‘It was. The five-minute warning was given once all the food was assembled for the Feast, following all the correct procedures. The door was locked.’
‘And after five minutes, the door was opened again?’ asked the tall man.
‘During that five minutes no one could have got into the dining room,’ insisted Kingfisher. ‘When the door was unlocked everyone sat down to eat. Angelique Squerr was sitting next to that dessert right until the moment Dr Thallomius ate it. I questioned everyone. She is adamant no one could have touched it.’
‘Well, well, I believe that gives us just two intriguing possibilities. Maybe three.’ The man leant forward and completely unexpectedly shook Seth’s hand.
‘Inspector Pewter, MagiCon. For all your magical crime solving needs. You’ll have heard of us, of course. I would like to say that most of the rumours really aren’t true.’
‘No, sir,’ Seth managed to squeak, wiping his sweating hands on his trousers and fighting an urge to introduce himself to this magical inspector as the main suspect.
Kingfisher gave Seth a triumphant glance and Seth could feel his future slipping away. He braced himself finally for questions, the back of his neck prickling.
Pewter cleared his throat with a discreet cough and Seth guessed this was it, the questions were coming.
‘Do you play tennis?’ Pewter asked.
Seth shook his head nervously, his voice seemed to have deserted him. He was focused on Pewter being part of the magical police and having all sorts of unusual and unpleasant methods for extracting the truth.
‘Very wise,’ nodded Pewter. ‘Ridiculous game. But somewhat addictive.’ He let out a deep sigh. ‘You think you’re getting better, but—’
‘The poison wasn’t in it when it went into the dining room,’ said Seth, speaking quickly, but the words coming out as a whisper. ‘I had no reason to kill him. He was kind to me.’
‘Was he indeed?’ Pewter inched the top half of his body across the desk so his head was level with Seth’s. ‘Quiet for one who’s causing all the trouble. When you said “No, sir” a moment ago, did you mean you had never heard of MagiCon, or just had never heard the rumours?’
‘Err, both, sir.’
‘Well, well. Now that leads me on to a most important question.’ He looked about him, his head almost scraping the ceiling. ‘Do you think there’s any chance of a cup of tea?’ He looked at Kingfisher. ‘And have you offered one to your master criminal?’
‘Erm . . .’ faltered Kingfisher.
Pewter rummaged in an inside pocket and Seth took the small, plain white card he slid across the desk. He read the words, which were arranged in a circle: MagiCon – all your magical crimes SOLVED.
Alongside the words was a picture of Pewter looking like a headmaster about to dish out an awful punishment.
‘We used to have this slogan we make crime disappear – you’ve heard of that? It was quite famous at one time.’
‘I – I don’t think so, sir.’
‘It was a rubbish slogan anyway, I mean, no one can make crime disappear. We make criminals disappear, occasionally.’ His face broke into a smile. ‘But we do bring them back again – well,’ the smile fell again, ‘most of them.’
Seth noticed that after the word SOLVED was a small asterisk and at the bottom of the card in tiny letters was the word *usually.
‘What does this mean – usually?’ asked Seth, frowning at the card. ‘Solved – usually?’
‘Oh, don’t worry about that,’ said Pewter, taking the card back and tucking it in an inside jacket pocket and revealing a range of miniature bottles and jars along the lining as he did so. ‘That’s just something overcautious legal folk advised to put in after the incident with the werewolf and the piano player. If you ask me, things didn’t end as badly for that werewolf as people say.’
There was a soft tap at the door and Angelique slipped in without waiting to be asked. ‘Angelique Squerr,’ she announced. ‘I was Dr Thallomius’s personal assistant. I took notes at the Prospect. I thought there might be something I could help with?’ She took a seat at the desk.
‘Perfect timing, Miss Squerr. We were discussing what exactly brought the Sorcerer General himself to the Last Chance Hotel. I am sure you are going to tell us that Thallomius himself came all the way out here to meet exceptional candidates. Ones he was keen to invite into the magical community? Strong signs of magic?’
Angelique twirled the long strand of red in her hair around and around her fingers. ‘Not particularly.’
‘Not particularly. I see.’
