‘With poison,’ drawled Kingfisher, ‘age and size hardly comes into it.’
Professor Papperspook drew herself up to her full height, which made her complicated and colourful hair start to nod. ‘Are you suggesting my niece—’
Seth decided it was a good time to head for the kitchen and slipped away, hearing Pewter saying something like they must all be hungry and suggesting that they move to the comfortable hotel lounge while they awaited the call for breakfast.
Was Mr Bunn out to defraud the Elysee into awarding him a place? Or could he really do magic? There was only one way to find out more.
He had to find Mr Bunn and not let him out of his sight. He simply had to discover what his boss was up to.
Breakfast could not have been further from Seth’s mind, so he sneaked up to the door to the kitchen and listened.
‘It’s only scrambling eggs, sweet pea,’ Norrie was saying. ‘You can scramble an egg.’
‘Why can’t Dad and Henri help?’ Tiffany moaned.
‘The question is where is that boy! Only thinking of himself. Where has he got to? Under arrest for murder. If you ask me, it’s just an excuse to get him out of doing his jobs.’
There was a smell of burning.
‘Even Seth could manage to scramble an egg, sweet pea.’ Norrie sounded cross. ‘Just what exactly are you learning at that expensive school of yours?’
Seth fled before Norrie Bunn could discover him lurking in the doorway and put him to work. So Mr Bunn wasn’t in the kitchen. Then where was he? What was Mr Bunn up to?
Seth darted a quick look in the lounge, where the guests were assembling. He could hear them all trying hard to be polite to each other. But no Mr Bunn.
He made a quiet dash to his attic room. Night-shade was stretched out full length on the bed like a puddle of darkness, catching up with some snooze time.
Angelique had told him there was magic here at the hotel, some sort of distorted magic. How had Mr Bunn managed to do magic?
Seth sank on to the end of the bed, wondering, and earning a sharp reproving claw in the leg.
‘I’m not asleep. I’m on the case,’ Nightshade muttered drowsily.
Seth stroked her soft fur.
He thought of Angelique jetting everything with a fierce blue light. He thought how the walls of the hotel had seemed to respond with a threatening rumble.
‘Just leave the breakfast in the bowl as usual,’ muttered Nightshade.
Seth slowly reached out, extending his arm towards the longest wall in the room, slowly lengthening his fingers, reaching tentatively towards the rough cracked plaster of his attic room. Was it possible there could be magic here? Actually in the walls?
He flexed his fingers nervously, not daring to even brush the wall, as if just touching it might bring that voice again.
‘Do stop wriggling,’ snapped Nightshade, giving him another jab in the leg.
Seth brought his fingers back in sharply.
‘You’re getting distracted, Seth. Kingfisher still wants to arrest you. He’s the one you’ve got to convince. You’ve got to get something on one of the others. They all seem to have a reason to want Dr Thallomius out of the picture. Which of them is it, Seth?’
He stroked Nightshade. ‘What about Mr Bunn?’
‘Old Bunn? I was under the table. I heard all about him doing magic. Is that your best idea?’
‘It really sounds like he did magic.’
Seth took out his black book and flicked again through the pages. His eyes alighted on the image of what looked like a lantern or tiny birdcage with beautiful shafts of intense light zinging out of the device. The firefly cage. He had thought it beautiful, but after Angelique telling him he didn’t even want to know what it did, the picture now looked strange and frightening. Why was that picture in this book?
‘So how did he do it?’
The only reply Nightshade gave was a little contended snickering purr that sounded exactly like a snore.
‘Sometimes I really do feel the answers are so close I could reach out and touch them,’ said Seth, giving her a nudge. ‘Nightshade? I need to ask you a favour. If Norrie catches sight of me I’ll lose any chance to keep an eye on Mr Bunn.’ He dropped the book absent-mindedly on the bed, his mind busy with possibilities. ‘You could easily keep an eye on Mr Bunn and he won’t notice you. Find out if you can spot him doing any magic.’
