The Inspection of a Curator
DISCLAIMER: All rights belong to Deborah Harkness. Just borrowing the characters for an alternate universe fanfiction story.
SUMMARY: A 1940's Police Inspector gets caught up in the world of rare books when a valuable manuscript is stolen and a murder occurs. Together, with a book curator, this Detective will face obstacles as they traverse the secret world of asylum's, wealth and mystery as well as their blossoming romance.
CREDIT: A huge thank you to Shawna! I wouldn't be the author I am without your editing help, suggestions and ideas!
Chapter FOUR: Interlopers and Revelations
By: Goode Girl
~TIOAC~
The manuscript was in a hidden wall safe at Matthew's house for the time being. He decided to head to the station after consuming the chicken and bean salad for dinner, Diana had provided him with for cover. He informed Hamish of the newest developments and was given the crime scene photographs to peruse. Matthew had been pouring over the pictures, trying to piece together the 'how' of the crime.
Ernst had detailed notes on his autopsy of Hugh Sorely and the time of death didn't fit with the events. Inspector Roydon figured he was going to be there for a while, and decided to make some fresh coffee. Looking up from his notes sometime later, he realized the office was empty and that it was just past 10:00PM. Knowing there would be no real sleep until he could come up with something tangible, he rose from his desk to fetch some much-needed caffeine.
Coffee in hand, he re-examined the current evidence. The photographs were sorted into piles, one for the library crime scene, one for the victim, Hugh and one for the hallway and entrance to the library; detailing the locks on the door. He'd just started thumbing through the hallway pile when his phone blared its annoying sound.
"Roydon," He answered. Matthew could hardly hear the voice on the line and pressed it closer to his ear. "Diana?" He asked with concern, when he recognized she was speaking softly.
"Matthew!" She whispered frantically. "Someone's breaking into my office." She relayed, and he could hear the fear in her voice.
Taking a moment, he tried to think, "Your living room window, does it have a fire escape outside?" He queried, listening as she fumbled for a moment.
"Yes," She confirmed.
"Climb down that way," Matthew instructed. "Head towards the station, I'll meet you." He added.
"I'm scared." She murmured, and his heart clenched at the sorrow in her voice.
"I know, sweetheart. You can do this, Diana!" He encouraged, closing his eyes and running a hand over his face when he realized how he'd addressed her.
"Okay," She mumbled, then the line went dead.
Pulling on his coat and hat, Matthew jogged down the stairs and out the front door of the station in the direction of her apartment. Within minutes he saw a figure round the corner as Diana ran in his direction, remnants of tears running down her face. He slowed his pace and she kept on. Pulling her into his embrace, he could feel she was trembling and tried to calm and soothe her. She'd worked herself into a frenzy and was clearly panic-stricken.
"Hey, look at me." Matthew started, pulling back to meet her gaze. "Take a deep breath. You're safe." He calmed, but she lay her head against his chest and circled her arms around his waist as she started to breath more deeply in an attempt to calm herself.
Once she stopped trembling, he tugged her to his side and started walking them back to the station. She'd neglected to grab a jacket and it was cold out, so he rubbed at her arm to keep the chill away.
"I'm sorry." She offered, after a few moments.
"For what?" He asked in bewilderment.
"Latching onto you like that." She explained, pulling away slightly.
"You've had a scare, it's natural to be upset or frightened. I'm happy to offer some comfort if I can." He reasoned, tugging her back into his side. She melted against him with a sigh of relief, and he rather enjoyed their close proximity; if he was being honest with himself.
In the confines of the police station, Matthew served Diana a cup of coffee and got her to sit down in the chair next to his desk. The office was rather empty at this time of night, but the light in Hamish's office was still on.
"Wait here a moment. I'll be right back." He stated, heading to his office. Roydon knocked tentatively and entered when he was instructed to do so.
"Matthew," He greeted in surprise. "You're still here." He stated.
"Something's happened." He relayed.
After bringing him up to speed on the break-in to Diana's office, he called for a couple officers to inspect the scene.
"You should go with them, but maybe have Ms. Bishop stay here. She doesn't need to deal with that now." He clarified.
…..
"I don't want to stay here alone." She replied in worry, gripping Matthew's hand to keep him in place. Hamish overheard and approached.
Crouching down next to her, his eyes met hers. "You won't be alone." He tried to reassure, squeezing her hand in reply and nodding at Hamish.
"Maybe we can go over the photographs of the library together, Ms. Bishop." Hamish offered. "We're still trying to figure out how they could have accessed the library, hours prior to the alarm bells." He relayed.
"What do you mean, 'hours prior'?" She queried; her interest now piqued.
