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“He’s dark as the night but they call him Felix for some reason.”
“And does this bit of everything include gardening?” Tom asked.
“ I don’t know,” Seal said slowly. “Why should we have asked him such a thing as that?”
“No reason,” said Tom. “And I am getting ahead of myself as always. It would seem we
have any number of routes of inquiry before us so there’s no reason to sink into mere speculation as
yet. Are the bodies still at the Club?”
“In the kitchen on ice,” said Morass.
“Oh and that reminds me,” Seal said. “You’ve all been invited to the Club tonight for
dinner. Including your lady friends and hostess. The Byculla Club has been most accommodating in
the whole matter, offering us every courtesy from the start.”
“Have they indeed?” said Trevor.
Rayley picked up the dropped thread. “This is all quite fine, but our time is dwindling.
Our priorities for the afternoon are to view the bodies and secure the house. In the meantime the two
of you will find us the Weaver family’s lost servants. Especially that remarkably handy young Felix.”
“This may take –“ Morass began, but Trevor cut him off.
“Very little time at all, I should imagine. If the worthy Secretary-General is paying their
wages, then his banker must be sending their funds somewhere and that is your place to start.”
“Of course,” Seal said for perhaps the fourth time since they had begun the briefing
twenty minutes ago, but now a little less confidently, and Morass sank in his seat like a scolded
schoolboy.
“Someone has already come asking to see the house,” he said sullenly.
“Let me guess,” Trevor said. “Michael Everlee, son of the deceased, stepson of the
accused. Fresh off the boat from London and determined to free Anthony Weaver from his cell.”
“Just the fellow,” said Seal, with some surprise. “But we didn’t allow him access, of
course. He lacked the proper paperwork.”
“Put up quite a squawk,” Morass said. “Dead furious. Kept saying that the house was
his boyhood home and he didn’t need our permission to stay there.”
“Stay there?” Trevor said in disbelief. “Do you mean the man actually intended to take
up lodging in the middle of a crime scene?”
“We already said we sent him packing,” Morass said defensively. “Him with his city
suit and his – what did he call that nancy boy who was with him?”
“ His attaché,” Seal said shortly.
“I presume you have men guarding the Weaver house?” Trevor asked. “That it has
occurred to you he might not accept your order to stay away?” And then, in the ensuing silence, “Well,
did you at least get an address for where Everlee is rooming during his visit? No, of course not.
Why did I bother to ask? No one in the whole of the Bombay Presidency has an address.”
“It would seem,” Rayley said, “that we must start at once before things get even more
muddled. If you will direct Welles to the jail and Mabrey to the Weaver house, and then Bainbridge
and myself to the Club we shall-”
“We do have one more thing to show you,” Seal broke in. He at least seemed aware that
he had made a bad first impression and was eager to correct it, perhaps with some dramatic
revelation. In fact, with this last statement, even Morass brightened a bit and sat up straighter in his
chair.
“Blood drawn from the victims, I hope,” said Tom.
“Blood, indeed,” said Seal. “It’s in storage at the Club kitchens, along with the bodies.