Seth kept his fingers clenched on the arms of the chair, trying not to panic as he waited for someone to tell him whether he was under arrest or not. Four people in the minuscule room meant all of them were practically touching noses and the heat was soaring now. If he didn’t get out of here soon, he felt he was going to faint or start to blurt out the wrong things.
He looked up as a gust of fresh air breathed into the room, carrying with it an aroma of the hotel’s signature fish-head soup. Pewter had opened the door and now he lifted his nose and sniffed. ‘What is that delicious smell?’
‘That’s soup, sir,’ replied Seth, always more confident talking about anything to do with cooking.
‘Soup? Well, I have just been playing the most intense tennis of my life. I don’t know about everyone else, but might I suggest we move somewhere a little more roomy? And if possible, our chief murder suspect could make himself useful and lead us to this soup.’
Seth went to rise and gratefully abandon the stifling room when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He looked up into Pewter’s serious face towering above him.
‘Unless you have got something you want to tell me, young Seth?’
Seth caught a whiff of clean mintiness as Pewter put his face even closer.
‘You’re not going to warn me not to eat that soup, are you?’ Pewter said in a low voice.
‘N-no, sir. Not at all, sir. The soup is very good, sir. My father’s recipe.’
‘And you are completely sure you didn’t poison the soup as well as that apricot dessert?’
Seth swallowed, then shook his head firmly. ‘Sir, I didn’t poison anything.’
As he looked fearfully into the inspector’s face, Seth thought he saw wrinkles appearing in the corners of Pewter’s eyes, as though his face might be crinkling into the ghost of a mischievous smile.
But Seth thought he may have simply imagined it as he scrambled gratefully out of his seat, relieved to lead the way to the kitchen in search of soup.
18. Up to His Elbows in Trouble
In the kitchen, a few moments later, Seth was sliding a bowl in front of Inspector Pewter and stuttering reassuring words about the safety of the soup. He was telling him that the soup had been eaten by many of the guests that evening with no ill effects, when Dunster-Dunstable bustled in. He looked directly at Seth with blatant curiosity, and then scuttled over to Angelique and Kingfisher.
‘So, what happens now?’ Dunster-Dunstable muttered, as he took a pack of cards out of his pocket and started shuffling them. ‘I mean, it’s a tricky one isn’t it? Dr Thallomius won’t be able to tell us – did we all pass – are we in the Elysee? What’s going to happen to us?’
He kept sliding glances towards Seth, who was so used to being either ignored or bossed around, it felt weird to be the centre of attention. He took a seat in the darkest and farthest corner.
Angelique rose and looked down her long nose. ‘Dr Thallomius is dead. Murdered. That is surely all anyone is thinking of right now.’
Inspector Pewter went over and gripped Dunster-Dunstable’s hand warmly. ‘The Great Gandolfini. Amazing stage illusions. You’ve been performing since you were eight, I believe? Inspector Pewter, MagiCon – you’ve heard of us of course. Now, we have here a devilishly clever crime, no one can see how it was done, so blame has fallen on this roguish kitchen boy. Impossible crime, utterly fascinating locked-room mystery. Seems right up your
street. Bet you have ideas?’ Pewter raised one of his silvery eyebrows.
Dunster-Dunstable looked flattered, then his expression changed. He placed both his hands on his chest and looked wounded. ‘You can’t think I had anything to do with it? What reason would I have to kill him? He was just about to finally award me my rightful place in the Elysee.’
Angelique’s calm voice carried from the back of the kitchen, ‘Or maybe not. Maybe you weren’t happy that this is the third time you’ve auditioned for the Prospect. Maybe you thought he’d reject you again.’
‘Worried Dr Thallomius would see straight through your cheap tricks? Going by the ludicrous name of the Great Gandolfini,’ scoffed Kingfisher. ‘Nothing but smoke and mirrors. Did you fail again to do any genuine magic?’