"I'll fill you in, and you can tell me a bit more about this manuscript." Hamish smiled.
"I'll be back soon." Matthew finished, standing as she stood as well.
Leaving Diana in the care of Hamish, Inspector Roydon rode along with the officers to Diana's building.
…..
Constable Fuchs was on hand and led the officers inside, their batons at the ready should they encounter the perpetrator. Matthew waited down by the police car, until they had cleared the scene.
"Roydon! It's all clear!" Fuchs informed him and together they headed back up to the office.
Matthew stood in the middle of the room as he cast his eyes around. Nothing had been truly damaged, save the locks on the door but it was clear that it had been ransacked. The thieves were looking for something, but was it 'Ashmole'? He thought to himself.
"Right, document the scene and call in FSI to gather prints." He instructed, as he moved to the 'closet door' that Diana wanted to keep private. It was still intact and locked. "If they were truly looking for Ashmole, they would have broken through a locked door." He murmured under his breath.
Matthew was suspicious that this break-in was a cover for something else, so he pulled out his notepad and wrote his next instructions down before summoning Constable Fuchs.
"Was there something else, Inspector?" Fuchs inquired.
"Yes, can you make sure to clean up the fingerprint powder when FSI is complete? I'm sure Ms. Bishop would appreciate it." He concluded. While Matthew was speaking, he was showing his true instructions to Fuchs from his notepad.
'Have FSI sweep for bugs.
Do not remove bugs.
Detail exactly where bugs are, if found.'
"Of course, sir. Happy to do it." Fuchs replied, in response to both Matthew's spoken and written word.
…..
Hamish directed Diana to his office and clarified some small details about the crime. The first being that the victim had been killed earlier on in the evening and the alarms were set off hours later.
"This is rather complex." She speculated as she studied each of the photos of the library and the door's locks. "These are combination locks, so someone had to have figured out the sequence that would open them." She added.
One photo showed that the vault-like door had three different combination locks. One was letters, one was numbers and one was symbols. Fascinated with the details of this clever scheme, the photos were studied in detail. Though, neither Hamish or Diana could glean anything of value.
"I'm not finding anything that could be useful. How about you?" Hamish queried, sitting back in his desk chair.
"I think…" She trailed off. "I think there is something in this one." She announced, turning the photo around for Hamish to see. "Look at the blood pooled around the victim's head." She began. "There are spots in it, like something was in it." She surmised.
"You shouldn't look at those ones, they're graphic." He explained.
Diana shrugged off his comment. "I realize that, but I think the victim was trying to write something in his own blood." She detailed. "The spots show where he could have dipped his own fingers into it." She added. "Did the coroner's report detail remnants of blood on the victim's fingers?" She questioned. Hamish rifled through the case folder for the report.
He scanned the pages and nodded in confirmation. "Dried blood found on victim's right index and middle fingers", he read aloud. Diana pushed the photo back into his view.
Hamish's eyes went wide as they met hers and he took the photo from her hands, angling it to the light. "Hand me that eyeglass, would you please?" He posed, signalling to the shelf behind her.
Diana passed it over and he magnified the image. "Christ, it looks like he was trying to spell something, but with the dark wood floor and the blood, it's hard to make out." He stated. "What do you think he was trying to write?" He added, handing her the photo and eye glass.
Diana examined it closely and could make out a few letters. It started with 'B', then the letters were muddled and unclear. The next clear letter was a 'C', another unclear smudge and an 'S'.
"Typically, if a victim uses their dying breaths to spell out something, it's usually the name of their killer." Hamish interjected.
"You'd think so, but I don't think this is a name. It looks like..." She trailed off. "It looks like he was trying to spell, 'Bookcase'." She deduced.
Matthew knocked on the doorframe at the moment, interrupting them.
Diana turned in his direction at the sound. "What's the damage?" She questioned worriedly, setting the photo and eyeglass on Hamish's desk.
"Actually, not much. The locks to the door were destroyed and drawers and cabinets ransacked, but other than that, I think the break-in was a cover for something else." He informed.
"A cover for what?" Hamish questioned.
Matthew shrugged off his jacket and hat, placing them on the table in the corner before taking the second seat in front of Hamish's desk.
Matthew had noticed that the door that led to Diana's flat went undisturbed during the break-in. Real burglars would have broken through a locked door. "I believe that the purpose for the break-in was to plant bugs around the office." He elaborated.
"They think I still have Ashmole and want to hear what I might find or who I talk to about it." Diana realized.
"Most likely." Matthew agreed.
"Well, it's clear that at least for the weekend, that you shouldn't go home Diana." Hamish posed. "Not until we can replace the locks to your office, first thing Monday morning." He added.
