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Troubled Blood
Part Four - 38
Samhain reappeared at the sitting room door and said loudly to his mother,
“D’you want a hot chocolate, or not?”
“Yes,” she said.
Troubled Blood
Part Four - 38
“Yes,” she said.
“Do you want a hot chocolate, or not?” Samhain demanded of Strike.
“Yes please,” Strike said, on the principle that all friendly gestures should be accepted in such situations.
Troubled Blood
Part Four - 38
“Should I—?” offered Strike, gesturing toward the puzzle, but there was no space anywhere on the floor to accommodate it.
“You close it,” Deborah told him, with a hint of reproach, and Strike saw that the jigsaw mat had wings, which could be fastened to protect the puzzle. He did so, and Samhain laid the tray on top. Deborah stuck her crochet hook carefully in the ball of wool and accepted a mug of instant hot chocolate and a Penguin biscuit from her son. Samhain kept the Batman mug for himself. Strike sipped his drink and said, “Very nice,” not entirely dishonestly.
“I make good hot chocolate, don’t I, Deborah?” said Samhain, unwrapping a biscuit.
Troubled Blood
Part Four - 38
“Good move,” said Strike.
The three of them drank their hot chocolate.
“Dirty old man, Joe Brenner,” repeated Samhain, more loudly. “Uncle Tudor used to tell me some stories. Old Betty and the one who wouldn’t pay, hahahaha. Dirty old Joe Brenner.”
Troubled Blood
Part Four - 38
“Bluey,” he said. “Bluey’s cleverer’n Billy Bob.”
Strike waited for them to lose interest in the budgerigars, which took a couple of minutes. When both Athorns’ attention had returned to their hot chocolates, he said,
“Dr. Bamborough disappeared and I’m trying to find out what happened to her. I’ve been told that Gwilherm talked about Dr. Bamborough, after she went missing.”
Troubled Blood
Part Four - 38
“I heard,” said Strike—there was no point not saying it; this was the whole reason he was here, after all—“that Gwilherm told people he killed her.”
Deborah glanced at Strike’s left ear, then back at her hot chocolate.
“You’re like Tudor,” she said. “You know what’s what. He probably did,” she added placidly.
Troubled Blood
Part Four - 38
“Was My-Dad-Gwilherm doing magic on her?” Samhain inquired of his mother. “My-Dad-Gwilherm didn’t kill that lady. My uncle Tudor told me what really happened.”
“What did your uncle tell you?” asked Strike, turning from mother to son, but Samhain had just crammed his mouth full of chocolate biscuit, so Deborah continued the story.
“He woke me up one time when I was asleep,” said Deborah, “and it was dark. He said, ‘I killed a lady by mistake.’ I said, ‘You’ve had a bad dream.’ He said, ‘No, no, I’ve killed her, but I didn’t mean it.’”
Troubled Blood
Part Four - 38
“That’s it,” said Deborah.
She’d finished her hot chocolate, now. Setting down the empty mug, she picked up her crochet again.
Samhain held the book wordlessly out to Strike. Though the cover had come off, the title page was intact: The Magus by Francis Barrett. Strike had the impression that being shown this book was a mark of esteem, and he therefore flicked through it with an expression of deep interest, his main objective to keep Samhain happy and close at hand for further questioning.
Troubled Blood
Part Four - 38
This I will say more, to wit, that those who walk in their sleep, do, by no other guide than the spirit of the blood, that is, of the outward man, walk up and down, perform business, climb walls and manage things that are otherwise impossible to those that are awake.
“You can do magic, with that book,” said Samhain. “But it’s my book, because it was My-Dad-Gwilherm’s, so it’s mine now,” and he held out his hand before Strike could examine it any further, suddenly jealous of his possession. When Strike handed it back, Samhain clutched the book to his chest with one hand and bent to take a third chocolate biscuit.
“No more, Sammy,” said Deborah.
Troubled Blood
Part Four - 38
“Er—can I use your bathroom?”
“The bog?” said Samhain, with his mouth full of chocolate.
“Yes. The bog,” said Strike.