‘So this is what happens now is it? We all sit around and accuse each other?’ Dunster-Dunstable moved towards Kingfisher, his face dropping its grin, but only for a second, then his mischievous smile was back in its proper place. ‘Well, this time my magic was awesome. This time I am bound to be in.’ He put his head on one side. ‘But, perhaps I should just say, do you know what a proper old state Papperspook got into when she found out Dr Thallomius himself was taking the Prospect? Of course, Gloria’s grandfather – Wintergreen Troutbean – and Dr Thallomius fell out big time. Bad blood with Thallomius goes back years. And why don’t you ask the professor what she thinks of the Prospect?’
Kingfisher leapt in. ‘Bad blood?’
Seth was listening to everything, but all he could think, with a sinking feeling, was that this was going to keep happening. People were going to talk about things that were way beyond him. Things that made no sense about a world of which he knew nothing.
‘Didn’t you know that the last anyone heard of Wintergreen was that he was one of the Missing Feared Exploded as a result of the Unpleasant?’ went on Darinder, as he spun out of the room with a mischievous grin on his face and left Seth puzzling further.
Seth sat in his quiet corner realizing that he had a desperate need to find out more. Pewter and Kingfisher were talking in low voices, exchanging notes, and Angelique was staring into the far distance, letting her tea go cold.
He needed to find out everything he could about the magical world, because his only chance of proving that he was innocent was to find out who had really done it. And to do that he needed to understand. The only hope he had was to remain as quiet as possible, to keep listening and maybe just see if Angelique would tell him just a little bit more.
There was a noise from just outside the room. A laugh that sounded exactly like the bark of a dog. Seth tensed at the sound, which probably meant Tiffany had been delighting in listening to someone else tormenting Seth for a change and now she was here to stir things up.
Seth heard the dread sound of her tiny footsteps as she made her entrance into the kitchen, bestowing one of her dazzling smiles on everyone in turn.
‘This tragedy is so shocking,’ she began in a low, breathy voice. ‘I just wanted you all to know that I would be more than delighted to do whatever I can to help.’
Tiffany’s white face loomed behind Seth as she inched closer to where he was sitting in his chair. How long had she been lurking? Long enough to have found out that their murdered VIP guest was the most important sorcerer in the land?
He couldn’t even begin to imagine how Tiffany would react to that news or what she might do if she found out that all the people staying at the hotel were here to apply to join the magical community.
He fervently hoped she was still in the dark about it all, because Tiffany having the power of magic was one of the worst things he could possibly imagine. Something so terrifying, worse, even, than being led away from here in handcuffs.
She blinked her blue eyes and went and stood right behind Seth’s chair. ‘I want to help to clear up this terrible crime.’
‘How kind of you to offer,’ declared Pewter. ‘Delightful! Perfect timing to be of help. You are just the person we need to help us clear up a confusion. I am intrigued by this famous dessert that was clearly marked as intended only for Dr Thallomius?’
‘I was asked to do something special just for him,’ said Seth nervously, but glad of a chance to explain. ‘There was something in the other dessert he was allergic to.’
‘See, he even researched his victim!’ snapped Kingfisher.
‘Err, well, it’s important to know things about the guests,’ stammered Seth.
‘And the second Dr Thallomius ate this dessert, he dropped down, quite dead?’ went on Pewter.
Seth nodded.
‘Are you going to arrest my little saucepan scrubber?’ Tiffany’s beautiful face adopted a mask of concern, but Seth could tell she was gleeful. ‘You’re really going to take him away? I can’t imagine Seth doing anything quite so daring, I mean, so disturbing, as murdering someone. Surely he is going back to his bins and his washing up?’
Tiffany had moved even closer to Seth’s chair now, so that he could almost smell her delight as she leant forward, her breath tickling as she spoke right in his ear.
She turned to Pewter and said sweetly. ‘So what can I do? There must be something.’
‘Well yes. I am sure it must have been you who created this stunning pavlova I’ve been hearing about? And the apricot dessert, your work I am sure? Not the work of your little saucepan scrubber here?’
Tiffany turned around slowly, giving Pewter the full benefit of her hypnotic eyes. ‘Oh, I’m afraid all of that was Seth. He is a very slow learner and more than a little useless, but I have done my best to teach him a thing or two when I can spare the time. And I have had a little success. You may need to press him a little to confess. I am sure I could help with that too. In fact, I’d be delighted.’
