him. “I’ll be there.”
He let out a lot of breath in a rush. “Tell the Ostermeyers he’s a really good horse.”
“He is,” I said, “and I will.”
“Thanks, Derek.” His voice dropped to normal decibels. “Oh, and by the way, there’s no horse called Koningin Beatrix, and not likely to be. Weatherby’s say Koningin Beatrix means Queen Beatrix, as in Queen Beatrix of the Netherlands, and they frown on people naming racehorses after royal persons.”
“Oh,” I said. “Well, thanks for finding out.”
“Any time. See you in the morning. For God’s sake don’t be late. You know the Ostermeyers get up before larks.”
“What I need,” I said to Annette, putting down the receiver, “is an appointments book, so as not to forget where I’ve said I’ll be.”
She began looking in the drawerful of gadgets.
“Mr. Franklin had an electric memory thing he used to put appointments in. You could use that for now.” She sorted through the black collection, but without result. “Stay here a minute,” she said, closing the drawer, “while I ask June if she knows where it is.”
She went away busily and I thought about how to convince the Ostermeyers, who could afford anything they set their hearts on, that Datepalm would bring them glory if not necessarily repay their bucks. They had had steeplechasers with Milo from time to time, but not for almost a year at the moment. I’d do a great deal, I thought, to persuade them it was time to come back.
An alarm like a digital watch alarm sounded faintly, muffled, and to begin with I paid it no attention, but as it persisted I opened the gadget drawer to investigate and, of course, as I did so it immediately stopped. Shrugging, I closed the drawer again, and Annette came back bearing a sheet of paper but no gadget.
“June doesn’t know where the Wizard is, so I’ll make out a rough calendar on plain paper.”
“What’s the Wizard?” I asked.
“The calculator. Baby computer. June says it does everything but boil eggs.”
“Why do you call it the Wizard?” I asked.
“It has that name on it. It’s about the size of a paperback book and it was Mr. Franklin’s favorite object. He took it everywhere.” She frowned. “Maybe it’s in his car, wherever that is.”
The car. Another problem. “I’ll find the car,” I said, with more confidence than I felt. Somehow or other I would have to find the car. “Maybe the Wizard was stolen out of this office in the break-in,” I said.
She stared at me with widely opening eyes. “The thief would have to have known what it was. It folds up flat. You can’t see any buttons.”
“All the gadgets were out on the floor, weren’t they?”
“Yes.” It troubled her. “Why the address book? Why the engagements for October? Why the Wizard?”
Because of diamonds, I thought instinctively, but couldn’t rationalize it. Someone had perhaps been looking, as I was, for the treasure map marked X. Perhaps they’d known it existed. Perhaps they’d found it.
“I’ll get here a couple of hours later tomorrow,” I said to Annette. “And I must leave by five to meet Elliot Trelawney at five-thirty. So if you reach Prospero Jenks, ask him if I could go to see him in between. Or failing that, any time Thursday. Write off Friday because of the funeral.”
Greville died only the day before yesterday, I thought. It already seemed half a lifetime.
Annette said, “Yes, Mr. Franklin,” and bit her lip in dismay.
I half smiled at her. “Call me Derek. Just plain Derek. And invest it with whatever you feel.”
“It’s confusing,” she said weakly, “from minute to minute.”
“Yes, I know.”
With a certain relief I rode down in the service elevator and swung across to Brad in the car. He hopped out of the front seat and shoveled me into the back, tucking the crutches in beside me and waiting while I lifted my leg along the padded leather and wedged myself into the corner for the most comfortable
He let out a lot of breath in a rush. “Tell the Ostermeyers he’s a really good horse.”
“He is,” I said, “and I will.”
“Thanks, Derek.” His voice dropped to normal decibels. “Oh, and by the way, there’s no horse called Koningin Beatrix, and not likely to be. Weatherby’s say Koningin Beatrix means Queen Beatrix, as in Queen Beatrix of the Netherlands, and they frown on people naming racehorses after royal persons.”
“Oh,” I said. “Well, thanks for finding out.”
“Any time. See you in the morning. For God’s sake don’t be late. You know the Ostermeyers get up before larks.”
“What I need,” I said to Annette, putting down the receiver, “is an appointments book, so as not to forget where I’ve said I’ll be.”
She began looking in the drawerful of gadgets.
“Mr. Franklin had an electric memory thing he used to put appointments in. You could use that for now.” She sorted through the black collection, but without result. “Stay here a minute,” she said, closing the drawer, “while I ask June if she knows where it is.”
She went away busily and I thought about how to convince the Ostermeyers, who could afford anything they set their hearts on, that Datepalm would bring them glory if not necessarily repay their bucks. They had had steeplechasers with Milo from time to time, but not for almost a year at the moment. I’d do a great deal, I thought, to persuade them it was time to come back.
An alarm like a digital watch alarm sounded faintly, muffled, and to begin with I paid it no attention, but as it persisted I opened the gadget drawer to investigate and, of course, as I did so it immediately stopped. Shrugging, I closed the drawer again, and Annette came back bearing a sheet of paper but no gadget.
“June doesn’t know where the Wizard is, so I’ll make out a rough calendar on plain paper.”
“What’s the Wizard?” I asked.
“The calculator. Baby computer. June says it does everything but boil eggs.”
“Why do you call it the Wizard?” I asked.
“It has that name on it. It’s about the size of a paperback book and it was Mr. Franklin’s favorite object. He took it everywhere.” She frowned. “Maybe it’s in his car, wherever that is.”
The car. Another problem. “I’ll find the car,” I said, with more confidence than I felt. Somehow or other I would have to find the car. “Maybe the Wizard was stolen out of this office in the break-in,” I said.
She stared at me with widely opening eyes. “The thief would have to have known what it was. It folds up flat. You can’t see any buttons.”
“All the gadgets were out on the floor, weren’t they?”
“Yes.” It troubled her. “Why the address book? Why the engagements for October? Why the Wizard?”
Because of diamonds, I thought instinctively, but couldn’t rationalize it. Someone had perhaps been looking, as I was, for the treasure map marked X. Perhaps they’d known it existed. Perhaps they’d found it.
“I’ll get here a couple of hours later tomorrow,” I said to Annette. “And I must leave by five to meet Elliot Trelawney at five-thirty. So if you reach Prospero Jenks, ask him if I could go to see him in between. Or failing that, any time Thursday. Write off Friday because of the funeral.”
Greville died only the day before yesterday, I thought. It already seemed half a lifetime.
Annette said, “Yes, Mr. Franklin,” and bit her lip in dismay.
I half smiled at her. “Call me Derek. Just plain Derek. And invest it with whatever you feel.”
“It’s confusing,” she said weakly, “from minute to minute.”
“Yes, I know.”
With a certain relief I rode down in the service elevator and swung across to Brad in the car. He hopped out of the front seat and shoveled me into the back, tucking the crutches in beside me and waiting while I lifted my leg along the padded leather and wedged myself into the corner for the most comfortable
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