Mariah Mundi and the Ghost Diamonds (11 page)

‘Look what you have done to him,’ the chef said as if pleading for the life of the fish.

Walpole looked in to the wood-framed net with its carved frieze of ornamental frogs. The fish stared back at him as it drowned in the air.

‘This is your fault – you are a killer,’ Rhamses said, vehemently excited.

‘But you cook them – pull them from the tank and fry them at the table,’ Walpole protested feebly as the cod began to expand even more.

Just as the chef was about to speak, the fish exploded. It was blasted into a thousand pieces of steaming sushi. Walpole took the force of the explosion. He was strewn with fish guts that
hung from the brim of his hat like so many glistening Christmas decorations. His face was splattered with blood, and a large fin hung from his cheek like a Chinese fan.

‘It – is – dead,’ Rhamses said dramatically as he looked at what remained of the net with tears running down his lined face.

‘Told you it was hexogenamite,’ Walpole gloated as he got to his feet and picked the innards from his hat and grabbed the remaining explosive from the floor. ‘This means you are under arrest for murder, Captain Jack Charity.’

‘You make a mistake. I am not the one guilty in this.’

‘I found the stuff in your office and I have a letter naming you,’ Walpole replied as he took a pair of iron handcuffs from his pocket.

‘Doesn’t a murderer need a motive?’ Mariah asked in his defence.

‘That was also in the letter. Why don’t you tell him, Jack?’

Charity shook his head.

‘He had good cause to kill each one of them. Three of them he had done battle with in Africa and the fourth wanted him court-martialled. Isn’t that right, Captain Jack?’

‘Don’t listen, Mariah – he twists the facts to suit himself,’ Charity protested as Walpole snapped the handcuffs on his wrists.

‘You’ll have a chance to say your bit in court – they’ll hang you for this, Jack,’ Walpole sniggered.

‘He didn’t do it!’ Mariah screamed as Walpole led Charity into the lobby.

‘If I wasn’t taking him, I’d be taking you,’ Walpole replied as the two constables, Mr Brough and his hound followed on.

‘Remember what I told you, Mariah!’ Charity shouted as he was led through the door and down the steps to the awaiting carriage. ‘Look after the hotel and trust no one.’

Charity was slammed into the prison cart and the door locked. Mariah saw his face appear at the window grille in the door. Charity tried to smile but in his heart Mariah knew it was all in vain. He felt a warm hand on his shoulder.

‘A lot of responsibility for a boy of your age,’ Zogel said amicably. ‘Good job old Zogel arrived just when he did. We’ll have Captain Jack out in no time and until then
I’ll
be here for you just as I said.’

Mariah looked up and smiled as he gulped and held his quivering lip with his teeth.

Walpole stared at them from where he stood on the pavement. He smiled at Mariah. ‘Better be about your business, lad. Well, what’s left of it.’

M
RS
Mukluk slept at her desk. Her snoring was quieter than usual. Mariah listened to the chiming of the grand clock. It was louder, brighter and clearer than he had ever heard it before. It was then that he realised that the hotel was completely empty and the sound of the clock and the snoring of Mrs Mukluk was not being drowned out by the constant noise of the guests, the whirring of the steam elevator and the gurgling of the galvanised bathing machine three floors below.

As he walked along the lobby from Charity’s office towards the entrance desk he looked into the empty restaurant. Rhamses sat alone at a long table with his head in his hands. His chef ’s hat lay crumpled in front of him next to a small brown paper bag.

‘They’ve all gone,’ the chef said as he heard Mariah’s footsteps. ‘Left me to deal with that madman upstairs and his leprechaun assistant. None of them would stay. Not after they saw the fish explode – said they would be next – too dangerous.’

‘So did the chambermaids and the waiters,’ Mariah replied. ‘It’s only you, Mrs Mukluk and me that are left. That’s if you …’ He was unsure whether the chef was also planning to leave.

