Chapter 20

Rosemarie Doak, second daughter of Baron Doak, was someone Albrecht Bertholdt had brought in out of nowhere one day, saying she was the sort of talent he needed.

Doak had been less a proper Intelligence officer than something closer to a freelance informant. Because she'd been Albrecht's informant, she hadn't had much contact with anyone else, and what she was actually working on had always been a bit opaque.

"But she was the Count's, wasn't she?"

Gauss said it plainly.

Harold nodded without objecting, and Anne, who'd been about to object with an incredulous look, closed her mouth.

"Nothing the Count does goes wrong."

Anyone who'd known Albrecht Bertholdt naturally shared that faith.

"If the Count decided he needed her, then he needed her."

Between the three of them, they'd been the ones who watched Albrecht Bertholdt's genius up closest.

They didn't press the point any further.

"If there were reports, then what she was looking into is on record too, right?"

Anne cleared her throat lightly and asked Gauss. He answered at once.

"Less of it remains than I remember."

"...?"

"I've been the Count's aide for nearly ten years. Since before he became Director. I don't know exactly when he first came to know Doak, but I've delivered reports bearing her seal before."

Gauss took out a small piece of paper and showed it to Harold and Anne. It was a drawing of a crow holding a sprig of herbs in its beak. The signature R.D. was inscribed at the crow's feet.

"I didn't see the contents, but there were quite a lot. Considering that, what's left is far too little."

"How much?"

"More than half of it is gone."

"..."

Harold stared at Gauss.

"You do realize Rosemarie Doak is the most suspicious of them all right now, don't you?"

The person who'd been in the carriage with his brother. Unlike Albrecht, who'd been drugged, nothing had been detected in Rosemarie Doak's system.

There was no evidence that Rosemarie Doak had done anything, but from the circumstances alone, there was more than enough to be suspicious about.

"The Count destroyed the reports himself."

"..."

The situation was getting stranger.

"The record of the destruction remains. The Count was meticulous about that kind of thing. He was no exception when it came to his own."

"..."

That did sound like his brother...

"It was for the sake of confidentiality. Only the Count saw the destroyed reports, so no one knows what was in them."

"Then what about the reports that remain?"

Anne, beside Harold and wearing the same troubled expression, asked.

Whatever Albrecht had had Rosemarie Doak doing, if there were reports he'd destroyed, then the ones he'd kept had a reason.

"You said Dustin Glenn's name was in them?"

Anne narrowed her eyes.

"Wait a moment. When Baron Doak's second daughter died, didn't you do the autopsy or look into what she'd been working on?"

Anne was right. It was the sort of thing that should obviously have been checked.

"The carriage accident was nearly two months ago."

"Of course we did."

Despite Anne's sharp approach, Gauss didn't lose his composure.

His frown wasn't directed at Anne. It was at how suffocating everything around Albrecht's death felt. On the surface, it was just a piece of terrible luck; the deeper you went, the more questions it raised.

"But once I learned the Count had been involved in destroying documents, I went through it all again from the start. At the time I was too rattled to handle it myself, so I'd left it to someone else."

"And when you checked, the name was there?"

"If it had been that simple..."

Gauss let out a sigh, still frowning.

"I found additional reports in the Count's office. When on earth he built it I have no idea, but there was a hidden compartment in his desk."

"..."

"...A hidden compartment."

"I searched it on the off chance. Three reports bearing Rosemarie Doak's seal were kept inside."

At that point, Harold had a rough idea of what had happened.

"And that's where Dustin Glenn's name was."

"Yes. And the other two contained the names Gordon Devlin and Nicola Rowell, one each."

"..."

"As if he'd known we would be looking."

And the three of them, who knew Albrecht well, knew this was no coincidence.

He'd left them there on purpose.

For someone to see.

If there hadn't been anyone else present, Harold would have let out a good, long curse. Not that he was one to watch his tongue.

Harold ran a rough hand through his hair.

If his brother had been going to go this far, then he should have stayed alive.

Doing all this — how had he not been able to avoid his own death?

"...All right. Let's take this one thing at a time. So, what does the report say about Dustin Glenn? An informant, you said?"

"The report itself was on unsolved cases in the capital. Missing persons, murders, that kind of thing."

"Intelligence? That's city watch work."

"It wasn't me, it was the Count who was looking into them."

Gauss cleared his throat.

"It was... a sort of hobby of his. Something to clear his head between tasks."

Anne looked as though she wanted to argue, but she didn't cut in.

"Since he couldn't move on it himself, he'd have Doak handle the cases... Dustin Glenn was an informant Doak had hired on a temporary basis in that capacity. Something of an assistant. The report was a kind of... evaluation."

Gauss narrowed his eyes.

Harold hadn't known this Intelligence man very long. But he knew Gauss wasn't the sort to wear his dislike this openly.

Whatever it was, it wasn't good news.

