Chapter 7
Whyborne
“Drained of blood?” Christine exclaimed the next day at the museum. “Surely Griffin doesn’t mean to suggest Abbott was killed by vampires.”
I didn’t bother to look up from my desk. Iskander had kindly not only photographed the sigils, but developed the prints as well in his darkroom at the house he and Christine shared not far from our own. Christine had brought them into the museum to give to me, then promptly planted herself in the guest chair in my office.
“Don’t be absurd,” I said, shuffling through the photographs. “There’s no such thing. Er, I hope.”
Miss Parkhurst appeared at my door. “I’ve brought your mail, Dr. Whyborne.”
“Just put it on the corner of the desk, if you would,” I said.
“I say, those are lovely pearl earrings, Miss Parkhurst,” Christine remarked.
A few of the letters tumbled from Miss Parkhurst’s hands. She hastened to pick them up. “Oh, er, th-thank you, Dr. Putnam-Barnett. They were a gift from a friend.”
“I’m sure,” Christine said dryly.
“Do stop bothering my secretary, Christine,” I said, glancing up. “That will be all, Miss Parkhurst.”
Once she was gone, Christine said, “Odd, isn’t it, how much new jewelry Miss Parkhurst has of late?”
What on earth was she going on about now? “Don’t be absurd. I haven’t noticed a thing.”
Christine snorted. “Of course you haven’t.”
“You know as well as I do that she assisted the ketoi while we were in Fallow.” I took the Liber Arcanorum from my desk drawer and began to flip through it. “Gold and pearls are mere trinkets to them. It’s hardly odd they would give her some to show their appreciation.”
“She rents a house by the river now, doesn’t she?”
“How in the world should I know?” I cast Christine a vexed look. “Don’t you have work to do?”
“I still have hopes of being granted the firman to excavate the fane in Egypt,” she said, rising to her feet. “In the meantime, though, I should finish my latest article. Do let me know when you need me to come stake your vampire for you.”
“It isn’t a vampire. It’s a...” I cast about for a less lurid term. “Hematophage. A blood eater.”
“Vampire,” Christine whispered from the doorway. I leveled another glare at her, but she was already gone.
I stared at the photographs spread on my desk, trying to recall where I’d seen similar sigils before. The Pnakotic manuscripts? The Al Azif? The Wisborg Codex?
Hopefully not the latter. So far as I had been able to tell, the codex contained information about the masters, their creations—earthly and otherwise—and the Restoration which would usher them back into the world they’d once ruled. But the codex was encrypted in some fashion I’d been unable to fathom. The Fideles held the key to deciphering it, but I didn’t. Meaning it remained an enigma, taunting me with the fact that knowledge of its contents might make all the difference in the upcoming struggle.
Miss Parkhurst knocked tentatively. “Dr. Whyborne?”
I bit back a sigh—apparently I was doomed to endless interruptions this morning. “Yes?”
“Detective Tilton is here to see you.”
“Tilton?” He must have some new information about Abbott’s murder. “Of course. Show him in.”
Tilton entered with an air of reluctance, his hat clutched in his hands. “Dr. Whyborne,” he said. “Accept my apologies for disturbing you.”
I’d never seen him look so worried. Something must have gone very wrong with his investigation. “Have a seat,” I said, indicating the chair. “How can I help you?”
“I have a few questions to ask you. I...well, I wouldn’t if it were up to me, of course.” He eased himself into the seat, looking increasingly nervous. “You read about our new chief of police in the papers, I’m sure.”
I tried and failed to remember. “Er, not really. Can you refresh my memory?”
“He’s not from Widdershins,” Tilton said. “But after the last chief died in...unusual circumstances...it was difficult to find a local replacement.”
“Oh dear,” I said. Unusual circumstances could cover any number of terrible fates.
“Chief Early doesn’t understand how things are done here.” Tilton shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “I have to follow orders, but...” He trailed off.
“And what did he order you to do?” I asked cautiously.
Tilton took a deep breath. “Dr. Whyborne, where were you the night of January 26?”
I stared at him blankly. “In a meeting at Father’s house. Several members of the old families were there.”
“And after?”
At home, making love with Griffin on the study rug. My face burned, and I prayed Tilton didn’t notice. “In b-bed.”
“And are there any...um...witnesses?”
My hands went ice cold. I’d always feared the police would find some reason to look more closely into my living arrangements. But as time passed and nothing ever came of my fears, I’d begun to relax.
“Of course not,” I snapped. Griffin said I looked cold when upset, so I did my best to project an icy demeanor. It must have worked, because Tilton visibly flinched. “I cannot fathom why you would ask such a question, sir.”
“Because...” Tilton cleared his throat. “One of Abbott’s fellow boarders said you’d threatened to kill him if he ever returned to Widdershins.”
~ * ~
For a moment, I felt only relief. This wasn’t about my relationship with Griffin after all.
Then the import of Tilton’s words fully registered. “What?” I exclaimed.
“Please, Dr. Whyborne. I’m only doing my job,” he said, holding up his hands. “If Chief Early hadn’t ordered me to, of course I wouldn’t disturb you.”
Dear God, no wonder he was so nervous. He thought I might put a curse on him, or set him aflame. Or that he, too, might disappear in unusual circumstances.
I forced myself to sit back in my chair. “Of course. I...I understand.”
“Thank you.” He paused. “So, is there any truth behind the accusations? Did you threaten to kill Thomas Abbott if he returned?”
Not one of my finer moments. “He’d tried to blackmail my sister Guinevere,” I said. “I was understandably upset.”
Tilton didn’t look at all reassured by my response. “I see. Did you have any contact with Mr. Abbott after he came back to Widdershins?”
“No. I didn’t even know he had returned, until Father informed me he’d been killed.”
“Of course,” Tilton agreed. He rose to his feet. “I’ve taken up enough of your time. Unless you have anything else you would like to add?”
I couldn’t imagine what else I could say. “No. But we are trying to discover what killed him.” I indicated the photographs on my desk. “I may not have been fond of the man, but I’m certainly not going to let his death go without doing everything possible to find out what happened. And if there’s any continuing threat.”
Tilton gave a curt nod. “Thank you. Good day, Dr. Whyborne.”