The Light Who Shines (31 page)

Robert pushes his chair back and steps out to walk a little
while he continues. I feel for a sense of agitation that might have caused him
to get out of the chair, but there is nothing. “I’ve seen Tobias Blackwater at
many auctions, private and public, though I’ve never seen him win a bid. I
suspect he’s something of a voyeur of dark magical objects.” Robert looks
sharply at me then and says, “That’s just speculation, mind you.”

I nod and say, “Any information you give me, even your
opinions or speculations, will be helpful. I will treat speculations as
speculations, I promise. Now, do you remember specifically any of the items
that he’s looked at?”

Robert continues pacing a bit, and I realize this is what
Robert does when he is pondering a puzzle. He says, “He was at the Pemberton
Estates auction as well, and he was interested in the Truth Ring that Milton
won. Last year at the Lawrenson’s Estate Auction he spent some time looking at
a scrying mirror. He also attends the Glenwood Charity Gala each year. You
could ask Mrs. Glenwood if he’s won any items.”

“I may do that. The scrying mirror he was looking at, was
that a single mirror or a pair?”

Robert frowns at this and says, “It was a single mirror,
which indicates to me that it was more of a spying mirror than a two way
communication device.”

“And Hilda Gunderson or Hank Fletcher? Have you any
knowledge of them?”

Robert says, “No, I’ve never met them or seen them in my
circles.”

I sit silently for a minute to see if he can think of
anything else. When nothing ensues, I say, “Well, thank you so much, Robert.
You’ve been an enormous help. I really appreciate your time.”

Robert says, “It’s been my pleasure.” Then he rings the
butler bell on his desk.

I rise, and Robert steps forward to take my hand. He raises
it to his lips and gives me a soft and pleasant kiss on the hand, saying,
“Until we meet again my dear, beautiful Inspector Blue.”

I feel my face heat up, and I feel a bit tongue tied for a
minute. After standing there awkwardly for a beat, I say, ”If you ever decide
to give tours of your secret passages, please give me a call.”

Robert tilts his head back and laughs throatily. “I most
certainly will.”

The butler arrives to show me out, and I throw one more
glance back at Robert, who has a twinkle still in his eye. I give him a wink,
and he returns it with the flourish of his arm in a miniature bow.

I laugh my way out the door. I really like Robert. He’s a
fun guy and handsome in a bookish sort of way. Not sexy and dangerous like
Jack, but pleasant and companionable. I try to shake this thought as soon as it
enters my head. I really need to stop comparing people to Jack.

On my way to the car, I notice that my outfit still looks
great and unwrinkled. Not one to waste a valuable resource on loan, I decide to
see if Mrs. Glenwood is receiving today while I still look fresh.

Bluebell Kildare: June 1, 2022, Red Ages

I arrive at Mrs. Glenwood’s estate and reflect on how
peaceful it looks without the swarming mob of Dilectus Deo around it. The drive
leading to the mansion is lined with magnolia trees. The house itself an
elegant, white structure graced with a white pillared portico and tall, black
shuttered windows on both of the flanking wings. I decide to leave Varg in the
car because I haven’t tested him against cats yet, but I leave a window
unrolled so he can jump out if needed. It would be ironic and just my luck if I
called on a favor for saving Mrs. Glenwood’s cat just to have Varg eat the cat
instead.

At the door I give my name and card to Jeffrey the butler
and ask if I can have a few moments of Mrs. Glenwood’s time. Jeffrey leaves me
on the stoop and returns a few minutes later to show me in. He says, “Mrs.
Glenwood is in the gardens enjoying a late breakfast. She would be delighted if
you would join her.”

Jeffrey ushers me through the house and out onto the patio.
Mrs. Glenwood is sitting at a beautifully dressed table next to the bulb
gardens. Memories of the Gala night with Jack come flooding back, and my heart
squeezes a little bit. If only that night could have lasted forever. I push
those thoughts away as I have important business to attend to right now.

Mrs. Glenwood waves me over and says, “Blue! I’m so glad you
came to visit me. I was just having a late breakfast. Please come join me.”

Just as I’m pulling out my chair, Varg appears from around
the side of the building, looping gracefully toward me. Mrs. Glenwood smiles at
him. “Who’s this handsome fellow?”

“I’m so sorry. I left him in the car, but he seems to be
rather attached to me. This is Varg. Is Cleopatra anywhere around? I don’t know
how he’ll do with cats.”