"I agree." Matthew interjected. "You can stay with me for the weekend, and we can present Philippe with his manuscript together." He offered, as a sort of compromise.
Matthew had called in an FSI team member to observe the book for fingerprints and the evidence was now being examined. It had been handled by too many people to really get a discernable print, but it was protocol. Hamish have given the 'go ahead' to return the manuscript now that FSI had finished with it.
"Excellent plan. What do you say, Ms. Bishop?" Hamish encouraged.
"I guess so, I don't want to put you out though." She relayed with concern.
"You're not. I'd also feel better knowing you were safe with me." He clarified.
She smiled at him, "Okay, thank you." She added.
"I assume you're having FSI do a bug sweep?" Hamish interjected.
"Yes, I didn't voice that in the vicinity of the office though." Matthew stated.
He detailed how he relayed to Constable Fuchs his suspicion via his notepad, before Hamish turned Matthew's attention to Diana's discovery. She excused herself to the ladies' room while Hamish filled Matthew in on their find.
"Why would he spell 'bookcase', though?" Matthew mused aloud.
"That's what is unclear I'm afraid. Maybe when you visit with Mr. De Clermont, he can cast some light onto it." Hamish suggested.
When Diana returned from the washroom, they bid Hamish a good evening, before Matthew led her to his car.
"Nice find on the letters in blood." He stated. "Sorry you had to look at those photos though." He added, opening the car door for her.
"They're not the most pleasant photos, but if what I found can help in any way, I'm glad I could." She relayed with a small nod.
…..
The first few minutes of the drive were tense, neither knowing how to break the awkward silence.
"I'm sorry, by the way." He interjected into the silence of the car.
Diana was confused at this random apology. "For what?" She queried, turning to look at his profile, his eyes on the road.
"For the kiss, earlier." He clarified. "I could feel we were being watched and didn't know what else to do." He added. "Whoever it was might figure out I'm a detective, and assume I was there for other reasons." He finished, hinting at the manuscript.
"Oh," She replied. "Don't worry about it." She added dejectedly, tugging at the hem of her skirt. 'I thought that maybe he'd felt a spark during that kiss. I know I did,' She thought to herself.
"I don't think they were following me after that, though." He added, a small smile on his face as he glanced in her direction, trying to gauge her reaction.
"That's good. It worked then." She replied, forcing a smile of her own. Diana thought she had read too much into the kiss and the passion she could have sworn she felt from him, during it.
A few minutes later, Matthew pulled into his driveway and turned off the car. At the beginning of this decade, they were ravaged by war. Houses were now more modest and far from affluent, as cities still fought to rebuild. What Matthew had was simple but adequate, and quite pleasant when you could see he took care of it.
"This is it." He stated modestly. "The war took the home I used to have, and I found this about a year and a half ago." He added with a sense of pride. "Took some fixing up, of course, but I'm happy with it." He concluded.
"It's lovely, really." She stated truthfully, an honest smile on her face now as he exited the car.
Diana's door opened a few moments later and he helped her out.
"I know it's humble, but it's home." He explained, a small grin on his lips.
"The war took a lot from everyone." Diana started. "It's nice that you have a place to call home." She reasoned. "It was hard to build up my office and flat after the war ended." She informed, noting the slight somber expression on his face.
Matthew gave her a quick tour of the living room, kitchen, bathroom and then the bedroom. There were two beds, as there would be for any married couple in this decade. There was a question lingering on her tongue about the dual beds, but she wasn't sure if she should ask it.
"Why don't we head to kitchen, I'll make some tea." He proposed, and she followed.
"I know you want to ask." He interjected, reading her thoughts. He lay his jacket and hat over a chair in the corner before putting the kettle on.
"It's none of my business." She responded. Matthew never hinted that he was married, in fact he didn't even wear a ring.
"My wife was killed in the war." He related bluntly, as he pulled out a chair next to Diana and took a seat. "She was a nurse and worked at the hospital on Great Ormond Street." He continued. "It was September 7th, 1940. They were trying to care for the patients, keep them safe; when a bomb hit." He concluded, as his eyes moved to a photo that sat across the room on a small table next to a telephone.
Diana's eyes followed his as they settled on a small worn-out portrait of a woman with porcelain-like skin, dark hair, full lips and almond-shaped eyes. "Matthew, I'm so sorry." She offered in understanding. Reaching over, she gripped his hand to show some sort of comfort. But no words or actions could dispel the loss he had suffered.
