Read Online Alistair Grim's Odditorium by Gregory Funaro - Free Book Online Page A

grand opening—well it smacks of unreliability,
man!”
    “I assure you, Lord Dreary, my trip to the North Country had everything to do with our business venture here.”
    “Well, I demand to know how.”
    “You know I can’t tell you that.”
    “Just as I thought,” Lord Dreary exclaimed. “Can’t tell me that, he says!”
    “That is a fundamental clause in our agreement. You’re to leave all technical aspects of the Odditorium to me, no questions asked.”
    “Collecting more of that Odditoria rubbish, I wager!”
    “Rubbish?” said Mr. Grim, offended. “How dare you, sir!”
    Lord Dreary sputtered for a moment, and then sank back into his chair.
    “Oh, Alistair,” he sighed, fingering his collar. “You don’t know what I’ve been through. Our backers are demanding an explanation for the delay. And when I saw your
lack of progress downstairs—well, I’m afraid I let my frustration get the better of me. I hope you’ll forgive me, old friend.”
    “Apology accepted,” said Mr. Grim, smiling. “But rest assured I’m doing everything in my power to move things along in a timely manner.”
    “Then let me speak plain,” said the old man, leaning forward on his stick. “Your father and I were good friends as well as business partners. And no one was happier than I to
see Grim’s Antiquities fall to you upon his death. But that was almost fifteen years ago. And to be fair, for a couple of years you did well by him, dealing respectably and expanding your
business. But after Elizabeth—”
    Mr. Grim stiffened, and Lord Dreary’s gaze dropped to the floor.
    “Forgive me,” he continued. “But after that I saw you change, man. You became a recluse. And your trips abroad, spending your father’s fortune on Odditoria—the most
remarkable, exotic objects I’ve ever seen—but never selling a stick of it? Well, I don’t mind telling you that even our old friend Abel Wortley thought it madness, man.”
    “But Abel Wortley has been dead for some time now, hasn’t he? And if you don’t get to the point, I fear I shall join him soon out of sheer boredom.”
    Lord Dreary stammered and shook, but my mind was spinning. Who were these people they were talking about? This Elizabeth and this Abel Wortley?
    “Now, Alistair,” Lord Dreary said, wagging his finger. “Let us not forget that you came to
me
out of financial necessity. Five years ago you boasted of creating the most
spectacular attraction on the planet. A house of mechanical wonders, you called it, at the heart of which would be your animus, this mysterious blue energy that surrounds us.” Lord Dreary
pointed at one of the sconces with his walking stick. “And because of what you showed me that day—a small model of the Odditorium, powered by the animus—I agreed to enter into a
business venture with you.”
    “And you know how grateful I am for your assistance, Lord Dreary.”
    “However, since that time, you’ve refused anyone but me even the slightest glimpse of what you proposed. You’ve allowed none of our business associates inside, and you have
sworn me to secrecy.”
    “The need for secrecy is of the utmost importance. Of all people, you should know that by now, Lord Dreary.”
    “I do, and therefore I needn’t remind you that our business associates have continued to back our venture upon
my
reputation alone.”
    “I’ve already taken down the screens and the curtains outside. They can’t buy that kind of publicity!”
    “Oh yes, the outside of the Odditorium certainly lives up to its name, but it is the
inside
about which our associates are concerned. We’re a year behind schedule. A
year
.”
    “Tell them all I need is another month.”
    “Great poppycock!” Lord Dreary gasped. “But the grand opening has already been rescheduled six times.”
    “Wonderful, then you should be an old hand at it by now.”
    “But, Alistair, if you would only reveal to me the
source
of your animus and how it works, perhaps I