Serafina and the Twisted Staff (The Serafina Series) by Robert Beatty

sharp of tone,
but she couldn’t tell if it was because he was angry with her and Braeden or because of this detective’s unexpected presence in his home. Mr Vanderbilt had welcomed all sorts of guests
to entertain themselves in the magnificent mansion he had built for that purpose, but he himself had a tendency to withdraw from revelry. He often sat in a quiet room by himself and read rather
than imbibe with others. He was a man of his own spirit. And now here was a stranger, a detective, a man of the road, come to call with words of murder, and Mr Vanderbilt seemed none too pleased
about it.
    As she and Braeden sat down in the two chairs, she glanced over at her friend. He looked scared and alone. Mrs King had instructed him to leave Gidean outside the room. He seemed vulnerable
without his canine protector at his side, which made Serafina more determined than ever to make sure this Detective Grathan did not get the better of them.
    Mr Vanderbilt looked at her and Braeden. ‘Detective Grathan is investigating the disappearance of Mr Thorne. He theorises that Mr Thorne did not take his leave of Biltmore of his own
accord but encountered foul play while he was here.’
    ‘Yes, sir,’ Braeden said, trying to sound steady, but Serafina could hear the quiver in his voice. There was no doubt in her mind, either, that if they made a mistake here they might
be arrested and charged with conspiring to murder Mr Thorne. She had led him into the trap. And Braeden owned the dog that had helped kill him.
    ‘I recommend that you answer all his questions truthfully,’ Mr Vanderbilt said.
    Serafina glanced at Mr Vanderbilt, for the tone in his voice had an unexpected edge to it. On the face of it, he was telling her and Braeden to do the right thing, to cooperate with the
detective’s investigation. But in another way it seemed to her that he was signalling them, warning them that they needed to be very careful, as if saying the man might possess the power to
discern truth from lie.
    ‘Detective Grathan,’ Mr Vanderbilt said as he turned to the man, ‘everyone at Biltmore will, of course, cooperate with your investigation. This is my nephew Braeden Vanderbilt,
my late brother’s son, and his friend Serafina. Along with the others you’ve already spoken to, they were present on the day of Mr Thorne’s disappearance. You are free to ask them
any questions you deem necessary to complete your investigation.’
    The detective nodded, then spoke to Mr Vanderbilt in a serious tone. ‘You do not have to be present for this questioning.’
    Whoa
, Serafina thought. He just asked Mr Vanderbilt to leave the room.
No one
asked Mr Vanderbilt to leave anywhere. It was
his
house. Serafina could sense the tension
increasing between the two men.
    ‘I will remain,’ Mr Vanderbilt said unequivocally.
    Detective Grathan looked at him and seemed to decide that for the moment he would not argue with the master of Biltmore. Instead, he pivoted his head slowly towards Serafina. She swore she could
hear the sound of ticking cartilage as his head turned. The man studied her for several seconds, seeming to pull every detail of her apart, bit by bit. She noticed his fingers wrapping slowly round
the antler handle of his cane. Then he spoke.
    ‘Your name is Serafina – is that correct?’ he asked.
    ‘Yes,’ she said.
And your name is Mr Grathan
, she wanted to say in return.
Do you and your master own five mangy, overgrown tracking hounds with teeth like daggers?
    ‘Did you know Mr Thorne?’ he asked.
    ‘Yes, I knew him,’ she replied truthfully, ‘but I only spoke to him a few times.’
    The man studied her. He held his cane – or staff or stick or whatever it was – as he spoke to her. Then he slowly pivoted his head and looked at Braeden. ‘And did you know Mr
Thorne as well?’
    ‘He was my friend,’ Braeden said, which was also the truth.
    ‘When did you last see him?’
    ‘At the party on the night of his