Boldo looked aghast for a moment, then his face became thoughtful. ‘You believe the sinister hand of Red Valerian must somehow have reached even into this isolated wood? His forces are growing, I know. How do we catch that villain?’
Kingfisher shook his head. ‘The killer is among us.’ He looked pointedly at Seth.
As Seth crouched to put on another log, the flames leapt up and the dark dome of Count Marred’s bald head reflected the glow of the firelight as he wiped away another tear. And a small treacherous voice whispered what great cover it would be if he had murdered Thallomius himself.
Seth hated himself for even thinking it.
Marred was genuinely upset. And what reason would he have? It sounded like Dr Thallomius was a wonderful person. Opening up the magical world for apprentices? That sounded beyond wonderful.
‘Inspector Pewter, the hotel could be full of people who had very good reasons to kill Dr Thallomius,’ snapped Kingfisher, darting another threatening look at Seth. ‘But let’s not lose sight of the fact that only one could have slipped him the poison. Sir.’
‘I guess it just goes to show that at an early stage of the investigation it’s often difficult to know what the right clues are likely to be,’ replied Pewter thoughtfully.
Seth felt a warm hand on his shoulder. He stared up at Pewter, shrinking at the thought that he was about to be led off to spend an uncomfortable night locked in that broom cupboard.
‘Noticed you didn’t serve up yourself any soup, Seth. Not hungry?’
Seth heard his stomach grumble.
‘I always find I get the best cooperation from employers with tricky deaths on their premises. Otherwise cases can drag on for weeks and be investigated very shoddily. I feel sure Mr Bunn can spare you a bowl of soup.’
Pewter led him back to the silent kitchen and Seth was shocked afresh to see the state of devastation and wearily started to tackle a puddle of spilt sauce on the floor and the overflowing bins. Crusted pans were piled high next to the sink and it was difficult to know even where to start when he found himself being steered to a chair and a bowl put in front of him.
Seth took up a spoon and began to eat, uncomfortable under Pewter’s intense gaze.
Pewter helped himself to more soup and joined Seth at the table. ‘You were right about this soup. Now, are you going to make a dash through this forest in the middle of the night?’
Seth shook his head. ‘I’m not going anywhere. Except maybe to jail, if Mr Kingfisher has his way.’
‘Leaving Mr Kingfisher’s wishes aside for the moment, I’m sure you have thoughts about this murder?’
Seth swallowed another mouthful of soup.
It seemed there was hope that there might be people who had reasons for wanting Dr Thallomius dead – and some of them right here in the hotel. Yet it all came back to the fact that no one had a chance to poison the dessert. Seth simply could not puzzle that out.
He looked at Pewter and wished he knew what he was thinking. All he could hope was that there was room for doubt that a boy who knew nothing about the magical world was really the most likely suspect for murdering Dr Thallomius.
‘I do have a few questions.’
‘Hit me with one.’
‘There is one odd thing I have been wondering about. I was told to lay a table for eight, yet there were only seven guests.’
Pewter looked at him for so long Seth thought he’d gone into a trance. Had he said the wrong thing?
Eventually Pewter said, ‘Another guest expected for the Prospect? One we don’t yet know about? I have to say, I find this case gets more and more intriguing. Now, I have a question for you.’
Seth heard himself sigh. He’d known there would be questions. Had Pewter deliberately waited until he was so tired he felt he was bound to easily wrong-foot him?
‘Would you ever leave?’
‘Leave?’ said Seth, startled by another unexpected turn in the questions. He tried to imagine being anywhere else but here – and failed. Part of him longed to see the world beyond the Last Hope Forest – at least he thought he did. But it was a vast, unknown place. His insides curled like paper in flame at the thought. ‘I’ve no friends, no relations, no money.’
‘Then that would take a certain kind of bravery. Would be a whole lot riskier than staying. So . . . any final thoughts that might shed some light on this tragedy?’ said Pewter.
Seth wished he could come up with something, anything, that might explain what had happened and didn’t point directly to him.
