I cringed as speculation of my involvement and disappearance were discussed, though thankfully my alibi was confirmed by Miss Lloyd and Mr Griffith's assured his interviewer that I had no part in the trust's theft. I breathed in and let the air out slowly. 'God help me,' I thought, 'how will this end?'
Suddenly the telephone rang. I went to it and lifted the receiver,
'Hello? Mr Bond, speaking?'
'Mitchell, it's Timothy Wainwright, how are you my lad?'
'Oh, Mr Wainwright, it is wonderful to hear from you, I must thank you and your wife for your generous accommodation.'
'I'll hear nothing of it, man! It was a pleasure to help your father's son after such a horrid experience.'
'Yes, and I thank you endlessly for that help.'
'Well, anyway, the misses and I were wondering if you should accept our invitation to dinner this evening?'
'I would gladly accept, I should — if it is alright with you — like to discuss what course I should take in the affair.'
'Certainly, shall we be seeing you within the hour then?'
'Yes, I'll be right over.'
I got into a pastel blue Possum coupe that had been loaned to me and drove three towns over to the Wainwright's home. The aroma of roast lamb wafted lazily through the open window as I walked to the front door and rang the bell. The door opened and standing before me was the smiling face of Timothy Wainwright, once a celebrated concert pianist.
He was shorter than most men, completely bald with a small black moustache and pince-nez, and was dressed in startlingly antiquated evening dress. He supported himself with an elegant lacquered cane and a little Scottie dog flitted around his feet yapping and licking at his ankles. Distracted by the dog he said,'Quiet down, Maxwell!' The little Scottie looked up saddened that his master was not in the mood to play and bowing his head, complacently wandered into a corner and plopped down on a small tasseled pillow.
Looking up Mr Wainwright laughed, 'Mitchell! How are you? Oh, well, we know how you are,' His smile vanished, 'Come in, come in...'
We walked into the parlour, which was beautifully adorned with several vases of spring flowers which gave off a sweet scent. The walls were richly clothed in bright summery, yellow paper and white Georgian moulding. Several upholstered chairs and a roccoco canapé furnisht the room. Mr Wainwright walked over to the sideboard and, turning, offered me a drink.
'Hendrick's and Gin, please.'
He smiled, 'With lime or cuke?'
'Oh, cucumber, of course'
'Deborah?!'
A voice came from the other room,'Yes, darling?!'
'Could you slice a piece of cucumber for Mitchell's drink?!'
'Sure, I'll be right in with it...'
'Sit, sit,' Mr Wainwright said gesturing to an armchair.
'Why, thank you,' I said, taking a seat.
Just then Mrs Wainwright came in with a small china plate of cucumber slices.She was dressed in a long velvet skirt and delicate lace blouse, a string of pearls around her neck.
'You're looking lovely this afternoon, Mrs Wainwright,' I said politely.
'Thank you, Mitchell... We are, we are so sorry for your loss, if there is anything we can do... well, you know you have friends in the Wainwright household.'
'Here, here! Two to be precise.' Mr Wainwright said smiling, taking the plate from her, finishing my drink and handing it to me.
'Well, I'm going to finish dinner, while you two talk,' Mrs Wainwright said.
Mr Wainwright went to the chair across from me and lowered himself slowly into it, laying his cane on the floor next to him. His features twisted and suddenly became sombre as some thought clouded his mind. He sighed, then looked up over his pince-nez,
'Mitchell, are you okay?'
'Okay? Well, no, I'm not, but there's little for it. I mean, I can't bring them back, can I?'
'Well, not everyone is Johnny Gambino, so no... I'm afraid you cannot, atleast not by any means of which I am aware.'
I smiled a little,
'My parents are dead, yes, but they were old and I had long ago resigned myself to the fact that my father was failing and that without my father my mother would perish soon after. I have prepared my spirit for their departure and though I am injured at this loss I am not in severe anguish.'
'No?'
'No, but I am ashamed to admit that being bankrupt and impecunious has been a great hardship.'
Mr Wainwright raised his eyebrows.
'Oh no, don't mistake me, I miss them terribly, but I'm just not accustomed to poverty.'
'Well, you are rich in friends, who shall not let you remain destitute, Mitchell.'
