“Good, good.” He hung up the scarf, which dangled nearly to the floor, but kept his bulky coat on for the time being. “While you’ve been relaxing, I have descried invaluable evidentiary information that may prove essential to our investigation.”

“What?”

“I found something. Come with me.”

Chapter Ten

Jackaby filled me in on the details of his return to room 301 as we walked back down the crooked hallway. He had been able to successfully slip in and out without detection, and had uncovered a few papers of interest.

Arthur Bragg had produced reams of scribbled notes, most kept in his own shorthand. Amid the papers on his desk were details of recent political debates and annotated minutes from city hall meetings. He had notes from interviews with Mayor Spade and with Commissioner Swift. Both men, as best Jackaby could tell from his quick glance at Bragg’s shorthand, were discussing the upcoming mayoral election.

“Sounds like Detective Cane was right,” I said. “Bragg must have been Commissioner Swift’s connection at the newspaper.”

“So it would seem.”

“I see why Swift was so angry about it being right under his nose! It wasn’t just a murder in his city—he let his personal newsman get killed before his free publicity even hit the stands.”

“Yes, well, it seems Mr. Bragg had been looking into something else as well.”

Jackaby reached the end of the hallway and gave the door to his laboratory a shove. It squeaked open, and he pushed past whatever had been blocking it, sending several ripe red apples rolling across the carpet.

“Oh, blast, it’s overflowing again,” he muttered, ducking absently under the skeletal alligator as he plowed in. “Mind your step. Help yourself to an apple if you like.”

I remained in the doorway. A heavy black cauldron sat on the other side of the door, teeming with fresh fruit. I hadn’t had a proper meal since yesterday, but something about the room’s lingering smell of burnt hair and unknown chemicals quashed my appetite.

Jackaby crossed the room and pulled off his coat, draping it casually over the mannequin. From its pockets, he pulled out a few of the vials I had seen earlier and nestled them into waiting slots on the big metal rack. He continued, selectively removing items, like the slim vials I had seen him peering through, and replacing them with new ones. New artifacts found their way into the myriad pockets as he darted about, among them a Chinese coin, a set of rosary beads, and a little vial with something that rattled inside it. I gave up following his movements as he restocked.