the sword cabinet kept scrolling through his head like one of those dioramas you get on the pier – but he prided himself on not having a hair out of place.
‘You look like hell,’ he said.
‘Thanks.’ Edgar ordered coffee and, as an afterthought, a bacon sandwich. ‘I feel like hell.’
‘You’ve had a tough time.’
‘Yes,’ Edgar took a gulp of tea and winced. ‘I saw Tony’s parents yesterday.’
‘I can’t imagine Tony having parents somehow.’
‘They were sweet. Sad. A nice old couple. His mum called him Anthony. I kept thinking of him as a child.I mean, even Tony might have been quite nice as a child.’
‘I doubt it.’
‘I mean, nobody expects their child to grow up and be murdered by some madman with a sword.’
‘Is that who you think it was? Some madman?’
‘No.’ Edgar looked at Max across the table. Max was surprised to see that he suddenly looked quite formidable. ‘I don’t think it was a random madman. I think this has to do with the Magic Men.’
They were the only people in the cafe, but even so, Max looked round to see if they could be overheard. The owner was picking his teeth at the counter and a fat seagull stood on the window ledge outside.
‘I got a message from Tony yesterday,’ said Edgar, ‘asking me to meet him at his digs at one-fifteen. When I got there …’
Max watched as a greasy hunk of bread was placed in front of Edgar. Tomato sauce was leaking from the sides. ‘Another black coffee please,’ he asked faintly.
Edgar took a bite of his sandwich. He seemed lost in thought.
‘Did Tony say why he wanted to see you?’ said Max.
‘He said it was to do with the Magic Men. I didn’t see him myself. My sergeant took the message.’
‘Are you sure it was Tony who called in?’ Max was half-joking, but Edgar took the question seriously.
‘Description sounded like him. Thirties, dark hair, loud suit. He made a lewd remark to one of the policewomen.’
‘That does sound like Tony.’
‘But what did he want to talk about? And why one-fifteen? It’s such a weird time to choose. I keep thinking about it.’ Edgar ran a hand through his hair so it stood up even higher. Max wished he wouldn’t.
‘Why didn’t he come straight in and talk to you?’ asked Max. ‘Why make an appointment?’
‘I don’t know,’ said Edgar. ‘Maybe he wanted to make an occasion of it. You know what he was like.’
Max nodded. He understood all right. Set the stage, prepare the props. But who was orchestrating this particular trick?
‘What time did you get to his place?’
‘I was late. About one-thirty.’
‘But someone got there before you.’
‘Yes.’ Max looked out of the window. The seagull had flown and he had an unimpeded view over the dark-grey sea. The clouds were black on the horizon. This time tomorrow, he thought, I’ll be in France.
‘Anyone see who Tony’s visitor was?’ he asked. ‘What about the landlady?’
‘She was out. Her daughter was in charge, but she claimed not to have seen anyone. She’s not the sharpest tool in the box.’
Not as sharp as the sword that pierced the wardrobe door, thought Max. He remembered slicing though the apple on stage, Ruby’s slight expression of alarm, the audience’s intake of breath.
‘There was no sign of a struggle in the room,’ saidEdgar. ‘Bedclothes creased as if someone had sat on them, the chair pulled out beside the bed, two cups of tea on the table.’
‘So it looks as if he knew his killer?’
‘Yes. Or at least that he didn’t feel threatened by them. Until it was too late.’
‘Any other clues? In books the villain always leaves clues lying about the place.’
Edgar smiled. Max remembered that he used to be rather a fan of detective stories. Maybe that was what made him take the ludicrous step of becoming a policeman.
‘There’s the sword,’ said Edgar. ‘It looks quite distinctive. I’ll have my men go round the antique shops on Monday.’ He looked at Max.
‘You look like hell,’ he said.
‘Thanks.’ Edgar ordered coffee and, as an afterthought, a bacon sandwich. ‘I feel like hell.’
‘You’ve had a tough time.’
‘Yes,’ Edgar took a gulp of tea and winced. ‘I saw Tony’s parents yesterday.’
‘I can’t imagine Tony having parents somehow.’
‘They were sweet. Sad. A nice old couple. His mum called him Anthony. I kept thinking of him as a child.I mean, even Tony might have been quite nice as a child.’
‘I doubt it.’
‘I mean, nobody expects their child to grow up and be murdered by some madman with a sword.’
‘Is that who you think it was? Some madman?’
‘No.’ Edgar looked at Max across the table. Max was surprised to see that he suddenly looked quite formidable. ‘I don’t think it was a random madman. I think this has to do with the Magic Men.’
They were the only people in the cafe, but even so, Max looked round to see if they could be overheard. The owner was picking his teeth at the counter and a fat seagull stood on the window ledge outside.
‘I got a message from Tony yesterday,’ said Edgar, ‘asking me to meet him at his digs at one-fifteen. When I got there …’
Max watched as a greasy hunk of bread was placed in front of Edgar. Tomato sauce was leaking from the sides. ‘Another black coffee please,’ he asked faintly.
Edgar took a bite of his sandwich. He seemed lost in thought.
‘Did Tony say why he wanted to see you?’ said Max.
‘He said it was to do with the Magic Men. I didn’t see him myself. My sergeant took the message.’
‘Are you sure it was Tony who called in?’ Max was half-joking, but Edgar took the question seriously.
‘Description sounded like him. Thirties, dark hair, loud suit. He made a lewd remark to one of the policewomen.’
‘That does sound like Tony.’
‘But what did he want to talk about? And why one-fifteen? It’s such a weird time to choose. I keep thinking about it.’ Edgar ran a hand through his hair so it stood up even higher. Max wished he wouldn’t.
‘Why didn’t he come straight in and talk to you?’ asked Max. ‘Why make an appointment?’
‘I don’t know,’ said Edgar. ‘Maybe he wanted to make an occasion of it. You know what he was like.’
Max nodded. He understood all right. Set the stage, prepare the props. But who was orchestrating this particular trick?
‘What time did you get to his place?’
‘I was late. About one-thirty.’
‘But someone got there before you.’
‘Yes.’ Max looked out of the window. The seagull had flown and he had an unimpeded view over the dark-grey sea. The clouds were black on the horizon. This time tomorrow, he thought, I’ll be in France.
‘Anyone see who Tony’s visitor was?’ he asked. ‘What about the landlady?’
‘She was out. Her daughter was in charge, but she claimed not to have seen anyone. She’s not the sharpest tool in the box.’
Not as sharp as the sword that pierced the wardrobe door, thought Max. He remembered slicing though the apple on stage, Ruby’s slight expression of alarm, the audience’s intake of breath.
‘There was no sign of a struggle in the room,’ saidEdgar. ‘Bedclothes creased as if someone had sat on them, the chair pulled out beside the bed, two cups of tea on the table.’
‘So it looks as if he knew his killer?’
‘Yes. Or at least that he didn’t feel threatened by them. Until it was too late.’
‘Any other clues? In books the villain always leaves clues lying about the place.’
Edgar smiled. Max remembered that he used to be rather a fan of detective stories. Maybe that was what made him take the ludicrous step of becoming a policeman.
‘There’s the sword,’ said Edgar. ‘It looks quite distinctive. I’ll have my men go round the antique shops on Monday.’ He looked at Max.
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