Secrets of the Lost Ledgers (The Glass Library #5)

Chapter 7

D aisy must have been worried about me because she arrived at the library at the same time as me the following morning. I saw her riding her bicycle along Crooked Lane as I unlocked the door. She dismounted and embraced me in a warm hug.

“You poor thing,” she murmured in my ear. “I’ve been thinking about you all night.”

“I’m all right. It’s for the best. Really.” I’d been awake all night, too, telling myself that.

“You’re so strong, Sylvia. I don’t know what I’d do if I was forbidden to see Alex.”

I didn’t bother to tell her that I’d walked away of my own accord, not because I was forbidden. The less I discussed Gabe, the better. Not talking about him or thinking about him was the only way I’d be able to get out of bed each day. To that end, I needed to be busy. The combination of work and Daisy fit the bill nicely.

I pushed open the door and called out to let the professor know it was me. “Speaking of Alex, you seemed very cozy together last night.”

She bit her lip then turned away to lean her bicycle against the wall. “Let’s not discuss men today.”

“Don’t be silly. You can talk all you want about Alex. I don’t mind. In fact, it’ll be a welcome distraction.”

“If you’re sure…”

“I am.”

Her smile broke free, but Professor Nash arrived in the foyer before she could launch into how wonderful her evening had been before she’d had to leave the Buttonhole with me.

“Good morning, ladies. I wasn’t expecting you in today, Sylvia. I thought you’d be out investigating.”

“Nothing can be done until Huon finishes transcribing the invisible writing.” I didn’t tell him that my part in the investigation had come to an end. I didn’t want to go into it with anyone. I didn’t want to talk about it at all.

“Hopefully he’ll have news today. I must say, I am so pleased he’s taken this on. Very pleased indeed. Oscar would be proud, and very grateful that you trust Huon.” His gaze turned soft, wistful.

I attempted a smile of comfort, but it fell flat. I felt more inclined to wallow in misery with the professor rather than rally his spirits.

“I’ll make us all a pot of coffee. Come upstairs where it’s more comfortable and we’ll have a nice chat. I want to hear all about your new career, Daisy.”

“Oh good, because I wanted to show my designs to Sylvia. And you, too, Professor.” She removed a sketchbook from the bicycle’s basket. “I need opinions.”

“I’m not sure I’ll be much help unless it involves tweed.”

Daisy hooked her arm through his. “All opinions are welcome.”

I didn’t think it a good sign that she needed opinions, but perhaps it was just nerves causing her to doubt herself. Despite outward appearances, Daisy was insecure. It had almost stopped her from becoming romantically linked to Alex, but fortunately he seemed to have convinced her that her lack of education and experience didn’t matter to him.

Daisy showed us her sketches as we sipped coffees. They were quite good, particularly the color combinations, but all had a feature that didn’t work. The pockets on one of the skirts were positioned too low to be of use, but when I pointed it out, Daisy said it would destroy the slim-hipped look she was trying to create if she made them higher.

“What if you remove the pleats?” the professor suggested.

“The pleats are the main feature,” she whined.

“Change the fabric?” I asked.

She turned the page. “What about this dress? It’s for the evening, dancing and parties, that sort of thing.”

“It’s lovely,” I said.

“Very fetching and modern,” the professor agreed.

Daisy glowed at our praise. “I’m particularly pleased with it, I must say. Sleek dresses are going to be popular, mark my words.”

She looked so happy; I didn’t want to dampen her spirits. But I had to. “Uh, Daisy, I’m quite sure this dress was in the April issue of Les Modes .”

She studied the dress anew. “Are you sure?”

“Quite sure, because I wished I could afford it. You must have liked it, too, and inadvertently absorbed the design.”

“I didn’t mean to copy it.” She sighed as she closed the sketchbook. “Perhaps this isn’t the career for me, after all. I do so want it to work. Alex is going to think I’m flighty for changing my mind yet again.”

