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“Finn, I know there’s a lot goingon for you right now,” she said gently.
“I’m fine… Amelia, honestly,” hesaid.
“I hear you’re looking for me?” aloud voice boomed around the large hall in a commanding English accent.
Finn looked away from Winters andsaw a man with a cane and white curly hair. He was dressed impeccably in atweed suit, and despite being at least in his late seventies and walking with alimp, he strode toward them with an air of authority.
“Are you the curator?” Finn asked,clearing his throat.
“I certainly am,” the man said ashe stopped before them. “The name’s Hawkins, Kelvin Hawkins.”
“Hello, Mr. Hawkins,” Winterssaid, shaking his hand. “My name is Amelia Winters and I’m with HertfordshireConstabulary. We’re investigating the—”
“The murder of Quentin and MaggieDeGrey?” he said.
Finn was a little unnerved. “Yes.How did you know?”
“You’re Finn Wright, aren’t you?The FBI agent?”
“Either you’re psychic or someonehas filled you in,” Finn said.
“Not psychic, old man,” Kelvinsaid. “Though I am interested in the paranormal as well as the strictlyscientific. There was an incident in my younger years when I saw something in Mother’sattic. A floating figure wrapped in an old burial shroud. Scared the Dickensout of me to tell you the truth.”
It struck Finn that Kelvin enjoyedtelling a story, but they were on the hunt to stop the killer from striking again.
“How do you know us, Mr. Hawkins?”Finn asked.
“The ghastly television, I’mafraid,” he answered. “I prefer a good book, but the television has been a bitof a mistress for me. You were both on the news this morning.”
“Great,” Winters said to Finn.
“It was bound to happen,” Finnsaid. He didn’t mention it there and then, but if his involvement with the FBIwas being mentioned on national news channels, then that was going to irk hisbosses at the Bureau even more.
“Do you deal with the financialside of things here, Mr. Hawkins?” Winters asked.
“Please, call me Kelvin. And wehave a board of trustees for that, young lady. I deal mainly with the displaysand artifacts here.”
“Shouldn’t a curator be in chargeof everything, including the financial side of things, at a museum?” Finn inquired,surprised.
“Not always.” Kelvin sighed. “Atone time, I was involved in all of that sort of thing, but since the trusteeboard took over, I’ve very much become more of a symbolic figurehead at themuseum, rather than a real one. Sometimes I think they only keep me aroundbecause of my contacts at other museums around the globe. It comes in handy forthem, I suppose. But it suits me, they keep out of my business for the mostpart and I keep out of theirs.”
“Are you aware that Quentin DeGreyhas left DeGrey Castle and its estate to the museum?” Winters continued.
Kelvin looked around as if tryingto make sure no one else was listening. “Yes, I am. But we don’t want any badpublicity from this. It’s awful news about the murders, and I feel terriblethat we will benefit so greatly from such a tragedy.”
“Why would he leave everything toyour museum, Kelvin?” Finn asked.
“I didn’t know Quentin DeGreybeyond one or two brief chats here,” he answered. “But I do remember himtelling me about how his father used to bring him to this museum when he was achild.”
Finn felt a pang of strangecoincidence. He understood why a boy would carry good feelings for such placesthroughout his life, especially if it kept him close to his father.
“I believe Mr. DeGrey wanted toensure that future generations could continue to enjoy the museum as he had.And I have to say, though I’d never have wished for it to turn out this way, Mr.DeGrey’s generosity will make a huge difference. I don’t know all of the details,but I do know the museum has been struggling financially to keep up with lowerthan usual visitor numbers and donations.”
Winters gave Finn a knowingglance. Money seemed more and more likely as a motivating factor in the deaths.
“Did Maggie DeGrey have anyconnection to the museum?” Winters inquired.
“Yes,” Kelvin answered. “She hasattended a number of our gala nights, and had even raised funds for us. Such aterrible thing to see a young woman like that cut down by barbarism.”
