Missing Magician by Paul Tomlinson

Author:Paul Tomlinson [Tomlinson, Paul]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Paul Tomlinson
Published: 2018-01-02T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fifteen

Mr. Vickery was sitting in the study when Malloy came back up.

“I couldn’t decide,” Malloy said, holding up two bottles.

Vickery pointed to one of them. Malloy took it to the sideboard, opened it and poured healthy measures into two glasses. He passed one to Mr. Vickery, who swirled the brandy in the glass and then sniffed it.

“The Estate Manager has quite a decent cellar,” Vickery said. “All filched from the hall over the years, of course. What were you doing down there?”

“Looking for you,” Malloy said.

“What would I be doing down there?”

“I thought that’s where you’d be tied up.” Malloy stood by the window.

“You were imagining me tied up, were you?” Vickery raised an eyebrow and then sipped the brandy. Malloy didn’t think it was the brandy that made him smile.

“We should take some of this home with us,” Malloy said, raising his glass.

“Perhaps we shall,” Vickery said. “I would ask you about your dishevelled appearance, but the police came by and told us what you’d been up to.”

“I’m sorry about the stink,” Malloy said.

“Where did you hide out?” Vickery asked.

“I found an old barn – behind a hill that overlooks Rocksley, north of the river.”

“Did you spend the night with a sheep?”

“No. I waited for her, but she stood me up.”

Vickery laughed. “She was probably put off by the smell.” He reached for a box on the little table beside his chair. “Here, have a cigar – it will help mask the odour.”

Malloy refused the offer. “I’m used to it by now.”

“I’m not,” Vickery said. He selected a cigar and performed the ritual of rolling it in his hands, trimming off the end and lighting it. “You charged halfway across the country in a stolen car and then drove it into a ditch,” he said, blowing out smoke. “Whatever possessed you?”

“I came here to rescue you,” Malloy said.

“Oh, I see,” Vickery said. “You’ve had a wasted journey, I’m afraid.”

“What?”

“I’m not a prisoner, Jamie. I’m here entirely of my own volition.”

“But...” Malloy said. “But...” He couldn’t think of an appropriate protest, so took another mouthful of the brandy instead.

“Let me take your coat through to the kitchen,” Vickery said. “Betty will brush the worst of the mud off it.”

Was Betty here? Of course, she was, Malloy thought. She would have arrived well before he did. “The worst of it isn’t mud,” he said, setting down his glass and pulling off the coat.

“You’re not getting into the car with it in that state,” Vickery said, taking the coat from him. “Betty is already working on your shoes, but I don’t hold out much hope for them.” He disappeared off to the kitchen.

Malloy stood, feeling something he couldn’t quite put a name to. A combination of disappointment and foolishness. He’d driven here thinking of himself as a knight in shining armour. Now he was standing in his socks and shirtsleeves feeling like the biggest kind of fool. That and chilly – there was no fire in the grate.

“She’ll bring them through in a minute,” Vickery said, coming back into the study and closing the door.

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