‘Well the number of people who have access here could be endless,’ Katherine shrugged.
‘Mr Brookmyre said it was very exclusive back here,’ Vanessa said, shaking her head with confusion.
‘Well yes but we have students come here to study for their dissertations all the time.’
Vanessa wasn’t surprised by the offer they had made to universities across America; she had made a fair few visits behind the scenes of several museums as she completed her studies on the former president. She’d never imagined damaging the historic documents however and she was determined to find the culprit regardless of whether they had Lincoln’s body or not. Damaging national historic artefacts was sacrilege.
‘Have there been any visitors with a particular interest in Thomas Lincoln or this box?’
‘Well there was somebody here the other day. He said he was from Springfield University. He said he was completing his dissertation about Lincoln’s childhood influences on his political career.’
‘Brilliant, well that should narrow it down,’ Vanessa replied giddily. ‘We can contact the university and see who is studying that theory.’
‘You haven’t been in this game very long, have you, Vanessa? Do you really believe they were being honest about their studies? They would have said whatever they could to get back here,’ Darnell replied smugly. ‘First rule, Vanessa. Criminals lie.’
‘Actually, we do know he was from Springfield University,’ Katherine butted in. ‘We require proof of academic status to enter here. He would’ve had a student card to enter.’
‘But he could’ve been lying about the course?’ Darnell raised his eyebrows before turning to Vanessa. ‘I just don’t buy that this guy would be this honest about his studies. He’s just handing it to us on a plate.’
‘But he must be studying something to do with Lincoln to have us go on this trail. This person knows a lot about Lincoln, more than any amateur. He knows more than me for God’s sakes with my degrees…’ Vanessa paused before turning to Darnell. ‘And of course more than you, with all your passion for the subject too. How many times have you visited that museum in Springfield? Once, twice a year? And you’ve never heard about any of this.’
‘How do you know so much about my pastimes?’
‘I’m a good detective. Plus you mentioned yesterday that you’d spent a lot of time there.’ Vanessa winked. ‘So now we have a university and a subject. We’re onto something here, Darnell.’
‘We’ll also have a name,’ Katherine interrupted. ‘He would have signed in at reception and we would have taken a photocopy of his ID too.’
Vanessa and Darnell smiled at each other.
‘We’ve got him.’
Chapter 7
The detectives packed up their belongings in the trunk of Darnell’s car. They had all they needed from Kentucky and had a strong lead in Springfield. A photocopy of the student card of a twenty-one-year-old male, Michael Yarn, had been discovered in the visitor’s log at the research centre. He was one of two students who had checked in over the last month and he was the only person in the last year who came from Springfield.
As they departed the birthplace of Lincoln, Darnell received a call on his cell and he answered it through the blue-tooth application, curious about the notable 270 Kentucky area code.
‘Detective Jackson speaking, how can I help you?’
‘Morning, detective, this is Constable Slemmingway here, working on behalf of the KPD. We were told to contact you in regards to a case of vandalism at one of our tourist sites in Lexington.’
‘Well surely that’s a case for you guys rather than us?’
‘Well we were specifically told to call you. You see it’s at the former childhood home of Mary Todd.’
‘Lincoln’s wife,’ Vanessa whispered.
‘What kind of vandalism are we talking here?’ Darnell enquired, determined not to make a wasted journey when they had a strong lead back home in Springfield.
‘Well if I told you it had a laurel wreath with a fist punching out of the top of it, would you view it as important?’
The detectives looked at each other and nodded. ‘We’ll be right over.’
Vanessa put in a call to Commander Hill and asked him to interview Michael Yarn on their behalf to avoid losing time whilst they followed up this curious new case of vandalism.
The detectives arrived at the two-storey brick house. The outside had a stone water table and a belt course. The Georgian style home was built in 1803 and was the residence of the First Lady until 1839, when she relocated to Springfield. The house took Vanessa’s breath away. It was an impressive building.
‘Isn’t it romantic?’ Vanessa asked Darnell, who offered her a bemused glance. ‘I mean it’s like Romeo and Juliet. Two people from different classes finding love. Lincoln from a modest, very poor background and Mary Todd was from… well here… I bet it was quite the scandal at the time!’
‘I wonder if she’d have married him if he wasn’t already training to be a lawyer,’ Darnell remarked, sceptical about her devotion to the penniless peasant.
They were welcomed by the site manager, Victor Hemmingale, who escorted them around the grand abode. Hemmingale was a tall man of over six feet but he lurched forward holding on to his cane as he hobbled through the site. He had a long face, a thick head of grey hair and was dressed in a black suit. Vanessa thought he had a look of Lincoln himself, if only he had a stovepipe hat.
‘Fifty years I’ve been working here. I’ve never given it up. I do love this place. Of course I need help these days with the upkeep. Never have I ever discovered graffiti here so
