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"I'm Gask," I said. "I don't doubt it. Come on in, son." I stepped forward slowly, waiting patiently while the old creature shuffled her way across the carpet. "Shut the door behind you, if you would be so kind." I complied. She hobbled back towards an upright armchair set close to a miserly fire that burned low in an old-fashioned fireplace set into one wall. She eased herself into the chair, carefully arranging her stick so that it was immediately to hand and fussing with a blanket over her knees. She must have been at least four hundred, her face gnarled as an ancient tree root, and the cartilage of ears and nose swollen with age and infirmity. She smiled in a friendly kind of way, revealing a mouth full of teeth missing or broken, the inevitable result of genetically strong teeth which nevertheless are not replaced during a long lifetime. I looked around. The apartment was small and tidy, furnished comfortably enough with more flair and taste than with the brute application of money. I had entered a living area with a kitchen annex set into one corner, and with various doorways which no doubt led to bedrooms and bathrooms to left and right. Opposite the entrance were a pair of french windows, now firmly closed to keep in the warmth. Heavy curtains in a sombre shade were drawn almost all the way across, and only a little light filtered through the gap. The room was dim, lit mostly by the low flames of the fire and by the focussed beam of a reading lamp which highlighted a small table upon which a volume lay open. In another wall, bookshelves filled the space between the two doors. They seemed to contain an eclectic mixture of well-publicised and well-thumbed modern novels, interspersed with worn volumes of classic poetry and works of literature. Presumably, this reflected the different interests of the two females who cohabited here. Now seated, the ancient turned her bird-like grey eyes on me. "I'm Argaty Dupplin, Clathy's grandmother," she said, "Take a seat, Mister Gask." I settled myself on a davenport opposite her chair, shoving aside numerous artfully mismatched cushions. I kept my hat on my lap. The room was stiflingly hot, sweltering. I made no move to take off my coat. I had too many things concealed in my pockets for me to feel comfortable otherwise. "I know why you're here," she said calmly. "You do?" "I do," she responded primly, "And it's to do with that thing there." She nodded in the direction of the kitchenette. A familiar object sat in the centre of a small dining table. It was Vale's burgundy briefcase, its protective glamours glowing visibly even from this distance. I got up suddenly and stalked towards the case. The magical protection flared as I approached, but didn't do anything overt. I kept my hands behind my back and leaned forward as far as I dared to take a closer look. "I wouldn't touch it, if I were you," Grandma admonished. "I won't," I said with complete conviction, "But how did it get here?" She snorted, a minor explosion in the gloom of the room. "My granddaughter did a stupid thing," she admitted, "She stole Merton Vale's briefcase from that tart Clunie." "Why?" I asked, professionally curious. In my experience, people don't usually volunteer that they, or a close relative, have done something potentially illegal. "Oh, it was just an act of mischief," she answered airily, "A whim." I wasn't convinced. But I didn't see any advantage to pressing on that point just now. "So how did she bypass the glamours?" I asked with genuine curiosity, not just changing the subject. I strongly suspected that, if I made a move to pick up the briefcase right now, I would end up being thrown halfway across the room by the protective magic. There was a pause while Argaty stared into the fire. I resumed my seat on the worn davenport. "Clathy was once friendly with Vale," she said hesitantly, "At the Club. Until Clunie came along." "Ah." That might explain the tension between the ladies, at least. "I want you help me, Mister Gask," she said, with growing conviction, "I want you to get that case out of our lives." I hesitated. Before I could answer, there was a sound at the door.
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Part 19