The Wizard's Butler

by Nathan Lowell

  Wrayvern extended her hand to Shackleford. “Call me Patty, please.”

  “I’m Joe,” Shackleford said, accepting the handshake. “Thank you for making the time today.”

  “Glad to help.” She turned to Barbara. “We finally meet. I feel like I know you already.” She extended a hand.

  Barbara stepped up and shook it. “Nice to meet you at last.”

  “I understand you have a contract you want vetted?” Wrayvern asked.

  “Yes,” Barbara said. “Services contract with Mr. Shackleford.” She pulled a manila envelope from her bag, holding it out to Wrayvern.

  The woman took the envelope and glanced at Shackleford before looking at Barbara again. “Which of you is the client here?”

  Barbara raised her hand. “That would be me. I want to make sure this deal is covered properly.”

  Wrayvern nodded. “Okay. Good. Come on back with me.” She looked at Shackleford. “If you’d have a seat while I consult my client?” She nodded at the collection of easy chairs by the ficus.

  “Of course,” Shackleford said, taking a seat.

  Roger followed suit as the two women went down the corridor, Wrayvern already pulling the pages out of the envelope as she walked.

  “Can I get you anything?” Esther asked. “Coffee? Tea? Water?”

  Shackleford shook his head. “I’m fine, thank you.”

  “Mr. Mulligan?”

  “No, ma’am. Thank you.”

  She smiled and took her seat behind the desk, tapping a few keys on her keyboard and consulting the screen. She picked up an earbud and hooked it over her right ear before focusing on the monitor again. Her tapping provided a quiet counterpoint to the low sound of voices coming from the back. After a few minutes, she stopped typing and touched her earbud. “Of course,” she said and stood. She looked at Shackleford. “She’d like to see you now, sir.”

  Shackleford stood and Esther escorted him down the hall, returning after only a few moments.

  “You sure I can’t get you something, Mr. Mulligan?”

  “I’m fine, ma’am. Thank you.”

  “You’re really his butler?” she asked, taking her seat again.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Do you like it?”

  “Ma’am?”

  “Being his butler,” she said, narrowing her eyes a little. “You don’t seem like the butler type.”

  Roger shrugged. “It’s been a learning experience. I find it quite satisfying, ma’am.”

  She smiled. “Pardon my curiosity,” she said. “I’ve never met a butler before.”

  “I hadn’t either before I became one, ma’am.”

  “What did you do before? If you don’t mind my asking.”

  “I was an EMT for a couple of years. Army before that.”

  She nodded, doing that eye-narrowing again. “I can see that.” She gave him a small—almost sad—smile. “Looks like you’ve taken the right path now.”

  “Ma’am?”

  She shook her head and waved a hand in the air. “Nothing. An old lady’s meandering. I was just thinking that being in the army and taking care of people when they’re hurt—it must have been hard. I can’t imagine what it was like. You seem quite content, even happy.”

  Roger smiled and nodded. “Thank you, ma’am. It was and I am.”

  Wrayvern came out of her office followed by Barbara and Shackleford. She breezed down the hall and into the foyer. Roger stood as she handed a document Esther. “Make a copy of this for our files if you would, Esther?”

  Esther took the page and disappeared down the hallway.

  Wrayvern looked at Roger. “You’re Mr. Mulligan, right?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  She nodded, giving him a solid up-and-down look before nodding again. She turned to Barbara. “You have my number. Anything goes west, call. Day or night.”

  “I will, Patty. Thank you.”

  Wrayvern smiled at Shackleford. “I’d be lying if I said I trusted you, Mr. Shackleford, but she does for reasons she can’t explain.”

  Shackleford nodded. “I completely understand. I’m not sure I’d trust me either under the circumstances.” He shrugged. “All I can do is be as transparent as possible about my motives and intentions.”

  Esther came back and handed the original to Wrayvern. “I’ll start a new file for this,” she said, waving the copy.

  Wrayvern took the page. “Thank you, Esther. What do you think?” She glanced at Shackleford.

  Esther looked at him as well, her eyes narrowing a little and a smile growing on her lips. “You look quite satisfied, Mr. Shackleford.”