‘You can trust me,’ Rhamses replied. ‘It’ll take more than a few exploding guests to get rid of me. I promised Charity that I would always be there when he needed me. You can’t let a friend down – not when he’s done so much for you.’

‘Known him long?’ Mariah asked as he looked at the large fish tank filled with dead fish.

‘He was my Captain in the army – went through many a fight together. Brought me here and he gave me a job at the Golden Kipper when I needed one,’ he said as if Charity had rescued him from a terrible fate. Rhamses then opened the paper bag and looked inside. ‘Shouldn’t have this – picked it up when Walpole took him away. Hexo – powerful stuff.’ Rhamses tipped the broken pieces of explosive on the table and nudged them cautiously with the tip of his finger.

‘Won’t it explode?’ Mariah asked.

‘Not this stuff. This is gelignite and carbide. One thing I can tell you is that it’s home-made.’

‘How do you know?’ Mariah asked as he picked a lump from the table.

‘It’s the wrong colour. This has been made to look like bread. That’s how they were killed – someone made them a hexogenamite sandwich. Once eaten they would have several minutes to live before they exploded.’

‘Into dust?’ Mariah asked.

‘Into dust,’ he replied. ‘When I saw Walpole kill my fish I realised what it was then. One thing I do know is that the Captain wouldn’t do it. Not even if he did have a grudge. He’s the kind of man to see you face to face – not his style, doing things cunningly.’

‘Don’t know what I’ll do now, Rhamses,’ Mariah said as the weight of the world crushed his heart. ‘I feel as if it’s all coming to an end.’

‘You can’t be running off when things get bad,’ said the chef

as he tidied the explosive back into the bag and handed it to Mariah. ‘Be careful with that stuff. Sometimes you have to stay and fight. If Charity didn’t do it then we’ll find out who did.’

‘But I can’t run this place on my own,’ Mariah replied as he put the bag in his pocket.

‘And you won’t have to, not with me and Mrs Mukluk to keep an eye on you. Zogel’s easily pleased and the leprechaun does his food. We could even take in more guests – that’s if they don’t think they’ll explode with my cooking.’ Rhamses tried to laugh as he spoke.

There was a sudden and shrill buzzing of the reception bell. It went on and on as at the same time every telephone in the hotel began to ring. The sound filled the halls and corridors of the hotel as if a million calls sounded at once. Mrs Mukluk slept on, completely unaware. Mariah ran from the restaurant to the front desk. She was in her usual place with two thick strands of cotton wool wedged in each ear and for some strange reason an even larger strand wedged in her right nostril.

Mariah switched off the bell and picked up the receiver.

‘Hello, Prince Regent Hotel,’ he said as politely as he could, never sure that the telephone could be trusted.

There was no reply. Mariah listened, sure he could hear the faint sound of someone breathing, and then there was a sudden click as the line went dead.

‘What you doing?’ Mrs Mukluk asked in a surprised voice as she woke from her sleep.

‘Did you hear the bell?’ Mariah asked.

‘Of course I’m well – if I wasn’t well I’d be in bed.’

‘The telephone was ringing – well, every one in the hotel rang at the same time.’ Mariah said as he pulled the wool from her ears.

‘Impossible. Can’t be, not in a month of Tuesdays,’ she

replied as the cotton wool in her nose blew back and forth like the pendant of a small Baltic state. ‘Only way that could happen is if someone was ringing from the Captain’s office and he’s in prison.’

The telephone rang again. Mariah and Mrs Mukluk stared at the receiver as it jangled and clattered on the desk. Mrs Mukluk hesitated, her hand reaching out and then darting back.

‘Would you?’ she asked as the cotton wool dangled from her nose and the light for room 237 flashed on the board. ‘It’ll be that awful Mr Lucius, he always snaps at me and mutters under his breath.’

Mariah reached out and took hold of the telephone. ‘Hello, Prince Regent Hotel.’