"I don't think about her as often anymore, I mean not as often as I used to." He stated, his voice trembling slightly. "If I didn't have that photo," He paused, biting at his lip as he tried to hold back his emotions. "If I didn't have that photo," He repeated, "I feel like I'd forget what she looked like." He spoke quietly, but contained himself before he could show too much emotion.
Without thinking of the compromising position that this might look like, she stood up and cradled his head against her as his arms wound around her waist; accepting the gesture. He held on tight as she ran her fingers through his hair in an attempt to soothe him. He calmed after a few minutes but didn't release his grip on her just yet, enjoying the feeling of her in his arms.
The kettle blared its resounding whistle, shocking them back to the moment and Diana moved to take it off the heat and pour the scalding water into the teapot. She set it on the table next to the two cups Matthew had set down, and turned to look at him once more.
"Tell me," She urged, her eyes meeting his somber ones.
"We were married in '38, had met barely 6 months prior." He began, and she nodded. "We were kept apart for most of our marriage due to the war, and I was on the frontlines, and then in France." He stated. "By some miracle, I survived." He added with a sardonic smile. "You probably know it as the Dunkirk Evacuation." He explained, sitting back slightly as his eyes met hers.
"But that was in June, Dunkirk I mean." Diana interjected. "Were you not home when the hospital was bombed in September?" She questioned as he reached over, taking her hand in his and meeting her questioning gaze.
"No, I survived and was rescued, but I was injured. Hit by shrapnel." He simplified, pulling up his pant leg to show a long scar running the length of his left calf. "I couldn't travel home yet, and if I did, I risked infection." He elaborated. "By the time I was well enough, I'd heard the news about Blanca, my wife." He explained, releasing her hand to rub it over his face as though it would hide his emotion.
"I know, 'I'm sorry', doesn't help anything, but I don't know what else to say." She confessed sadly taking his hand in hers once more, as if it would offer some sort of comfort.
Matthew took a deep breath and squeezed her hand. He sought out Diana's gaze and they locked on one another. "I know I said I was sorry earlier, for kissing you." He began, his eyes engaging hers as if looking for an answer. She reached up with her free hand to wipe away the remnants of his tears. "Diana," He implored, moving closer as his free hand cupped her cheek. "I've not felt so connected to someone in so long and I'm not sorry, not at all." He confessed. "In fact, I want to kiss you again." He declared, smiling gently at the expression on her face.
Diana couldn't stop the smile that spread across her face. "Good," She replied, brushing her hand through his hair. "Because I wanted to slap you for apologizing in the first place!" She reprimanded with a small grin. He looked down, a small smirk on his lips as well.
"I really am sorry about your wife, Matthew." She offered. Her face fell slightly and he watched as her eyes were cast down to the floor. "I lost my parents." She revealed. He made an audible exhale of breath at her admission. "They lived in the United States and were here visiting for an extended period of time. With the war escalating, I didn't think it would be safe for them to travel. But they wouldn't be deterred." She relayed. "It was 1939, and they tried to 'flee to Switzerland', at least that's what they told me, but that never made sense…" She trailed off. "I don't know why they were killed, but they never made it." She finalized, sadly.
"If they were captured by Nazis, at least it would have been a quick death." He offered.
Diana started shaking her head, "No, no, it wasn't quick. They suffered." She explained.
"How do you know for certain?" He questioned, her hands clenching.
Matthew pulled her chair over to his, so her knees were between his. He held her hands in his and waited for Diana to continue.
"There was an article in the paper about how Nazis were gathering people up on this bridge and someone had taken a photograph." She started. "My parents are in that photograph, Matthew, standing against the bridge railing." She clarified. "The article detailed what a witness saw." She relayed, trying not to cry.
"What happened?" He pushed, urging her to get it out.
"The Nazis rounded up people, two by two. Couples, siblings, fathers and sons, mothers and daughters." Diana paused. The tile on his kitchen floor became fascinating and she kept her focus on it before continuing. "Then they tied them together and had them stand against the railing of the bridge." She explained. Diana took a shuddering breath as she tried to hold in the sobs that wanted to escape. "An officer went down the line of bound couples, and one by one, he fired off one shot." She detailed. "If they were lucky, the bullet would kill them both. If not, the dead body of one, would drag the body of the other under the water below the bridge, killing them in time." She cried. "They were…" Diana couldn't stop the sobs this time and as she tried to catch her breath, the last few words were released in staccato, hiccupping breaths. "They were…trying…to…save…bullets." She finally finished.
"Christ," He murmured, tugging her from the chair and into his arms, trying to comfort her.
"I'll never understand why they felt they needed to flee to Switzerland. It makes no sense." She repeated in confusion.
"Shhh," He soothed. He held her in his lap until she had calmed. Eventually she moved back to her own chair.