I took her hand in mine. “That was just your first try. It’ll take time and more attempts to find the perfect design to launch your career, but it’ll be worth it.” As she sighed again, I added, “If being a fashion designer is what you truly want.”

“You’re right. I shouldn’t give up so easily. I’ll go home and sketch some more. Perhaps a visit to the drapery will give me some inspiration. I do love to feel fabrics. It helps me envision my designs.”

With Daisy’s spirits lifted, I didn’t feel quite so glum. I saw her off on her bicycle then settled in the ground floor reading nook with a book from the stack that hadn’t been cataloged yet. I chose one that required further study before I could decide where to shelve it. That way I was applying myself to a library task while doing one of my favorite things—reading.

The early eighteenth-century book about the imperial magicians of China’s Ming Dynasty was fascinating, but even so, I must have nodded off because I awoke to Willie’s grating voice saying that I was asleep.

The sound of Gabe’s whispered voice telling her to be quiet had me opening my eyes and leaping to my feet. I quickly checked the corners of my mouth for drool. I would have touched my hair to ensure it was still in place, but I was too embarrassed.

Gabe bent to pick up the book that had dropped to the floor as I stood. He handed it to me with a crooked half-smile. “There’s been a change of plans.”

I glanced behind him at his two bodyguards. Alex gave me a sheepish smile while Willie looked as angry as she had last night. I suspected Gabe had convinced one, but not both, to agree to the change of plans. Willie had been outvoted.

I found it difficult to look at Gabe while he was studying me so intently, so instead I stared down at the book’s gold-edged crimson cover. “I don’t think that’s wise. We should leave things as they are.”

“Ha!” Willie barked. “Good decision, Sylv.” She pushed past Gabe and threw her arm around my shoulders. “It ain’t personal. You know that.”

“I do.”

“Willie,” Gabe warned. “You promised to let me speak.”

She held up her hands in surrender and moved behind him again to stand beside Alex.

Gabe’s shoulders lost some of their tension. “I ask the same of you, Sylvia, to listen without interrupting.”

I nodded rather more eagerly than I should have, given I was determined that the plan made last night should not be changed.

He cleared his throat. “We should continue with this investigation together. It’s as much yours as ours. In fact, it’s probably more your investigation, since the book with Daniel’s message was found by you, here, and it involves a Hendry who could be your relative. At the very least, it could rule out the fact that you’re a Hendry. So, you shouldn’t be pushed aside. You should take the reins. But without the support of Scotland Yard consultants, you’ll find it almost impossible to do it alone.”

“I don’t want to take the reins alone,” I said.

He glanced over his shoulder at Willie, who adjusted her stance and looked away. I suspected this was an argument they’d had beforehand, and she’d just lost.

“That’s point number one,” he went on. “The second reason we should continue together is that following the threads of this investigation might lead us to finding out what happened to Melville Hendry. He might not be your father.” This was clearly said for Willie’s benefit. “Finding him, or finding out what happened to him, will help everyone move forward, not just give you answers. It could help bring some long-needed peace to Willie, too, if we discover he’s no longer a threat.”

“He means if we discover he’s dead,” Willie chimed in.

“A little more empathy wouldn’t go astray,” Gabe muttered.

She screwed up her face, confused, then shouted. “He means if we discover he’s dead!”

Alex rolled his eyes. “Empathy not emphasis.”

Gabe touched my hand to get my attention.

“No touching!” Willie snapped. “That’s one of the rules.”

“As you just heard, Willie has rules if we’re going to move ahead with my plan,” Gabe said. “But first, I want your agreement. So, Sylvia, will you work with me?”

For some reason, I wanted to laugh. Gabe had managed to turn a serious discussion about a topic that had made me miserable, into something lighthearted, almost fun. There was a reason I wanted to be with him all the time, and this moment encapsulated it. He made me happy without even trying.

He’d also managed to change my mind. I nodded. “I will.”

He drew in a deep breath. “Good.”

Willie snapped her fingers to get my attention. “Now the rules. Be professional at all times. That means no touching, no longing gazes, and at no time will you two be alone together. Understood?”