'Yes, yes, I know, but I find myself terrified that I am too weak for it. I wake each morning and as I open my eyes, I wait to hear Jackson come in with my tea and clothes. When I wake to a small room, vacant and lightless, I feel empty... lost. What is to become of Jackson? And the whole staff? They have no employer, they have no home, and their income has been unceremoniously ripped from their pockets! And my childhood home, my father's furniture and his books, my mother's china dolls... it's all to be sold! In a public auction! I cannot face the members of the board, who have lost everything... everything! They'll crucify me, when they find me! And now, some secret villain wants my head!'
'Calm down, Mitchell, you'll come out alright in the end,' Mr Wainwright said gently leaning back in his chair and threading his fingers together spoke earnestly,
'And I'll have you know that I spoke with several council members in Durem — through some of the last agencies left to us since the Animated have virtually taken over — and I am here to assure you that Bond Manor will not be auctioned off until you are presented to the Justices for a hearing. You will be able to plead your case and hopefully do with the property as you will, though I'm afraid you won't be able to keep it long with no money to speak of. Then again, perhaps your fortune will improve, pun intended, and I should think that it will sit there for a long while before you're able to get back to Durem anyway.'
I sat slack jawed.
'Mr Wainwright, you... you are a God send... I... I am... without words. Thank you! Thank you, you blessed man!'
'Mitchell, your father was my oldest friend and it is with pleasure that I assist his son in any way that I may. Now, let's talk of this business of the note, which you mentioned in your telephone call to me, before you arrived.'
'Ah, yes, it was tied to a stone and tossed into my private offices through the east facing window, the one looking toward the Tower Clock. It read, "As the tower fell, so shall you, look to the clock, when the bell rings two." I think that it refers to the Gambino tower incident and I was so terrified after my parent's murder that I fled without looking back. I have no intention of being shot by some crazed gunman! What this has to do with Gambino, I don't know — everything always seems to lead back to him though — then again, maybe it was just an allusion. Anyway, I'm not sure if I'm even safe in Barton.'
'Well, I'll see about securing that little house of yours, we shan't let any midnight visitors in...'
'I thank you, Mr Wainwright.'
'Call me Timothy, I tire of these formalities.'
'Ha! Surely, Mr Wainwright, I've called you by that title so long, I couldn't conceive of abandoning it, without losing some sentimentality along with it.'
'Oh, very well, you're the politest scoundrel I've ever had the pleasure of meeting.'
'Hah! And you're the most generous fool I can call my friend.'
'Posh!'
Just then a bell tinkled in the next room over.
'Ah, that will be dinner, shall we go.'
I stood up and walking to Mr Wainwright helped him from the chair.
'Yes, I think we shall.'
'Thank you, youth has unfortunately been spent.'
He led me to the dining room, elegant with its floor-to-ceiling mahogany panels deeply stained a rich red, and a twelve foot dining table dressed with two candelabra — more than a dozen candles burning brightly, beneath an even more impressive chandelier, which was uniquely also bearing countless tapered flames.
The sideboard was covered with silver dishes of food; lobster Hors d'œuvres, a finely attired leg of roast lamb, baked potatoes cut accordion style, spinach salad, pureed sweet potatoes, a Julienne of fresh snow peas and carrots, and a chocolate mousse cake. There were also various canapés decoratively spread about, a silver tea service — steam pouring from it profusely, and a full array of crystal decanters tinted with the colours of fine spirits.
'Did you prepare all of this yourself, Mrs Wainwright?!'
Smiling sweetly as she came into the room, from the Butler's pantry, with a basket of fresh bread.
'Of course not, I had help.'
'Help?'
Just then I caught a glimpse of someone moving in the Butler pantry and Miss Lloyd walked out carrying a bottle of wine and a cork screw.
'Emma?!'
'Good evening, Mitchell. You seem surprised?'
'Surprised! That is putting it mildly. I took the last train into Barton before they closed the rails. How did you avoid the Animated?'
Mr Wainwright cut into the conversation, 'I received a telephone call from Miss Lloyd just before the lines went out and she insisted that I get word to you and asked me if I knew any means by which she could find you.'
'Why didn't you tell me immediately, I should have been thrilled and horrified?!'
'Mostly the latter sentiment held my tongue, I wanted to speak to you without interruption.'
'Oh very well, you're forgiven.'
Turning to Miss Lloyd I stammered, 'Why... why did you endanger your life coming here?!'
Miss Lloyd's smile vanished and tears began to well in her eyes, she came to me and threw her arms around my neck with a sob,
'You just left! Left after that insensible horror! I thought, for a moment, that you had been killed as well. I saw the window to your office smashed when I went to visit you there and then your secretary relayed the message you left with her and I called Mr Wainwright who secured the help of some of Barton's Regulars to relay me here.'
