But if it did have to do with Madlyn, what about Jago, then? Jago in the role of elderly Avenger. Who’d suspect an old bloke with shakes like a barman making martinis? He was hardly fit enough to sit on the loo unassisted, let alone in the shape one considered necessary to do away with another human being. Except, it had been a hands-off murder, hadn’t it? Santo’s equipment had been messed about with, if Kerra Kerne was to be believed. Surely Jago could have managed that. But then, so could any of them. So could Madlyn, for instance. So could Lew. So could Will. So could Kerra Kerne or Alan Cheston or Father Christmas or the Easter Bunny.
Cadan’s head felt stuffed with cotton wool. It was too soon after the hangover to be doing any serious thinking about anything, really. He hadn’t taken a break since his arrival at Adventures Unlimited that morning, and he was owed one at this point. Perhaps some fresh air?and even a sandwich?would allow him to dwell on these thoughts more clearly.
Pooh had been patient. Without doing the slightest bit of damage and only once letting his bird bowels loose, he’d spent hours watching Cadan paint radiators from his perch on a series of shower-curtain rods. He, too, was owed some R & R, and he probably wouldn’t say no to a bite of sandwich.
Cadan hadn’t brought one from home, so that was a bit of a problem. But he could solve it with a quick trip for takeaway from Toes on the Nose. Now that his stomach had returned to its normal condition, tuna and sweet corn on brown bread sounded good to him, with crisps on the side and a Coke.
First, he needed to move his painting supplies to the next room up for radiator refreshment, something he accomplished quickly. He headed for the stairway?forgoing the groaning old lift that, frankly, gave him the willies?and shared with Pooh what was coming next.
He said, “Toes on the Nose, and behave yourself. No swearing in front of the ladies.”
“Which ladies are you talking about?”
The question came from behind him. Cadan swung about. Santo Kerne’s mother had appeared from out of nowhere, like a spirit materialising directly through the wainscoting. She was coming towards him soundlessly on the new carpet runner. She wore black once again but now it was relieved at her throat by a billowy red scarf that exactly matched the red of her shoes.
Those shoes reminded Cadan, ridiculously, of a description he’d heard once of The Wizard of Oz: the story of two old birds fighting over a pair of red shoes. He smiled unconsciously at the thought. Dellen returned the smile.
“You didn’t ask him not to swear in front of me.” She had a throaty voice, like a blues singer.
He said stupidly, “What?”
“Your bird. When we were first introduced. You didn’t tell him not to swear in my presence. I wonder how I’m to take that, Cadan. Am I not a lady?”
He hadn’t the first clue how to reply, so he chuckled lamely. He waited for her to pass him in the corridor. She didn’t do so. He said, “Going to lunch.”
She looked at her watch. “Rather late for that, isn’t it?”
“I wasn’t hungry earlier.”
“And are you now? Hungry, that is?”
“Bit. Yeah.”
“Good. Come with me.”
She went towards the stairs but she didn’t descend. Instead she headed upwards, and when he didn’t follow at once, she turned. “Come with me, Cadan,” she told him. “I don’t bite. There’s a kitchen above and I’ll sort something out for you up there.”
“Oh. S’okay,” he said. “I was going to walk over to Toes?”
“Don’t be silly. This will be quicker and you won’t have to pay for it.” She smiled wistfully. “Not in money, that is. In companionship. I’d like someone to talk to.”
“P’rhaps Kerra?”
“She’s out. My husband’s disappeared. Alan is closeted with his telephone. Come with me, Cadan.” Her eyes clouded when he didn’t move. “You need to eat and I need to talk. We can be of service to each other.” When he still didn’t move because he couldn’t come up with a way to get himself out of the situation, she added, “I’m the boss’s wife. I think you’ve no choice but to humour me.”