"Dustin Glenn — too violent to keep on. To be watched as a suspect in three murders in the 5th District."

"..."

"..."

After a long silence, Harold spoke.

"So where is this Dustin Glenn now? And what about — Siri? Dustin Glenn's lover? What did she say?"

"About three weeks ago, she said, he told her he had business out of town and left the capital."

Three weeks ago —

Harold tipped his head back, then looked at Gauss.

"...That's around when I arrived in the capital, isn't it?"

---

Harold returned to the estate.

Not the place he was moving into with his nephews, and not the Archibald estate. The Bertholdt estate, guarded by the city watch.

The inside of the house was still in disarray. The stains left on the back door and in the kitchen were still there, and the same went for the study and bedroom.

With Harold's permission and Mattheus's oversight, the city watch and Intelligence had gone through the Bertholdt estate. It was strictly evidence-gathering to catch Adrien Renard — not a search for the clues Albrecht Bertholdt had left in anticipation of his death.

Well, for Intelligence it might be a little different. Gauss had respected his brother, and the sudden death of the head of the agency had Intelligence wanting a clear account of it too. But from Harold's side, Intelligence was full of faces he didn't recognize.

He was aware, at least, that what Intelligence wanted and what he wanted might not line up. Even with Mattheus watching, it wouldn't have been that hard to slip past the eye of an aging lawyer.

The thought crossed his mind that he should have gone himself, but Harold shook his head. He couldn't undo what was done, and having been there wouldn't have changed much.

And the city watch had been there too, hadn't they? That was part of why he'd deliberately brought the watch in. Worried Intelligence might snatch the credit, the watch had done more than just look over the house — they'd kept an eye on Intelligence throughout.

Through all of that chaos, the library on the ground floor had survived with no notable damage.

The library was small for a house this size. Their parents hadn't cared for reading, and his brother had had no interest in collecting books.

There was never a book worth reading twice.

That was what a genius was like...

Of all the rooms in the estate, the library was the one Albrecht paid the least attention to. Which was why Adrien Renard's people hadn't touched it while turning the study upside down. Anyone who'd worked as butler would naturally have known where Albrecht spent his time.

But Adrien Renard had been the butler only a few years. Nothing next to Harold, who'd known Albrecht his whole life.

Not as much as the old manor down in the country, but this house had its history too. Secrets tucked here and there in the estate that only the family knew.

Harold... please. Stop breaking the walls.

The wall's just too weak. And it's not really a wall.

Not a wall...? Ah, so that's what it is. Nice find, Harold.

The library had one of those secrets too.

A small space some distant ancestor had built behind a bookcase to hide valuables, or whatever else they wanted hidden.

Harold had discovered it by brute force, but Albrecht had gone the proper route and figured out how to open the hidden compartment.

Harold combed through his memory. All that came back was that his brother had, for once, worn an excited look explaining it — the actual details wouldn't come.

"...Nothing for it."

Crack.

He remembered where it was, so he tore the bookcase apart the way he'd done as a child.

He'd thought of it while Gauss was talking about finding a hidden compartment in the office desk. That there were a few of them in the house too.

There were ones in the study and bedroom. Those had been the first places he'd checked. But they were empty.

Someone might have found them first, but he didn't think his brother, having left clues on Adrien Renard, would have stored anything in a room the man had free run of.

The most secure place would have been the Bertholdt family safe, but —

Opening the safe requires blood.

His brother had disliked the sight of blood; he wasn't likely to have bled himself just to tuck something away. Besides, there was already something waiting inside the safe.

That was why he'd come to the library, following the memories of his childhood. He cleared the books off a shelf and broke the shelving apart. Fortunately, he'd remembered the location correctly.

Behind the torn-out shelving was a small space. A bundle of papers sat inside, perfectly preserved, without so much as dust on it.

Harold took it all out.

And blinked at what was there.

The topmost sheet was a portrait of a woman smiling brightly. A small drawing in pencil. Even though it was only a sketch, Harold recognized the face at once.

Sure enough, beneath the portrait was a folded newspaper. It was dated years ago. The front page. On the newsprint was the face of a woman who looked exactly like the one in the unfinished portrait. Alongside a brief caption.

Countess Bertholdt. Cecilia Barbosa.

The paper from the day his sister-in-law's disappearance had been announced.

"...!"

Harold looked toward the door. There were footsteps. Hurried footsteps, and familiar ones.

Harold hastily pushed the books back onto the shelf. He roughly covered the marks of the broken shelving, gathered up the portrait, the newspaper, and the documents he hadn't yet gone through, and stepped out of the library.

"Mattheus? What is it?"

"My lord! Something terrible has happened!"

The lawyer had lost his usual sharpness entirely, his face gone bluish white as he trembled.

The boys? Had something happened to Edgar and Edwin?

Just as Harold's face went hard and he was about to demand what had happened, Mattheus spoke.

"Mr. Bleiss has been murdered!"