Goodly and Grave in a Deadly Case of Murder Page 7

  Rivers glanced at her. “It’s too dark. If it was daytime it would be riskier. But even then, most people wouldn’t notice unless they were magicians. And of course this carriage and the horses are shielded from non-magicians, just in case.”

  Lucy frowned. This was something that still confused her at times. “But Bertie’s not a magician, and he can see magic happening, even when it’s shielded.”

  “Ah, well, he has magician’s blood in his veins, so he’s not your average non-magician. And I know Master Bertie likes to take a rational view of magic, but I think he has a trace of magical ability in him. Even if he hasn’t, and even he didn’t have magical blood, he might still be able to see magic. Non-magical children often can; their minds are more open than grown-ups and they can see though the shields we put up.”

  “So what happens if a child sees us and tells someone?”

  “Oh, I think if any child starts chattering on about seeing magical occurrences, they’ll be ignored, don’t you?” Rivers urged the horses on faster and higher.

  There was a horrible retching noise from inside the coach.

  “Oh dear,” Rivers said. “Poor old Lord Grave really is a martyr to travel sickness.”

  The exhilarating flight ended all too soon for Lucy. Rivers landed the carriage in farmland just outside London before taking the normal non-flying route into the capital.

  As the carriage rattled along the cobbled streets of London, Lucy looked eagerly around. Although she loved living at Grave Hall with its many surprises, beautiful gardens and endlessly fascinating wildlife park, she hadn’t realised until now how much she missed the city, which she was used to visiting regularly. Everywhere was still abuzz. Light and laughter spilled from nearby taverns and carts rumbled by carrying meat and fruit to the markets, which would open in the early hours of the morning. Being in London again also made Lucy think rather wistfully of her parents. She hoped they were behaving themselves in Venice and not getting into any awkward scrapes. Perhaps they would come home soon and she could arrange to visit them.

  “Here we are, Miss Goodly. The finest magical hotel in London. Well, it would be the finest – it’s the only one!” Rivers said, reining the horses in at the entrance to Wistman’s Hotel, which stood on the corner of two streets. Lucy’s first impression of the hotel was that everything about it was very pointy, from the shape of the windows and doors to the spiky turrets that sprouted from its roof.

  Rivers clambered down from the driver’s seat before helping Lucy down. Then he hurried to open the carriage door for Lady Sibyl and the others. Lord Grave still looked rather queasy.

  Lady Sibyl led the small party through the doors of Wistman’s and hurried up to the reception desk. She was still dressed in her evening clothes and wore her favourite peacock feathers in her piled-up hair. The concierge appeared to know Lady Sibyl as after a brief exchange, which involved lots of Yes, my Lady. I see, my Lady on the part of the concierge, Lady Sibyl sallied forth again, beckoning everyone to follow her up the wide, sweeping staircase. At the same time, footmen scurried out to collect the luggage from the carriage. Lucy wondered what they would make of Lord Grave’s chamberpot, and hoped he had magically cleaned it and not left it for the poor footmen to deal with.

  Once everyone was settled in their various rooms (Lucy was in one of the turrets), they met in the grand sitting room that was part of Lord Grave’s suite to discuss the next steps in the investigation. Lord Grave explained that MAAM’s relationship with O’Brien’s Midnight Circus was frosty, due to the fact that the circus folk operated on what Lord Grave called “the fringes of ethical magic”. After some thought, he decided Lucy and Bertie should handle the circus part of the investigation.

  “They may be more receptive to youngsters. But I’d like Smell to go with you for safety’s sake.”

  “I’m not going to no circus,” Smell said.

  “Why?” asked Lucy.

  “I’m a talking cat! They’ll kidnap me and use me for some kind of sideshow!”

  “Don’t be ridiculous! You’re a member of MAAM; they wouldn’t dare!” Lord Grave pointed out.

  “Don’t worry, Smell,” Lucy said. “You can hide under my jacket. I’ll make sure no one sees you.”

  “At least someone cares about my welfare. Any chance of a spot of supper before we go?”

  When Lucy (with Smell under her jacket) and Bertie were walking down the steps of Wistman’s, they bumped into Rivers. He was looking rather damp.