“Yes,” I said on a rush of breath. I almost saluted, too, but I suspected she wouldn’t find it amusing and I was already on thin ice.

“The final rule is this: if we find Hendry alive, you don’t tell him straight away that you could be his daughter. Not until he’s in custody. Do you agree?”

“I do.”

Gabe moved to block my line of sight. He smiled at me then winked.

I had to press my lips together firmly to stop myself smiling back. I really shouldn’t be so happy, but I couldn’t help it. Gabe had not only found a way for us to be in each other’s company, but he’d also made it clear we were going to find Hendry. If Hendry did turn out to be alive, and also my father, it was likely we’d be able to capture him and hand him over to the police, ending any threat he posed once and for all.

I didn’t want to think about how I’d feel about that. I didn’t want to ruin my good mood.

“Now that we’re all in agreement, put on your head scarf,” Gabe said. “We’re going for a drive.”

“But we can’t do anything until we hear from Huon. We’ve hit a dead end.”

“There is something we can do. We can go to the shops.”

Willie wedged herself between Gabe and me as we walked along Crooked Lane. She ordered him to sit in the front of the motorcar while Alex drove, then once we reached Harrods, she ushered me through the revolving door alongside her, giving me no opportunity to be near Gabe. She didn’t seem to realize that I would have maintained a safe distance anyway.

We walked single file between the glass display cabinets of the perfume department, the bright light from the low-hanging chandeliers glinting off bottles that came in all shapes, sizes and colors. It was my favorite department at Harrods, not just because it was like walking through a box of flowers, but because it was free to test the scents.

The white-gloved sales assistants asked me if I wanted to try a sample, but I politely declined this time. When Alex and Gabe passed, the women asked them if they wanted to purchase a special bottle for their sweethearts.

“Why don’t they ask me if I want to buy something?” Willie whined.

“Because they know from the smell of you that you don’t bother with perfume,” Alex said.

She turned around to shoot him a glare. Not watching where she was going, she bumped into one of the sales assistants. The girl lost her balance and stumbled towards the four-tiered display of glass bottles on the counter. She couldn’t stop herself. All she could do was widen her eyes in horror and emit a gasp as she fell.

The gasp died on her lips as she stared up into the green eyes of Gabe, holding her. She clutched his arms as he steadied her, and didn’t immediately let go when she realized the prospect of disaster was over. His reflexes had been so fast that I began to doubt seeing him move and wondered if he’d slowed time with his magic.

“Are you all right?” he asked her.

She nodded quickly and released him, although she continued to stare at his back as he strode off. Her look of surprise changed to adoration. Sometimes I wondered if Gabe’s heroics would be seen with the same sense of romance by the public if he wasn’t so good-looking.

“Who was that?” she murmured.

“No one.” Willie traipsed after Gabe who was now speaking to an officious looking shopwalker. “At least not everyone in this city knows who he is,” she muttered to me.

The shopwalker directed us to the lift to take us to the administration offices. Gabe had telephoned before leaving the library to arrange a meeting with the store manager. We were lucky he could fit us into his schedule. Mentioning Scotland Yard probably helped.

“What did you do that for?” Willie hissed at him as we waited for the lift. “Anyone could have seen.”

“I acted on instinct,” Gabe said.

“I thought it only happened when your life was in danger, or the life of someone you care about. You’ve never met her before.”

Gabe followed her gaze to the perfume department. “Willie?—”

“Broken perfume bottles are not a disaster, Gabe. An inconvenience, yes, but not on the same scale as bullets coming at you. Looks like your sense of chivalry acts as a trigger, too, so stop it. Stop being chivalrous. This is 1920. Women don’t want gentlemanly behavior, they want equality.”

“Can’t we have both?” I asked.

She poked Gabe in the chest. “You ain’t a medieval knight. No more chivalry. Understood?”

“Willie,” Gabe said with effort. “My magic didn’t activate. When I said I acted on instinct, I meant my natural instinct, not magical.”

“Oh.”

