Free Bobbi Smith by Heaven Page A

head.
    Henry hadn’t seen the blow coming, and it caught him totally unawares, knocking him to his knees, stunned.
    Beyond reason, Philip continued to strike the servant with bone-breaking fury.
    “Stop . . .” Henry cried frantically trying to escape.
    But Philip was relentless and remorseless. He’d always hated Henry and the way he’d always stood with his father, looking so confident and superior. The more he thought about his father, the angrier he became.
    When at last, Henry slipped into unconsciousness, his last words were, “The professor warned me . . .”
    Philip didn’t stop. He swung again and again, pretending all the while that he was hitting his father. His blows rained down harder and faster, until a steely hand finally gripped his arm in mid-swing.
    “Philip! Enough!”
    Robert’s icy voice cut through the red haze of his emotions, and Philip stared down at the servant’s bloodied body.
    Robert bent to check Henry. When he looked up at his brother, his expression was cold and filled with loathing. “You fool! You’ve killed him. Now we’re never going to find out what happened to the books!”
    A shudder ran through Philip as he dropped the poker. “It doesn’t matter.”
    “What do you mean it doesn’t matter? He was the only one who could have led us to them.”
    “Didn’t you hear what he said? He said ‘The professor warned me . . .’ When has he had time to talk to the professor? Either Henry was at the hotel that night to see Parker or he’s been to the jail since the professor was arrested.”
    Robert’s eyes narrowed as he considered the possibilities. “I’m glad it’s late. We’ll be able to cover this up without too much trouble. If anyone asks, we’ll just tell them that once Henry got his money from the will, he left. Then first thing in the morning, we’ll make a visit to the professor.”
    “Why wait for morning?” Philip refused to be put off. He wanted answers, and he wanted them now. “The sooner we find out what’s happened to the books, the sooner we’ll get our money. Besides, I’ve already spoken to the guards. We won’t have any trouble getting in to see him.”
    Several hours later in the early hours of the morning, the two brothers were face-to-face with the professor in a small windowless room. The guards had been glad to see Philip again for they’d met with him before and knew he was more than generous when it came to enlisting their help.
    Enoch had been momentarily thrilled when the guards had come for him. Though the letter he’d written to Alex at home couldn’t possibly have reached her yet, perhaps the letters he’d written to his friends at the university and the British Museum had brought the help he’d so desperately sought. He’d believed, as the guards led him out of his cell, that he was going to be released. He’d thought the whole ugly misunderstanding had been cleared up and he would be exonerated of all the charges. Now, standing before the two Anthony brothers, his spirits plummeted. Shock and horror filled him as he realized that they had come to question him about their father, not to free him.
    “Where are the books?” Philip demanded without preamble as he cornered the exhausted professor in the small room.
    “I’ve never seen any books,” Enoch answered quickly, terror filling his heart as he looked from Philip to Robert. Their expressions were so cold, their manner so deadly, that he grew even more certain that they were the ones responsible for Lawrence’s death and his own imprisonment.
    “Don’t lie to us, professor. We know better. We know you stole them from our father just before you killed him. Now, where are they? What did you do with them?”
    “I don’t know what you’re talking about! I didn’t steal anything from your father! He was my friend. I would never have harmed him in any way!”
    “Denials . . . denials . . . Look, professor, we know Henry’s been to see you,” Robert announced