‘I’ll go and make some more.’ Seth went to slip past him, feeling his stomach twist as he realized just how behind he must already be with his many kitchen tasks.
Pewter laid a steadying hand on his arm. ‘Today, Mr Seppi, I request that you work with me. Even if we will have to bravely survive without biscuits.’
Seth had been going to suggest that they all go and sit more comfortably inside, rather than out here on a damp, chilly morning. There was still frost everywhere the sun had not yet touched and they only ever used this long table on the patio at the height of summer.
But as he took a seat, it was warm. He even felt a soft summer breeze flutter on his cheek and he looked at Pewter. Was he making it warm here? Was he using magic?
‘You, Seth,’ began Pewter, ‘caused me to get almost no sleep. It was the fault of that supremely impressive question you asked last night.’
‘Sorry about that, sir.’
‘Miss Squerr!’
Angelique had already started to turn back to the garden.
‘Perhaps just for a moment we can forget that you are a suspect here? I would be supremely grateful.’
She flashed him an annoyed look. ‘Think I can cope with that. You want something from me. What exactly?’ her dark eyes narrowed.
‘You said yesterday you had notes on everyone’s magical demonstrations. I would be most interested to know exactly what everyone’s skill was that they showed at the Prospect feast.’
Pewter poured them each a cup of coffee. He slid one towards Angelique invitingly. She stared at it, hesitating for a couple of moments before taking a seat that was still damp from the morning dew.
Seth saw Nightshade return from hunting for her breakfast and slip under the table. She was ready to listen, ready to learn; he was doing the same.
Seth searched his mind for anything supremely impressive he had said yesterday. But his mind was too distracted by what Angelique had revealed. Surely Dr Thallomius’s murderer had to be someone from the magical world – someone who had arrived here as a guest to take part in the Prospect?
How could there be magic already here at the hotel?
But then how often had he thought to himself that the garden was magical? Of course he’d never actually believed . . .
‘The question you asked, Seth – was this crime committed using magic?’ said Pewter, interrupting Seth’s thoughts. ‘It was almost exactly the question I was asking myself. Because otherwise, it seems an impossible crime. And really, there is no such thing.’
Angelique sipped her coffee. She gave her head a little thoughtful shake. ‘But someone getting into that locked room during the only five minutes when it could have been done? That would require seriously impressive magic.’
There was the slamming of a door and Kingfisher stomped out, stroking his moustache, smoothing his green suit and complaining. ‘Why is he not under lock and key?’ He glared at Seth and Angelique. ‘And why is she drinking coffee?’
‘I am pleased to say you are not too late for a cup,’ replied Pewter.
Kingfisher still glared, but he sat down and accepted the coffee.
‘Now, we were just agreeing that we are putting aside all our differences. A time for pooling resources. First, I want to go over one or two details.’
Kingfisher groaned and put his head in his hands.
‘Now Miss Squerr was sitting right next to the dessert, which had arrived at the very last second?’
They all nodded.
‘After the main course everyone had the chance to show their magic,’ said Angelique. ‘I did not move the whole time. I made notes and, I’m sorry, but absolutely no one went past me or near that table. Then it was time for dessert and—’
‘Who handed Dr Thallomius the dessert?’ enquired Pewter.
Seth noticed that Angelique’s throat quivered slightly as she whispered. ‘That, I’m afraid, was me.’ She shook back her hair and rattled her long red fingernails on the table. ‘Gregorian,’ she said clearly, ‘after the food arrived, the dining room was officially sealed ready for the Prospect and was then left empty for five minutes. Can I just check whether we can rule out that that’s when the poison was administered? Was the dining room door simply locked or was it charmed for magical intervention? How difficult would it have been to get past?’
‘Of course it was charmed. Think I’d forget the absolute basics?’ Kingfisher’s lip curled at Angelique thinking she had the right to question him. ‘That room was sealed.’
‘Did the charms you put in place cover the whole room?’ pressed Angelique.
