The Warden and his group of advisors hastily shuffled aside, allowing him to throw it open and enter the Lower Library.
Without pausing, he headed to the narrow stairs and took them two at a time to the Upper Library, which held the bulk of the library’s treasures. The librarian’s office lay to the right, down the South Wing’s central walkway. Sunlight flooded through the lovely oriel window at its end, filling the small foyer that connected the two wings with an ethereal light.
But as soon as he made the turn into the West Wing, Wrexford found himself shrouded in shadows.A fitting metaphor, he reflected,of the task that lay ahead.
The door to the librarian’s office was closed. He lifted the latch and stepped inside.
Greeley’s corpse was still in the chair but had been covered with a sheet of white linen. A young man with a shock of unruly hair was kneeling beside the body, gently smoothing the rumples from the length of cloth lying over the outstretched legs. He looked up at the earl, his eyes pooled with sorrow.
“M-Mr. Greeley was a very nice man,” he stammered. “Why would anyone want to hurt him?”
“A good question.”
The young man blinked in confusion as he took in the earl’s elegant clothing and polished boots. “The mortuary men have been summoned. B-But you can’t be . . .”
“No. I’m an old friend.” Wrexford glanced at the desk, hoping that the scene hadn’t been disturbed. “And you are?”
“Robert Quincy, sir. Mr. Greeley’s assistant.” Quincy’s look of sorrow pinched to one of guilt. “If only I hadn’t left him alone last night—”
“Don’t torture yourself with recriminations, Mr. Quincy.” The earl took a moment to survey the rest of the small office. It was crammed with books and papers, messy perhaps, but with an underlying sense of order. Nothing seemed amiss. “As of yet, we have no idea why Greeley was murdered. Rather than sink into self-loathing, help me ascertain whether there are any clues that might shed light on what happened here last night.”
To his credit, Quincy rose and squared his shoulders. “Yes, sir.” A pause. “H-How do we start?”
“By you telling me what time you left Greeley here.”
“It was an hour before closing time, sir. I offered to remain and finish cataloguing a crate of manuscripts for the Radcliffe Library, but he said that he wished to do it himself.”
“Was there a reason?” asked the earl.
“I—I didn’t ask.”
“There is no reason that you would,” said Wrexford gruffly. “But in a murder investigation, it’s always best never to ignore any clue.” His attention returned to Greeley’s desk. “Tell me, did you shift or remove anything—anything at all? And it is imperative to be absolutely honest. The slightest detail might prove vital.”
“No, sir, I did not,” answered Quincy without hesitation. He swallowed hard. “Y-You sound as if you have done this before.”
“Alas, yes,” muttered Wrexford. Clasping his hands behind his back, he leaned in to make a closer scrutiny. “You must have been in and out of here frequently, and so are familiar with Greeley’s habits. Does anything look odd to you, or is anything missing?”
Quincy approached and, mimicking the earl, he clasped his hands behind his back before beginning his scrutiny.
Wrexford liked that the young man was taking his time to look carefully before answering.
“None of Mr. Greeley’s things are gone,” said the young man. His brows furrowed. “But . . .”
“But what?” urged the earl.
“I’m not certain, but it looks like one of the manuscripts might be missing from the crate.” Quincy leaned closer. “Mr. Greeley is—I mean, he was—meticulous about making sure nothing went astray when we were moving materials back and forth between the colleges and the Radcliffe Library, so I was careful to count them.”
“When did you give him the crate?”
“A little before four o’clock.”
So, likely that was before Greeley wrote the urgent note requesting a meeting,decided Wrexford.Otherwise, it would have been posted with an earlier Royal Mail coach.
“Would you like me to check through them, sir?” asked Quincy.
Wrexford nodded.
The young man made quick work of the task. “Yes, there is definitely one missing. In fact, I remember it quite clearly because its cover was an interesting shade of burgundy, rather than mud brown.”