‘Mariah?’ the voice sighed. ‘You sound tired – working hard, are we? Mr Zogel invites you to his room to look at the
Irenzee.
It has been illuminated just for your enjoyment –
now
.’

There was a sudden loud click and the telephone went dead. He knew it was Lucius. The voice was cold and sharp like broken ice.

‘Don’t look so worried,’ Mrs Mukluk said as she saw the frown on his face. Mariah placed the ivory receiver back on the brass cradle. ‘You fret too much, Mariah. Sometimes life seems to be dark and lonely, then all will change.’ Without thinking, she reached out to touch his face and then suddenly pulled her hand away. ‘He’s only trying to be nice – since Captain Jack was taken away.’ She spoke softly and tried to smile in between yawning and forcing her eyes to stay open.

‘That’s the trouble,’ Mariah said as he watched a spider run over Mrs Mukluk’s grey hair. ‘I don’t know what to do. Sacha has gone, Captain Jack is locked away and the business is ruined.’

‘I know Sacha well enough and that girl won’t be far. She has

a temper like her father. And we all know Captain Jack killed no one. How things change in the time it takes for the sun to set,’ she said in a trying-to-be-wise voice with another mouthful of yawn. ‘Doesn’t have to stay bad just because it is bad. I remember when my son Twink was your age. Always thought the worst of everything. Worried just like you – left home twenty years ago and I haven’t seen him since …’

‘Really,’ Mariah replied not knowing what she was talking about.

‘Still,’ she went on as she rattled a small packet of powder in front of him. ‘Doctor Cornelius has seen me right and now I don’t worry at all. Told me to get some rest and find a job.’

‘Zogel wants to see me. Do you think I should go?’ Mariah asked.

‘No harm in finding out what he wants,’ she yawned. ‘Not a guest in the hotel apart from him so it would be polite to call in. Business as usual, that’s what the Captain would want.’ Mrs Mukluk yawned again and struggled to keep awake. She held up her head with the palm of her hand and rested her elbow on the desk. ‘While you’re gone I’ll have a little nap – been a long and tiring day. Twink could come home tonight and I wouldn’t want to be too tired to wish him well. It’s been twenty years,’ Mrs Mukluk said with a lopsided smile.

Mariah took the steam elevator to Zogel’s floor. He opened the gate and turned left. The corridor was empty and yet he felt he was being watched. It was always the same, whenever he was alone he felt as if a pair of eyes burrowed into the back of his head and tried to read his thoughts.

He remembered the first time that it ever happened. It was his fifth birthday. He had been taken to visit Gladius Garveenie, an elderly relative and the inventor of the four-wheeled penny-farthing cycle, who lived in a large house on the edge of Hampstead Heath. At some point Mariah had wandered off to

explore the corridors and rooms on the floor above the morning room where his aunt was having tea. He knew he had been away for some time as the sun had changed its position in the sky, and as he wandered the empty rooms he suddenly realised he was lost.

It was as he walked into a large, grubby room with shuttered windows and cobwebbed frames that he had the intense feeling that someone or something was standing behind him. At first he dare not look and as the sensation grew more intense, to the point of him wanting to scream, Mariah had turned. For a moment he thought he had caught the slightest glimpse of a man in the shadows of the corner of the room. A voice within that sounded like his father told him to run. Mariah had broken into a gallop and blindly fled from the room. By chance he had found his way to the stairs and as a servant had reached out to take hold of the screaming child he had leapt the balcony and fallen to the floor below. As he looked up, he was sure in his own mind that he had again seen the man from the room. Now, whenever he was alone and walking in such a place, he felt he was being watched and sometimes even followed.

Mariah counted the numbers on the doors of the suites as he walked, hoping to distract himself from the feeling of being watched. 209 … 213 … 215 … 217 – as he passed the door he heard a noise inside the room. It sounded like someone had coughed and cleared their throat in a long moan. He stopped and looked back along the corridor and shivered. The sound came again, and this time it was as if he could hear someone shuffling with old feet across the wooden floor in carpet slippers.