Kingfisher hesitated. ‘All right, no,’ he snarled. ‘I just made sure someone couldn’t use an unlocking fix on the door. Myself and Mr Bunn had keys to the two locks. We were all going to be back in five minutes. It’s just part of the procedure. It’s to keep any evidence that people might be bringing to the Prospect away from the prying eyes of any non-magical people who might be hanging about. Some magical folk are very secretive about their magic, or being magic at all. The charm was definitely still in place when myself and Mr Bunn opened the door again.’
Pewter gave a discreet cough. ‘I say let’s forget the fact that Thallomius was a political figure with powerful enemies.’
‘Forget it?’ echoed Kingfisher with a hollow laugh.
‘I try to forget politics as often as I can.’
‘I agree that focusing on how the crime could have been committed is a good place to start,’ said Angelique.
‘But we know it can only have been done by the kitchen boy!’
A rustling behind them and a familiar terrifying smell of ironed sheets and rum warned Seth that his horrible boss Norrie Bunn was approaching and he was about to pay for a fatal mistake. For the first time in his life, he’d completely neglected his duties.
He tried to scramble out of his chair, but not quickly enough. Norrie held the back of it like a steel trap, but her voice, when she spoke to the guests, was syrupy.
‘I can only apologize for Seth’s manners. He is not well-trained and recent events have upset him. But he should know his place is not to slouch about with the guests.’
Seth felt her bony fingers gripping the back of his chair and she hauled it backwards, nearly sending him flying.
‘What on earth are you playing at, boy?’ thundered Norrie Bunn, breathing rum fumes right in his face. ‘Think guests want to sit about with the kitchen boy?’ She turned to give a polite, tight smile to the others.
Seth again tried to get to his feet, but stumbled awkwardly.
‘My dear Mrs Bunn, any chance of some more coffee?’ Pewter asked politely, waving the empty coffee pot.
Norrie Bunn whipped her head around to look hard at him. ‘I shall get Seth on to it right away. That – and the fact that we will soon have hungry guests wanting their breakfast and my kitchen boy hasn’t set foot about his duties since yesterday. We are a little behind.’
She now had Seth’s wrist gripped so hard he thought his bones would crack.
‘That does seem very troublesome, Mrs Bunn,’ said Pewter smoothly. ‘I can see why you are so keen to get young Seth back into your kitchen.’
Norrie started to drag Seth away.
‘I am impressed by the way you so easily cope with having a notorious poisoner among your kitchen staff.’
Mrs Bunn loosened her grip on Seth as if he’d set his hand on fire. She looked at him in horror and turned to Pewter, a look of slow uncertainty crossing her sharp features.
Pewter checked the enormous watch on his wrist.
‘Are you certain Seth poisoned one of my guests?’ Norrie hissed. ‘I heard that yesterday you were trying to pin it on my daughter.’
‘Rest assured, investigations are proceeding, but currently we have absolutely no reason to suspect anyone else.’
‘I really should go and help in the kitchen,’ said Seth.
Pewter gave his head a very small shake and frowned. He turned to Kingfisher. ‘I guess so
meone could offer some help?’
Kingfisher looked aghast, pointing a finger to his chest. ‘Me?’
‘Well that’s very kind of you to offer – Mrs Bunn, Mr Fishfinger will come and assist you. Shall we say five minutes?’
Seth couldn’t believe it when Mrs Bunn simply scuttled off. He sat down again, although Angelique turned to him with a smile that only made him dread what was coming.
‘Seth’s been an eager student about the magical world. Now’s a good time to show that you’ve been paying attention.’
Seth felt his face go hot as everyone turned to him, waiting.
‘Erm.’ Seth cleared his throat. ‘Well. Magic is rare. It is difficult to do. It can be dark and dangerous. It’s a responsibility, because there are different kinds of magic and some of them are . . . horrible. And it can take ages to learn to do even basic stuff. That’s probably why there aren’t that many magical people about, I guess.’ He scratched his head.
‘That’s pretty good Seth, glad to see you really have been paying attention,’ said Angelique.
Seth turned to Pewter. ‘When you said I almost asked the same question as you were asking yourself, you weren’t thinking about whether it was committed by magic. I guess what you were already thinking is – who here could have had enough magic to have done it?’