‘Keep an eye on Mr Bunn doing magic,’ muttered Nightshade sleepily. ‘On it.’
Even if Mr Bunn really had done magic at the Prospect, that still did not answer the question of how the poison had got into that dessert. Seth headed back to search for Mr Bunn, his mind whirring. He still had a long way to go.
31. An Explosive Combination
But before Seth could even begin his plan to keep an eye on Mr Bunn, it wasn’t Norrie who dragged him off to do something else. He was accosted by Inspector Pewter and led to what had been Dr Thallomius’s room. The door creaked open, revealing a room that felt flat; silent and untouched from when Dr Thallomius had pressed that gold coin into Seth’s palm.
He remembered the kindness of Dr Thallomius as he’d stood there only yesterday and Seth felt a lump rise in his throat.
That faint smell of grassy tea lingered. The two tea cups were still on the small polished side table where the two old friends had chatted.
Pewter dug around in his pocket and extracted an enormous magnifying glass and turned to examine the door.
‘Are you checking for fingerprints?’ Seth asked as Pewter next crossed to the big, curved four-poster bed. Alongside it was Dr Thallomius’s suitcase, neatly closed.
‘Ah, fingerprints,’ Pewter shook his head. ‘Have heard of that. Sounds very clever. A trifle messy I suspect.’
Seth went across and sniffed deeply at the dregs left in the cups, looking for that unforgettable pungent smell in the dining room as Dr Thallomius lay dead. But that smell was nowhere in this room. His nose told him there was simply tea in one of the cups, and the other contained some sort of herb, spearmint, probably.
Pewter had gone to lie full length on the bed. He was over six feet tall and even in the enormous bed his feet dangled off the end; he was flicking through the book left on the bedside table.
Seth expected a magical text borrowed from the Elysee library, but it was an Agatha Christie mystery, the sort Norrie Bunn read and sometimes passed on to Seth. The Mysterious Affair at Styles. The sort of story where someone was murdered and everyone started to look at each other and wonder who might be next.
‘You said you needed my help?’
‘Indeed I do. We are looking for clues,’ said Pewter. ‘Specifically, we are hoping that Dr Thallomius left us a clue to what he was really doing here.’
‘Wasn’t he judging the Prospect?’
‘That’s what he said he was here for,’ said Pewter. ‘But people don’t always tell the truth, do they?’
Pewter peered at Seth, who tried hard not to look back guiltily. He wanted to ask all sorts of things, like what Pewter thought of Mr Bunn doing magic. But it was difficult without giving away things that were supposed to be secret, like mentioning about Angelique and the walls talking. She had told him it was top secret that she was investigating magic at the hotel with her divinoscope.
‘You seem pretty friendly with Miss Squerr,’ said Pewter, interrupting Seth’s thoughts and leaving him with the uncomfortable idea that somehow he had known Seth had been thinking about Angelique. ‘Has she confided in you as to what she’s really doing here?’
‘Really doing here?’ Seth thoughts flew to Angelique and that cane of hers. What had she told him? Something he didn’t understand about ripples. Then she had made him promise not to breathe a word, and told him she had found magic here at the hotel. But she hadn’t explained anything, had she? And it was very strange behaviour for Dr Thallomius’s assistant. Why had she been looking for magic? And what had that meant about it being magic she had never seen before?
Seth looked into Pewter’s light-blue eyes and felt himself swallow quietly and knew he was still under suspicion. He watched his eyes glow a darker blue, as if Pewter could read his every thought, everything he was anxious to conceal. Angelique dashing about with her cane, sending out the blue sparks and getting him to promise silence. She had nearly zapped him too when he’d let slip he’d heard of a firefly cage. He must not let on about knowing of sinister magical devices.
‘Believe everything she tells you, do you?’ went on Pewter pleasantly. ‘Trust her do you?’
Seth thought for a moment.
Then remembered he didn’t trust her at all.
He had probably given himself away by being silent for so long. Pewter was looking at him, his eyes glinting like pieces of sky through a high window.