‘I know it looks like an impossible crime, sir,’ he said falteringly. ‘No one can explain how the poison got into that dessert. I am totally at a loss to understand how it happened. It wasn’t me. My only thought is that . . . could the murderer— I mean, could someone have used magic somehow to kill Dr Thallomius? Otherwise it really does seem impossible. But it happened.’
Pewter looked at him so long and so steadily Seth thought he’d gone into a trance again. Seth had the feeling he’d asked a very stupid question.
‘When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth.’ said Pewter. ‘Heard that before? Was said by a detective quite possibly even more famous than me.’
‘That was said by Sherlock Holmes, sir,’ said Seth. ‘But I’ve never understood – what does it mean exactly?’
‘I think it means that your father must have had a good nose and that he passed it on to you. I mean – I like to think I have a good nose myself, although not for knowing when a recipe is just right. They say I have a nose for trouble. And for lies and evasions.’
‘That’s three things,’ said Seth.
‘Ah yes. But my nose is most famous for being able to detect one important thing – magic. And if there is one thing my nose is telling me, Seth, it is that you are right. There is magic, right here in the very heart of this seemingly impossible crime.’
20. A Search by Torchlight
He was so tired his bones ached, but Seth could only toss and turn in his narrow bed, unable to sleep.
With everything else that had happened, the one thought that kept him awake most of all was not the one he thought he would find himself thinking about.
Magic was real.
Yet it was a bit like stepping through a door and arriving in an unexpected yet beautiful place, only to be instantly told that here lurked something dark, dangerous and unknowable. Angelique had scared him with how she’d reacted when he’d mentioned the dark magic of the firefly cage.
He fidgeted and earned himself a sharp claw from Nightshade, who was curled, as usual, at the end of his bed. He tried to lie still.
Seth wanted to stroke her soft fur, but he didn’t want to wake her. He simply loved the fact that she had decided to reveal to him that she could talk. How lucky was he to have a cat that could talk? OK, it would have been lovely to have had her to talk things over with during the last couple of years, which had been lonely. But she had always been there for him. And he feared if he asked her why she’d kept it a secret, she might simply go back to being silent again. She was pretty grumpy. He’d never expected just how grumpy.
He should focus on making sense of conversations roaming his head, to try to piece together what possibly could have happened.
How had the poison got into that dessert? Pewter was right that it seemed the most impossible, unanswerable question. But it had happened. He had to work it out. How else was he going to clear his name?
Who had killed Dr Thallomius? Was he anywhere near knowing?
That name – Red Valerian – had come quickly to Angelique when he had asked who might want Dr Thallomius dead. But it had to be someone inside the hotel. Seth’s mind refused to stop racing over everything that had happened and his desperate need to work out the truth kept him tossing and turning.
Darinder Dunster-Dunstable floated into view as effortlessly as a balloon, reaching behind Seth’s ear and triumphantly waving aloft the beautiful stemmed d
essert bowl.
Angelique loomed towards him, the deadly end of her cane pointing directly at this throat. ‘It’s an impossible crime, Seth, and you are the prime suspect.’
Pewter was towering over Seth, more treelike than ever – he even had branches sprouting out of his head, like antlers.
And then Seth was peering between bars, trapped in a dark place, imprisoned in a tiny cage, despairing. He felt he had been here his whole life with no hope of rescue and as he shook the bars of his prison something was stabbing his leg and tugging painfully at his hair.
Seth blinked open his eyes.
‘You were screaming,’ said Nightshade.
‘I was? Sorry. Didn’t even realize I’d fallen asleep.’
Nightshade gave a full stretch and clawed at the scratchy blanket. ‘Come on, which of them did it?’
‘I don’t know. How can I work it out?’
‘Come on Seth, concentrate. What about that one going around the hotel with the dangerous cane? Don’t trust her an inch. Or that small tricksy kid with the pointy ears. He’s good at making things appear from nowhere. Or that friend with the scar. I watched him for ages in the lounge. Trying to look upset.’
