Free A Study in Revenge by Kieran Shields Page A

said.
    “Vinland. Now the so-called experts might say otherwise, but Father had proof that—”
    “Sorry to interrupt, Miss Horsford”—Grey had wandered to a tall bookcase with glass doors—“but could you tell me if anything is missing from this case? The shelves are only half filled. Books on geology and archaeology, some atlases and such. Markings along the frame here show that the lock may have been forced. The glass door was open.”
    The others all approached. Lean watched as Grey drew out a clean white handkerchief, wrapped it over a finger, and swiped the outside of the glass.
    “Father probably lost his key and pried it open at some point. He was always misplacing his keys. He used to keep his own notes and historical research materials in there.”
    Grey repeated the process, taking a sample of the dust on the inside of the glass, then compared the two specimens. “I’d say this door was only opened in the past two weeks or so.”
    “It probably wasn’t closed properly. I assure you, there’s no cause for alarm. Father’s papers haven’t been stolen. All of his Norsemen material was donated to the Athenaeum after his death. Per his instructions.”
    “The Athenaeum’s a museum, isn’t it?” Lean asked.
    “A library,” Grey said.
    McCutcheon raised his eyebrows in a look of mock snobbery. “For private members only. All very hoity-toity.”
    “You say that about any place with more than two books in it,” Grey said.
    McCutcheon offered a shrug in his defense. “What do you need with more than two? The city directory and—”
    “The Bible?” Cornelia Horsford offered.
    “Why not? Thank you, Miss Horsford,” McCutcheon said with a smile, as if her contribution had somehow won the day for him.
    “We did a bit of work at the Athenaeum a few years back.” A mischievous smile appeared on McCutcheon’s face. “Grey, do you recall that fellow who—”
    “Yes. Though it’s not really the most opportune time for reminiscing.” Grey had made his way to the room’s windows, where he completed his examination of the latches before opening one and sticking his head out to survey the outer sill and the side of the house.
    “Is there a problem, Mr. Grey?” Miss Horsford asked.
    “Not at all, Miss Horsford. Nothing you need to fret about in the slightest.”
    “Thank goodness. You worried me.”
    Grey gave her a smile, then snapped his fingers as if he’d just remembered something. “Miss Horsford, could I impose upon you to use the telephone? Rather urgent, I’m afraid.”
    She led the men downstairs and showed Grey to the telephone before retreating to the well-appointed parlor with McCutcheon and Lean.
    McCutcheon glanced about the room, settling his attention on a finely crafted Chinese vase that appeared to be a valuable antique.
    “It befuddles the mind—all this out of working on household supplies. I’d say you can toss out every cake, bread loaf, and pastry across the land. It’s no contest: Your father clearly got the biggest rise out of baking powder the world’s ever witnessed.”
    McCutcheon guffawed at his own effort, while Cornelia Horsford smiled politely. Lean, embarrassed at his colleague’s attempt at cheerful banter, casually strolled from the room. He stepped across the hall. Grey was in a side room with the telephone receiver to his ear. Lean didn’t mind eavesdropping, since he was sure Grey wasn’t making a personal call. He couldn’t imagine whom Grey would seek out for a personal conversation even on an ordinary day, let alone in the middle of an investigation. Lean’s brow creased in confusion when he heard Grey’s request to the operator.
    “Yes, could you please connect me to the Suffolk County Courthouse switchboard?”

[  Chapter 10  ]
    P HEBE W EBSTER STOOD IN HER GRANDFATHER ’ S DIM ROOM with her arms crossed, trying not to watch as Dr. Thayer made another unsuccessful attempt to administer the opiate-filled syringe.
    “His veins are much