Under the Rose - Kathryn Nolan Page 0,1

was Bernard Allerton,” Abe said. “They worked together for more than a decade. Henry was the one who confronted Bernard with the evidence that Interpol and the FBI are still working through.”

Bernard Allerton was the most famous rare book librarian in the world—and for years, federal agents like Abe had suspected the man of orchestrating the theft of rare manuscripts and antiques on a grand scale. Six months ago, Bernard had fled Oxford and was still on the run.

“Bernard Allerton was your boss?” I asked.

Henry nodded gravely. “It took me a long time to believe he was a criminal,” he said. “The man’s an expert in manipulation.”

“That’s certainly what Abe and I believed back when we worked together,” I said.

Maybe this banishment would be interesting.

“I can confirm your beliefs were accurate.” Henry shook my hand firmly before sitting.

The dark-haired woman stepped close. She had pale skin and bright blue eyes. And an expression of absolute distrust on her face.

“Delilah Barrett,” she said. “I’m a former police detective.”

“Ah.” I nodded. “Makes sense now.”

“Delilah treats everyone like a potential suspect,” Henry explained. She glanced over at him, and her entire body relaxed.

“Old habits, I’m afraid.” She looked contrite.

“You don’t have to apologize,” I said. “I spend all my time with the Bureau. I treat everyone like a suspect too.”

She sat in front of me. “I definitely remember those days.”

“Sam is a talented agent,” Abe said, “and he’ll be an asset to us these next few weeks. His knowledge of rare book theft rivals our own. And with the festival this weekend and our other open cases, I thought an extra set of hands would be helpful.”

She smiled broadly—Abe’s trust in me was all the evidence that she needed to do the same, it seemed.

“You should know,” he continued, “that Henry and Delilah are also engaged.”

I watched the pair share a secret, romantic look while Abe bristled behind his desk.

“Abraham Royal has allowed two of his employees to be engaged?” I asked, stupefied.

“Yes, well, my only other option was losing them both. And that was never an option,” he said.

“He’s getting soft,” I told Henry and Delilah.

“I wholeheartedly agree,” she stage-whispered.

“Soft isn’t in my vocabulary, trust me,” Abe replied.

“Noted, sir,” I said. But I shot a secret grin at the couple. Abe was happy here.

“What do you think of our operation?” Abe spread his palms out, indicating his cozy office. Codex was located on the second story of a used bookstore in Philadelphia’s historic district. This floor had exposed brick walls, colonial-era fireplaces, and ceilings so low I kept hitting my head. A fitting location for a firm that specialized in retrieving stolen rare books.

“I’m looking forward to working with the team,” I said, surprised to find that it was the truth. “Why don’t you get me up to date on any active cases or investigations?”

Henry leaned forward, adjusted his glasses. “At the end of February, Delilah and I went undercover as a married couple to garner the trust of Philadelphia’s wealthiest heiress, Victoria Whitney. We believed she had stolen The Franklin Museum’s copy of On the Revolutions of Heavenly Spheres by the astronomer Copernicus.”

“Spoiler alert—she had stolen it.” Delilah’s sly look betrayed all I needed to know about how this duo had gone from fake-married to real-engaged. “We were recently alerted by Abe’s contact at the FBI that Victoria was just released from her house arrest. And Alistair Chance, the partner she rolled on, is about to start a five-year federal prison sentence.”

“Victoria and Bernard had a wild romance years ago, and she was still receiving stolen books as gifts—maybe from him—until the day he fled,” Henry said. “Whether she still communicates with him, we can’t confirm. The cases we’ve closed recently don’t appear to be interconnected but seem opportunistic in nature. If Bernard is pulling the strings from Europe, we haven’t seen it.”

“Interpol agents have potentially spotted Bernard in London,” I said.

“Unconfirmed?” Henry asked.

“Unfortunately,” I said. “Photos are blurry, at best. Sources are nonexistent. No action on his credit cards, bank accounts, or his passport. The man has successfully disappeared. Interpol has managed to keep his name from the papers both here and abroad. The majority of the world is still under the impression that Bernard Allerton is just a librarian.”

Henry glanced at Abe. “The day I met Abe, he told me a man like Bernard would have been prepared to stay underground for a very, very long time.”

“Abe is right,” I said. “The Bureau is extremely frustrated with their search.

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