Plagium (Keepers Book 1)

Chapter 20 - In Which the Book is Retrieved

"I wouldn't quite say that... Someone was here. They were trying to steal this book."

"Where did they go?"

"They ran out the front."

Mittie ran into the foyer, swinging open the ajar door. "They must be fast," she said after a moment, closing and locking the door. Mittie returned to the sitting room. "Did you catch a glimpse of their face?"

"Ah...no. But they spoke. It was a man. But who, I don't know. They ran before I could think of what to do."

"At least we've got the book."

"And it's useless unless we figure out how to open it!" Tracey replied. She sighed. "It feels like we're hitting roadblock after roadblock!"

"We must be missing something..." Mittie sat on a nearby seat. "What evidence do we have again?"

Tracey located the stack of evidence that she had placed earlier and sorted through the items. "Mr. Porter's glasses, which he can't see without."

"That tells us he couldn't have just left on his own, " Mittie said, slowly nodding.

"His ring."

"That Harriet had found outside of Mrs. Pinot's home..."

"Hence why he may be there," Tracey added. She looked to the stack again. "There's also the document of Mrs. Pinot's ticket purchases from the banker."

"Which points the evidence towards Mrs. Pinot trying to throw suspicion from herself for hosting those fraudulent Jon Starr performances..."

"The keeper book."

"Locked, and not much help right now."

"And the handkerchief with the initals of RN."

"Which we still haven't pinned to anyone."

"Actually...yes."

"Yes?"

"I-I must've forgotten in all of the chaos of yesterday." Tracey rubbed her forehead. "It's Rollo's."

"Really? The chef?"

"Yes...Rollo spoke to me through Charlie's steam device before he kidnapped him. He referred to himself as Mr. Nicholson, and did confirm that his initials were RN."

"Huh," Mittie said, her face twisted in perplexion. "I guess that's would mean that Jon Starr's employees really are working with her, aren't they?"

"It does seem that way, yes. But this doesn't get us any closer to finding them!"

"Why don't we look through our notes again?" Mittie offered.

"We just did that earlier today!" Tracey groaned, plopping into the couch. "I'm beginning to regret our group splitting."

"I hate to admit it, but yes," Mittie said.

The two women sighed, each staring out of space. The clock ticked, seemingly deafening to Tracey's ears. She fidgeted, looking at the book in her hands. "Why don't we open the note?" she said, breaking the silence. "That's probably the only bit of clue that we haven't examined yet."

"Have at it," Mittie sighed.

Tracey pulled the small envelope out of her pocket and observed the parcel. Like the other combustible note, it was unlabeled. She ripped the packet open.

"Let's see...," Tracey said, unfolding the parchment.

I'm rather disappointed in you, Tracey. Four days, and still no closer to finding Mr. Porter. I'm beginning to doubt your sleuthing skills. Allow me to give you a hint: don't forget the funhouse.

"Are they taunting me?" Tracey huffed in indignation after reading the note aloud.

"The funhouse?" Mittie said with a frown. "Lemme take a look at that."

As Tracey held out the paper to her, the document already began to evaporate, leaving wisps of smoke in its wake.

"Oh...," Mittie said as she grabbed in the air at where the paper was. "At least ya got a chance to read it, I s'ppose. We know the funhouse wasn't at Shrimp Renegald like we thought, so I wonder where it would be at?"

"I'm sure that's where Charlie and Mr. Porter are," Tracey said, "but—."

Tracey could not finish her sentence before a knock sounded at the door. The two exchanged surprised glances. "Could that be Mr. Matthews?" Tracey said.

"Doubt it," Mittie replied, shrugging.

Tracey stood and walked into the foyer, observing the figures at the door. Through the curtains, she could see a tall figure, standing next to a much smaller figure. "It's two people," Tracey called to Mittie.

"Do you think it could be...," Mittie shuffled to the doorway, peeking into the foyer, "...Mr. Bentam and Harriet?"

Tracey frowned. "It's likely. After our dispute last night, though, I'm not certain if I want to see him again." She paused. "But we do have more important matters at hand."

A knock sounded once more, and a muffled conversation could be heard from the other side. She sighed, then opened the door.

As expected, there stood Mr. Berkley and Harriet, engrossed in conversation.

"—sure that this is the correct address?" Harriet was whispering to Bentam as Tracey caught on to the last of Harriet's statements.

Bentam stood engrossed in his portable document device. "Yes, Harriet," he responded. "The database shows this to be her residence, and I'm certain that the High Constable is never wrong!"

"Never wrong, indeed," Tracey grimly responded, glaring at Bentam. "Hello, you two."