She stood back, wiping the tears from her face with a lace handkerchief retrieved from out her sleeve, then looked up suddenly — her azure eyes glistening — slapped me hard across the face.
Mr Wainwright raised his eyebrows and Mrs Wainwright went to move, but he stayed her with his hand.
'Never leave without word again, you brute! I was so deathly afraid for you!'
'I... I shan't, shall I?'
Mr Wainwright burst in, 'No! No, my good man, you will not, for Miss Lloyd will be staying with us for some time. You won't be able to shake her, I'm afraid. And now onto to our dinner, before it is cold!'
Mrs Wainwright served us all the first course and we began to eat, chatting about less troubling subjects than recent events. After the second course and dessert we retired to the drawing room and Mr Wainwright gave me a Cohíba cigar and some matches. I toasted the foot, lit it, and drew in deeply on it, releasing the smoke and sighing.
'That's what I need to calm my nerves...'
'Well, here's a box to hold you off,' Mr Wainwright said handing me a cigar box.
'I couldn't,' I responded.
'You will,' he said looking down, his neck folding in on itself and his forehead creasing in earnest. I thanked him then turning to Miss Lloyd, 'So, Emma, have you quite recovered from the unfortunate experience that I am sorry were exposed to?'
'No, not really, I don't think I ever shall be, to see your lovely mother... but, no, we won't speak of the gory details.'
'No, certainly not!' Mr Wainwright affirmed, 'but we must discuss the matter objectively, there is still a murderer on the loose.'
'Yes, I'm sure you're right, and that's why I was wondering whether you could tell me, Mr Wainwright, if you had spoken to my father recently?'
'No, in fact, the last I spoke to him was over a month ago when he visited me — completely unexpected — and told me of his failing health.'
'Yes, he was so good at pretending everything was okay and he insisted on managing the trust himself and never really retired, but in the end it ironically wasn't his heart that gave out.'
There was some silence.
'Well, he gave me this when he came to visit me,' Mr Wainwright said turning to a small box and withdrawing a sheet of brittle, creased paper.
'What does it say?'
'It's a letter from an ancestor of the Von Helson's to your great, great grandfather, Adam Mitchell Bernard Bond II — Do you know, I cannot believe that ridiculous name has survived six generations.'
'No one has the heart to break the tradition,' I said drawing in on the cigar and letting out a huge billow of smoke, 'From the Von Helsons? So what does the letter say?'
'Well, here,' Mr Wainwright leaned over and extended the letter to me, 'read it out loud.'
I took the sheet and carefully unfolded it, labouriously deciphering the spidery script.
Sir,
The actions wherewith your family have offended the Von Helson dynasty are so heinous as to need no introduction, for I am assured that you are quite familiar with them and I need not write of them. That item stolen from us has been a grievous hurt, it will be restored to our possession or your family will suffer. Your father's wealth and affluence may be the product of this theft, but eventually that object will curse your prominence and bring you begging before the Church for sanctuary from your destitution. We will not allow you to get away from us, not again.
BENIAMIN ARTUR VON HELSON
3 June 1832
'What object?' Miss Lloyd queried.
'Not the slightest,' Mr Wainswright replied, 'Have you any idea, Mitchell?'
Incredulously I responded, 'No, not at all, and this letter is news to me. I never knew there was a feud between the Von Helsons and my family, not one — at the very least — that predates our mutual existence in Gaia.'
'No, I should think not, I mean I know that your parent's friendship with Edmund and the Gambino's was given as the reason for the chill between the two families, but I'm surprised to find that it extends back to the Old Country,' Mr Wainwright commented, placing his hands behind his head and lifting his feet onto an ottoman.
'Shall I go get some more tea and maybe some biscuits?' Mrs Wainwright suddenly piped, having remained silent during the course of the conversation.
'Yes, I think I should like that,' her husband responded, 'Shouldn't we all?' he said questioning Miss Lloyd and I with a glance.
We both nodded and as Mrs Wainwright left, I turned to Mr Wainwright,
'So was my father trying to hide this note? I wonder if he had been threatened recently, I mean with all that's happened in the last few years, perhaps the Von Helsons were trying to exploit father and he was feeling the pressure. Did he say anything to you?'
'No, he just said, "Timmy old fellow, take this note and hold it close, don't let anyone find it." and we shared a dram of scotch and he was off as quickly as he had come. I didn't ask for an explanation, we'd been friends long enough to know when the other wanted to keep something hushed.'
