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With each hour that passed, his chances of finding the persons who’d struck him and Jarvis lessened. At least, that was how he felt. Then there was David Wright’s missing coin to consider, not to mention the other items. He had no time to feel ill. If only his head would cooperate.
Norah’s visit the previous day had been a pleasant surprise. He’d truly enjoyed having tea with her and Lena. They were wonderful company and had taken his thoughts away from his pain and frustration. The interlude had done more to improve his well-being than he could’ve guessed.
Mrs. Fletcher had been overjoyed to prepare a “proper tea,” as she called it, and had been certain to tell him after the ladies departed. No doubt she hoped to encourage similar events in the future. He didn’t have the heart to tell her that was unlikely.
After the sisters left, he had plenty of time to think about what had happened the previous evening. Whoever was taking the artifacts had made the effort to injure both him and Jarvis when they could have just as easily hid or left.
The situation had become very personal.
Stockton had sent word that he’d completed the inventory Simon requested, but nothing else was missing, which was puzzling. What had those people been doing if not taking artifacts? Or had Simon and Jarvis interrupted them before they could steal what they wanted? A bit of straw on the floor was hardly enough of a clue to follow.
He was more determined than ever to uncover the identity and motivation of the person behind this. If they’d hit Simon to scare him off, they were in for a rude awakening.
He nodded at Mr. Johnson, who stood near the front door, only to pause as the employee hurried forward.
“My lord,” he said with a bow. “I am terribly sorry to hear of the events that unfolded the other evening. I hope you are recovering.”
“I am. Thank you for your concern.”
“I’m pleased to hear that.” Johnson nervously glanced about. “Do you feel we should be concerned for our safety?”
“I sincerely hope not.” Yet the question made Simon worry all the more. Perhaps they should be. “The police are working with us to uncover the thieves.”
The man nodded, his expression relieved. “Excellent. So happy to hear that. Please know that if I see or hear anything unusual, I will be certain to report it.”
“Thank you.” Simon continued up the stairs and entered the exhibit area, unsurprised when the next employee with whom he spoke said something similar.
By the time he spoke with Emerson on the next floor, he was beginning to think they all had met and decided what to say to him. He detested thinking any employee was concerned for his personal well-being. The blame for that fell squarely on Simon’s shoulders.
He stalked up the stairs to Stockton’s office, his mood black. Of course, where else would the man be except sitting at his desk?
“Stockton.”
“My lord.” The director stood to bow with a smile. For some reason, the smile irritated Simon to no end. “Good to see you up and about so soon. Are you sure you feel well enough to be here?”
“I’m fine.” It was even more annoying to realize Stockton might be right. The nausea was returning, along with a worsening headache. If he turned his head too quickly, the room tilted. He wouldn’t be able to stay long if he wanted to walk out of the museum on his own two feet. That made him doubly glad he’d ordered Jarvis to remain home to rest.
“Thank goodness.” Stockton shook his head. “How terrible to think someone was in the museum at night.”
But not that he and Jarvis had been struck? Simon didn’t think he’d ever understand the director. “Did you change the locks as I requested?”
“Of course.” He reached into a drawer and pulled forth a set of keys. “I took the liberty of having your office door lock changed as well. Here are the new ones.”
“Thank you. Who else has these?”
“Only you and I. Given recent events, I will be personally locking the building each evening as well as unlocking it in the morning.”
Simon frowned, surprised the director wasn’t already taking that precaution. The museum hours weren’t so long that he couldn’t. What else did Simon not know about the man’s routine? That, too, was Simon’s fault. “I’m pleased to hear that. Any further updates on the inventory?”
“Each exhibit has been accounted for. We didn’t find anything more missing.”
“What of the storage room? Have any crates been moved?” He was still certain that was what he’d heard the night he’d been struck.
“Not that we could tell.” Stockton frowned, his bushy brows drawing near the edge of his spectacles. “As I mentioned before, a bit of dust and straw on the floor, but that’s all. I can’t imagine who it was or what they were attempting. It seems your appearance prevented them from taking anything. They must’ve fled afterward.”
Simon watched the man closely but couldn’t tell if he was lying. Stockton met Simon’s gaze without hesitation. Still, a sense of unease crawled along Simon’s skin, suggesting something was amiss.
Simon released the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “Yes, that must’ve been it.” If he accused the director of anything now, Stockton would only deny it.