  Shackleford beamed back at her. “I am, dear lady. Thank you.”

  “You take care of my girl, you hear?” Her warm smile made it clear that she believed he would do just that.

  “I’ll do my very best,” Shackleford said. “She’s family, after all. As are you.”

  Wrayvern’s eyes widened and Esther nodded to Wrayvern. “We’re related. Didn’t you know?”

  “Are you?” Wrayvern asked.

  “We share a great-great-grandfather back in the old country,” Esther said. “His sons came to America.”

  “Really,” Wrayvern said. “How did you find this out?”

  “DNA,” Barbara said. “I took one of those swab things and so did he.” She nodded at Shackleford.

  Wrayvern blinked. “So now you’re going to go work for him?”

  “Just for a week.”

  She looked back and forth between the two of them. “You’re paying an awful lot of money for services that aren’t spelled out in that contract very well.”

  “You know the nature of her business?” Shackleford asked, nodding at Barbara.

  Wrayvern’s lips twitched, almost like she was holding back a smile. “I do.”

  “I need her to come do a spiritual assay of Shackleford House. It’s imperative that I find out if the old pile is haunted before turning it over to the Shackleford Foundation.”

  Wrayvern pursed her lips and glanced at Barbara who nodded back. Wrayvern rolled her lips in, biting down on them and shrugging. “Consenting adults,” she said after a moment.

  Esther patted Wrayvern’s arm. “It’ll be fine.”

  “She’s your daughter,” Wrayvern said with a shrug. “I’m just her lawyer.” She held out a hand to Barbara. “Good luck. Call if you need me.”

  Barbara shook the hand and nodded. “I will.”

  Wrayvern offered her hand to Shackleford. “Mr. Shackleford.”

  “Ms. Wrayvern,” he said, shaking her hand with a small bow over it.

  Wrayvern looked at the three of them—Barbara, Roger, and then a longer look at Shackleford—before turning on her heel and striding down the corridor.

  “Don’t mind her,” Esther said. “Being distrustful comes with the job.” She smiled and hugged Barbara. “You’ll have to let me know how it goes. This must be very exciting for you.”

  “Thanks, Mum. I’ll call you when I get settled. Hug Dad for me.”

  “I will.” She offered her hand to Shackleford. “Very nice to meet you, Mr. Shackleford. Joe.”

  Shackleford smiled back at her and shook her hand. “Nice to meet you, too. I don’t have that many relatives left. It’s gratifying to have found you across the generations.”

  Esther beamed at him, perhaps blushing slightly, before turning to Roger. “Mr. Mulligan,” she said, as he took her hand. “Take care of them.”

  “I will, ma’am. It’s my job after all.” Roger gave her the Jeeves bow over their clasped hands.

  She shook her head, a knowing smile growing on her lips. “I think it’s more than a job, Mr. Mulligan,” she said. “I think it’s your calling.”

  Roger smiled at her as she turned back to her desk with a grin. “Well, family time is over. I have work to do.”

  Roger held the door for Barbara and Shackleford to exit and followed them out.

  Shackleford folded his copy of the
contract once lengthwise and handed it to Roger before offering his hand to Barbara. “She’s delightful.”

  “Ms. Wrayvern?” Barbara asked, taking his hand.

  “Your mother. You know her talent?”

  Barbara shook her head. “Does she have one?”

  “Oh, yes,” Shackleford said, the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes deepening as he grinned. “It’s just a whisper. Just enough. If I hadn’t known to look, I might have missed it.”

  “What is it?” she asked.

  “She can read people. Even me.” He looked at Roger. “She read you, too, didn’t she?”

  Roger nodded. “Yes, sir.”

  “But how?” Barbara asked. “I can’t read people with talent.”

  “I suspect you can,” Shackleford said. “I just think your strength masks it because you’re used to going deeper.”

  She blinked at him. “What are you saying?”

  He took a half step back and opened his arms as if to offer a hug. “Look at me. Do you trust me?”

  Barbara blinked a couple of times but nodded. “Yes.”

  “Why?” Shackleford asked. “You can’t get into my head.”