The lift door opened and the operator asked us which department we wished to go to.

“Administration,” Gabe told him.

Willie sulked in the corner of the lift, forgetting she was our self-appointed chaperone. Gabe took advantage and brushed his fingers against mine. I couldn’t decide whether to do what my heart wanted and hold his hand or do what my head thought was best and move away. Paralyzed by indecision, I did nothing.

The store manager wasn’t much help. He asked his assistant to fetch the employee file for Daniel Barratt, but she told us the older files were kept off-site in a storage facility. She had a better idea, however. She introduced us to the manager of the finance department, who’d worked with Daniel when he was dismissed from his position as junior accountant.

After we introduced ourselves as consultants for Scotland Yard specializing in magical investigations, Mr. Barrowman visibly relaxed. He must be artless and realized we didn’t suspect he was involved in whatever had got Daniel dismissed.

That was the first question Gabe asked. “How well do you remember the day Daniel was fired?”

“Very well. It was June 1890.” Mr. Barrowman reminded me of a bulldog, with a thick neck and heavy jowls that dragged the corners of his mouth downward into a frown. “It may have been a long time ago, but it’s not every day the finance department witnesses someone being marched out of the manager’s office in tears.”

“Tears?” Gabe prompted. “Daniel was crying?”

Mr. Barrowman nodded. “It’s unnerving seeing a grown man cry.” He glanced between Gabe and Alex. “I doubt I need to tell ex-servicemen that.”

“How do you know we served?” Alex asked. “We don’t wear our kit. We could have been objectors.” While some former officers still wore their uniforms in their daily lives, it was becoming an increasingly rare sight. Gabe and Alex hadn’t worn theirs the entire time I’d known them, except at official gatherings.

“Two strapping lads like you…you must have served. It was your duty.”

Gabe steered the conversation back to Daniel. “Do you know why he lost his job?”

“Not then. It was hushed up at the time. I found out when I became manager, years later. He embezzled money from the company by a process known as fictitious bad debt. He was responsible for debt collection, but sometimes customers fail to pay. When that happened, it was Daniel’s task to record the debt as unpaid and the transaction is written off as a loss. If it wasn’t for a very important customer complaining that she was being treated with disdain by the sales assistants in the women’s clothing department, we would never have discovered that someone had informed them that she’d failed to pay off her shop credit. She insisted she’d paid, and the matter was brought to our manager. After conducting a secret internal investigation, he discovered that Daniel had pocketed her payment and recorded a bad debt against the transaction, writing it off as a loss. In fact, he’d done it several times, usually with different customers so as not to double up. If the customer in question hadn’t been so horrified by her treatment on the sales floor, we may never have found out. As you can imagine, Daniel was dismissed immediately.”

“Why weren’t the police called?”

Mr. Barrowman settled back in the chair, resting his linked hands on his paunch. “Because of the tears, I suppose. I think management grew concerned that a criminal record might tip him over the edge and, well, desperate men can sometimes think there’s no way of escaping their shame except to end things. Daniel had a wife and children. No one wanted to be the reason for him to do that.”

“Did you know he died in April ‘91?”

“I went to his funeral. Tragic business.” He shook his head sadly. “I doubt his dismissal had anything to do with it, though. As I said, there was no criminal investigation. It’s more likely there was a rift between Daniel and his wife.”

“Why do you say that?”

“She wasn’t at his funeral. Nor were the children. Some men can’t cope when their wives leave them.” He shrugged. “Not that she was the only one missing. His brother-in-law didn’t attend either, but he at least had a good excuse.” At our raised brows, he added, “The accident that saw him lose a hand.”

“Did you see Daniel after he was dismissed and before his death?”

“No.”

Gabe had no more questions for Mr. Barrowman, but Alex had one. “Dismissal is upsetting, but not many men would cry over it. Do you know of any reason Daniel would take it particularly badly?”

Mr. Barrowman stroked his bushy beard and appeared to be warring with himself. Eventually, he decided to tell us. “This is purely speculation, you understand, but I think he may have been a gambler.”

