Castle Spellbound by John Dechancie Read Free Book Online Page A

would find a new place first, then come back and begin making trips.
    But what if the intruder returned? Unsettling possibility. Perhaps he went to fetch help, confederates. There was too much loot for one man. Yes, that was it. The thieves would be back in force. Well, he'd simply wait for them.
    But ... what if there were too many of them?
    He picked up the inlaid box again. First, get the stuff out of here, as fast as possible. Shove it all in his room in the Guest wing. Under the bed, in the wardrobe, closets, whatever. Fast. Now . Then ... well, then he'd think what to do next. The important thing was speed.
    He put the box down yet again and began filling his pockets with the loose stuff.
     

 

 
     
    Club Sheila
     
    The party had wound down. The bartenders were washing glasses, the caterers busy cleaning scraps off the food tables. The moon hung low in the sky, hiding under drooping palms, as the night grew ever older. The big Victorian-style hotel was dark and quiet, the sound of the breaking surf muffled by a rising night breeze.
    A group of castle Guests were still at it, though, sitting in lawn chairs by the pool, quietly drinking—among them Deena Williams, a black woman from Brooklyn. She was dressed in a bright orange chemise and had her hair done in an acorn cut.
    Barnaby Walsh occupied the chaise next to her. Plump and pale of face, he sat raptly listening to Melanie Mc-Daniel's guitar variations on an Irish folk melody.
    Everyone else was talking.
    “I'm through drinkin',” Deena said, setting her Mai Tai down on the umbrella table next to her. “I'm over my limit now."
    “You don't seem intoxicated,” the man everyone called M. DuQuesne told her. He was in evening dress: black tie, boiled shirt, patent leather pumps. Which wasn't unusual for him; in fact, he always dressed formally. He spoke English fluently but with a heavy accent. “What is your limit, by the way?"
    “Six."
    “Six Mai Tais?"
    “Six of anything. Six beers, even."
    “Well, it's been a nice affair. I quite enjoyed myself."
    “I didn't say I didn't enjoy myself. If I have another Mai Tai, I'm gonna have to be towed back to the castle."
    “No, I was just commenting, dear.” M. DuQuesne looked around. “Seems everyone has left. Almost everyone, anyway."
    “I wonder what time it is, castle time. I don't feel sleepy."
    DuQuesne looked at his watch. “Good reason. It's rather late in the afternoon at the castle."
    “Is that all? Hell, I might as well have another drink. Waiter!"
    “You haven't finished that one,” DuQuesne said, pointing.
    Deena looked. “Oh.” She picked up the glass and drank.
    A man with a German accent sitting next to DuQuesne said, “Perhaps you should switch to something less sweet, Deena. That is a very fancy concoction to be drinking so many of."
    “I like ‘em. Can't be too sweet for me. I got a sweet tooth."
    Thaxton and Dalton came walking across the tennis courts. Thaxton had to be steered a bit.
    “Hey,” Deena called. “How'd your moonlight swim go?"
    “Excellent,” Dalton said. “His lordship passed out on the beach."
    “Didn't so much pass out, old boy, as took a bit of a nap."
    “Right."
    Deena asked, “Where're your lady friends?"
    “Don't quite know,” Dalton said. “They seem to have left us."
    “Swam away, they did,” Thaxton contended as he slumped to a deck chair. “Mermaids. Lovely sea horses. Sea mares. Farewell, farewell."
    “Boy, he's flyin',” Deena said.
    “He's cruising at about thirty-five thousand feet,” Dalton confirmed.
    “Perfectly sober, old boy. Perfectly sober."
    “Perfectly smashed,” Deena countered.
    “Nonsense. By the way, can a fellow get a drink in this place?” Thaxton turned and called, “ Garçon !"
    Deena asked, “Who's this Garson guy people been callin’ all night?"
    “No, my dear, that's French for—"
    Deena shot daggers at DuQuesne. “It's a joke , stupid. Don't you think I know that?"
    M. DuQuesne was somewhat flustered.