Shadow Duel (Prof Croft Book 9) by Brad Magnarella (ereader with android .txt) 📕

stash the stolen goods here versus there. Sort of defeats the purpose. But I want to get over there before Hoffman screws this up.”

“Smart. Can I be doing anything?”

My thoughts went to the Discovery Society. Even if the major activity was happening in the shadow present, what clues might an entity operating between realities leave? What had been out of place?

“Actually, yeah,” I said after a moment. “I’m going to send you a photo I took at the club.”

I attached the image to a text and sent it to her, already feeling a little stupid.

“A medicine bottle?” she said.

“The doorman at the Discovery Society is taking it. Can you read the info on the label all right?”

“Yes, but what am I supposed to do with it?”

“It’s a hunch, I admit, but I want to know why his doctor prescribed it. Is that going to take a warrant?” I’d had enough contact with Eldred to know he wouldn’t give up the info voluntarily, especially since it had nothing to do with the investigation.

“I can get the information through a written request, but I’ll need to explain why it’s relevant.”

“How creative are you willing to get?”

She sighed. “If I wasn’t married to you…”

“I know, I know, I’d be in trouble.”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

34

Claudius and Gretchen remained with Sven—Gretchen only because she still thought Bree-yark was coming—while a police cruiser took Mae and Buster home and another drove me downtown.

Hoffman was waiting outside the interview room when I arrived. I didn’t think the man could look any more rundown, but the bruised bags under his eyes had grown their own bags. He was also starting to stink. His lips contorted into a mean smile as he jerked his thumb toward the one-way mirror.

“I was about to go back in without you, but look—the long wait softened him up even more.” He snorted a laugh. “Would you get a load of that sap?”

Beyond the mirror, Ludvig sat at a small metal table, his curtains of blond hair shaking as he sobbed into his cuffed hands. He let out what at first sounded like one of his giggles, but it tailed off into a pitiful whine.

“Let’s go,” I said, not enjoying the show nearly as much as Hoffman.

He led the way in, limping on his ortho boot, and we took the chairs opposite Ludvig.

“Cheer up,” Hoffman said. “I brought you a friend.”

Ludvig peered up and then wiped his crossed eyes with the sides of his hands. “Ev—Everson?” he stammered.

“Yeah, it’s me,” I said. “I’m helping out with the investigation. Care to tell me what’s going on?”

“It’s true,” he said. “I—I took them, but it wasn’t stealing. Or if it was, I was stealing them back. All of the things in my vault belonged to my great grandfather, Jesper Lassgard. When he died, the Discovery Society claimed them. My mother fought for them, but he never deeded them, and the Society had better lawyers. The items belong with the Lassgard family.” His eyes straightened with determination.

“So you were never interested in membership?” I said. “You just wanted access?”

He nodded, sobbing once before controlling himself again. “I copied Walter’s master key. Over time, I located all of my great grandfather’s things in the collections. Then it was a matter of replacing them with counterfeits. I succeeded until the final two. Walter told me he was about to move them to a warehouse, along with an entire polar collection, so I took the journal and compass that night. But before I could replace them, he noticed them missing.”

I remembered what Eldred had said: He’s cleverer than he lets on.

“And that’s why you played the fool,” I said. “So no one would think you capable of that level of deception.” I suspected the foolery also included him soliciting sponsorship for a wizard. He’d fooled me, that was for sure.

“Yes, but I never meant to get Walter into trouble.”

“He was in trouble?” Hoffman grunted. “What for?”

“The missing items. The collection belongs to the endowment, but it was Walter’s responsibility. Some suspected me—I know Eldred did—but Walter only asked me one time if I knew anything about the missing items, and I told him no. He was prepared to bear the consequences, and I—I couldn’t allow that. He had nothing to do with the Society seizing them. Even though the sponsorship was a con on my part, he was always very tolerant of me. He answered my strange questions. And now he’s—”

He began sobbing into his hands again. Hoffman gave me a tired look that told me he didn’t believe the show for a second. But for me, it added up.

“Tell us why you called Walter earlier today,” I said.

Ludvig nodded and wiped his eyes on his shirt collar this time.

“I was going to come clean,” he said, “at least about those two items. I—I was going to offer to return them and ask—well, plead—that he not report me, that he say they were found in a stock room, no harm done. He would be off the hook, and I would promise never to set foot in the club again.”

That explained why Walter had left his apartment despite the police warning.

“Is that why you killed him?” Hoffman asked. “’Cause he wouldn’t play along.”

Ludvig shook his head emphatically. “By the time I got to our meeting place, the police were there. At first I thought he’d called them, that it was a sting, so I left. I only found out later he’d been killed.”

“And we’re supposed to swallow that shit?” Hoffman said.

“Did you ever take anything else from the collection?” I asked, talking over Hoffman. “Anything that wasn’t your great grandfather’s?”

“No, just his maps, journals, and some instruments and gear.”

“Why are three fellows of the Council dead?” Hoffman asked bluntly.

“I have no idea at all. If I did, I would tell you.”

“Sure you would,” Hoffman said.

I signaled for a recess, and Hoffman and I went back out into the hall.

“I believe him,” I said.

“That’s why you’re not a detective,”