precise.”

I got my bearings as I took a seat in a blue velvet chair. This room also screamed wealth needlessly. The art on the walls were landscapes, but pricey. The back wall of the office was covered with built-in shelves that artfully displayed books, clearly a silent testament to what this broker could lay his hands on. I’m not sure if even Henri would recognize a single title.

Walcott seemed a little nervous as he took his seat behind the desk. I cut the guy some slack. Most people were nervous when a cop came knocking on their door. Especially a cop like me, with a purple cat in my lap. I had to look Willy Wonka kinda strange.

“Mr. Walcott, here’s the situation.” Henri leaned forward slightly, a disarming smile on his face. “We’ve had a rash of thefts in the past month that deal specifically with the Reaper’s Set. At this point in time, we have confirmed that three grimoires were stolen.”

Hopefully it was only three. Foster would update me if that wasn’t the case.

Walcott blanched. “Good gods, what?”

“Given the nature of the grimoires in question, you can see why we’re alarmed. Especially as two of them were stolen without their protective boxes.”

“I’m equally as alarmed, I assure you. I suppose you’re here to talk to me because I was trying to buy them?”

“Yes, in fact. We understand you were trying to assemble the set in order to sell it as a whole. I find this remarkable, as it’s very expensive to purchase even a single volume. May we ask who wanted to purchase the full set?”

“I admit it was a limited buying pool, but I did have several interested parties. Two of whom stipulated owning the entirety of the set or nothing at all.”

“Is that usual, that sort of request?” I couldn’t help but ask.

“Oh yes, not at all strange,” Walcott assured me. “Collectors prize full sets. They’re rarely inclined to buy a single volume without knowing whether they will be able to eventually obtain the whole thing.”

Those people likely had too much money and too little sense, but I was diplomatic enough to not say so. “Can you give us names?”

“I’m sorry, my clients would not want that information disclosed.”

I figured. “Can you tell us if there has been any sign of someone forcibly trying to obtain the set for themselves? You surely hear rumors in this industry.”

Walcott was starting to sweat a little now, his smile pasted onto his face. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what you mean. I don’t deal with the black market, if that’s what you’re insinuating.”

Uh. What? I didn’t mean that at all. I shot Henri a look, wondering if I’d phrased something wrong, but he looked just as perplexed.

“She meant someone pressuring another to sell,” Henri clarified.

“Right,” I agreed. “You spoke to quite a few people who have parts of the Reaper’s Set, after all. Not one agreed to sell a volume to you, but surely you heard from them about anyone else who was interested? Or nosing around, trying to do the same thing, collect the full set?”

“I—I, no, I can’t say that I have. Oh, but I do have notes on the people I spoke with. Perhaps those would be of interest to you?”

Seriously, why was this guy rattled? You’d think I was accusing him of a crime.

“Sure, that’d be a good place to start.”

“I’ll fetch them for you.” He popped up like a jack-in-the-box and was out the office door so fast I think air vacuumed in his wake.

I turned to stare after him. “Henri. Did that look strange to you?”

“Very much so.”

“You think maybe he recognized me?”

Henri hummed a note thoughtfully. “Perhaps. That’s what I attributed his nerves to. But….”

“Yeah, something’s still off.”

I got up on instinct and followed Walcott out of the office. He darted into another office farther down the hallway, closing the door behind him. With my super-hearing, I heard it clearly when he slammed the lock into place.

He’d just…locked himself in another room.

Oh yeah, that didn’t look suspicious or anything.

I called over my shoulder even as I ran for the door, “Henri, I think he’s running!”

There was a startled “WHAT?!” and then I could hear him pounding after me.

I didn’t have a warrant, but when someone runs, you chase them. I hit the door hard, and it wasn’t much of a match for my speed and strength, even as sturdily as it had been built. It broke around the lock, the wood giving way before the metal did. I burst through, taking one second to get my bearings, and blinked.

Wait. Where did he go?

An open window caught my eye, and I