The Case of the Hidden Daemon

by Lucy Banks

  “Why, is the fridge broken too?”

  He shook his head. “No, it’s not that. Pineapple apparently has a condition called food-kleptomania. Once you put anything in there, it’s gone within a few hours.”

  She threw back her head and laughed, giving Kester the full benefit of her pearly-white teeth. “I know a way you can stop him.”

  “Go on.”

  “Dip two sticks of celery in chocolate, then put them in a Twix wrapper. That should put him off.”

  Kester chuckled as he flicked through the TV channels. “That’s evil. Good idea.”

  He left her watching a programme about DIY home renovations and went out to the hallway. Sure enough, he had a missed call on his phone. Quickly, he pressed his voicemail button.

  “Hello, Kester, it’s me,” the message began. He grinned. Just as Serena said, he thought. Miss Wellbeloved. I wonder what this mysterious lead is, then?

  “I wanted to speak to you quite urgently,” Miss Wellbeloved’s voice continued. “There’s been a sighting of Hrschni in the Thelemites’ Whitby branch. Curtis Philpot has proposed that each team send a representative up there to do some observations, and I thought you’d be perfect, as you’ve got such a knack of spotting things that the rest of us miss. Can you give me a call back, please?”

  Kester hung up and sighed. Not again, he thought. I just want to spend some time at home without having to dart off here, there, and everywhere. He poked his head round the lounge door and saw Anya had already finished her wine. In spite of the cold, she looked quite cosy nestled into the corner of the sofa. He longed to forget about work, at least for a little while, and snuggle up next to her, though, by the sounds of things, that wasn’t going to be possible.

  “Do you want another drink?” he offered, pointing to her glass.

  She nodded. “Yes, please. What did the message say?”

  He quickly filled her in, then headed out to the kitchen.

  “Where this time?” Anya asked as Kester returned with the bottle of wine.

  “Bloody Whitby. I’m not even sure exactly where that is.”

  “It’s a seaside town in the north-west,” she replied. “It’s famous. Bram Stoker thought up the story for Dracula there.”

  Kester laughed. “How do you know that sort of stuff?”

  She sipped demurely at her wine. “What can I say? I’m a sucker for vampires.”

  “Gosh, do I need to guard my neck when I’m around you?”

  “Only at night-time.”

  He grinned. It felt good to have her around, just hanging out together like a normal couple. Her blonde hair draped over the sofa cushions like a blanket, shining in the lamp-light, and it made his breath catch with sudden desire. She really is beautiful, he thought. What does she see in someone like me? He glanced ruefully at his phone, then sighed.

  “I’d better return Miss Wellbeloved’s call,” he explained. “Back in a minute.”

  He went through to the kitchen and stepped out into the utility area, which was currently overflowing with Pineapple’s dirty laundry.

  The phone rang, then finally connected.

  “Aha, Kester, there you are! And why did it take you so long to call us back, eh?”

  Kester’s mouth fell open. He hadn’t expected his father to answer. “What are you doing at Miss Wellbeloved’s house?” he asked.

  “That is none of your business, nosy. Did you listen to Jennifer’s message?”

  Kester could hear Miss Wellbeloved’s voice in the background, complete with soft music that sounded like an opera recording. Are they having some sort of romantic evening together? he wondered. His stomach turned at the thought.

  “Yes, I listened to it,” he muttered, then added mutinously, “Why do I have to go?”

  “Jennifer said why you have to go. It will be good for you.” Ribero cleared his throat, then laughed. “Also, there is a very special person helping with the case, and I think you should meet them.”

  “Who’s that?”

  Ribero tittered. “I am not going to tell you. It is a very big surprise.”

  Kester’s heart sank. “I don’t like surprises,” he said. “Can’t you just tell me?”

  “No. So you need to get ready to go to Whitby, okay?”

  “Why, when do you propose I go?” Kester barked, feeling angrier by the second. He glanced back to the lounge, where he could still hear the muted chatter of the television programme.

  “You will leave tomorrow. It is an urgent case, right?”