‘She told me about Red Valerian, sir. If he’s a known enemy of Dr Thallomius, can’t you arrest him?’
‘Told you that, did she? Yes, pulling him in would be a great plan. Red Valerian is someone who has been giving MagiCon headaches. Actually, less a headache and more organizing his followers in arranging most unpleasant deaths.’ Pewter gazed at him for an uncomfortable few seconds. ‘But there is one big obstacle to us bringing him in. We don’t have a clue who he is. Some people don’t even believe he is a real person – just a name to frighten the children, as it were.’
Pewter crouched next to Dr Thallomius’s suitcase, unclipped the clasps and gently went through it.
‘I’m impressed with how well you are learning your magical history, Seth. I am interested in your thoughts.’
‘My thoughts?’ Seth thought hard of something, anything that might sound helpful. ‘Dr Thallomius’s policies – they led to some sort of battle, called the Unpleasant, right? Because of that, forty-two sorcerers are now Missing Feared Exploded?’
‘Indeed, that is sadly true.’
Seth watched Pewter lift up a picture of a pug dog to look behind it. Not for the first time, he wondered if Pewter was really any good as a detective. He itched to be away, watching Mr Bunn, not here, looking for clues that only Pewter seemed to believe existed.
‘Dr Thallomius was seeking out people worthy of being apprentices,’ went on Seth carefully. ‘But also making everyone go through the Prospect, even those from magical families who feel they have a right to be part of the Elysee? He had enemies.’
‘You are quite right; some people have been heard to comment that under Thallomius the magical world has become open to every crackpot who ever managed to bend a spoon. We are in a dark period in the world of sorcerers. Now, you were helping me search.’
Seth looked about him.
‘The trouble is, sir, that there aren’t that many places to hide things in a hotel room.
‘The trouble is,’ said Pewter, lifting pillows and peering under the bed, ‘that someone has been in here since I searched last night after everyone went to bed.’
Seth stared around him, then at Pewter.
‘We can only hope they weren’t any more successful than me in finding it,’ said Pewter. ‘All right, Seth. Now, I am relying on you. What have I missed?’
Seth looked about again, not knowing where to begin – the room looked completely untouched. ‘Erm – how exactly are you so sure someone has been in here?’
‘That’ll be the charms I placed after I searched late last night.’ He took out his magnifying glass to peer at the carpet. ‘But someone got past it all.’
‘How can you know that?’
‘Fingerprints are beyond me, but you must let me have my own little methods.’
Pewter was looking again through what Seth had taken to be a magnifying glass, but as Seth watched, he doubted it was actually magnifying anything. Pewter, he guessed, was using it for something else.
‘Is that another magical device, like the sort of thing Dr Thallomius liked to invent?’ he asked.
‘Magical this may be, but it still can’t tell me who is doing this,’ said Pewter, his voice rising and sounding unexpectedly cross. ‘Now, what we have here is evidence that someone is finding a very clever way to get past magical charms. Someone is moving about this hotel quite freely, doing what they want and getting into places they are very much not supposed to be. And if there is one thing I hate it is my opponent being one step ahead of me. We need to find what they were looking for before they get to it.’
Seth had watched him go through everything from the bed to the suitcase, even peering behind the pictures. What could he possibly find? What could he possibly be looking for?
Seth concentrated on trying to imagine himself as Dr Thallomius, here in this room. If Pewter was right, he had something he urgently needed to hide. If it was still missing, that meant it had to be something small. Where might it be?
‘You haven’t tried the top of the wardrobe, sir.’
‘Actually, I have.’
‘But this one has like a groove that runs around the top. I know because I dust in here. Things get stuck in there.’
Pewter leapt forward and Seth watched him feel methodically from one side to the other, reaching further, stretching his arms then stopping to give a cry of ‘Ah!’
Seth could see that, finally, his fingers had struck something. An object small enough to be concealed in his closed hand.
