Chapter Twenty-Two

We have moved farther into the artifact room to lessen the chance of being heard by Lady Christie. As we relocate, Gray lets Muir move ahead and murmurs to me, "Take over this interview, please."

I know what he means. I'd just started to see another side of Muir, and now those hopes for his character have plummeted. Accusing Selim Awad is like accusing the housemaid when the silver goes missing. That's not to say housemaids would never steal silver—I'm in the body of one who did—but it seems like a knee-jerk accusation. Of course the thief would be the shifty, working-class maid granted access to valuables by a trusting employer. Of course the thief would be the young foreigner granted access to valuables by a trusting brother-in-law.

Whatever we might think, though, we need to treat the accusation as respectfully as we did Muir's one against Florence King. I'm better equipped to do that, having spent my working career interviewing hundreds of people who insisted that the homeless guy in the alley must have picked their pocket or the kids hanging out on the corner must have vandalized their home. Most times they were wrong, but I needed to listen without judgment.

"Lord Muir," I say with a curtsy. "Please forgive my impudence, but Dr. Gray has asked me to take over the questions here, as I am learning his detective trade so that I might be a better assistant to him."

Muir's smile is pure indulgence. "Of course, child. What would you like to know?"

"First, and I do hate to ask this"—hoping that sounds sincere—"where were you yesterday, between the hours of nine and two?"

He blinks at me, and I'm pretty sure I hear Gray choke, but he also doesn't stop me.

"We must ask everyone," I say. "Again, forgive my impudence."

I give the slightest curtsy, and his indulgent smile returns.

"You are truly a detective, aren't you, child? Of course you must question everyone who did business with Alastair. I spent yesterday morning at my solicitor, on a matter unrelated to my Egyptian dealings. Then we went to lunch with two other fellows. That lasted until nearly three, at which time I returned home to prepare for the party. I will provide you with the names of those who can vouch for me."

"Thank you, sir. Now, I suppose the obvious next question is what leads you to believe Mr. Awad is responsible for the thefts."

Muir rubs his beard. "That is…" He exhales. "I have your discretion in this, I hope? I am very fond of dear Miriam, and I would hate to see her upset at any time, but least of all under these circumstances, which is why I hope to resolve this as quietly as we can."

I hesitate. To me, resolving it quietly would be speaking to Selim himself rather than summoning the police with an urgent message. But maybe that's why he summoned us instead. Or maybe by "resolving it quietly" he means whisking Selim off to jail with the minimum amount of fuss.

Arresting a new widow's brother for stealing her dead husband's artifacts, it's all just so unseemly. Can we just… get it over with? Quickly?

"Alastair suspected Selim has been taking artifacts for a while now," Muir says, lowering his voice until I have to strain to hear him.

"He consulted you about it?"

"Not… precisely. I was in his office at the university, and I found a letter he'd been writing to Selim, saying he needed to speak to him most urgently about the missing artifacts. Alastair was very understanding. Selim is young and, you may not realize this, but he spent a number of years in London."

"Going to school, yes."

Muir nods. "I remember that time of life myself, when I may have amassed some… embarrassing debts." His gaze cuts to Gray. "You will know what I mean, being closer to that age yourself."

Somehow I can't imagine Gray ever running up debts anywhere but a patisserie. Oh, he's been to fight clubs and he frequents public houses, but I suspect that even when he was young, he'd paid his tab at the end of the night. Yet to imply he didn't incur those debts as a young man would sever a connection here. Muir obviously likes Gray, and that helps him open up.

Finally, Gray says, "Yes, of course. There are many ways for a young man to find himself indebted to others when he only sought a little youthful extravagance."

"Exactly." Muir beams at him. "Nothing wrong with enjoying one's youth. Yet there are always people willing to prey on a young man's inexperience. That is what I presumed happened with Selim."

"And the letter said that he needed to speak to him about the missing artifacts."

"Urgently."

"Did it mention theft?"

Muir's brows shot up. "Alastair would hardly put that in a letter. But the meaning was clear."

"Do you have any more information about what had gone missing in the past?"

Muir shakes his head. "I wanted to discuss it with Alastair, but he was annoyed with my plans for the mummy party, and it seemed best not to bring it up. The artifacts belong to both of us, you see. I take a share in consideration of my sponsorship. I am certain what was taken would have come from Alastair's share—he was very careful and open in his accounting. Yet if I mentioned the theft while he was annoyed with me, he might think I was accusing him of cheating me out of my full share."

"By not including stolen artifacts in the tally."

"Yes. I decided I would wait until after the party, when he would doubtless be in a better mood. With his death, I forgot all about it until I was informed that more artifacts were missing."

"Who informed you?"

"I received a note from Miriam last night. It seems the children went to look at something and it was not there, and that began the chain of events leading to Miriam deciding I ought to be informed."

"Lady Christie's note said more artifacts were missing? She presumed you knew about the others?"

He shakes his head. "I misspoke. She said several artifacts were missing. That is all. I can show you the note. I have not mentioned the past thefts to her, so I do not know whether she is aware of them. I suspect not, if Alastair thought her brother responsible. Selim has… been in trouble before, and she has needed to get him out of it."

"Trouble with the law?"

"Oh no. Certainly not. Youthful trouble. That is all I know. I did not think Selim responsible for this theft myself, and perhaps not even the others. With these current ones, I thought the artifacts had been misplaced. Or Alastair's killer took them. Then I arrived to find that Selim has been gone since last night."

"Ah."

He glances toward the door, voice lowering again. "Alastair would not wish the police involved in this. I only want the artifacts returned and Selim spoken to, most sternly."