  Oh, you have got to be kidding me, Kester thought. “What if I refuse?” he said aloud, in a voice that was rather squeakier and more indignant than he’d intended.

  “Then I call you a silly pillock.”

  “Well, that’s good to know.”

  There was a rustling down the line, some muffled whispers, then suddenly Miss Wellbeloved’s lighter breathing drifted into his ear.

  “I’m sorry, Kester,” she said without preamble. “I know you probably just want to relax for a bit. But I really do think this investigation is right up your street.”

  “But I’ve got Anya staying with me!” he protested, aware that he was starting to whine but unable to stop himself. “I was looking forward to spending some time with her!”

  Miss Wellbeloved sighed. “I can understand that must be frustrating. For what it’s worth, I don’t imagine you’ll need to be up there for long. Cardigan Cummings and Ian Kingdom-Green are going to do the longer-term stake-out. Luke’s going too, if that helps?”

  He shrugged. “A bit, I suppose. I guess I haven’t got a choice in the matter, have I?”

  “We’d really appreciate it if you went.”

  Kester sighed, leaning against the wall. “Okay, fine. What time do I need to leave?”

  “The train’s at half-past seven in the morning,” Miss Wellbeloved replied. “There are two changes, and you arrive in the afternoon.” She paused. “I’m sorry.”

  Kester bit back a sharp retort. He knew it wasn’t her fault. “Fine,” he replied through gritted teeth. “What about accommodation?”

  “There weren’t many available rooms at short notice, so you’ll be sharing a twin room with Luke. It’s a hotel apparently, right on the seafront. I’ll text over the details in a moment.”

  His shoulders slumped. Even the prospect of a five-star establishment wasn’t likely to brighten his mood. “What about Anya?” he asked. “If she’s doing this interview with Infinite Enterprises, I want to know that she’s being kept safe, like Philpot promised.”

  “Absolutely,” Miss Wellbeloved replied smoothly. “I’ll make it a top priority to ensure that happens.”

  “Alright, then.” He couldn’t think of much else to say. “I’d better go. I’ve left Anya alone in the lounge. By the way, why is Dad at your house?”

  There was a substantial silence. Miss Wellbeloved coughed. “We were just keeping each other company,” she said stiffly. “You know how it is, when you get old.”

  “Not really,” Kester admitted. Whatever it was that they were up to, he probably didn’t want to know.

  After saying goodbye, he headed back to the lounge and slumped back onto the sofa like a disgruntled sack of potatoes.

  “Oh dear,” Anya said, spotting his dejected expression. “Let me guess. They want you to go tomorrow?”

  He grabbed his glass of wine and promptly drank most of it. “Apparently so. Unbelievable, isn’t it?”

  The television programme came to an end, complete with a horribly jovial theme tune, which only seemed to mock his bad mood.

  She sighed, then drained her glass too. “Does that mean I’ll be here with just your housemates, then?” she asked finally.

  “And Thor too,” Kester said with a smile.

  Her mouth twitched. “He’ll be good protection
if the Thelemites come to get me, I’m sure.”

  “I thought you said you weren’t so worried about them now?” He reached over and switched off the television. At once, the room fell into soft, companionable silence.

  She looked over to the window, studying the faded curtains. “I’m not worried,” she said quietly.

  But there’s something going on, isn’t there? he thought as his gaze traced a path over her face. It’s just you’re not telling me, for some reason. He wished he could read her better, but he’d never been that good at interpreting women. Or anyone, for that matter. It was as though an invisible veil had been raised somewhere inside her, masking everything from view. Why didn’t Mum teach me more about the opposite sex? he thought with a rueful smile. It would have been bloody helpful right now.

  Suddenly, a movement by the fireplace caught his eye. Before he had chance to register what it was, Daisy’s ceramic cat from Japan teetered and fell, smashing into pieces on the tiled hearth.

  Instinctively, he leapt to his feet, nearly dropping his glass in the process. “What the hell caused that?” he said with a wild glance in Anya’s direction.

