Excalibur Rising by Eileen Hodgetts

Author:Eileen Hodgetts
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TEN

Todd

Todd was surprised to find that he could admire Michael Mandretti. In fact, although he would never admit it to him, he was actually grateful to Mandretti for closing down the show in Key West. Dressing in drag and performing Noel Coward to an empty theater had turned out to be, well, a drag. As soon as he was off the stage and onto an airplane, the lure of the greasepaint had dissipated and he knew how ridiculous it had been to think that tourists from the cruise ships would flock into a grimy little backstreet theater to see a cut rate production of Blithe Spirit. For goodness sake, he thought, they have Broadway dancers on those ships, high priced crooners, top of the line comedians, why would they want to see Todd exploring the feminine within the masculine in a new interpretation of a play that wasn’t even funny when it was written seventy years earlier?

He also appreciated the fact that, unlike Violet, Michael Mandretti actually understood and valued Todd’s skills as a researcher. Violet took him for granted with her demands that he should send “one of those e-mail thingies,” or just “look it up on your little computer, dear.” He could see it clearly now; Violet’s disdain for all things electronic made him feel undervalued. Violet did not value computers and, therefore, she didn’t value Todd. On the other hand, Mandretti had offered him nothing but compliments, thanking him over and again for the information he’d been able to come up with after just a quick search.

He glanced sideways at the man riding beside him in the back seat of the black limo; a small limo by Vegas standards, but large enough to allow Mandretti to sit with his legs spread, hands on knees, in a position of controlled power.

“Okay,” said Mandretti, “let’s get this straight. We’re going to see this old French broad because she’s gonna tell us what her husband did with the sword.”

“I don’t know that’s she’s French,” Todd said, “but Claudette is normally a French name.”

“So maybe she’s French, maybe she’s not, but she’s old, right?”

“Oh yes, quite definitely. If she’s the widow of Reverend Wilshire, then she’s probably in her nineties, but the people at the home say she’s quite capable of carrying on a conversation, most of the time.”

“Most of the time,” Mandretti repeated. “Well, let’s hope today is one of those times.” He paused. “You sure it’s her?” he asked.

“No, not really,” said Todd, “but it’s my best guess. Her name is Wilshire and she’s living in a home for clergy widows. It’s the best lead I could come up with.”

Mandretti patted Todd’s knee. “You done good,” he said. “So how far is it?”

“Not far,” said Todd, “but you should ask the driver. He knows where he’s going.”

“Nah,” said Mandretti, “don’t get the driver involved in this. Freddie’s been paid to drive, not to answer questions. In fact, Freddie’s usually paid not to answer questions.”

“Okay,” said Todd, looking at the back of the driver’s thick neck and bullet shaped head.

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