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Worley shifted in his chair. “Perhaps that is true. I am certainly ready for something more than social engagements to take my interest. Have you discovered anything?”
Simon shared his progress, or lack thereof. “If only a clue had been uncovered, I would feel more confident as to what the next step should be.”
“Frustrating.” Worley twirled the tip of his impressive mustache. “Why would someone take just the three items? The clay pot might be valuable, but the lantern certainly wasn’t. Was the coin the only thing of value in the case?”
“Yes and no,” Simon replied, having wondered the same thing. He thought the lantern had been taken to upset him or to make sure someone noted the missing coin. “It depends on what you consider valuable, I suppose.”
“Such was the case with the journal,” Marbury said. “David Wright’s notes were of interest to some people but certainly not everyone. So often, value is in the eye of the beholder.”
The discussion continued, each man sharing their thoughts and potential paths to continue the investigation.
“Assuming the coin was taken after hours, who has keys to the museum and the cases?” Worley asked.
“The director and I are the only ones.” Simon frowned, realizing he hadn’t verified that with Stockton. He hoped the man hadn’t provided keys to anyone else without consulting Simon first. “However, several employees have access to them.”
“How well do you know this Stockton fellow? Do you trust him?” Worley took a sip of the whiskey that now sat before him.
“I did, though a few matters of late have caused me to question that trust.” Simon scowled, aware he was part of the problem. It wasn’t Stockton’s fault that Simon was absentminded. No matter how often he told himself he needed to remember certain things, he simply didn’t.
“It might not hurt to look further into his background,” Marbury suggested. “Perhaps see what he does in his spare time.” He raised a brow at Simon as if to garner his opinion.
“I will see what I can discover.” While Simon agreed that it would be a good idea, spying on the director would be awkward, especially if he were caught.
“No offense, Vanbridge,” Worley began, “but perhaps it would be better if someone else did this. Stockton is unlikely to recognize Marbury or me.”
“I can’t ask either of you to spend time doing that.”
“We’d be happy to,” Marbury assured him. “Tell us what you know about him.”
As Simon did so, he realized how little he knew about the man. “While you’re researching him, I will look into the other employees more closely. Stockton recently hired a man I’d like to know more about.”
No matter how often Simon tried to remember Stockton telling him of hiring Emerson, he couldn’t. It worried him, in all honesty. What else might have he forgotten? That sort of behavior wasn’t acceptable, given that he was a marquess with responsibilities. If he weren’t careful, he could easily make a mistake that could hurt those who depended on him for their livelihoods.
The concern was enough to have him glaring into his coffee, wishing, not for the first time, that he hadn’t inherited. He wasn’t fit for the title.
“Something amiss?” Marbury asked.
“Not at all. I appreciate you both helping more than I can say.” Simon clamped his lips tight before he said anything further. He well knew that sharing his concerns was a sign of weakness and something others pounced upon.
“But?” Worley asked.
Simon hesitated, taking the measure of both men. He truly didn’t know them well. Yet, if he didn’t share his concerns with them, then who? Still, he couldn’t bring himself to do it. “Nothing.”
“I hope we all have something to share in the coming days,” Marbury said.
Simon thanked the two men and took his leave, pleased that he didn’t have to speak with anyone else on his way out. His social interactions had become too numerous of late.
He decided to stop by the museum on the way home to discover where Emerson lived. A glance at his pocket watch showed the hour was later than he’d thought. It was nearly time for the museum to close. Perfect, he decided. He would follow Emerson home.
Simon waited until the carriage neared the museum before tapping on the roof.
“Yes, my lord?” Jarvis asked after he’d opened the small door.
“Drop me before we reach the museum. I’ll walk from there.”
“Very well,” was the driver’s muffled reply, but his surly tone made his opinion of Simon’s request apparent.
Simon sighed. Jarvis always took it personally if he requested to walk. Why it mattered, Simon didn’t know.