  Anya shook her head slowly and evaluated the smashed pile of cheaply-painted china on the floor. “I don’t know,” she said finally, placing her hands on her hips. “Was it off-balance or something?”

  His mind raced back to when he’d been fiddling about with the candle. Did I move the cat? he wondered, surveying the mess. I don’t remember touching it, but I suppose it could be possible. But why did it only fall over now with no-one near it? He shivered in spite of himself. Something didn’t feel quite right. In fact, if he was being honest with himself, things hadn’t been feeling right for some time, and it was starting to worry him.

  Anya patted him on the back, sensing his discomfort. “It’s just one of those things,” she said emphatically. “Nothing to be worried about, I am sure.”

  He shook his head. “I’m not convinced.”

  “What are you not convinced about?” She smiled. “Things like this happen all the time, you know.”

  “But we were just talking about the Thelemites and—”

  To his surprise, his words were lost under the sudden, smooth pressure of her lips. His eyes widened then shut as he gave into the sensation of her mouth on his—insistent and forceful. A hand circled around his waist, and instinctively, he circled his own around her, feeling the line of her lower back smoothing out in a glorious plane above her jeans. I don’t know whether to feel elated, he thought, or terrified at the fact that she’s now got her hands firmly on my love-handles.

  Moments drew into timelessness, then finally, she pulled away. His lips felt tender and bruised.

  “You worry too much,” she said with a wink and tugged him gently on the hand. “Come on.”

  “Come on where?” he squeaked as she dragged him out of the room.

  She glanced over her shoulder, eyes glittering in the light. “We need to look for Thor upstairs.”

  Is that a euphemism? he wondered, then remembered Thor was her ferret. She winked at him, and he felt even more baffled. Dutifully, he followed her up the stairs like a lapdog trotting after its master, thinking, I’m not sure if that is the most exciting thing that’s ever happened to me or the most terrifying.

  “Are you okay?” she asked and gave him the full benefit of her gleaming smile. Thor appeared at the top of the stairs, wrapping himself around the top bannister like a fur scarf.

  He nodded and pressed his lips together with anticipation. Ah well, he concluded as they turned towards his bedroom. There’s one way of finding out, I suppose.

  Chapter 9: Whitby

  Kester paced the seafront, struggling to get his bearings. Despite having spent most of the day relaxing on the train, he felt drained and irritable, unable to adapt to the new surroundings—especially as he hadn’t had much sleep the night before.

  Not that I’m complaining, he thought with a grin. It all seemed rather unreal, given that he’d presumed he’d remain a virgin until he managed to find someone who was blind, deranged, or extremely unfussy. He still couldn’t quite believe that someone as beautiful as Anya liked him enough to give him a kiss, let alone spend the night with him.

  Still, now probably wasn’t the time to dwell on it, considering how cold it was, not to mention how much his stomach was rumbling. Tempting though it was to re-live every moment of last night, he knew he needed to get on with the task at hand.

  So, this is Whitby. He took a moment to survey the surrounding landscape. Grey waters slapped against the stone harbour, and the ruined abbey perched precariously on a distant hill, its windows framing the sinking sun. It’s very different to Exeter, he concluded. Colder, too. But it was certainly pretty, despite the steely-grey sky. Quaint, stone buildings jostled for space along the promenade, and little boats, sails flapping in the wind, bobbed beside him as he strolled onward. A man, made more of beard than anything else, sat sucking on a pipe and watching Kester with great interest before he disappeared down an alleyway between two shops. Aside from that, the street was deserted.

  I suppose of all the places they could have sent me, this isn’t too bad, he conceded. The place had a serenity and sense of timelessness that appealed to his traditional sensibilities. A flock of gulls suddenly streamed to the sharp cliffs on the other side of the estuary, wailing in the wind. Snapped back to reality, he rummaged in his backpack for the hotel details, then squinted once again at the address.

  “Seafront Hotel, Langbourne Road.” He looked for a sign, then realised he was already in the right place.

  A muffled shout broke the silence. Kester turned to see Luke waving merrily, his tasselled, suede jacket rather out of place against the elegant, Victorian backdrop.

