I trailed off, correctly guessing that Eudora had a tender ego that loved a good stroke.
“You make an old woman quite happy, Devon,” she said. “I’m a normal person, like you. A fan who was willing to step into a leadership role when a vacuum appeared.”
I tilted my head. “A vacuum?”
“Our current, well former, president Bernard Allerton is on a very long sabbatical. He made the tough decision to step down while away, allowing me to step into his role.”
Her smile was all wolf—granny was gone.
“You seem better suited to it,” I said, adding a wink. “Always nice to see a woman in charge.”
“Always,” she agreed. “I’m very close with Bernard and there are no hard feelings. When he returns—” She coughed a little here. “Excuse me, when he returns, we’ll see which leader our members prefer.”
I didn’t blink. “And when is Bernard coming back?”
Eudora touched her ear. “We shall see, my dear. He’s been vague with his return plans.”
“Oh,” I said, tapping my mug with my fingernail. “Where is he, by the way? I know he’s a little bit famous around these parts. I was surprised his whereabouts are unknown.”
I held my breath, testing the waters, seeing how much she knew and what she was willing to share.
“They’re not unknown. They’re a secret,” she said. “Only a chosen few know where he is.” Her smile turned smug. I wasn’t sure if this was bullshit or not, but she believed it. Which made Eudora Green rapidly change from source to suspect.
“You know where he is, don’t you?” I teased.
She mimed a lock at her lips, a key she tossed past her shoulder. I was aware of how tightly I held the china cup—how badly I wanted to throw the tea in her face and demand she tell me where the fuck this man was.
“Will you tell him about the Doyle papers being auctioned?” I asked, studying her reaction.
“Yes, I’ll get in touch with him,” she said. “I’m fully in charge and the key decision-maker regardless of where he is. And between you and me, we won’t get those papers. They’re not even up for auction yet, and they’re basically gone.”
I took another sip. “Bernard will be disappointed, sounds like.”
“We’ll all be,” she said quickly. “My job is to lead us through rough waters and smooth sailing alike. That’s the job of a leader.”
I cranked up my smile—while internally remembering every story I’d heard these weeks about her nasty temper and vengeful spirit. “Do you miss Bernard? I heard the two of you were especially close. Which means you must be special to attract the attention of such a famous man.”
Bernard Allerton wasn’t famous like a movie star, but he was extremely well-known in the world of academics and librarians, the fields of antiquities and history, and even archaeology. His reputation had a far-reaching impact.
“We’ve always had a connection,” Eudora said.
“Romantic?” I asked with a girlish look.
She giggled—it was jarring. “Not at all. Bernard had one love in his lifetime—she was also an American, like you. That was years ago.”
I grabbed onto that lead with both hands and shoved it away for later. Who did Bernard love? And did this woman know where the hell he was?
“No, our connection has always been deeper. I’d say more intellectual. We have similar minds.” She touched her earrings like a shy schoolgirl.
“I can see why,” I said, playing into it. Assessing where to go next—the woman clearly loved Bernard in her own way. Was she protecting him? Or was all of this a fantasy for her?
“Now you haven’t told me if you’re a Doylean or a Sherlockian?” Eudora asked. “I’m sure the other members have grilled you appropriately.”
I’d done my research before coming here. Each member of the Society had a D or an S listed next to their name on the website.
“Doylean,” I answered.
“Very good,” she said proudly. “Of course, the Society is unique in that we accept members from both schools of thought, and even those who straddle the middle. But…” She leaned across the small space. “I’m a strict Doylean.”
“No Great Game for you,” I teased.
She rolled her eyes. “That was all Bernard. He was a Sherlockian and a member of the Baker Street Irregulars, you know.”
“I did not,” I said, which was the truth and only added to my interest in these damn papers. The intensity of Bernard’s obsession with Holmes was so deep he believed the characters were real. In my time with the Society I’d learned the community was divided into Doyleans and Sherlockians.
A Doylean, like Eudora, worshipped the genius of Arthur Conan Doyle and his stories and characters. A Sherlockian embarked on the Great Game—a form of scholarship that presumed Holmes and Watson were flesh-and-blood human beings. Arthur Conan Doyle was merely their literary agent. The Baker Street Irregulars were a tight-knit group of Sherlockians, and the fact that Bernard was one of them intrigued me. Did he truly adhere to their academic ideas? Or were they just a source of rabid literary lovers he could easily sell stolen books to?
“As president, I’m not supposed to take sides. Between us girls…” Eudora lifted a shoulder and smirked.
“I think it’s pretty dumb,” I said. She laughed, coquettish, and I felt a small sense of satisfaction that I’d read this woman so quickly and so correctly.
Although the original source of these undercover skills—the charm, the easy lies—wasn’t something I liked to think too hard about. Immediately, my hand slipped into my pocket and gripped Abe Royal’s business card. The advantage this information had given me was thrilling.
The fact that I’d pickpocketed it was not. It wasn’t even an old habit—it was an old skill I was forced to do for years, even after I understood the harm it unleashed.
Abe Royal’s presence had provoked a chemical, lizard-brain reaction in me, and stealing from his pockets was the result. If I didn’t suspect I’d need him over the coming days, I’d steer clear. Because a devastatingly handsome man who made me lose my mind—literally—was not the distraction I wanted to deal with as my deadline rapidly approached.
Whatever information he might provide would need to come from a distance.
Eudora peeked at her watch. “I hate to cut this short, but I do have more people coming by today. I’m sure I’ll be hearing all about the auction and what their proposed solutions are.”
I stood, placed the teacup down next to the fireplace and a replica of Sherlock Holmes’s violin. “Thank you for chatting with me. And for answering my nosy questions.”
“Anything for another Doylean,” she said. “We have to stick together. It’s important to cultivate true friends in this world. That’s what I’ve learned from being in the Society. Real friends, friends you can trust, you’d move mountains for.”
I fixed a smile on my face. “That’s the truest thing I know.”
And the biggest lie I’d told all day.
She led me through the small rooms that comprised the museum and out into an even smaller lobby. Already, tourists were starting to stream in dressed in various costumes. Eudora was scanning the room, face brightening at a man standing in the corner.