The Heist - Magic Limited (Book One) by John Booth

Author:John Booth [Booth, John]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 2015-02-02T05:00:00+00:00

27. Ghost

Paul visited every room in the house. The mysterious vapor trails didn’t go upstairs so he only needed a cursory glance to clear them of any involvement. One pattern soon became clear; all the trails had at least one end at the fireplace. Many circled around the house to return to the dining room, some ended up at the painting.

Jenkins and Benita followed him for a while before giving up and settling down in the dining room. Jenkins prepared tea and cakes for Benita and brought them to the table.

“Can I interest you in a cup of tea and a cake?” Benita asked as Paul re-entered the dining room.

“Yes, thank you.” Paul sat on the other side of the table to her and stared at the fireplace.

“You like my Picasso?” Benita asked.

“What? Yes, it’s very nice. Isn’t it a bit risky keeping such a valuable painting in a house with a ghost?”

Benita’s laugh tinkled, like finest porcelain clinking together.

“Whatever ever else our ghost is, it has taste. The vases it broke were hideous and I was glad to see the back of them. They were my husband’s purchases. I’m sure we would get on very well if it wasn’t for that terrible painting.”

“So you knew all along that was what upset it?”

Benita sat a little straighter in her chair. “Whatever else I may be, I am not stupid. Neither the priest nor the spiritualist spotted the cause. You however, Mister Paul Jones of Magic Limited, are the real thing, and were drawn to it immediately.”

“You haven’t put it back just to keep it riled?”

For a second Benita’s face was ice, the she relaxed. “I do not torture. But this is my house and that painting had to go. Do you really think you can find the body of the little girl after all these years?”

It was Paul’s turn to impress. “I already know where she is. Getting to the body may prove more difficult.”

“You have my permission to dig. Just be careful of the Picasso.”

Paul sipped his tea and considered. This was an old house, at least the parts around the fireplace and that was certainly where the body was hidden. There was a strong possibility that she was in a priest’s hole, a place where Catholics hid priests during those years the religion was banned in England. The walls were certainly thick enough.

“Excuse me,” Paul said as he left the table for the fireplace. The hearth was eight feet wide and went back five feet or so.

He walked into it, bending over to avoid the lintel as it was a foot shorter than his six foot height.

“We had the chimney inspected and cleaned when we moved in,” Benita told him from the table. “She cannot be up there.”

Paul pressed his hands against the stone blocks at the back of the chimney. He felt the tingle that told him that magic silver was somewhere close by. The stonework had been repointed recently, probably after the chimney had been cleaned. It made looking for a broken line in the mortar a waste of time.

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