Mrs. Glenwood beckons Varg, ruffles his neck fur and says,
“I’m sure he’d be fine. Cleopatra is confined to my suite as she is still
recuperating. We’ll have to introduce them another time. Varg certainly is
quite large!”

I laugh because he is only at his large dog size now. “I
know. He’s massive. But he’s come to my aid a few times, so I appreciate his
size.”

I pull out one of the cushioned, wrought iron patio chairs
across from Mrs. Glenwood. Mrs. Glenwood sits up and pours some tea in a fresh
cup Jeffrey just set out. Jeffrey looks a little miffed that she didn’t wait
for him to pour the tea. She looks sternly at him and says, “Jeffrey, you’re
hovering again. I can handle serving tea to my guest. I’ll be fine.” Jeffrey
leaves, none too happy for it.

Mrs. Glenwood whispers to me, “They think that just because
I’m wealthy and a woman that I must be frail and incompetent.” Then in a normal
voice she continues, “How do you like your tea?”

“With sugar, please.”

Mrs. Glenwood plops two sugars in my tea and pushes it
toward me. She waves at the overabundance of food on the table and says,
“Please, help yourself.”

It looks gorgeous: poached eggs, sautéed asparagus in
hollandaise sauce, and toast, all served on fine china. I reply, “Just tea will
be fine, thank you. I’ve eaten already.”

Mrs. Glenwood laughs, “Of course you have. Not everyone is
as slow to wake up as I am.”

“So how’s Cleopatra doing?”

Mrs. Glenwood sits back and says, “Well, she was severely
dehydrated and very scared. The vet gave us fluids to administer to her twice
daily. She perked up a bit yesterday, but she’s still spending most of the day
under my bed.”

“Well, I’m glad she’s getting better. I imagine it will take
time. Are you sure that she was locked up by accident? Do you have any new
staff that has a disliking for cats?”

Mrs. Glenwood frowns at this and says, “I hadn’t even
thought of that. I think I’ll have to do some investigation. We do have some
new staff, but I can’t say that I’m aware of any specific issues.” She seems to
ponder this for a minute, then comes to some private decision and closes the
subject off in her mind for later. Her face is remarkably transparent. Then she
fingers my card on the table and asks, “So, to what do I owe the pleasure of
your company?”

“Well, I’m conducting an investigation, and I’d like to ask
you some questions. However, the person I need to ask the questions about is a
prominent political person, and I need to know if I can ask the questions in
confidence.”

Mrs. Glenwood grimaces at this. “What’s the nature of the
crime?”

I reply with as little drama as possible. “It regards the
torture and death of a young man, a boy, really. I’m not at liberty to give
further details given that the crime is still under investigation. I must ask
you to keep even that little bit in confidence.”

Mrs. Glenwood looks emotionally disturbed at this news. I
can feel empathy tinged with sadness flowing from her in strong waves. Her face
turns down and her eyes grow sad. She says, “Well, of course. I will do
anything I can to help. We can’t have torturing, murdering thugs running
around, even if they wear the finest tuxedos.”

“My thoughts exactly. On the day of the Gala, I understand
that Tobias Blackwater was in attendance?”

Mrs. Glenwood’s face turns to one of distaste, and I can feel
her emotions turn a bit cold. She says, “Yes, he was. He’s always invited.
Though why I continue to invite him I don’t know. A stingier man I’ve never
met.”

“Why do you call him stingy?”

“Because he bids so low at the silent auction that he’s
never won an item!”

“Well, surely a great many people bid on items that they
don’t win, right?”

Mrs. Glenwood purses her lips and says, “Well, true, but he
bids absurdly low. For instance, if an item is marked with a minimum bid of two
thousand dollars, he bids two thousand and one dollars, even though there are
clearly several bid slips collected for the item. Surely he must know he won’t
win. I’ve decided he bids just so the other members at the Gala think he’s
charitable, for his political career’s sake.”

I dig into this a bit further. “So you think he bids without
ever having the intention of buying an item?”

She nods and says, “Well, I can’t prove it of course. But
that is my guess from looking at the bid report last week.”

I light up at this. “You keep a report of the auction bids?”

“But of course! How else would I determine who to invite? I
want to collect as much money for the orphanage as I can. Of course some
people, like Mr. Blackwater, I invite more for social considerations.”