  She seemed to pull back onto her heels and her gaze focused somewhere in space. After a few moments, she said, “You’ve not given me any reason to doubt you.”

  “That’s the thing,” Shackleford said. “I haven’t given you any reason to trust me, either. You didn’t know me when you woke up this morning.” He cocked his head to one side. “Now you trust me?”

  Griffin turned her head to look at the office door. “She knew.”

  “Yes, my dear. I believe she did. Whether she understands the mechanic or not, your Ms. Wrayvern depends on your mother’s talent and uses it. Probably has for as long as they’ve worked together.”

  They stood there for a few moments before Griffin shook herself and held out a hand. “I’ll be in touch. Next week is light. I’ll shift a couple of regulars around to free up seven days.”

  Shackleford beamed and shook her hand in both of his. “I’m looking forward to it.”

  “About the payment?” she asked.

  “Oh, half in advance. Yes,” he said and pulled an envelope out of the inside pocket of his jacket and handed it to her. “Here you are.”

  She took it and her eyes widened a bit. “Just like that?”

  He shrugged. “You’ve signed the contract. I’ve done what I could to offer you my assurances that you’ll be safe. You are—after all is said and done—family. Why not just like that?”

  “You had that in your pocket the whole time?”

  He laughed. “No, but we did have a few hours to kill. Banks can be slow but they’re seldom that slow.”

  She stared at the envelope and laughed. “Of course.” She shook her head. “I didn’t think it through.”

  He laughed again. “Understandable. You’ve had an interesting day.”

  She nodded and slipped the envelope into her bag. “I have. Thank you again, Mr. Shackleford. I’m looking forward to visiting Shackleford House.”

  “No more than we are to having you visit, I assure you,” he said. “Just let Mulligan know the particulars and we’ll see you sometime next week, eh?”

  She nodded and made her way to her car, glancing at the black Mercedes as she went.

  Shackleford struck off across the parking lot, Roger a half step behind until they reached the vehicle when he stepped up to get the door. The old man looked at him, a half smile on his lips. “Something on your mind, Mulligan?”

  Roger glanced at the Ford backing out of its slot. “You think she’ll go through with it, sir?”

  “I do, Mulligan.” He watched the Ford pulling out into traffic. “That’s a lot of money but it carries the promise of more.” He grinned. “I don’t think she realizes just how much more, but she’ll want to get the second payment at a minimum.”

  Roger opened the door and Shackleford slid in beside Featherstone.

  “Mission accomplished?” Featherstone asked.

  “She’ll be in town next week.”

  Roger closed the door and walked around to get into the driver’s seat. The next couple of weeks would be interesting. He just hoped it wouldn’t be the cursed level of interesting.

  * * *

  The front doorbell rang at precisely 10 a.m. Fidelia Necket waited on the stoop, smartly dressed in an elegant navy pantsuit over a cream silk blouse. Her gray hair hugged her head like a helmet of feathers. Roger smiled. “Ms. Necket. Thank you for coming.” He held the door wide for her.

  She smiled and entered. “How could I stay away, Mulligan? Joseph’s letter said he’s found a relative?”

  “So it would seem, ma’am. He’s expecting you.”

  She followed him up the stairs and into the library where Roger found Shackleford in his wheelchair, reading the green book. He froze in the doorway.

  “What is it, Perkins?” Shackleford asked, a scowl on his face and the impatient snap in his voice boding ill for the interruption.

  “Ms. Necket, sir,” Roger said, stepping out of the doorway.

  “Fidelia?”

  She stepped into the room and frowned. “Joseph? How are you today?”

  “What a pleasant surprise,” Shackleford said, his pique evaporating. “I wasn’t expecting you today, was I?”

  “Yes, Joseph. You invited me.” She glanced at Roger. “I would love a nice cup of tea, Mulligan.”

  “Of course, ma’am. It will only take a moment.”

  “We have another guest arriving?” she asked.

  “Yes, ma’am. That’s my expectation,” Roger said.

  “Well, bring an extra cup,” she said and turned to Shackleford. “What are you reading, Joseph?”