  “You timed that right,” he said. “It’s just stopped raining.”

  Lucy stifled a giggle.

  “What is it, Miss Goodly?”

  “Your face, you’ve got black smudges on your cheek!”

  “Drat it!” Rivers pulled out his handkerchief and wiped his face. “That’s the trouble with London. All that smog. Even the rain’s dirty! Where are you two off to?”

  “O’Brien’s Midnight Circus. Why don’t you come with us?”

  “I don’t really approve of that circus to be honest, Miss Goodly. But thank you for asking. Have a good night!”

  “I don’t like that man,” Bertie said as Rivers went inside the hotel.

  “Why? He’s really nice. Very kind to everyone. And he’s really good with animals.”

  “Smarmy is the word I’d use for him,” Bertie muttered.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  O’BRIEN’S MIDNIGHT CIRCUS

  As they approached Hyde Park, Lucy could see the huge white circus marquee. It seemed to glow against the night sky and she wondered if the material contained some sort of magic. Crowds of people milled around the stalls and sideshows that were clustered nearby. There was a stand selling candyfloss and freshly made toffee, fortune-telling tents, a hall of mirrors and many other attractions that Lucy dearly wanted to stop and visit. But there was no time to do so as a man at the entrance to the marquee was gesturing wildly for people to get themselves inside.

  “Roll up, roll up, we’re about to start!” he shouted. He was very tall and wore an eye patch over his left eye. His beard was white with grey tips and was so long he wore the end thrown over his shoulder to keep it from dragging in the dirt. A young woman in a top hat whose bright red lips matched her hair stood next to him collecting the entrance fees.

  “That’ll be thruppence each, duckies,” she said as Lucy and Bertie approached.

  Lucy handed over the money and she and Bertie went inside.

  “There must be hundreds of people here,” Lucy said to Bertie as they searched for some free seats. She had to raise her voice in order to be heard above the hum of excited chatter.

  Just as they had managed to squeeze into a space between a noisy family and two young girls, the lights in the big top lowered until all that could be seen was the centre of the tent, which was encircled by hundreds of flickering candles.

  For the next two hours, a myriad of acts performed. Lucy’s favourites were the knife-throwing, where the knives twirled and circled around the circus tent before hitting their target; a woman who could fold herself up to fit in a tiny jewelled box; and the trapeze artists who worked without trapezes.

  “That was amazing,” Lucy said, when it was over and they were leaving the big top with the rest of the audience, who were all gossiping about the marvels they had seen.

  “It’s very clever, I have to admit,” Bertie replied.

  Lucy smiled to herself. She could tell that Bertie was having difficulty coming up with what he would call a rational explanation for the wonders they had seen.

  “Oi, you two. Get that stardust out of your eyes. You’re ’ere to do a job, remember?” Smell reminded them from beneath Lucy’s jacket.

  “Yes, you’re right. We need to find O’Brien,” Bertie said.

  “Look, let’s ask those two where we can find him.” Lucy pointed at the woman with the top hat and the man with the over-the-shoulder beard, who were standing watching the chattering, laughing people filing past. Lucy and Bertie pushed their way o
ver to them.

  “Excuse me,” Lucy said.

  “What is it, duckie?” the woman said.

  “We wanted to find Mr O’Brien. Could you tell us where to go please?”

  The bearded man frowned. “And why would you be wanting to do that?”

  Lucy decided to stick as closely to the truth as she could. “We need to speak to him about someone who used to work here, Mortimer Thorne?”

  The man and the woman exchanged glances. The bearded man peered more closely at Lucy. “What do you need to know?”

  Bertie cleared his throat. “There’s been a murder. The victim knew Mortimer Thorne. We thought maybe the murderer is someone they both knew. If we talk to Mr O’Brien, he might be able to give us information about Thorne’s other associates, which might yield some clues.”

  “Why are two kids investigating a murder?” the man replied. “Wait a minute. You look familiar, boy. I saw you in the Penny Dreadful. You’re Lord Grave’s son! So MAAM has sent you to nose around?”

  “We’ve been sent to nose around,” Lucy said sharply, “because Lord Grave thought the circus folk might be less hostile to us and we might be able to persuade you to help us try to solve the murder. Seems he was wrong. We’ll just be on our way.”

