Grimoires and Where to Find Them Raconteur, Honor (read along books TXT) 📖

different name. We barely figured out it was him, to be honest. And then he left without checking himself out or paying the bill. We have no idea where he went from there. The name he used as an emergency contact at the apartment was actually another alias. I checked the address, did a background check on the family that lives there, and it’s clear he used their address on a whim. They’re not connected to him.”

I could feel the frustration building in the room. Shared in it, in fact. “Wait, confirm for me—the Reaper’s grimoires? Were they in the flat or not?”

“Not,” Seaton stated, the word bitten off. “Which means our thief has them stashed somewhere else.”

I liked this answer even less. While I didn’t want the grimoires in that volatile magical abyss, I didn’t like them free and possibly creating another one just like it. My worries intensified.

“Was there any sign that he lived there? I saw no bed in that flat. And where has he stashed the Reaper’s Set if not there?”

“The one we raided was a catch-all, apparently.” Gerring ticked things off on his fingers as he spoke. “We think we found his apartment on Blue Rose Street. No one has seen him there in at least two weeks. It wasn’t as great of a find as we hoped, unfortunately. No one there has seen him, and he used the same emergency contact there as he did with the first one. No indication of where else he’d put things.”

“I would bet the books you found in the first flat aren’t actually part of his collection.” Gibson stared upwards at the ceiling as he thought. “The Reaper’s grimoires are ones he’s personally collecting. That’s what Walcott said, and he should know, as he spoke with the man. So, if they weren’t at the flat, then odds are, he keeps his personal collection elsewhere.”

The reasoning was sound; I couldn’t refute it. “We know he’s been stealing and selling books, right?”

“Right,” Jamie agreed. “Walcott told us he’d initially come across this man because they were both dealing in books.”

Gibson gave a grunt. “That’s where his income is coming from, then. The flat that melted is full of inventory.”

It did make sense. Massimo didn’t have a storefront—he wasn’t running a legitimate business. So, where did he put all of his inventory? It had to go somewhere until he could fence it. A separate flat to hold it all, of course. And he must have a third flat somewhere for his own private collection.

Although, the idea that he had two flats filled to the brim with books made me shudder internally. My book lover’s heart twinged. This man truly had no real sense of how to care for the things he professed to like.

“This means he’s storing his personal collection in yet another location. He must be quite a good thief if he’s able to afford multiple flats.”

Foster groaned. “I’ll say. Rent in even the cheaper parts of Kingston isn’t exactly cheap. And renting three places? He must be quite a good thief, indeed.”

The truly worrisome aspect of this was that he obviously didn’t know how to handle grimoires. And he had a third location where he’d stashed the Reaper’s Set. Was he stacking them like he had in that poor flat? Or was he trying to take care of them, treat them like the priceless vintage books they were? Did it even matter? He’d stolen three without their protective boxes. The mental picture of what that would eventually do sent shivers up and down my spine.

“I’ve got someone watching the other apartment he’s keeping, just in case, but so far he’s a no-show.”

That did not sound good. “And the potential buyers of the Reaper’s Set? The ones Walcott thought he could sell it to? Surely they are people of interest.”

“I totally agree with you, but it’s not as clear cut as you’d think. There were only three people on Walcott’s list.” Jamie’s expression was pained. “The first man isn’t even in the country—he’s over in Saari. I have a name and phone number, but no address. I tried calling, only to get a butler who informed me his master was in very poor health and at a retreat. He wouldn’t say where, and I can’t press it.”

Because he was not in the country, we had no way of demanding an interview. I grimaced. “It’s too thin to demand a warrant.”

“Right. The second person is in the country but died two days ago. His heirs are busy liquidating his estate. I don’t think they’re interested in buying. Walcott didn’t give the third person’s name, just initials—no number. I have no idea who this is, and Walcott won’t say. I’m not sure if they’re really a lead, anyway. Walcott made it clear that Massimo was obsessed with Radman’s works. I don’t think he was stealing them for Walcott. The potential buyers might have been more wishful thinking than anything.”

Niamh snorted. “Walcott did strike me as a poor businessman.”

I had to agree there. The man jumped into things too quickly and without proper caution. Buying and setting up that lavish office alone was a poor business decision, since he didn’t have the clientele to support it.

“So, to sum it up,” Jamie said on a sigh, “we have no idea where Massimo is. We have no idea who his friends or family are because we haven’t been able to find a single person who knows him personally. Just professionally. And we have no idea what he’s going to do next.”

“Well, we kind of know what he’ll do next.” Seaton’s expression was pure sarcasm. “We know he’ll continue trying to collect the Reaper’s Set.”

“We’ve gone several rounds on this all morning.” Jamie held up a hand. “I vote early lunch, we fuel our brains, come back to it. All in favor?”

Several hands went up.

“Motion carried. Let’s come back in about an hour and a half, say? And someone come up with something brilliant in the