Felipe took it with shaking hands and shoved it in his mouth before Mr. Nichols could return with the next member. Relief warred with need as he tried to savor it while wishing he had half a pound more to eat. Oliver watched him, his expression flickering between affection and concern.
“Once we’re done here, what do you think about going somewhere for dinner? If you’re up to it, of course. I was thinking Mather’s or Tam’s. Whatever you want. I think we deserve it after all this.”
It wasn’t their usual night for an outing, but Felipe could see this was for him as much as it was for Oliver. A little more time away, a little more time for themselves. He’d take it. “I’d love that.”
Oliver’s grin widened, but before he could say more, the final club member came in with Mr. Nichols at his side. All of the men they had met at the Guttenberg Club were at least in the mid-fifties with most being at least a decade older. This man was white and on the younger side but walked with a heavy limp and a crutch. While he was definitely older than Felipe, his wavy brown hair and beard were free of greys. He chatted animatedly with Mr. Nichols who shook his head and tutted at something the younger man said.
“Inspectors, this is my dear friend, Mr. George Ehlers. George, Inspector Galvan and Inspector Barlow are investigating Enoch’s death. They are looking for leads about who might have killed him.”
“Should I retain a lawyer first?” Mr. Ehlers asked with a chuckle as he shook their hands and sat down before them.
“If you want me to stay George, all you have to do is ask,” Mr. Nichols said and took the chair beside him.
“You don’t have to answer our questions, sir. It’s strictly on a voluntary basis,” Felipe replied.
“That’s not the way Charles made it sound, but he’s quite take-charge when he wants to be. What do you want to know?”
“What was your impression of Mr. Whitley?”
Mr. Ehlers tented his hands thoughtfully. “Going for the philosophical questions first. Whitley was a complicated man. His upbringing, what I heard of it, was very volatile, and he turned to books at a young age for comfort. Eventually, books became his sole passion and what he based his identity on.”
“He’s an alienist,” Mr. Nichols said in a conspiratorial whisper.
Ehlers waved him off. “We’re all a little strange for books, but some of us are stranger. I don’t know if I would call it kleptomania, but I suspect Mr. Whitley had obsessive tendencies that were akin to it.”
“Why do you think he had a problem?” Oliver asked the same time Mr. Nichols made a harrumph of protest.
“I’m going to assume you’re asking what evidence I had to prove he stole things and not how I reached that diagnosis. He was obsessive and relentless when there was a book he wanted. He nearly came to blows with Douglas over a book when the man wouldn’t let him buy it off him. He would disappear for days or weeks and come back with some treasured book. The thrill of the chase is normal for collectors, but this was… unhealthy. There were certain books I think he would have gone to the ends of the earth for.”
“LikeThe Corpus Arcanum?”
Both men groaned.
“We all have our desiderata on record here, and it wasalwaysat the top of his list.”
“It was his white whale. Whitley told everyone wanted to create a research library of magic, andThe Corpus Arcanumwould have been the centerpiece. Thankfully no one here ever got a copy, or he would have made off with it.” When Felipe narrowed his eyes, Mr. Ehlers continued, “Things would disappear around the club, mostly books but sometimes other things, and Whitley would always seem to be the one to find them and return them some time later. Probably after he finished reading them. Don’t harrumph at me, Charles. That happening a handful of times over the years is a coincidence, and you know this went far past that. I also had reason to suspect some of his books were acquired through less than scrupulous means.”
Felipe eyed Mr. Nichols, but he said nothing and avoided his gaze. “Is that true, Mr. Nichols? You didn’t mention this when we spoke.”
“There isn’t a book collector worth their salt who hasn’t owned at least one book of dubious provenance.”
“Charles, you and I both knowdubious provenancedoesn’t begin to cover it. We all bring in our noteworthy finds to gloat, but Whitley brought them in far too many too often. Some still bore the marks of the libraries they came from. The problem is that Whitley would say he bought them at a sale or saved them from the rubbish heap, but no one could prove that. Most libraries decommission books they’re getting rid of, which means they remove the card sleeve or cross out their marks to show it’s no longer part of the library. His books rarely had that. Then, there were the ones from the Paranormal Society. I’ve heard their library rarely gets rid of magical books.”
“You don’t know that, George. You aren’t a member.”
“Mr. Ehlers is right,” Oliver said without taking his eyes off his notes.
Ehlers shot Nichols a told-you-so look.
“Do you remember the titles of any books that you suspect were stolen from the society or anywhere else?” Felipe asked. “And did you ever see his book collection? We’re thinking the person who killed him may have been someone he stole from.”
“None of us were ever invited over to see Whitty’s collection,” Mr. Nichols replied. “I don’t think he was as well-off as he liked us to believe, and I think seeing his surroundings might have proven that beyond a doubt. He always looked a tad shabby and unkempt, but I assumed that was due to all his funds going to books.”
“That’s because it’s what you wanted to see,” Ehlers murmured under his breath with a withering look. “I would suspect a significant portion of his books were stolen, but I don’t remember any titles that I could swear were stolen. Some of the men stopped inviting others to their homes in front of Whitley for fear he would invite himself. Even if they wouldn’t say it, they suspected on some level that he might walk off with their books if left unsupervised.”
“Is there a reason you chose not to disclose any of this when we spoke to you initially, Mr. Nichols? Are there, perhaps, other thieves among you?” Felipe said evenly.
“Absolutely not! We do not tolerate thieves.”