  “Herbert. We should help if someone’s been killed,” the red-lipped woman said.

  Herbert grunted. “Maybe. I suppose D— Mr O’Brien can decide whether to speak to them or not. Come with me.”

  He led them round the back of the big top where the members of the circus had parked their various caravans. A complicated pathway of wooden boards formed a makeshift pavement over the muddy ground. Lucy and Bertie had to carefully watch where they put their feet and so made quite slow progress. But Herbert strode along without pausing, until he reached a very brightly painted caravan. It had lacy curtains at the window and there was a reddish glow coming from the interior.

  “Wait here,” Herbert said. He smoothed his beard before knocking at the caravan door and going inside. A few moments later, he reappeared.

  “O’Brien can give you five minutes,” he said, ushering Lucy and Bertie (and the concealed Smell) up the wooden steps and into the caravan.

  When Lucy stepped inside the caravan, she was surprised. She’d always imagined caravans would be cramped, spartan, a bit damp and basically not very pleasant places. But this was spacious, warm and dry. It even seemed bigger on the inside than the outside.

  In the middle of the caravan was a blue velvet chaise longue. A young woman was curled up on it. She looked very elegant yet slightly eccentric, and was dressed in black satins and colourful scarves. Her black hair was most unusual; it was as straight as Lucy’s own but much shorter, as short as a boy’s, and cut into sharp points round each ear, giving her an elfin look.

  “Hello there. I’m Diamond O’Brien. I understand you’re Lord Grave’s son?” Diamond gave Bertie a sharp look that told Lucy there was little love lost between this woman and his Lordship.

  “That’s right. And this is Lucy Goodly. We were hoping to speak to Mr O’Brien?”

  Lucy winced. “Bertie,” she said warningly. “I think—”

  Bertie bumbled on regardless. “Are you his sister?”

  The woman frowned.

  “Or his wife?”

  The frown deepened.

  “I’m sorry,” Lucy said to Diamond. “He can be woefully ignorant sometimes.”

  Bertie glared at Lucy, looking very taken aback. “Woefully—”

  “This is the owner of the circus, Bertie,” Lucy continued. “Men aren’t necessarily in charge of everything you know.”

  The woman’s frown vanished and she laughed. “You tell him, darling!”

  Bertie gasped and then turned the deepest red Lucy had ever seen a person blush. He hid his burning face in his hands. “I’m so sorry!”

  “Don’t worry. It’s not the first time and I’m sure it won’t be the last. To be fair, a Mr O’Brien did used to run the circus; he was my father. I took over when he died. Now, what is it you wanted to see me about? Oh, Lucy! Is that a cat under your jacket? I can see an ear poking up. Do let him out. I adore cats. Such sweet animals.”

  Glad to deflect some of Diamond’s attention from Bertie’s cringing embarrassment, Lucy unbuttoned her jacket to allow Smell to leap free. He gave himself a shake and sneezed. The violence of the sneeze caused a similar sound to emanate from his rear end.

  “Oh, but he’s so unusual! Unique, in fact!”

  Despite Diamond’s attempt at enthusiasm, Lucy thought the she looked disappointed. It was understandable. With his one eye, one and a half ears, truncated tail and tendency towards whiffing unpleasantly, Smell hardly deserved the epithet “sweet”.

  “What’s his name?” Diamond asked.

  “Smell.”

  Diamond threw back her head and laughed uproariously. “What a wonderful name!”

  “Not sure I agree,” Smell said.

  “And he talks!” Diamond clapped her hands together. “How enchanting!”

  “If we could just ask you some questions?” Lucy said, wanting to get things back on track.

  “Herbert said you wanted to talk about Mortimer Thorne,” Diamond said, now looking more serious and rather anxious. “I’m not sure I want to talk about him. It’s simply too terrible.”

  “Please,” Lucy replied, “we just want to know about anyone who worked with him or was friendly with him.”

  “Very well. He didn’t have many friends that I know of, to be honest. He was a difficult man, to say the least. The two he worked with most closely were Dazzling Dolly and Jerome Wormwood. They were his assistants,” Diamond said. She stopped, looking rather startled. “Herbert said there’s been a murder. Are they implicated?”

