Amanda Cadabra and The Hidden Depths by Holly Bell (good book recommendations TXT) 📗

was all proud. Posh shop in Parhayle. Mistress told her to hold ‘er tongue. Mistress ‘ad been there, in the town. That’s all I know.’ Trelawney gathered that Bezzie had been pretty, perky and memorable. Pasco reached into his pocket and threw a small notebook onto the table. ‘Master’s diary.’

It was maroon, leather-bound and embossed with the letters H B F: Hedrok Bolster Flamgoyne. Thomas left the book where it lay, knowing that the man would resent anyone else touching his master’s possession. He waited for Pasco to show him the relevant pages. The retainer was mollified by the respectful gesture. He grunted and picked up the little book. Turning to the relevant page, he rotated it to show the inspector.

‘Here see? Noon. Parhayle.’

Thomas nodded. ‘Thank you. And you, Pasco, did you go anywhere, around that time?’

‘Me? I had enough to do here without galavantin’ all over town.’

‘That day, when the Master went into Parhayle, was he driven by, er ... Kevern?’

‘No, Master drove himself.’

‘Do you remember which car it was?’

‘Bentley.’

‘Do you recall the colour?’ Thomas prompted.

‘It were dark. Black or blue.’

‘I know it was some time ago and the garage was looked after by Kevern, but would you have any idea of which model Bentley it was?’

‘Le’ me think.’ Pasco blew out a breath in the effort of recollection. ‘Sounded like that Swiss town … Lausanne.’

‘Mulsanne?’ asked Thomas, who’d had to track a few cars in his time as a policeman.

‘That’s the one.’ This seemed to thaw Pasco slightly. But then he ended with, ‘That’s all I can tell you, young Master.’ Whether it was all he knew, Trelawney could judge, by the man’s tone, it was all he was going to say.

‘Thank you, Pasco.’

The retainer gave a concessionary grunt.

Trelawney turned to a different subject. This was more delicate. He was developing cautious respect for Pasco, and hoped that he could eliminate the man from the suspect list. Unfortunately, Pasco had implicated himself by declaring that he knew the location of the enchanted ink. Together with the parchment, it had been used to release the toxin in the Cardiubarn van that day, but did Pasco know that? Nevertheless, Pasco himself had stated that only he and young Hedrok Flamgoyne knew where it was stashed. As a Flamgoyne, it was reasonable to suppose that Pasco was capable of a certain amount of magical crafting. The question was, what did the retainer know of the paper that was used?

‘The parchment that my fa— the Master here and I found that day ….’ That was the day the Trelawney men had searched Flamgoyne, and Pasco had come upon them. It had been an awkward moment, to say the least. ‘Did you know where the parchment was kept?’

‘I knew where the paper was kept, right enough, and the ink too, but I didn’t have the knowing of the spell to bind the two.’ The retainer added firmly, ‘I will not go to the Dark.’

Kytto Trelawney spoke. ‘That does you credit, Pasco.’

A few minutes later, Thomas and his father left the oppressive halls of Flamgoyne with relief.

‘I believe him,’ he said to Kyt. ‘And he spoke up without hesitation about knowing the location of the parchment.’

‘I believe him too. And I want to believe in his innocence as much as you do.’

‘Yes, but I can’t afford to let my preferences bias my judgement,’ Thomas took care to mention. He was mindful of, and if he was honest with himself rather sensitive about, his father’s words on that subject. ‘Of course, he’s still on the suspect list, but at least he’s moved towards the bottom of it.’

They reached Trelawney’s silver Ford Mondeo and got in. Thomas sat for a moment, tapping thoughtfully on the steering wheel.

‘Someone somewhere saw the Rolls; someone somewhere saw the Bentley. You can’t go from car to shop or café or office or house in Parhayle without crossing some pavement. You can’t go from here to Parhayle without someone seeing your car.’

‘It was 30 years ago,’ remarked Kyt, putting on his seatbelt.

‘There has to someone over 30, old enough to remember, who was living in or visiting Parhayle. ‘Someone who would notice a Rolls and a Bentley …. Someone ….’

Chapter 10

Pamela Spills the Beans

‘It’s actually not a great college,’ admitted Pamela, leaning against the sideboard in the small dining-room and watching a pile of clean rags. It was mysteriously moving, as Tempest, burrowed underneath, rearranged himself in his sleep.

Pamela had tapped on the locked door, to which Miss Armstrong-Witworth had helpfully located the key. Amanda, with a sigh, had bade the chisel, ‘Hlingor’ which then had laid down, and opened up the room to her visitor. Pamela had ‘come to help’ and was dressed in dungarees. However, Amanda soon realised that Pamela’s need to unburden herself superseded any altruistic intention.

‘But Samantha’s dad is lecturing there on a short business studies course,’ Pamela continued, while Amanda went on with filling cracks and crevices in a stretch of rodent-nibbled skirting-board she’d removed. ‘That’s what I’m doing my degree on, and so is Samantha, so that’s why we’re there. And that’s how she … we met … Simon … I mean, Mr Lawley.’

‘He’s a faculty member, I gather?’

‘He teaches business languages. He’s actually a very talented linguist,’ Pamela added with wistful admiration.

‘Ah,’ offered Amanda, in case some response was called for.

‘And he’s so kind. He treats me just the same as Sam. You know? Not like some kid sister tagging along with his girlfriend, not that she is … and not that I’m a kid or anything. We’re the same age. In fact, I might be slightly older than Sam, only I know I come across as younger, but that’s only because I don’t have her confidence. It shows, doesn’t it? I mean, I’m talking too much, aren’t I?’

Amanda stopped, looked up at her and smiled. ‘It’s OK. I know what it’s like to feel awkward about yourself and being around other people. I’m not really much of a people