Pewter beamed. ‘My thoughts exactly. Which is why I am involving you, Miss Squerr.’ He rubbed his hands. ‘We proceed. Miss Squerr, you took notes. And I remember you saying Dr Thallomius came all this way to judge a huddle of not-very-promising hopefuls. So . . . some news on our candidates, please. Let’s see what we make of them.’
Angelique didn’t speak straight away. She tapped a smart red pen on the table top. ‘You think one of them is deceiving us? Hiding more magical ability than they want to reveal? You think someone might have tricked their way into this Prospect? That someone who secretly has strong magical powers is hiding behind being a novice?’
‘I say we run with it as a possibility. You could even call it the perfect crime,’ said Pewter. ‘But luckily I like a challenge.’
28. Another Way?
Angelique took out her red notebook and flipped it open. ‘Count Marred was pitching a simple wellbeing potion. A few small glasses of his colourless fluid he calls Broom and you get a warm glow of happiness and start to feel that everyone around you is your friend.’
‘Sounds fantastic,’ said Pewter. ‘That’ll be popular. I’d have some of that.’
The fact that Count Marred had demonstrated his ability to brew a potion made Seth sit up. That sounded promising.
‘Hmm,’ went on Angelique. ‘I would say a hint of magical ability. But it is so incredibly difficult to judge.’ She sighed. ‘Dr Thallomius was so good at that.’
‘Professor Papperspook – expert on birds, particularly an ability to talk to them,’ sneered Kingfisher, swinging on his chair. ‘I don’t think you’re going to eliminate suspects that way. Seth, for instance, isn’t magic in the slightest.’ He gave Seth the most unfriendly smile ever.
Seth fidgeted, trying to change the subject. ‘I think Mr Bunn used to keep birds. He keeps a tiny bird cage, which is strange when he has a very strict “no pets” rule. I helped Professor Papperspook collect some bird song this morning. It was fascinating.’
Kingfisher gave him a long, searching look, before turning back to Pewter and growling. ‘I guess Troutbean was a wash-out?’
‘But wasn’t her grandfather a famous sorcerer?’ asked Seth.
Angelique pulled a face. ‘Miss Troutbean claims to have invented an anti-gravity dust, but that was always going to be pretty unlikely.’
‘Why’s that?’ asked Seth.
‘Anti-gravity dust? That would be Tier One wizardry. If Miss Troutbean had developed that level of magic at her age it would be incredible. Magic takes study and hard work to perfect, you just said you understood that,’ said Angelique.
‘You mean even people born into magical families try to trick their way into the Elysee?’
Angelique gave a small nod. ‘I’m afraid magic being inherited from your parents is never guaranteed.’
‘In Miss Troutbean’s case she’s pretty angry at the fact any magic in that family seems to have skipped her completely,’ drawled Kingfisher.
‘But how was she making it look like she’d invented an anti-gravity dust?’ pressed Seth.
‘Miss Troutbean had springs in her shoes. Pretty easy to spot.’
Seth remembered those peculiar thick-soled shoes he’d found when he’d searched Gloria’s room.
From having a glimmer of hope that they would be able to find the answer, Seth was back to wracking his brains again. It was beginning to look like none of the guests had enough magical ability to have done it. How was it done?
‘Miss Squerr, you have been most enlightening,’ said Pewter. ‘Seth, I hope you haven’t forgotten that you asked me another extremely good question and Miss Squerr, I believe, is about to tell us the answer – who was this mysterious eighth person at the Prospect table last night?’
29. The Eighth Seat
Anoise from the shrubbery distracted them all. Seth could think of one person who was supremely good at creeping around, listening in and looking for a chance to get him into trouble.
He looked up and wondered if he should tell them Tiffany could very well be lurking, but after a few seconds everything went quiet. It was probably just a bird. Angelique pressed on and her words caught Seth completely by surprise.
‘The eighth seat at the table was not for a guest. Someone invited us to have our Prospect meeting here and be judged on an application to join the Elysee.’
It sank in what she was saying. ‘What? Someone here at the hotel wanted to demonstrate magic? Someone here applied to join the magical world? Who? Who was it?’ demanded Seth.
