Read Online Smoke and Mirrors by Elly Griffiths - Free Book Online
Authors: Elly Griffiths
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ditch where the bodies were.’
‘What the hell did that mean?’
‘I don’t know,’ said Edgar. ‘But it’s a clue.’ He looked owlishly at Max. ‘And you’re good with clues. Smoke and mirrors. Sleight of hand. Mis . . . misdirection. Isn’t that what you’re best at?’
He had started to sound slightly belligerent.
‘Of course I’ll help you,’ said Max. ‘But I think you should try to sleep now. You can stay the night here. Mrs M will make you up a bed.’
‘Sleep!’ Edgar almost shouted the word. ‘I’ll never sleep again.’
But by the time that Joyce came back in with the tea, Edgar’s head was on the table, his brandy dripping gently onto the carpet.
Chapter 6
Max woke with a headache and the feeling of impending gloom that he associated with first nights in difficult venues. He looked around the room, gradually noting his surroundings: sloping ceiling, sash windows, Brighton,
Aladdin
, Joyce Markham, Edgar, dead children. He groaned and sat up. He hadn’t pulled the curtains and the light was blue and cold, which meant that the snow was still there. Max pulled on his dressing gown and went to the window. The gardens and pavements were still white but he could see cars moving along the coast road. There would be no reason for the show not to open tomorrow. He sighed and set off on the arctic expedition to the bathroom.
Coming downstairs half an hour later, he found Edgar sitting at the dining-room table staring into a cup of coffee.
‘How do you feel?’
‘As bad as I look.’
‘I’ve got some Fernet Branca upstairs.’
‘I don’t think I could keep it down. I woke up on a sofa. Couldn’t remember how I got there.’
‘You passed out at the table. I got you onto the sofa with some help from Mrs M.’
‘She’s been very kind. She’s making me some breakfast. Says it will help.’
‘Well, she’s had a lot of experience in this sort of thing.’
Edgar flushed. ‘I wasn’t that drunk. It was just not sleeping for twenty-four hours and . . . well, everything else.’
‘I promise you, what you saw was enough to make anyone pass out.’
‘Well, today the real work begins.’
Max noted that this last statement seemed to energise Edgar. He sat up straighter and took a thoughtful sip of coffee. He wondered again at his friend’s resilience. Last night he had seemed broken, traumatised by the horror and sadness of the case. But now, with the task of finding the killer before him, he seemed to be gaining strength by the second. Even the appearance of a huge fried breakfast didn’t unduly disturb him.
‘Got to keep your strength up,’ said Joyce.
‘Thanks very much,’ said Edgar. ‘You’re very kind.’
Joyce placed black coffee in front of Max. ‘You ought to have some breakfast too, Mr M.’
‘Thank you, Mrs M, but you know I never eat in the mornings.’
When the landlady had left, Edgar set to with a will. Max averted his eyes. ‘Are you working today?’ Edgar asked, cutting into black pudding.
Max winced slightly at the word. Edgar would be tracking a murderer; he would be dressing up in a green gown and shooting firecrackers from his sleeves.
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘It’s the dress rehearsal. We open tomorrow. Saturday.’
‘Is it Friday today? I’ve lost count.’
‘I’m not surprised. You’re welcome to a comp but I’m sure it’s the last thing you feel like.’
‘Is Ruby coming to see it?’
It was the first time that Edgar had mentioned her and he managed it well enough, thought Max. Just a slight hesitation before the name and the suggestion of a blush. Tells, they were called in the business.
‘I sent her a ticket,’ he said. ‘She’s only in Worthing. She’s in the panto there. If you can call it that. Back row of the chorus in
Cinderella
.’
‘I know. I’m going to see her show next week.’
This time there was a definite hesitation. Edgar was clearly worried about Max’s reaction. Max tried to keep his face completely
‘What the hell did that mean?’
‘I don’t know,’ said Edgar. ‘But it’s a clue.’ He looked owlishly at Max. ‘And you’re good with clues. Smoke and mirrors. Sleight of hand. Mis . . . misdirection. Isn’t that what you’re best at?’
He had started to sound slightly belligerent.
‘Of course I’ll help you,’ said Max. ‘But I think you should try to sleep now. You can stay the night here. Mrs M will make you up a bed.’
‘Sleep!’ Edgar almost shouted the word. ‘I’ll never sleep again.’
But by the time that Joyce came back in with the tea, Edgar’s head was on the table, his brandy dripping gently onto the carpet.
Chapter 6
Max woke with a headache and the feeling of impending gloom that he associated with first nights in difficult venues. He looked around the room, gradually noting his surroundings: sloping ceiling, sash windows, Brighton,
Aladdin
, Joyce Markham, Edgar, dead children. He groaned and sat up. He hadn’t pulled the curtains and the light was blue and cold, which meant that the snow was still there. Max pulled on his dressing gown and went to the window. The gardens and pavements were still white but he could see cars moving along the coast road. There would be no reason for the show not to open tomorrow. He sighed and set off on the arctic expedition to the bathroom.
Coming downstairs half an hour later, he found Edgar sitting at the dining-room table staring into a cup of coffee.
‘How do you feel?’
‘As bad as I look.’
‘I’ve got some Fernet Branca upstairs.’
‘I don’t think I could keep it down. I woke up on a sofa. Couldn’t remember how I got there.’
‘You passed out at the table. I got you onto the sofa with some help from Mrs M.’
‘She’s been very kind. She’s making me some breakfast. Says it will help.’
‘Well, she’s had a lot of experience in this sort of thing.’
Edgar flushed. ‘I wasn’t that drunk. It was just not sleeping for twenty-four hours and . . . well, everything else.’
‘I promise you, what you saw was enough to make anyone pass out.’
‘Well, today the real work begins.’
Max noted that this last statement seemed to energise Edgar. He sat up straighter and took a thoughtful sip of coffee. He wondered again at his friend’s resilience. Last night he had seemed broken, traumatised by the horror and sadness of the case. But now, with the task of finding the killer before him, he seemed to be gaining strength by the second. Even the appearance of a huge fried breakfast didn’t unduly disturb him.
‘Got to keep your strength up,’ said Joyce.
‘Thanks very much,’ said Edgar. ‘You’re very kind.’
Joyce placed black coffee in front of Max. ‘You ought to have some breakfast too, Mr M.’
‘Thank you, Mrs M, but you know I never eat in the mornings.’
When the landlady had left, Edgar set to with a will. Max averted his eyes. ‘Are you working today?’ Edgar asked, cutting into black pudding.
Max winced slightly at the word. Edgar would be tracking a murderer; he would be dressing up in a green gown and shooting firecrackers from his sleeves.
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘It’s the dress rehearsal. We open tomorrow. Saturday.’
‘Is it Friday today? I’ve lost count.’
‘I’m not surprised. You’re welcome to a comp but I’m sure it’s the last thing you feel like.’
‘Is Ruby coming to see it?’
It was the first time that Edgar had mentioned her and he managed it well enough, thought Max. Just a slight hesitation before the name and the suggestion of a blush. Tells, they were called in the business.
‘I sent her a ticket,’ he said. ‘She’s only in Worthing. She’s in the panto there. If you can call it that. Back row of the chorus in
Cinderella
.’
‘I know. I’m going to see her show next week.’
This time there was a definite hesitation. Edgar was clearly worried about Max’s reaction. Max tried to keep his face completely
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