'That's not helpful, my father was not a secretive man, especially from me and I've never heard any of this!'
I paused and then I recalled my father's last words,
'Wait! He said as he died, "In the cabinet...," he must have meant that "this" object was in the curio cabinet. Perhaps Miss Lloyd and I startled the villain, coming in from the courts, and he was unable to search for this object.'
'Not too rashly, we don't even know if there is any connexion between the deaths of your parents and this note.'
'Oh, well, yes, I suppose.'
'Back!' Mrs Wainwright announced with a steaming tray in her hands. She poured us each a cup and sat, crossing her ankles and turning to Miss Lloyd as she lounged on the canapé whispered, evidently thinking it beyond my hearing,
'So are you and Mitchell close?'
'Well, I have a certain fondness for him, but I'm afraid he's quite uninterested.'
'Are you sure, he seems rapt, look there he glances every few seconds at you,'
'Do you think?'
'Yes, silly.'
I'd kept my gaze too long and they both hushed up at sight of me.
'Mr Wainwright, how could I have some... uh... items gotten from the Bank of Gambino?'
'Why, I don't know, my ability to get word back and forth is becoming increasingly difficult. I spoke with Agatha only this morning, she seems to be having difficulty getting a hold of Edmund.'
'These Animated, damn it all, I tire of their cute wickedness! Just today Michi and I spent the afternoon destroying Katsumi's Kokeshi doll. I swear I arrived in that absurd Null chamber five times.'
'You've been with Michi,' Miss Lloyd said her interest picqued.
'Yes, we've banded together to get to the bottom of this Animated business.'
'What's it like dying and finding yourself in Null,' Mr Wainwright asked.
'Um... disconcerting, I should say. It's like you're... you're floating above the world and suddenly you wake up and you remember that you see and feel and hear and experience sense. You feel as if you'd forgotten until then.'
'Right..., what do you think started all of this?' Mr Wainwright asked.
'No idea and I doubt it's pertinent to our problems.'
'No, I'd think not, though... no, I think not.... Wait! Do you think Zhivago's involved? I hear that Louie believes him to have survived? Maybe he's involved with your parent's death, that would explain the allusion to Gambino's shooting.'
'Hmm... that's a possibility, though I should not.'
'Any considerations must be entertained,' Mr Wainwright said with a solemn nod.
'I'm sure you're right.'
'Oh, by the way, why did you need an item from Durem?'
'Ah, yes, I'd forgotten! I took the contents of the cabinet, and the cabinet itself, and had them placed in a private vault at the Bank of Gambino and I need to see if the article spoken of is identifiable.'
'How should you know? You cannot very well go back to Durem.'
'I might need to try, even if just to go through my father's papers.'
'But you'll be subpœnaed!'
'I might try to sneak in. Do you know of any on-the-quiet ways into Durem?'
'Maybe, come back in a day or so...'
'NO!'
We all looked to Miss Lloyd who had stood all of a sudden and cried out.
'YOU WILL NOT LEAVE ME AGAIN!' she cried, flinging her arms around me and sobbing.
'I'm not going to leave you... I promise you I shall return.'
Her tears stained my jacket and her eyes were puffy when she looked up, her face inches from my own, her lips wet and glistening,
'There is a man after your life and you can make such an empty vow?'
'I promise you, I will return. I ran once. Now, I need to save my name, my families name, my parent's memory, our home, our fortune, our... our dependents and responsibilities... and... and you.'
Miss Lloyd composed herself and returned to the canapé, wiping her tears away.
Both of the Wainwrights had stayed silent during this episode.
'Shall we call it an evening,' Mr Wainwright said prudently.
'Yes, I'd like to examine this letter further at home.'
'Very good. Miss Lloyd?' Mr Wainwright turned to her and with a subtle grin asked, 'Will you accompany Mr Bond to his vehicle, perhaps?'
'Oh... um, yes, yes, I will.'
She stood and we walked side by side to the door, Mr and Mrs Wainwright following us close behind. At the door I turned and embracing them both said my good byes and departed their company.
As we walked to my motorcar, I turned to Miss Lloyd, 'Emma?'
She paused, looking at her shoes.
'I'm sorry I behaved so...'
I put my finger on her lips.
'Emma, I'm tired of this game we've been playing... I...'
Words left me and I did the only thing I could do, I kissed her, and then the dog licked my ankle.
