Read Online What Time Devours by A. J. Hartley - Free Book Online Page A

make quite a profit for a while and then the whole thing would go away. But so long as there was a controversy over the text, they’d be coining it, and if enough scholars came out in favor of its authenticity, they’d make a mint, at least until better editions came out, which would probably take years.”
    “For a high school teacher you seem to know a lot about this.”
    “Most of this is from Escolme, so you can ask him yourself when you see him.”
    “Right,” she said, and there it was again, that slightly sardonic skepticism in her long face and thin, wide mouth.
    “What?” said Thomas. “Have you spoken to him already?”
    “No,” she said. “In fact, we’ve no idea where he is.”
    “Did you call Vernon Fredericks Literary?” said Thomas, nodding at the business card.
    “Yes,” she said, and she smiled at last, a humorless, knowing smile that left her eyes hard and fixed.
    “And?”
    “Well, it’s interesting,” she said.
    “How so?” said Thomas. He was beginning to feel toyed with.
    “They’ve never heard of him,” she said.
    “What?”
    “He doesn’t work there. Never did. And nobody with the name of David Escolme has been registered at this hotel. Ever. See,” she added, smiling again, “that’s why it’s interesting.”

CHAPTER 13
    It was like walking into a room and finding yourself on the ceiling.
    “No,” he said for the third time. “Escolme. E-S-C-O-L-M-E. First name, David. He was here last night in room 304.”
    “I’m sorry, sir,” said the concierge, “but he wasn’t. There’s no one of that name in the system.”
    “I was in there with him,” Thomas insisted.
    “He wasn’t registered in that room.”
    “But when I called this morning I was told he had checked out,” said Thomas.
    “If that was, in fact, what you were told,” said the concierge with a look at Polinski, “the desk clerk made a mistake. I suspect that all she actually said was that he wasn’t registered and you assumed she meant he had checked out. We’re pretty careful about keeping guest information private around here.”
    Thomas knew the woman was probably right, but he couldn’t let it go.
    “Right,” he said, marching away and calling to Polinski over his shoulder. “Come with me.”
    The policewoman said nothing as he led her into the elevator and hit the button for the third floor. She remained silent when they got off and made their way down the hallway to room 304, where Thomas rapped incisively on the door.
    They heard movement almost immediately, and Thomas turned his stare on Polinski, as if certain he was about to be proved right.
    He wasn’t. The door opened slowly and a woman in her seventies peered anxiously into the hallway.
    “I’m looking for David Escolme,” Thomas snapped.
    “Who?” the woman said, through the crack. She looked alarmed, and though Thomas couldn’t do anything about it, he knew it was his manner that was bothering her.
    “David Escolme,” he barked. “Medium height, midtwenties . . .”
    The woman was shaking her head.
    “When did you check into this room?” Thomas tried.
    “This morning,” she said.
    “That’s enough,” said Polinski. “We’re sorry to have bothered you, ma’am.”
    She took Thomas by the arm and began to propel him down the hallway. He shrugged out of her grasp with a splutter of irritation, but the old woman was already closing the door.
    Thomas fumed silently as the elevator descended, and when he felt Polinski’s eyes on him, he turned on her.
    “You think I made it up?” he spat. “What kind of lunatic would come up with a story like this? He was here, Goddamn it. Right there in that room. I could describe the pictures on the walls, the color of the drapes, anything to show I was in there last night.”
    “You know that those kinds of details would prove nothing,” said Polinski. “You could have been in there anytime.”
    “Why would I make this up?” he demanded as the doors opened.