He tapped lightly on the door three times and waited. The noise stopped. He tapped again.

‘King’s Suite, 217,’ he said to himself as he read the name plaque and stared at the brass number on the dark stained

wood, realising this was the suite where Baron Hoetzendorf had stayed. ‘Hello,’ he said softly – hoping he was alone and knowing the room should be empty. ‘Do you need anything?’

There was the sound of a glass falling and smashing on the floor and the rattling of a wooden sash window opening. Mariah tried the door. It was locked.

Taking the master key from his pocket he placed it in the lock and slowly turned the lever. The lock snapped open and the door jumped an inch. He pushed slowly and could see the glow of the light from the window that overlooked the square at the front of the hotel.

The door opened by itself. Mariah stepped inside. He looked behind the door and then to each corner of the room. He kept to the wall as he checked under the bed and behind the sofa. By the window was a low mahogany table. All was just as the Hoetzendorfs had left it before they had gone to the midnight ball. A pair of fine leather shoes was on the hearth of the fireplace. A jacket was laid across the back of a chair and Madame Hoetzendorf’s glasses were on the dressing table.

On the table by the window were a scattering of printed letters on squares of card that formed a circle of the alphabet and on the floor was a broken glass. The window was open and a breeze blew the drapes across the table, scattering the letters on the dusty wooden floor.

Mariah quickly shut the window and slipped the bolt in place. ‘Must be the wind,’ he said out loud to break the spell of silence that locked his nerves deep within and made him shiver. He looked up and saw the mirror above the fireplace. It reminded him of Packavi and as he looked at the glass he expected him to appear in the dark reflection.

As Mariah looked about the room he realised that everything was slightly out of place, as if someone had moved the furniture and had not put it back as it was. On the table by the bed,

next to a half full glass, was a leather glove. Carefully, Mariah picked it up and without thinking slipped it on his hand to try the size. It was soft and well worn and as it touched his skin he realised it was still warm. Mariah quickly took it from his hand and stuffed it into the front of his coat. ‘Someone was here,’ he whispered to himself without thinking.

He stepped from the room as fast as he could, pulled the door firmly shut and turned the lock. He stood for a moment and listened and then looked along the corridor. In four paces, Mariah turned the corner on to the landing outside Zogel’s door.

Outside room 237 was a tall man in a blue uniform with gold braid on the shoulders. He was as tall and as wide as the door, with a white cap pulled tightly over his shaved head.

‘What do you want?’ he asked quickly, sneering at Mariah.

‘Lucius has invited me to see Mister Zogel,’ Mariah answered.

‘Why should Mister Zogel want to see you?’

Mariah didn’t have time to reply. The door to room 237 opened and Lucius stared out in to the dark hallway.

‘Took your time, Mariah. Mister Zogel doesn’t like to be kept waiting,’ Lucius said as he ushered him inside and led him into the sitting room.

The room was lit with several candles placed on the mantelpiece above the fireplace. It was cold and breezy as the night air flooded in through the open windows. Mariah noticed that all the furniture had been rearranged and a bed sheet now covered the gold mirror that hung on the far wall. Zogel sat in a large leather chair wrapped in a gigantic bearskin coat as he puffed on a fat cigar.

‘Good to see you, Mariah. Hotel still doing business?’ Zogel wheezed as if someone held him by the throat.

‘You all right, Mr Zogel?’ Mariah asked.

‘He’s fine, none of your business,’ Lucius chided him quickly before Zogel could answer.

‘The boy can see I’m not well, Lucius. You’ll have to forgive him, Mariah. We’ve been together for a long time and he thinks he’s my nursemaid.’ Zogel coughed as he spoke. ‘If truth be known, that’s why I’m here. I have all the money in the world but lack one thing that makes it all worthwhile. I thought I may find what I need here at the Prince Regent, but since Captain Charity is locked away it looks as if I have searched in vain.’