  “We don’t know yet. Are they still working here?”

  “No, my darling. When Thorne built that vile thing and it killed all those people, Dolly and Jerome both went to jail for a while too as his accomplices. But when it became clear that they’d had no idea he had been creating a golem, they were released. As you can imagine, both of them were in an awful state. Jerome particularly. He was an orphan, you see, and I think he saw Thorne as a sort of father figure. Anyway, he went abroad, and as for Dolly, she gave up magic altogether. To be honest she was a very weak magician anyway. She was the first magician in her family and they’re often poor specimens.”

  Lucy couldn’t help be needled by Diamond’s suggestion that being the first magician in a family might mean being be a lesser magician, but as she didn’t want to start an argument she said nothing.

  “So where’s Dolly now?”

  “Oh, she runs an inn. The Charm Inn.”

  “But I know her! Dolores Charm? She’s a magician?” Lucy and her parents had often stayed at the Charm Inn during the period when Lucy was cheating at poker to keep the three of them fed and housed. Mrs Charm had always seemed a normal if slightly over-talkative woman. It seemed impossible that she was a magician. But then again, Lucy would have said that about herself just a few weeks ago.

  “As I said, she is a very weak magician. Without Mortimer Thorne she didn’t really have a place in the magical world.”

  Bertie, whose face had calmed down now to a bright pink, ventured a question. “And what about Jerome Wormwood? Is he still abroad?”

  “I’m not sure. We were rather close once. We’re about the same age. Well, I’m a little older, I admit. He used to write to me. Then about a year ago, the letters stopped. I know he’d been ill with malaria, so he could be dead I suppose. He was such a nice boy. Handsome too. The most stunning white-blond hair I’ve ever seen.” Diamond sighed wistfully.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  A DEN OF INIQUITY

  “So what have we got so far? One of Mortimer Thorne’s former assistants running the – what was it again, Lucy?” Lord Grave said the next morning, when MAAM had reconvened to discuss progress.

  “The Charm Inn. It turns out that I know her. I’ve
stayed there a few times.”

  “I’ve heard of it. A proper den of iniquity. Were you on your uppers, little Lucy?” Beguildy said.

  “Beguildy, stop sniping at the girl! What about this Wormwood chap?”

  “Diamond O’Brien says he went abroad. He used to send her letters, but they stopped about a year ago. She says he was ill before that with malaria,” Lucy explained.

  “So he could be dead.” Lord Grave said, steepling his fingers under his chin. “Which means our only lead at the moment is this Mrs Charm. As you know her, Lucy, I think you should call on her while Sibyl and I go to visit Thorne. Beguildy, you go with Lucy.”

  “Is there really any need?” Beguildy said.

  Lucy folded her arms mutinously. “I’m not going with him!”

  Lord Grave’s face reddened dangerously. “You’ll both do as I say. You need to learn to get along and work together. You’re meant to be part of a team!”

  There was a tense silence.

  “Very well,” Beguildy said.

  “If I have to,” Lucy snapped.

  “I want you both to book rooms there and stay there for the night.”

  Beguildy looked as outraged at this as Lucy felt, but neither of them dared argue.

  “Pretend you don’t know each other, obviously. Lucy, see if you can wangle your way into Mrs Charm’s living quarters. Have a look around.”

  Lucy nodded. “Am I allowed to tell her I’m magical? And that I know she is? Maybe I could pretend that I’m visiting her for advice. Diamond O’Brien told us Mrs Charm was the first in the family to be magical, the same as me. So we have something in common.”

  “Good. Good approach. That’s settled then. You and Beguildy will move into the Charm Inn.”

  Fifteen minutes later, Lucy and Beguildy were walking in not very companionable silence to the Charm Inn. Lucy suspected Beguildy was seething as much as she was. When they turned on to Masham Lane, the run-down street where the Charm Inn was situated, he stopped.

  “You should book in first. I’ll go in there for half an hour or so.” Beguildy pointed to a coffee house on the other side of the street. Lucy agreed readily, relieved be rid of Beguildy’s company for a while.