  “Well, howdy-do!” Luke called, finally catching up with him. He patted Kester on the back, grinning with pleasure. “Nice to see you again. I take it you’re looking for the hotel?”

  Kester smiled. It was a relief to see somebody he knew. “Hi, Luke,” he said, stepping around a discarded box of fish and chips. “Have you been here long? Or are you as lost as I am?”

  “Nah, I’m never lost,” Luke replied, hoisting his bag on his shoulder. “See that building right there? With the pillars and fancy windows?”

  “Surely they haven’t paid for us to stay there, have they?” Kester studied the hotel with amazement. It was far posher than the horrible bed and breakfast they’d had to stay in when they’d been investigating in Dorset.

  Luke shrugged. “When it’s a top national case, I guess they flash the cash a little.”

  Kester looked up with awe. Up close, the hotel was even more impressive, and he was pleased to see that it had a restaurant. A hefty pile of food, he thought wistfully. That’d do me.

  The automatic doors swished open, and they walked into the polished, elegant reception. Anya would love this, he thought, spying his reflection in the tinted mirrors behind the desk. One day, I’ll take her somewhere posh.

  Luke caught him smiling and gave him a curious look. “My, my,” he said as he flung his bag on the floor at the reception desk. “Someone looks like the cat who got the cream then raided the dairy after. What’s put a grin on your face, Kester?”

  The receptionist swiftly emerged from the back room and took their details. Kester blushed, grateful for the diversion. “I can’t imagine what you’re referring to,” he mumbled.

  “Yeah, right.” Luke grabbed the keys and gave him a wink. “You’ll tell me later, after a few beers, I’ll bet. Agreed, partner?”

  They climbed up the sweeping staircase to their room, a calm oasis of white with two pleasingly comfortable-looking beds. Luke promptly lobbed his bag onto the bed nearest the window. “Shotgun,” he shouted, then added as an afterthought, “you don’t mind if I bag the great view, do you?”

  “No, not at all.” Kes
ter peered out the window, which had a tiny, iron balcony overlooking the harbour. He personally preferred to be close to the toilet in the night, anyway. “Shall we unpack now, while we’re waiting for the others?”

  “Nah, I reckon they’ll be here already.” Luke grabbed a complimentary bottle of water and promptly ripped the lid off. “You know what Infinite Enterprises are like. Always one step ahead of the rest of us.”

  Kester looked longingly at the free pack of biscuits by the kettle, then down at his stomach. Don’t even think about it, he told himself firmly. “Should we give them a call, then?” he suggested.

  “I don’t think you need to bother,” Luke replied. “I saw a person with flowing hair sitting with their back to us in the bar earlier. I’ll bet that’s our man, Kingdom-Green. Let’s see if we can find them there.”

  “Good idea.” Kester stifled a yawn with the back of his hand. “I need a drink to wake me up. A cup of tea would do the job nicely.”

  They made their way to the bar, which, as Luke had predicted, contained both Ian Kingdom-Green and Cardigan Cummings, dignified as two lords, settled in matching, velvet armchairs. Both nodded politely as they approached.

  “We wondered when you’d get here,” Cardigan said, extending his hand to both of them. “A pleasure to meet you once more.”

  “A pleasure and a joy,” Ian added, and gestured expressively to the bar. “What’s your tipple, good friends? I’ve been reliably informed that this trip is all-expenses-paid. Order whatever you will, though save the champagne for when we solve the case, eh?”

  Kester smiled. “I think I’ll just have a nice cuppa for now,” he replied.

  “Upon my word, you shall not,” Ian said severely. “Make it alcoholic, for what we are about to discuss requires a flexible, open mind. Have a wine. It invigorates the senses.”

  I’m not sure it’ll invigorate mine, Kester thought, but he nodded nonetheless. A few minutes later, he and Luke were presented with a goblet of Merlot each, which certainly looked appealing. Even better, the waiter placed a large bowl of peanuts beside them, which Kester’s fingers hastily sneaked towards without him realising it.