theory.”
“Which is?” I asked.
“That Chubby Charlie merely imagined seeing his double, and his violent death on the same night of these delusions was pure coincidence.”
“So you think there really was a double?” Lucky said. “A doppio ? A doppelgangster?”
“A man with deadly enemies who sees his perfect double and then dies by nightfall? Absolutely,” Max said. “But the manner of the killing . . . Hmm, clearly there’s something here that we don’t understand yet. I must get some Germanic texts.”
Lucky objected, “But like I just told you—”
“Yes, I understand, my dear fellow,” Max said. “But the great German thinkers wrote about doppelgängers in more depth than anyone else, as far as I know, so my research must delve into their works if I am to gain sufficient knowledge of this rare phenomenon.”
We heard a sudden, piercing wail come from the far side of the shop, followed by Nelli barking. Then we heard the slapping and slamming of rapidly closing doors and drawers.
“What’s that ?” Lucky jumped to his feet and automatically reached for his gun. I was glad he didn’t have it.
“Oh, dear. That thing is such a trial to me,” Max said.
“I think it’s scared your dog,” I said. “Er, your familiar.”
We rose to our feet, too, walked past several bookcases, and found Nelli barking in fear at a massive, dark, very old wooden cupboard that stood against the far wall. It had a profusion of drawers and doors, and it was about six feet tall and at least that wide. As near as I understand these things, the cupboard was enchanted by Max’s predecessor, and the effects seemed to be permanent. It could be dormant and inert for weeks at a time, but then suddenly, without warning, it would act up again. Apparently Nelli’s curious sniffing had stirred it up.
Its drawers and cabinets were opening and closing rapidly, slamming shut with a violence that seemed downright irritable. As we watched, flames started pouring out of some of the drawers.
“That’s dangerous, ” said Lucky, wide-eyed and disapproving.
“It’s a . . .” I tried to think of a way to explain it to Lucky. “It’s a sort of . . .”
“It’s a possessed cupboard, right?” he said.
“Er, right.”
“My grandmother’s family had one, back in Sicily.”
“I see.”
“I keep trying to neutralize its energy,” Max said wearily, “but I don’t know how it got this way, and my predecessor cannot be reached for consultation.”
This sort of confusion seemed to be rather common among Max and his colleagues. In fact, Max was 350 years old because he’d unwittingly drunk a life-prolonging elixir in his youth (back in the seventeenth century) that no one could replicate, no matter how many times they tried. He had imbibed it so unwittingly that he was in his fifties before he realized that he was aging at an unusually slow rate.
He wasn’t immortal, but it seemed likely he’d be around for another century or so. Unless Evil got him first.
Unnerved by the aggressive, flaming, drawer-slamming cupboard, Nelli gave up barking at it and instead opted for hiding behind us and whining.
My head was starting to pound, and I decided what I needed most of all was a few more hours of sleep.
“I’m going home,” I said to my companions. “I’m tired.”
“I’ll contact you after I’ve learned something more about this phenomenon,” Max promised, looking pretty tired himself after spending the weekend summoning his whining familiar.
“Wait, Esther, there’s one more thing we gotta talk about.” Lucky turned to Max and said, “She saw the hit. Do you think she’s in any danger?”
Max frowned with concern as he considered this, but finally said, “I doubt it. I really do. A man with deadly enemies saw a portent of his own death. I think it very likely this was an isolated incident that will not recur, let alone involve Esther any further.”
At the time, it was a reasonable supposition.
“Which is?” I asked.
“That Chubby Charlie merely imagined seeing his double, and his violent death on the same night of these delusions was pure coincidence.”
“So you think there really was a double?” Lucky said. “A doppio ? A doppelgangster?”
“A man with deadly enemies who sees his perfect double and then dies by nightfall? Absolutely,” Max said. “But the manner of the killing . . . Hmm, clearly there’s something here that we don’t understand yet. I must get some Germanic texts.”
Lucky objected, “But like I just told you—”
“Yes, I understand, my dear fellow,” Max said. “But the great German thinkers wrote about doppelgängers in more depth than anyone else, as far as I know, so my research must delve into their works if I am to gain sufficient knowledge of this rare phenomenon.”
We heard a sudden, piercing wail come from the far side of the shop, followed by Nelli barking. Then we heard the slapping and slamming of rapidly closing doors and drawers.
“What’s that ?” Lucky jumped to his feet and automatically reached for his gun. I was glad he didn’t have it.
“Oh, dear. That thing is such a trial to me,” Max said.
“I think it’s scared your dog,” I said. “Er, your familiar.”
We rose to our feet, too, walked past several bookcases, and found Nelli barking in fear at a massive, dark, very old wooden cupboard that stood against the far wall. It had a profusion of drawers and doors, and it was about six feet tall and at least that wide. As near as I understand these things, the cupboard was enchanted by Max’s predecessor, and the effects seemed to be permanent. It could be dormant and inert for weeks at a time, but then suddenly, without warning, it would act up again. Apparently Nelli’s curious sniffing had stirred it up.
Its drawers and cabinets were opening and closing rapidly, slamming shut with a violence that seemed downright irritable. As we watched, flames started pouring out of some of the drawers.
“That’s dangerous, ” said Lucky, wide-eyed and disapproving.
“It’s a . . .” I tried to think of a way to explain it to Lucky. “It’s a sort of . . .”
“It’s a possessed cupboard, right?” he said.
“Er, right.”
“My grandmother’s family had one, back in Sicily.”
“I see.”
“I keep trying to neutralize its energy,” Max said wearily, “but I don’t know how it got this way, and my predecessor cannot be reached for consultation.”
This sort of confusion seemed to be rather common among Max and his colleagues. In fact, Max was 350 years old because he’d unwittingly drunk a life-prolonging elixir in his youth (back in the seventeenth century) that no one could replicate, no matter how many times they tried. He had imbibed it so unwittingly that he was in his fifties before he realized that he was aging at an unusually slow rate.
He wasn’t immortal, but it seemed likely he’d be around for another century or so. Unless Evil got him first.
Unnerved by the aggressive, flaming, drawer-slamming cupboard, Nelli gave up barking at it and instead opted for hiding behind us and whining.
My head was starting to pound, and I decided what I needed most of all was a few more hours of sleep.
“I’m going home,” I said to my companions. “I’m tired.”
“I’ll contact you after I’ve learned something more about this phenomenon,” Max promised, looking pretty tired himself after spending the weekend summoning his whining familiar.
“Wait, Esther, there’s one more thing we gotta talk about.” Lucky turned to Max and said, “She saw the hit. Do you think she’s in any danger?”
Max frowned with concern as he considered this, but finally said, “I doubt it. I really do. A man with deadly enemies saw a portent of his own death. I think it very likely this was an isolated incident that will not recur, let alone involve Esther any further.”
At the time, it was a reasonable supposition.
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