‘Horatio Bunn.’
‘Mr Bunn? Mr Bunn thinks he is magical?’
So that was why Mr Bunn had been so very excited – he was actually going to the dinner. That was why all the magical folk ended up coming here to the Last Chance Hotel. And that explained why Mr Bunn had been the first one to call for help when Dr Thallomius was poisoned. Mr Bunn had been first on the scene because he had been inside the room all the time.
More rustling in the nearby shrubbery made them all turn. This time it was unmistakeable and Kingfisher went reluctantly to investigate, although he returned quickly, shaking his head.
Angelique consulted the notebook again. ‘I’d like your opinion, Seth. On your master. Mr Bunn.’
Seth could give plenty of opinions about Mr Bunn, but he had a feeling she wasn’t interested in how mean and lazy he was.
‘He had something pretty amazing to show us,’ said Angelique, shuffling her papers.
Seth was listening in growing disbelief. Surely Mr Bunn would simply be another fraudster, hoping he could trick his way into the Elysee, get a library card and access to all those wonderful magical books and train to be magic? Surely Mr Bunn had only found a way to do an impressive trick.
‘What did he do?’ Seth demanded.
‘He did magic with two carved figures of bugs.’
‘Henri’s,’ muttered Seth. ‘He spends his free time carving those. What magic did Mr Bunn do with the carvings?’
‘He did something very few people would ever have the skill to do.’ She twirled the long strand of red in her hair around her index finger. ‘Something incredible.’ Angelique consulted her notes carefully before speaking and the frown deepened. ‘I don’t know how he did it. If it was a trick it was an extremely good one. It certainly looked like proper magic.’
‘What did he do to Henri’s animals?’
He expected her to say he smashed them up, or burnt them. He imagined something dramatic to seize the attention.
‘If there was anyone in that room who performed magic impressive enough to make me think he could have got past those charms Kingfisher put on the door just before the Prospect
, it would be your boss.’
Seth could bear it no longer. ‘What exactly did he do?’
‘Personification. He made those little carved figures move. He made them come to life.’
30. A Grudge Against Wintergreen
Professor Papperspook emerged from the lounge door and two steps behind her shuffled the reluctant Gloria, twisting the sleeve of her cardigan.
‘Ah, delightful of you to join us, Professor, can I offer you coffee?’
‘How long are you keeping us here?’ she demanded.
‘Or are you more of a tea drinker?’ said Pewter. ‘And please accept my profuse apologies for the lack of biscuits. I take personal responsibility for that.’ He passed her a coffee anyway.
Professor Papperspook puffed up her chest, but accepted the cup. ‘You can’t keep us here.’
‘I rather think that as a murder has been committed we can,’ muttered Pewter.
Seth was hardly listening. How on earth had Mr Bunn done magic?
The professor steamrollered on. ‘Are we all under suspicion?’ She didn’t wait for an answer. ‘Then I hope you have looked seriously at that the miniature entertainer who calls himself a magician. When the rest of us went to get changed after that game of cards, he followed Dr Thallomius straight to his room. I heard them arguing.’
‘Arguing?’ said Kingfisher uncertainly. ‘What about?’
‘I’d imagine they had plenty to argue about. He’s exactly the sort of chancer out to defraud the magical community that the Elysee doors have been opened to, all thanks to Dr Thallomius and this ridiculous recruitment drive of his.’
‘You are not a supporter of the changes Dr Thallomius has been bringing to the Elysee?’ Angelique closed her red notebook with a snap.
‘Magic belongs in magical hands,’ said Papperspook, puffing herself up, her clothes billowing around her as if she was resettling her feathers. ‘Littering the magical community with untrained upstarts. Torpor Thallomius had quite different views when he was young. He could not have been closer with Wintergreen Troutbean, getting up to no end of high jinks those two – inventing that famous burglar alarm that inflated people by a few centimetres so they couldn’t escape the way they had come in. So are you investigating that upstart boy properly? He could easily have slipped poison into that glass, that’s exactly the sort of trick he excels at. Hoping we’ll rule him out because he is young and so very short.’
The Last Chance Hotel Page 10