The familiar terrifying smell of stale rum announced the arrival of Norrie Bunn. Was she here to torment him like her daughter? Was no one going to stand up for Seth and point out he had no reason to kill Dr Thallomius?
‘I think you have questioned Seth long enough,’ said Norrie, and just for a moment Seth thought he saw a glimmer of salvation. ‘He has duties that he is very behind with. Unless you are arresting him and taking him away tonight, I suggest he goes and tidies up the hotel lounge and makes it fit for guests. And stoke up the fire while you are about it, Seth.’
19. A Genius Inventor
In the lounge, sitting quite alone, huddled in the chair nearest to the fireplace, with only the last red flickering of the dwindling fire for company, sat Count Marred.
He looked the picture of misery as Seth slipped in and gathered together the glasses and wiped the low table by the squashy chairs. Count Boldo Marred barely looked up to register his presence as Seth silently cleared the cocktail bar from when everyone had been in here only a few hours ago, sharing drinks and nervous jokes and playing a jolly game of cards.
The Count was still lost in a world of his own as others joined him in the comfortable chairs and Norrie began to offer drinks from the bar.
But when Seth went to stoke the fire, he felt Count Marred’s intense scrutiny and was glad when Kingfisher broke the silence that had developed, even though what he said only reminded Seth of the fact that he had a head swimming with questions.
‘My background checks mean I can confirm it is true,’ Kingfisher announced officiously. ‘Wintergreen Troutbean, Gloria Troutbean’s grandfather, is indeed one of the sorcerers officially declared Missing Feared Exploded following that terrible day that everyone fears even to talk about.’
‘Ah yes, Wintergreen was indeed one of the lost of the Unpleasant.’ It was Count Marred who spoke, growling low in his gravelly voice. ‘That day brought such appalling loss of life among members of our community. A tragedy.’
Kingfisher carried on reading his notes. ‘And Wintergreen was once a close friend of Dr Thallomius. They were famous for their magical inventions.’
‘Such a genius inventor in his younger days – people have forgotten,’ sighed Count Marre
d. ‘But I never heard Torpor speak a bad word against Wintergreen Troutbean. It is true that they fell out. But that was donkey’s years ago.’
‘Ah well, Dr Thallomius probably knew better than anyone how nothing annoys one’s enemies quite so much as forgiving them,’ said Pewter, sinking into a seat alongside him. ‘Boldo, you were great friends with Dr Thallomius. I am extremely sorry for your loss. You spent the afternoon with him. Did he say anything to you that might help us?’
Boldo shook his head slowly. ‘Torpor was right as rain all afternoon. We had tea and then played a jolly game of four-handed brag. Torpor was beating us all, although that was Dunster-Dunstable up to his old tricks. Devil with a pack of cards that boy.’
‘But Dr Thallomius was winning all the money,’ Kingfisher frowned.
Marred spread his hands. ‘Of course. That lad was making sure Dr Thallomius won – because it was a clumsy attempt at a bribe! Not that it would have made the slightest bit of difference. Torpor took his duties too seriously. Saving the magical world from dwindling and dying out, that was Torpor. A life spent fighting for magic to be a force for good.’
Marred’s scarred face crumpled into a picture of misery. ‘Can you credit it, Pewter, that our world has grown so fragile that there are actually people out there who do not believe magical people exist? My good friend Thallomius was determined to change that. There have been some dark times.’ Count Marred burst into tears, but carried on bravely. ‘But this idea of seeking out those with true magic and inviting them to become apprentices. Genius. And essential to the future health of the world of sorcerers, wasn’t it, Pewter?’
‘Brave policies,’ said Pewter.
Marred took the large tartan handkerchief Pewter offered him and wiped a big tear from the corner of his eye. ‘Torpor was not afraid to take them on. Sorcerers were coming around to recognize that his was the way forward.’
‘Although,’ interrupted Gregorian Kingfisher smoothly, ‘people do have a habit of blaming his policies for the uprising that resulted in the Unpleasant and the unfortunate ends of those forty-two sorcerers now Missing Feared Exploded.’
The Last Chance Hotel Page 6