I ask eagerly, “May I have a copy of that report?”

Mrs. Glenwood pauses and says, “Normally I wouldn’t share
it, but it isn’t protected legally. So I just ask you to exercise the same
confidentiality that you have asked me to, unless of course a particular detail
is required for your case.”

I am practically dancing for joy. This is an excellent piece
of news. So I give my oath. “I promise I will not disclose any details of the
report unless they’re specifically required for my case.”

Mrs. Glenwood nods her head in satisfaction. Then she rises
and says, “Just a moment, dear. No time like the present.” She disappears into
the house.

When she returns a few moments later she has a report in her
hand.

I wave toward the bell on the table and tease her. “Aren’t
you supposed to ring that if you need something?”

Mrs. Glenwood says, “Oh, poppycock! I’m chubby as it is. If
I had people wait on me hand and foot like they want to, I’d be rolling down
the hill. Have you looked at what they serve me for breakfast?”

I laugh. “It is quite a feast.”

Mrs. Glenwood sniffs. “Indeed!”

I take a minute to peruse the report. It’s a matrix with the
names of the items running down the left of the page and the names of the
bidders along the top. Where the name of the bidder and the item intersect is
the bid amount. Across the bottom is a total of bids for that person and
percent of the aggregate minimum bid that the bidder made. Tobias Blackwater
bid an impressive 8,753 dollars’ worth, most of which he had bid on several
items with very high minimum bids. His percent of minimum bid was 100.02.

“So Tobias only went over the minimum bid price by .02
percent on average?”

Mrs. Glenwood says, “Exactly! And the columns below indicate
the numbers of bids made and the number of bids won. As well as the total funds
raised from winning bids for each individual.”

I nod and say, “So he bid four times and won zero times, so
no funds were garnered. This person three columns over only bid once and only
for six hundred dollars, but his average annual bid was three hundred percent
of minimum bid.”

Mrs. Glenwood says, “Exactly! So the charity earned six
hundred dollars on his bid, far more than should have been received for that
item.”

I say, “I see. Well, I’m embarrassed I bid so low and didn’t
bring much money in for you compared to the other numbers.”

“Nonsense! You were Jack’s guest, and Jack was very, very
generous.”

I’m puzzled. I say, “But this list says he only bid six
hundred dollars, and that’s on the low side compared to some of your other
bidders.”

Mrs. Glenwood said, “Well, that’s because he chooses to
donate directly without bidding. It was very unusual for him to bid at all. He
donated twenty thousand dollars this year for the Gala.”

I gasp. “Ohh! I didn’t realize. That
is
very
generous, especially on an inspector’s salary!”

Mrs. Glenwood looks at me strangely. “Blue, Jack is quite
rich.”

I look up at her. “He is?”

She pats my hand and says, “Yes indeed.”

“Hmm. I had no idea. I mean, he has a nice car, but a lot of
men will put themselves in the poorhouse to have a beautiful car.”

Mrs. Glenwood sighs and says, “Jack could buy enough sports
cars to line the entire ridge of the Blue Ridge Mountains.”

I raise my eyebrows at this in surprise. Where did he get
all that money? Did he come from money? Did he own oil?

Mrs. Glenwood smiles, “He is quite a catch for you.”

I scoff at this. “I can’t imagine any woman ’catching’
Jack.”

Mrs. Glenwood gives off a peal of laughter at this. “Quite
right you are! I imagine that’s the only reason why he’s been single these many
years.”

I laugh with her for a moment. Then I feel guilty laughing
over tea while a torturer is running around free. So I stand up and say, “Well,
I really must get going. Evildoers rarely stop for tea, and I can’t let them
get ahead of me. Thank you so much for helping me today. Now you should
consider us even.”

Mrs. Glenwood shakes her head and says, ”I’m afraid I can’t
do that. Today I was simply doing my civic duty. You did me a personal favor,
one that I won’t forget. I am still in your debt, and you must let me pay it back.”

I say graciously, “If I ever need something from the upper
echelons of society, I will come straight to you.”

Mrs. Glenwood nods seriously, obviously knowing her value in
that area. “Please see that you do. And feel free to drop in any time, even when
you’re not chasing evildoers who are doing dastardly, evil deeds.”

I laugh at this. “I will. I promise!”

Then Varg and I skirt around the building to head to the
office.