‘I think he was upset,’ said Seth. ‘Count Marred wasn’t faking, I’m sure.’
But was he really sure?
Someone here was lying.
Seth chewed everything over. ‘They all seem up to no good. Dunster-Dunstable was trying to bribe Dr Thallomius. Gloria’s grandfather is someone who is apparently Missing Feared Exploded after this terrible event that they call the Unpleasant. Apparently Wintergreen Troutbean and Dr Thallomius were once inventor friends back in the time when Dr Thallomius created magical science devices, but they fell out. And I could tell instantly Professor Papperspook hated Dr Thallomius.’
‘Have you worked out why?’
‘I think it’s because there are troubles in the magical world,’ said Seth thoughtfully ‘Angelique mentioned something about reforms. Dr Thallomius was opening up the magical world, giving new recruits a chance to join.’
‘Well that sounds great.’
‘Yes, that’s what I thought. But not everyone is in favour and it sounds like it led to this great battle, the Unpleasant, where a lot of sorcerers died. No one is even sure who actually did die in it. Angelique said Dr Thallomius had enemies.’
‘Sounds grim.’
‘He brought in these brave policies because there are now so few magical people about that the magical world is in danger of dying out,’ said Seth, lost in his own thoughts for a moment. ‘I didn’t even know about the magical world a few hours ago. Now it seems terrible to think magical people might become extinct.’
‘Seth, you’re getting distracted again. OK. What else have you learnt?’
‘Basically, that’s what everyone is here for – the honour of being officially invited into the Elysee. You can become an apprentice if you can prove you have some spark of magic and that’s not always found in people from magical families. But I think proving it is difficult.’ Seth tickled her under the chin.
‘But how was he poisoned, Seth?’
‘That is a big question. Angelique says I have answers, but she’s wrong.’ Seth tugged at his hair.
‘But you must have some idea, Seth,’ Nightshade snuggled further into Seth’s lap. ‘My money is on that Gloria with the sour face. A long-standing grudge between her family and Thallomius sounds a good enough reason to top him.’ Nightshade gave a long, slow stretch. ‘So which of ’em was it? Tell me, then I can go back to sleep.’
He tipped her to the floor. ‘Trouble is, I just don’t know. Perhaps the answer is staring at us.’
‘Great to hear it! I tried to get under every table to listen and I’ve absolutely no idea! Is it that sour-faced girl? She looks the sort who could ruin a perfectly good pudding just by looking at it. And what about that eighth seat at the table?’
Her gaze followed Seth as he grabbed his torch and jacket. ‘Oh no, don’t tell me it involves heading outside. It’s perishing out there. You know what the frost does to my fur. Can’t it wait until the sun’s up?’
‘No. This really can’t wait. There really is only one person who could have killed Dr Thallomius.’
‘Let’s get ’em. Who is it?’
‘Trouble is, Nightshade – what if it actually was me?’
21. The Smell of Almonds
‘Whiskers and white mice,’ growled Nightshade. ‘Of course it wasn’t you. You’re off out to find evidence against yourself? What a brilliant idea. Mind if I don’t come?’
But she didn’t leap back on to her warm patch on the bed, just slunk alongside him as they both made their way down the rickety stairs, pausing on the second-floor landing to listen to Norrie Bunn safely snoring. Nightshade sped ahead, the darkness swallowing her up and not bothering her in the slightest. Seth made sure he avoided treading on the creaky third step from the top and safely reached the ground floor.
The hotel was in silence, apart from the ticking of the grandfather clock in the hall which showed it was already nearly morning.
‘The door from the lounge into the garden opens the quietest,’ suggested Nightshade. ‘Everyone’s asleep, but I can double check the coast is clear.’ She shot through Seth’s legs. Two seconds later she was back. ‘Guess what – door’s already open – and old Bunn such a stickler for locking everything up at night. We’d best go careful. There’s a murderer on the loose.’
‘Thanks Nightshade.’