Seth inched his head forward, so that his nose almost touched Pewter’s palm. Pewter opened his fist and they both stared at a small object, pale, short, thin and slightly knobbly and little bit scratched, lying in the palm of his hand.
Was this it?
‘It looks like the bone of . . . a small creature.’ Seth didn’t like to say that the first thought that had flashed into his mind was that it was the bone from a baby’s finger.
‘Is this usually here?’ Pewter asked Seth.
Seth shook his head. ‘Absolutely not. I do the cleaning and Norrie Bunn makes sure I do it to her high standards. But with our VIP guest she was fanatical, everything was dusted twice, even the tops of the doors. This definitely was not here before Dr Thallomius arrived. He must have put it there himself. But what is it? Is it important?’ It couldn’t have looked less important.
‘This must be it,’ said Pewter. ‘What Dr Thallomius hid. What someone else has been searching for.’
‘This?’
‘It’s what really brought Dr Thallomius to the Last Chance Hotel.’
They stared at the tiny, pale twig-like object. As Seth looked closely he began to think that the scratches might actually be symbols and insignia carefully carved on to the surface. But that didn’t help in knowing what it was.
Pewter cleared his throat.
‘I think it might be a key.’
‘A key sir?’
Pewter was lost in his own thoughts. ‘That means Dr Thallomius’s real purpose in coming here was to lock something. Or maybe unlock . . .’ Pewter scratched his left ear. ‘Any ideas, Seth?’
Before Seth could reply, the air was split by an ear-piercing scream.
32. The Spectre in the Bedroom
Seth and Pewter thundered towards the source of the scream and were just ahead of Darinder Dunster-Dunstable and Count Marred who were neck and neck when they reached the first-floor landing. They all arrived at Gloria Troutbean’s room, where Professor Papperspook was busy trying to calm her.
‘Astounding news,’ declared Professor Papperspook in a deep and hushed voice. ‘We are privileged to have had a communication from Dr Thallomius.’
‘What do you mean?’ demanded Count Marred.
‘Communication?’ Kingfisher shoved his way to the front. ‘He wrote to you? Something about why he was murdered? Show it so me. Show me the letter.’
Professor Papperspook flapped her hands and waggled them above her head. ‘Not that sort of communication.’ She moved aside and prodded the timid Gloria forward with her elbow. ‘Tell him, Gloria.’
Gloria pulled up her white socks and stood up straight as everyone crowded into her bedroom. ‘A communication fro
m him since he departed,’ she announced, sounding surprisingly proud, her moon-like face taking on a flush of colour. ‘I saw a shadowy figure in the corner of my room.’
‘Hang on a minute,’ said Kingfisher, his eyes narrowing. ‘This important communication was from a ghost?’
‘He must be a wandering troubled spirit,’ said the Professor, shaking her head sorrowfully.
‘It’s not him that’s troubled,’ muttered Kingfisher.
Gloria Troutbean drew herself up fiercely. ‘There was a presence in my room. A spectre, I saw it.’ Gloria’s face took on a blush of ugly crimson.
‘And it spoke to you?’ said Kingfisher with heavy scepticism.
There was a pause before Gloria said, ‘Not exactly.’
‘How can you be sure it was Dr Thallomius?’ Angelique asked, arriving from somewhere. ‘Did you see him clearly?’
‘Well do you know of any other troubled spirits lurking around here?’ pointed out Papperspook.
‘So this apparition – did it say anything?’ said Kingfisher, with another sneer.
Professor Papperspook’s plumage bristled. ‘He has come through to Gloria. We should try again and find out what he wants to say.’
‘I think I already know what he wants to say,’ announced Gloria.
‘To identify his murderer?’ suggested Dunster-Dunstable, looking thrilled.
Gloria shook her head. ‘Something more important.’
Kingfisher turned to Count Marred. ‘What d’you make of all this?’
Count Marred had been lurking behind the crowd in the small room. He looked thoughtful for a moment, then shouldered his way forward and stood in front of the flushed looking Gloria.
The Last Chance Hotel Page 11