Matthew served the tea and they sat there in silence for what felt like an hour, when it was really only about ten minutes, lost in the details of each of their stories of loss.
"I'm so sorry, sweetheart." He stated with affection. The term of endearment made her smile.
She raised her gaze to his, "You called me that on the phone earlier." She remembered.
"I did, not on purpose mind you." He recalled with embarrassment. "I didn't want to be too forward but it slipped out." He admitted.
"And this time? Was it on purpose?" She pried, her eyes searching his face.
The horrors they'd relayed to one another, not a half hour ago were now behind them, as their attraction to one another seemed palpable.
"Yes." He stated, looking down at their clasped hands. "I've not felt an attraction to another woman in a long time. At least, not since my wife died." He admitted. "And I don't want to miss the chance to explore what this could be." He stated, motioning between them as she nodded in agreement. "I know that with the case, the manuscript, it's important and we need to focus on that, but maybe…" He trailed off, lacing their fingers together and admiring their clasped hands.
"Maybe what?" She prodded, returning the affection by squeezing his hand.
He smiled a genuine smile, "Maybe you'd let me take you to dinner?" He queried.
"I'd really like that." She agreed. "Can I ask one thing?" She posed nervously.
"Of course," He replied.
"Can you kiss me, again?" Diana asked. "But because you want to and not because someone might be watching?" She added, biting at her lip nervously. She didn't want to push him, but she was eager to feel his lips against hers once again.
He stood from his seat and pulled her up with him. Cupping her cheek, he lowered his head and moulded his lips to Diana's. She responded eagerly, moving her hands along his forearms and up over his shoulders, tugging him a little closer. He groaned into the kiss when their bodies moved closer to one another. His free hand rested on her waist. She tentatively slipped her tongue out and traced his lip sensually and he opened his mouth to accept while returning the favour. Time seemed to slip away as they got lost in the kiss. His lips were soft and he nipped at her top lip teasingly, before soothing the nip with a slight trace of his tongue. They pulled back eventually, and she rested her head against his chest as his arms held her close.
"Thank you. For making me feel safe, listening." She praised.
"Thank you, as well. I've not talked about Blanca in a long time." He confessed.
"You can talk to me about her anytime, Matthew. She's always going to have a place in your heart and you shouldn't forget her." She reasoned. He simply nodded.
"I was scared tonight, when you first called me." He confessed.
"I was too." She confirmed, tilting her head up to look at him.
"Do you think it was the same person from earlier?" He queried, as they finally pulled apart.
"I don't think that's unreasonable to assume." She related as he moved to clean up the remnants from their tea.
"The forensic team will gather prints and we'll go from there." He added. "It's late, we should head to bed." He stated and Diana followed him to the bedroom. He moved to his dresser to retrieve something before handing her a shirt. "It's a pyjama shirt, I figured it would be more comfortable to sleep in." He explained with a shy grin.
"Thank you." She smiled in reply as he offered to let her use the washroom first. Matthew directed her to a cupboard that had an extra toothbrush and a shelf with extra washcloths.
"Do you need anything else?" He queried, just as she was about to close the bathroom door.
"I have everything I need. Thank you." She smiled in reply.
…..
Matthew turned the beds down before he went to check that the house was locked up for the night. When he came back down the hall, Diana emerged from the bathroom, clad in his pyjama shirt. It almost came to her knees and he thought she looked adorable.
"I've left my clothes folded on the counter." She explained.
"Alright, why don't you head to bed, and I'll be in soon." He smiled as she left him to change and complete his nightly routine.
Diana lay in bed, the sheets pulled up to her chin. It was chilly out and she thought she might need an extra blanket. Matthew crawled into his bed and turned out the light.
"Goodnight, sweetheart." He stated and she could hear the smile in his voice when he said it.
"Goodnight, handsome." She retorted with a small giggle.
Neither of them could seem to settle and Diana had started shivering. After almost twenty-five minutes of this struggle to warm up, she kicked off the blankets and moved the few feet towards Matthew's bed. Gripping his covers, she pulled them back.
"What are you doing?" He queried in surprise.
"I'm so cold, I can't get warm. Please, Matthew…" She pleaded.
Matthew shifted over as far as he could and Diana crawled in next to him, her back to his chest. He wound the blankets around them both and settled his arm over her. He could feel her trembling. 'She really was cold', he thought to himself and tugged her just a little closer, nestling his face next to her.
"Much better," She stated with a contented sigh.
"Agreed." He reciprocated.
Twenty minutes later, they were both asleep, ensconced in each other's embrace and a slew of things to deal with on the horizon, unbeknownst to them both.