We have taken our leave of Muir and had a maid show us to a room where we might talk—a small music room.

"Well, this is a problem easily fixed," Gray says. "Find Selim Awad. Insist on the return of the artifacts. Then speak to him. Sternly."

"Most sternly." I take a chair by a pianoforte. "At least Muir didn't demand we deport him to Egypt."

"Hmm. There is that." Gray stands by a window overlooking the back garden. "What do you think of all this?"

I sigh and sink into my chair. "I don't know. It's easy to paint Muir as a bigot who automatically points fingers at a foreign relation, but that doesn't seem to be the case. He didn't even seem to think Selim responsible until he went missing."

"And the letter?"

I throw up my hands. "Not sure how to interpret that. We can ask Selim about it, but if Sir Alastair was accusing him, he could just lie."

"And the fact Mr. Awad is now missing?"

"It looks suspicious, but it isn't proof of anything. If Sir Alastair suspected Selim, that would be a solid lead… if we were investigating missing artifacts."

"Because the missing artifacts do not seem to be connected to the murder. The thief only took advantage of the household's mourning to steal them. I would say we have no place in this artifact investigation at all except…" Gray glances toward the door.

"Except that if we refuse, Lady Christie may call in the police, not realizing the prime suspect is her own brother?"

"Hmm."

"If we must look at Selim, is it only for artifacts? He couldn't have committed the murder, right? His ship arrived too late."

"Unfortunately, that did not clear him. It arrived closer to one than two, and Hugh cannot find the driver who allegedly dropped him off here past four. While arriving at the house around two would give him a compressed timeline, he would know how to unwrap and rewrap a mummy, making him quicker than the average person. Also, it would mean we could not say the killer left after four, as the tunnel encounter would be a lie."

"Damn."

I rise and walk around the room, thinking. "The theft of the artifacts might not be directly connected, but talking to Lord Muir did provide a potential connection of another sort. We already knew Sir Alastair chafed at being indebted to Muir."

"Yes."

"Yet he had to stay indebted if he needed to continue his work. In return, he owed Muir a share of the artifacts, and he had to agree to things like that mummy party. He was under Muir's thumb. Is that an accurate understanding of such a relationship?"

"It is. Many men in Sir Alastair's position would have made the best of it. Curried favor with their sponsor. The Sir Alastair I knew would have, as you said, chafed."

I pause by a harpsichord and run my fingers over the keys. "Last night, I was thinking about Sir Alastair avoiding Miss Jex-Blake. As both you and Isla said, he didn't seem the type to oppose women in medical school. He married a strong-willed woman and had one for a sister. The issue didn't affect him personally, and he seemed much too wrapped up in his work to fuss with academic politics. My sense, after what Mrs. King said, was that someone was putting him up to it. He had a position on the medical faculty and some person or group demanded he use it to oppose the female students."

"Lord Muir."

I glance over. "Does that make sense?"

"Unfortunately, yes. We have already heard Lord Muir's opinions on Mrs. King and her studies. He does not believe in higher education for women. Yet he has no standing in the medical or university communities."

"Sir Alastair does."

"He does indeed. I think, then, that as much as we would like to leave Lady Christie to her grief, we need to better understand the full state of the relationship between Lord Muir and Sir Alastair."

When we ask to speak to Lady Christie, it's clear the maid disapproves. Then fate intervenes, in the form of a handsome and charming police detective, who is terribly sorry that we need to intrude on Lady Christie's time of grief, but it really is important, and she may take all the time she needs to prepare. We will wait quietly in the music room.

"You're a lifesaver," I say to McCreadie. "I think she was going to refuse to even check with Lady Christie."

"At least I am good for something," McCreadie says as he falls into a chair with a deep sigh. "I am contemplating retirement, as it seems my services are no longer required. First Mrs. King and now Lord Muir, everyone calling upon my consulting detective instead of the actual detective. Why, even in those tales of your heroic adventures, I barely warrant a line or two."

"Who told you that?" I say.

"One of my men found copies, and I read them over breakfast. I think I receive four mentions in nearly fifty pages."

"You—you have them?" I say. "And you haven't shared them with us?"

"I know you are not interested, and so I burned them after reading." He catches my glare. "They are with Simon, awaiting your return. Now you, Miss Mallory, receive ten times the ink I do. The golden-haired maiden with womanly curves and eyes like sapphires, lips like a rosebud, voice like a songbird."

I snort. "Now I know you're joking. Catriona might have the hair, eyes, and curves, but this is not the voice of a songbird."

"Oh, but that is what it says in the stories. Over and over. I believe the writer is quite smitten with you. Or simply trying to enlarge his male readership. At least you get flattery. Do you know what he calls me? One adjective, mentioned every bloody time he pens my name. ‘Vigorous.'"

"‘Vigorous'?"

"Yes, ‘vigorous.' What does that even mean?"

"Full of energy."

"Yes, yes, I know that. But how does it apply to a person?"

"It applies to a man, and it means he is…" I waggle my brows. "Vigorous."

McCreadie sputters.

I smile. "Do not be too quick to presume the writer is male. Whoever it is, they find you very…" Another brow waggle. "Vigorous."

Gray clears his throat. "Before Lady Christie arrives, perhaps we should tell Hugh what we have discovered and why we are speaking to the widow."

"Don't you hate it when he's reasonable?" I say to McCreadie.

"You think it is bad now?" McCreadie says. "Try having a friend who is that reasonable when he is still a child. There was no mischief to be had. Not at all."

"Not even digging up dead bodies?" I ask.

"That was his idea, which made it acceptable." He turns to Gray. "All right. We are done now. Tell me what has happened."