Magic Misled (Lizzie Grace #7) - Keri Arthur Page 0,54
on top of the desk.
“Nothing sets off the radar,” I said, once I’d done the bathroom.
“Then we’ll check the old-fashioned way.” Eli zipped the backpack open. “Better wear these, otherwise the rangers will complain.”
I caught the pair of gloves he tossed me and pulled them on as I walked across to the carryall. There wasn’t anything more than a couple of changes of clothes inside; I ran a hand along the base of the bag, but nothing was hidden in the lining.
“Well, this is a bust,” I grumbled.
“Maybe not.” Ashworth picked up the small notepad near the clock and waved it lightly. “Someone wrote down a number on the page before this. I can see the indent.”
“Give it a ring and see who answers,” Eli said.
Ashworth tapped the number out on his phone and then put it on speaker.
“Professor Janice Hopetown,” a pleasant voice said. “How may I help you?”
Eli immediately reached for his phone and began googling.
“Did you say your name was Hopetown?” Ashworth said.
“I did. Who’s this? How did you get this number?”
“I was calling Margaret. I take it she’s not there with you?”
“I don’t know a Margaret. You’ve obviously got a wrong number. Good night.”
“There’s a couple of Janice Hopetowns,” Eli said, “but the most likely one in this case works for the Department of Classics and Ancient History at Sydney University.”
I frowned. “Why would a professor be involved in the theft of old spell books?”
“She might not know she’s dealing with stolen goods,” Ashworth said. “She also might have been approached simply to verify their authenticity and value.”
Ashworth tore off the sheet of paper and handed it to me. “Get Aiden to ring her in the morning. It’d be better coming from an official source rather than you or me.”
“You’re official.”
“RWA doesn’t usually get involved in minor situations such as the theft of spell books, and she may think it suspicious—especially after my random call tonight.”
“It does still leave the question of who might have contacted her.” Eli glanced at me. “Who knows about the books?”
I drew in a breath and released it slowly. “Aside from us? Only Kash.”
“Have you spoken to him yet?”
I shook my head. “But I think Belle and I will have to do that tomorrow.”
“He would have been my first port of call.”
“Except we thought the first break-in was just a random event, and he doesn’t match the build of either of the men caught on camera during the second attempt.”
“Doesn’t mean he’s not the brains behind it all.”
“I know.” I just didn’t really want to believe that either Belle or I could be so misled by a pretty face. Besides, he’d been telepathically restricted from either using or contacting anyone about the books. “Let’s get out of here. I have a whiskey with my name on it waiting for me at home.”
“You and me both,” Ashworth said with a laugh.
We headed back to Castle Rock. Once Eli had dropped me back at the café, I jumped into my car and headed home.
“I take it,” Aiden said as I walked in the door, “that you did go look for the would-be thief’s hotel?”
I smiled, tossed my bag onto the sofa, and walked across the room. After dropping a kiss on his cheek, I peered into the pot he was stirring. “Spaghetti sauce. Your cooking repertoire is expanding.”
“Yes, it is, and stop avoiding the question.”
My smile widened. “You knew I would.”
“Yes, but I do keep hoping you’ll one day do the sensible thing.”
“I did. I took Ashworth and Eli with me.”
He rolled his eyes. “You three are as bad as each other. Did you find anything?”
“A phone number—it belongs to a professor who works in the Department of Classics and Ancient History at Sydney University.”
“Did you talk to her?”
“Ashworth rang but pretended it was a misplaced call. We figured questioning would be better coming from an official source.”
He grunted. “I’ll do it tomorrow.”
“You’re still working?” I said, surprised. “I thought you were thinking about having the day off to prepare for tomorrow night.”
“I decided it was better to take the day off after the birthday bash instead.”
“Then I’ll keep my fingers crossed work doesn’t get in the way.”
“Amen to that. You want to drain the spaghetti?”
I did so, then, while he plated everything up, made us both a drink. “Is your mother still refusing to be there?”
“Don’t know, and don’t care at this particular moment.”