Chapter 16 #2
“You said you felt magic in the boatshed,” I said. “Wood magic. Are you sure it was in the wood, not some fireworks that may have been in there too?”
“It was in the hull of a boat. Mr. Barratt said he felt it, too. I see your point, Professor, but there’s no reason there couldn’t have been wood and fireworks magic in that boatshed.”
“You think there were two magicians? Signore Colombo the fireworks magician, and another wood magician?”
“I do. The latter being the man he hired to help expand his business, the one who would use Scala’s wood spell.
” She watched Oscar giving his order to the gelato seller using his limited Italian and a great deal of pointing.
“So where is the newly hired wood magician? And does he or she have anything to do with the murder?”
“Those are valid questions,” I told her. “But there’s a more fundamental one. Why is a firework magician wanting to expand his boatbuilding business now?”
She whipped around to face me. “Good lord. Giovanni Colombo couldn’t have been both, could he?”
“I’ve never heard of someone inheriting two types of magic, but it may be possible.
” I shook my head, even as I said it. “Although I doubt it. Not even India inherited both magics of her grandfathers. The confectionery magic of her mother’s side didn’t manifest within her, only the watch magic of her father’s.
It’s widely believed that the secondary magic, the confectionery in her case, supports and enhances the dominant magic, but having the capability to wield both…
” I shook my head. “There’s no precedent. ”
Miss Wheeler’s gloved finger tapped on the handle of her parasol.
“I know you find it odd that a boatbuilder who works with wood every day is, in fact, a magician of another sort, not wood. But I think it’s entirely feasible.
There could have been wood magic in the ancestor who started the Pecco business, but it was bred out through the generations.
Or it’s simply a case that someone else in the area was a wood magician.
Perhaps Pietro Scala’s father or grandfather were friends with Signore Colombo’s family and used the wood spell on the boat hulls.
The magic I felt wasn’t strong. It could have been put there many years ago. ”
I contemplated that as I watched Oscar juggle the three cups of gelato on his way back to us.
Miss Wheeler watched him, too. “Why did you want to discuss that with just me and not Oscar? He felt the magic in the boatshed, too.”
“Ah. My apologies. That was just to keep you here and distract you from bruising his masculine pride by insisting you pay.”
“Is his masculine pride capable of being bruised? I rather thought he was immune to the blows.”
“He’s not as impervious as he makes out. In fact, he’s more sensitive than most men.” Oscar was mere steps away now, so I had to whisper the next part to her. “Let him down gently.”
The fingers clutching the parasol handle flexed, but she otherwise didn’t acknowledge that she’d heard me. She didn’t even look my way. She accepted the cup and spoon from Oscar, as did I, then relayed our conversation to him as we ate our gelatos.
Oscar agreed it was odd that a boatbuilder was a firework magician, not wood. He proposed we ask Signora Colombo to clear up the confusion.
“She’s leaving tonight,” I pointed out. “And she won’t answer knocks on her door in the meantime. She’s lying low.”
Oscar gathered our empty cups and spoons to return to the seller. “Then I propose you take a nap this afternoon, Gavin. In fact, we all should. We had a disrupted sleep last night and we’re going to have another tonight.” He strode back to the cart, a spring in his step.
“He rather likes these adventures,” Miss Wheeler said with a small smile.
“As do you. I, on the other hand, prefer to get a full eight hours of sleep.”
“You don’t have to come.”
“Someone needs to chaperone.” I winked to show her I was joking. It was too late to worry about the impropriety of her going out with us at night, and she didn’t seem to care anyway.
She laughed lightly, proving my point.
It was a pleasant evening for dinner on the hotel terrace overlooking the lake.
The stars spread across the clear sky like tiny, scattered diamonds on black velvet and the warm air carried the scent of jasmine from the vine that grew up the hotel wall.
A quartet played a light, summery tune that was the perfect accompaniment to the delicious food.
The wine was as good as our meal, and Oscar’s company was as enjoyable as always.
He lifted his glass in salute to Mr. Defoe and Miss Wheeler, seated a few tables away.
Miss Wheeler smiled while her employer saluted back.
“Obnoxious turd,” Oscar muttered through his smile. “Persistent, too, I imagine. Expect him to make you another offer for the book’s whereabouts, Gavin. I get the feeling he hasn’t given up yet. He’s far too smug for a man who lost.”