Page 24 of A Case of Possession
“How much truth would you say there was in this?” Crane asked.
“Truth!” Peyton snorted. “Giant rats and lovely darkies! Honestly, Vaudrey—”
“Crane.LordCrane.”
Peyton flushed. “Willetts was a shocking liar. His stories were all absolute rubbish. You should know. He had the most marvellous tale about you.”
“If you mean the one about the crabman, it is, unfortunately, quite accurate.” The chorus of incredulous mockery that erupted suggested Willetts had shared the story widely. Crane spared an unkind thought for the deceased trader and waited for the catcalls to die down. “Yes, well, I was horribly drunk. These things happen.”
“They don’t happen to anyone else.” Monk looked amused for the first time that evening.
“Oh, I don’t know. I always thought things happened to Willetts.”
Oldbury gave a grunt of agreement. “Ready for any spree. Looked for adventure.”
“And when one looks for adventure, one often finds it.I’veseen some strange sights—” Shaycott began.
Crane came in over him ruthlessly. “We all have. Did you ever see this rat amulet of his, Oldbury?”
The Java man shrugged. “Any amount of stuff. Rooms packed with it.”
“What’s happening to his things?” Crane asked. “Who’s his next of kin? Did he even have family over here?”
“Sister. Why he came back. Sick, you know. Lungs.”
“Poor chap,” Crane said, frowning. “Do you have her direction, at all? I’d like to send my condolences.”
The conversation splintered up into groups. Crane ensured he was with Oldbury and Humphris, finding out what he could about Willetts’ murder without seeming too obvious. He didn’t get much. After half an hour or so he looked around for Stephen, who had taken the unenviable task of talking to Dr. Almont. The scholar was still there, now latched on to Shaycott, but Stephen was gone.
“Looking for your pal?” asked Town, at his elbow.
“He probably jumped from the window,” said Crane. “Almont is a shocking dullard, isn’t he?”
Town rolled his eyes. “He and Shaycott won’t shut up, and Oldbury talks as though he was charged by the word. I don’t know what it is about Java men. Bores, every last one. Except Willetts. You have an interest there?”
“Not particularly. Just rather sorry for the poor fellow, wondered if I might help his sister. Day’s the one interested in Java.”
“Your little, ah, friend?” Town waggled his eyebrows.
“You have the wrong end of the stick, I’m afraid,” said Crane. “Since I’m not getting any of the stick at all, if you follow me.” Town, who loved a filthy joke, spluttered into his whisky. “He’s a friend of one of my cousins, got some kind of interest in the place. Not my bag, but I can play the head of the family by palming him off on Shaycott and Almont, and if he’s grateful enough, who knows, the palming off may not stop there.”
“Hah! Well, good hunting, my dear fellow,” said Town, with comfortable callousness. “Though I don’t rate your chances if Peyton’s buttonholing him with stories of your disgraceful doings. He followed him out a few minutes back.”
“Blast. Oh well, it was a long shot. Have you seen Rackham recently?”
Apparently Town hadn’t, nor did he have any new gossip to offer. They chatted a little longer. Stephen didn’t reappear when Peyton did, but some time later a waiter brought a note which Crane read, then stuffed into his pocket.
Peyton was watching. “Bad news,LordCrane? I do hope your plans for the evening haven’t been spoiled for any reason.”
“Trivial,” said Crane.
Merrick got back to the flat some half an hour after Crane, looking decidedly the worse for wear.
“Fun evening?”
“You might say.” Merrick tried to hang up his hat, and missed. “You got any idea what that Miss Saint can do?”
“Drink a grown man under the table, apparently. Did you find out about the shamans?”