Seth lifted his nose to see if he could detect any clues in the air about who else might be prowling in the night ahead of them. Nightshade plunged on like liquid darkness and when Seth stepped outside, the light from his torch barely penetrated the inky black.
They moved swiftly under the canopy of trees, which blotted out any helpful twinkling of starlight and even the hopeless slip of moon. With just the torchlight, Seth picked his way as they headed in the direction of the glow-worm glade. Beyond that was a fierce loop of river that enclosed the grounds of the hotel, guarded by a waterfall, which cut off travel to the north.
‘I did everything exactly as Kingfisher said,’ he whispered. ‘I made that dessert, no one else touched it and then it was whisked into the dining room, which was locked. No one could have poisoned it.’
‘So someone used magic to get into the dining room.’
Seth strode on. ‘I was tired and in a hurry,’ he said grimly. ‘I made that dessert. What if I picked something by accident, something like belladonna, and it got mixed up with the other ingredients, Nightshade? It is possible.’
‘Possible, but unlikely. Did the poison smell like belladonna?’
Seth thought back to the dining room. ‘It smelt more like almonds.’
‘Well then, that’s a big clue. No one knows more than you about ingredients. Now, I bet that smell wasn’t in the dessert when you took it into the dining room.’
‘But I have to be sure,’ said Seth stubbornly.
‘Stop blaming yourself, Seth. It wasn’t you.’
Guests muttered about the spookiness of the wet, windy woods that grew almost to the door of the hotel. It was easy to imagine faces in the trunks of the trees. You often came across a pair of unseeing eyes or a gaping mouth and realized it was an old statue, overgrown with ivy and spotted with yellow lichen.
Seth remembered exactly the steps he’d traced on his quest for apricots. He hadn’t known where they grew, yet he’d known for sure they’d be there. It was strange, but the garden was like that. Whatever the season, if you needed a recipe, even one that involved both peaches and pumpkins, you headed into the garden and you would eventually find what you needed. Sometimes, when he was younger, Seth had convinced himself that the garden was magic.
Resentment laced every delicate step Nightshade took across the frosty ground, moving so it looked as if her paws hardly made contact with the earth. They passed what had once been a great greenhouse, now scarred with jagged wind
ows. Inside grew a giant tree whose branches looked like the clawing fingers of a desperate prisoner reaching through the broken glass to freedom.
‘Doing this in the dark wasn’t such a bright idea,’ muttered Nightshade.
‘Great. Everyone’s a critic,’ said Seth. ‘You didn’t have to come.’
She muttered something under her breath.
There was only the sound of Seth’s feet crunching noisily on the twigs and leaves, the scent of moist earth and the fresh sharp tang of early icy air filling his nostrils.
He stumbled over a tree root, twisting his ankle. He hobbled onwards.
‘Come on. Nearly there.’ Nightshade brushed past his legs and leapt forwards into the darkness.
Seth took a deep breath, stumbling forwards and at last, even in the dark, they were at the place, exactly as he remembered. There were the apricots.
Nightshade lifted her nose in the night air. ‘Get on with it, Seth, we’ll get frostbite out here.’
‘If I made a terrible mistake, I shall own up.’ Seth gripped the torch firmly.
Nightshade looked up at him, her big eyes reflecting the thin moonlight. ‘Then I guess we’re all doomed.’
‘Thanks Nightshade.’ Seth wondered if he would ever get used to her talking. ‘You are such a comfort.’
As he pushed aside the foliage, his heart was hammering as he expected to catch sight of something deadly curling around the fruit, or a lethal dark berry in just the wrong place waiting to drop him into trouble.
The first ghostly light of dawn breaking helped his search, warming to a cheerful flush of pink on the horizon.
‘There’s nothing, Nightshade,’ Seth breathed. ‘Just the apricots.’
Seth felt his heart lift.
‘OK, sound detective work,’ said Nightshade, ‘but I knew from the start that dessert simply could not have been poisoned when it left the kitchen.’
The relief was so great it made his steps light as they turned back to the hotel.
The Last Chance Hotel Page 7