“Why do you say that?” Gabe asked.

“He kept a close eye on the racing results. Not just on Monday when the weekend’s races are reported, but every day. He’d bury his nose in his newspaper at lunchtimes, circling a horse or two. I wondered if he lost more than he could afford, and the embezzlement was his attempt to pay off a gambling debt. It would explain his devastation at being dismissed.” He continued to stroke his beard before he seemed to realize he was doing it and stopped. “It’s just a guess. He didn’t confide in me. We weren’t that close.”

“Close enough to attend his funeral,” Alex said.

Mr. Barrowman’s cheeks suddenly flushed. “Is that all? I’m very busy.” He picked up some papers and shuffled them to prove just how busy.

We made to leave, but I paused before exiting. Something had bothered me ever since he told us the story of Daniel’s embezzlement. “Who informed the sales assistants in womenswear?”

“Pardon?”

“You said the sales assistants treated the customer with disdain because they’d found out she hadn’t paid her debts, or so they thought. Who told them?”

“I don’t know.”

“It had to be someone from this department. Someone with access to the ledger where the store credit transactions are recorded.”

He pushed himself out of the chair and waddled towards us with a low bulldog’s gait. He opened the door and indicated the array of desks in the large room beyond. Four women sat to one side, typing, while six men sat on the other side. They pored over large ledgers and entered figures into their adding machines. Between those machines and the typewriters, the click-clack of pressed keys produced a symphony unique to the office environment. “As you can see, we employ quite a few staff in the finance department. Most of those from the time Daniel worked here have left.”

Not all, I could have pointed out. I kept my mouth shut, however. There was a chance he was the one who informed the sales assistants, knowing it would lead to the customer becoming upset and complaining, and ultimately lead to Daniel getting caught.

On the other hand, it was a long bow to draw.

We walked out of the manager’s office, but Gabe had one final question. “Did you know Daniel was a magician?”

Mr. Barrowman’s brows shot up his forehead. “What kind?”

“Ink.”

“I had no idea. Not that ink magic would have helped him do his job better. It seems like a useless magic unless one is an ink manufacturer. Anyway, when Daniel worked here, magic was unknown to most of us.”

“So, you aren’t a magician?” Gabe asked.

Mr. Barrowman chuckled. “If I was, would I be working here?”

Willie resumed her role of chaperone as we left Harrods, making sure she was always between Gabe and me. Not that either of us was thinking about the other. Gabe proved that, like me, his mind was on what we’d learned about Daniel Barratt.

“He must have met Thurlow at the racetrack,” he said.

“Not Thurlow necessarily,” Alex pointed out.

“Daniel must have become in debt to someone, which explains his embezzlement and why he was so distraught when he was dismissed. He knew he’d struggle to pay back what he owed to a very dangerous man.”

“A man who then forced Daniel to participate in his illegal activities to pay off the debt,” Alex finished. “Do you think the bookmaker knew Daniel’s worth as an ink magician before that?”

“Impossible to say,” Gabe said. “Perhaps Thurlow just wanted an accountant in his debt, then learned later that Daniel could write in invisible ink with his wife’s help.”

Alex’s jaw firmed. “Gabe. Don’t assume it’s Thurlow.”

Gabe’s jaw set just as firmly as he opened the motorcar’s door.

We returned to the library where the professor was waiting for us with a message from Huon. “He telephoned to say he has finished transcribing the ledgers. He wants you to meet him at Petra Conway’s shop.”

“Why there?” I asked.

The professor didn’t have an answer.

Alex opened the door and we filed past him back into Crooked Lane. The last to exit, Gabe lengthened his strides to catch up to me. “You forgot your scarf.” He whispered so that Willie couldn’t hear.

I accepted it from him with a tentative smile.

He smiled back. “Not that you need to bother with the scarf. I like your hair a little ruffled from the wind.”

I bit my lip and glanced at Willie up ahead.

“Don’t worry,” he said quietly. “ No flirting wasn’t one of her rules.”