  Roger backed out of the room and closed the library door. “Why today?” he asked and headed for the kitchen, a knot of fear growing in his gut.

  He brewed a pot of tea and loaded a tray with cups and saucers, milk and sugar. A small plate of shortbread cookies and another of the biscotti that Shackleford favored rounded out the presentation. He took the tray up to the library and deposited it on the low table in front of Fidelia. “Tea, ma’am.”

  Shackleford still sat in his wheelchair, but he’d set aside the book.

  “Thank you, Perkins,” Shackleford said.

  Fidelia nodded to Roger. “Thank you, Mulligan. I can pour.”

  Roger gave a small nod and left them. He only got halfway down the stairs before the doorbell rang again. He sighed and tried to think of what he’d say to Barbara Griffin. He had no good answers when he swung the door open to find Naomi Patching on the stoop. “Good morning, Ms. Patching.”

  “Mulligan,” she said, pushing him aside and heading for the stairs. “I trust he’s awake?”

  “Ma’am, I must insist,” Roger stepped quickly to try to get in front of her, to block her path.

  “No, Mulligan. I must insist,” she said stepping around him and continuing her charge up the stairs. “If you touch me, that’s assault, Mulligan.”

  “Mr. Shackleford has a guest, ma’am.”

  “A guest?” she stopped at the landing. “Who?”

  Before Roger could parse an answer, she charged down the short hall and burst into the library, taking two strides into the room before stopping.

  “I’m sorry, sir. I tried to stop her.”

  “It’s all right, Perkins,” Shackleford said, tea cup halfway to his lips. “Naomi, my dear. Cup of tea?”

  Fidelia seemed completely at ease in her chair. “Ms. Patching. How unexpected. Yes, would you care for a cup of tea?”

  Naomi stared at Fidelia for a long moment before looking at her uncle. “How are you today, Uncle?”

  He toasted her with his teacup. “Quite well, thank you. Seems to be my day for visitors. Please, have a seat. To what do we owe the honor of your company?”

  Naomi lowered herself into a chair beside Shackleford, casting short glances at Fidelia. “I came to a
sk about a family matter, Uncle.”

  He smiled. “Fidelia is like family,” he said.

  “No, Uncle. This is family business.” She looked to Fidelia. “I’m sure you understand.”

  Fidelia finished pouring tea into the spare cup. “One lump? Two? Splash of milk perhaps?”

  Naomi practically snatched the saucer from under the cup and had to steady it with her other hand. “I’d like to have a word with my uncle. Alone.”

  Fidelia placed her china on the tray and stood. “Of course. I’ll just wait next door until you’re through.” She smiled at Mulligan as she passed, stopping at the door to glance at Shackleford. “We’ll continue when you’re ready, Joseph.”

  “Of course, Fidelia. I still want to hear about the planning session.” He looked at Roger. “Perkins, see to Ms. Necket’s comfort if you would.”

  “Yes, sir,” he said and closed the door behind himself with a click.

  Fidelia, already halfway to the upstairs parlor, glanced back at Roger. “Is she always like that?”

  “More or less, ma’am.”

  She shook her head and beckoned him to follow. “You have any idea what’s on her mind, Mulligan?”

  “No, ma’am.”

  “Would you tell me if you did?” She grinned at him.

  “No, ma’am, but I’d tell you I wasn’t free to comment.”

  She nodded. “I suspect she found out about Ms. Griffin.”

  “The possibilities are endless, ma’am.”

  She snickered and rounded the corner into the upstairs parlor. “How long has he been like that?” she asked, lowering her voice and turning to face him.

  “He was fine at breakfast, ma’am.”

  “Do these periods last long? When he’s lost somewhere like that?”

  “I’ve never seen one last more than a few hours, ma’am.”

  She nodded and pursed her lips, staring at the rug. “Aren’t you concerned about breaking confidence?”

  “You’re an ally and a friend, ma’am. He needs as many of those as he can get.”

  She looked up at him. “And Ms. Griffin?”

  “She’s due any minute, ma’am.”

  “What did you think of her?”

  “Formidable, ma’am.”

  Her eyebrows rose at that. “An interesting choice of words.”