The Curse of the Blue Scarab: A Monster Mash-up by Josh Lanyon

Author:Josh Lanyon [Lanyon, Josh]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: mystery, GLBT
Publisher: JustJoshin Publishing, Inc.
Published: 2016-12-09T07:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty Four

BHANAVAR AND THE MUMMY

I sat up, suddenly wide awake. Maxwell stood at my bedside. He looked…harrowed.

I croaked, “What? What are you saying?”

We were not alone. Bird rattled at my blinds and let broad daylight into the bedroom. I put up a protective hand, wincing at the glare.

“Perceval’s dead,” Maxwell said. He sounded absolutely stunned.

I threw off the bedclothes and rose. He was already dressed, which I couldn’t understand. Though his face was white, his cheeks and nose were pink with the cold, and I could smell the crisp scent of the outdoors on his coat. While he went on talking, I stood in my pajamas listening to him, trying to make sense of his behavior. Why had he slipped out? Did he not understand what he had committed to the previous evening?

“I can’t believe it,” he said again. “He was perfectly well last night.”

I could hear the undertone of running water which Bird had turned on for my cold bath.

“Wait!” I pointed to a chair. “Sit down and begin again. You’re sure he’s dead?”

He nodded, seeming to lose his voice.

I nearly said, “If he’s dead, we gain nothing by hurry,” but remembered in time how Maxwell had come to my flat on the first occasion, and how I had shocked him by some remark of the same kind.

Instead, I took him by the shoulders and said, “I’m sorry, Hilary. More sorry than I can say.”

He nodded and wiped impatiently at his eyes.

Bird reappeared in the doorway, and I told him to bring in brandy and a glass.

“Take a nip,” I said to Maxwell. “I won’t be a minute,” and I turned into the bathroom, splashed into the cold water, and came out feeling that now I had my wits about me.

Maxwell was sipping a little brandy while Bird stood stiffly before him, holding the decanter. He somehow conveyed the impression of a sentry presenting arms to his officer.

What time was it? I checked my watch, lying on the little table beside my bed, and I found it was a quarter past nine.

“Make coffee and bring it in directly it’s ready,” I said to Bird. To Maxwell, I said, “Tell me everything while I shave. What were you doing there at this hour?”

“I couldn’t sleep.” The mirrored reflection behind my own was both guilty and rebellious. “I wasn’t sure my coming here was the right decision. I decided to go round to Park Lane and have breakfast with Perceval. I wanted his opinion on the matter.”

It was not what I wanted to hear, but I was glad for his honesty. “Have you told the police?”

“No,” he said.

This alarmed me. “The servants will be disturbing things at Park Lane,” I pointed out.

“No one is there who knows,” he replied. “I locked the door and brought away the key and his damned fool of a man too. The fellow’s down in the cab.”

“Down in the… All right. Go on with your story.” I interrupted him no more.

Bird brought in the coffee tray while he spoke.

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