The Ransom Note – Felix

EPISODE 5 of 12 – Sleight of Hand

Felix discovers it’s not as easy as he might think to sleep with a corpse at the foot of his bed. What’s even more troubling is the next morning when he discovers something very important of his is gone and a ransom note left behind. Nothing left to do but rush to tell the girls, not before he bumps into an old friend he hasn’t seen in a very long time.

TOLD FROM THE POV OF FELIX

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By the time Charisma, Flossie, and Felix returned home, they were all far too tired to have any further discussions and agreed to leave any thoughts they may have had about what they uncovered till the morning.

Charisma entered her flat and immediately went to bed. She didn’t bother to get undressed make sure her front door was locked. Her mind wandered to the events of the last couple of hours. A stranger on her doorstep, then dead by the fireplace. Felix, a disgraced magician. But he was her friend. She didn’t care even though Flossie seemed to be most upset by the news. Poor Flossie. Her best friend. They grew up together and have been inseparable ever since they could walk. 

She finally succumbed to sleep when the front door opened and closed quietly. She wanted to get up and see who it was but exhaustion won out in the end.

By the morning Charisma was woken up by the smell of bacon in the air. Her eyes shot open to find her face smushed into her pillow. She rotated her feet. One shoe was still on. The other having fallen off some time in the night. Her first attempt at movement came with a slight wince as she reached for her head that was pounding. She knew not enough hours of sleep was had but as the sun was peeking through her curtains and hitting the bedroom floor, she was in no position to return to bed.

Replacing her shoe on her foot she sniffed her pits and shrugged. Not likely to make anyone who came close faint, she made her way out of the bedroom to hear humming coming from the kitchen. 

Holding a pan in one hand and spatula in the other, her father turned to face his daughter.

“Isn’t that what you were wearing yesterday?” he asked. “Nevermind. Don’t answer that. I took the liberty of making you breakfast. I know it’s not typical of me but I was able to leave work early and so…” His voice trailed off when he saw the look of surprise on his daughter’s face. True, he was never one for cooking breakfast, let alone cooking in general, but it couldn’t have been that shocking. Could it? “I thought you like bacon?”

“I do, father. Of course. Thank you,” Charisma said, taking a seat at the table. She tried not to look like every move was agony but her face was an open book to her father. Always was.

“What have you and Flossie been up to this time?” Chester asked, tipping the pan. Charisma watched as three strips of bacon and some eggs tumbled onto the plate.

Her stomach started to grumble and she licked her lips. It had been a long time since she ate breakfast in her kitchen with her father. She always just got something from the corner shop near where the carriage drops them off in the morning outside of the colosseum.

“Nothing, father. I wish you wouldn’t accuse Flossie of getting me into trouble all the time. I’m perfectly capable of getting into trouble all on my own.”

Their relationship, or lack thereof, had been tenuous at times ever since Charisma became old enough to procure a job at the colosseum. It gave her a level of independence she never had before. It also frightened her father that she might one day up and leave him the way his wife did a long time ago. His daughter was making her own money. It was only a matter of time. They both knew it. But what helped them avoid the awkwardness was the differing work shifts. With Charisma at work all day and her father at work all night, it meant they hardly saw each other at all. And yet here he was, in their kitchen, cooking.

“Why were you let out early?” Charisma asked, taking a bite of the bacon and savoring it on her tongue. 

Chester sat down opposite her at the table with just two pieces of dry toast and a cup of coffee. “I’m just worried about you, Charisma. The reason I’m home is because the king is in one of his tirades again.”

“I know,” Charisma chimed in, her mouth full of eggs but she didn’t let that stop her from talking. “The guardsmen were here last night. Looking for some stranger.”

Chester shot up from his chair. He knocked the table and caused coffee to spill over but he paid it no mind. “They were here? In this house? Did they touch anything? Take anything?”

Charisma had never seen her father in such a panic before. “I don’t think so. Unfortunately, I wasn’t watching all of them. They weren’t here very long. Sir Gareth and his men simply came inside, looked around, and left. Why, father? Is there something here you didn’t want them to find?”

He relaxed his shoulders slightly and sat back down to try and convince his daughter that nothing was wrong. “Not at all. No. All the same. You and Flossie mind how you travel. I am glad you have the carriage to take you to and from work. Till this man is found there’s no telling what might happen.”

“That doesn’t explain why you were let out early, father?” She finished her plate and slid it away from her. Not a crumb left on the plate.

“Safety, I suppose,” he answered, his shaky voice not as reassuring as she’d liked but before she could press him, Flossie came bursting through the front door.

She skidded to a stop when she saw Charisma’s father sitting at the table. “Mr. Price, sir. I didn’t expect you here this morning. Do I smell bacon?” Talking a mile a minute, as usual, Flossie plopped down in the chair beside Charisma.

“No time, Fliss. We’ll be late for the carriage. Come on,” Charisma whispered to her. She grabbed Flossie by the arm and yanked her up out of the chair towards the door. On their way out she tucked a satchel under one arm. “Get some rest, father. You look tired,” she said, closing the door behind them.

“What was that all about? You nearly pulled my arm off, you know,” Flossie said, wrenching her arm out of Charisma’s grasp.

It was the early morning so the streets were only bustling with the people who needed to get to work early. Also, a few night workers, usually covered in dirt and ash, coming home from working on the railroad just outside of Wondermere. It was the latest invention that promises to bring even more travelers to worry the king.

Two such gentleman, dirty from working on the railroad, whistled at Charisma and Flossie from across the street. One of them shouted, “Ladies in trousers sets my heart all a flutter,” and winked at them.

“I wish I could say the same about men covered in yesterday’s dirt. Better get home to your wife before she’s out here shoutin’ for ya!” Flossie shouted back.

“Get a load of that one. All mouth she is. That’s what happens when you let a woman wear pants. She starts getting ideas into her pretty little head.”

“Ignore him,” Charisma said. “He’s not the first and he certainly won’t be the last to say something to us. It’s not worth it.”

“I know,” Flossie said. “Maybe he’s right. Ever since I’ve been wearing pants I feel, I don’t know…like I’m more important somehow. Take this murder, for instance. I could solve it. Why bother the guardsmen with it? They have a hard enough time appeasing the king. No, this is definitely a job for Flossie…and associates,” she said, nodding at Charisma.

“Oh, I’m an associate now, am I? Not a partner?”

“All the great detectives have a sidekick. I’ve never read one that had a partner, though. An equal. No, I solve the mysteries and you follow me around to remind me how great I am.” Flossie squared her shoulders and hooked each thumb in the small hidden pocket of her pants, her head held high.

Charisma shook her head and hooked an arm around Flossie’s as they walked the rest of the way in silence towards the end of the street where their carriage was waiting.

The coachman tipped his hat at the ladies, making sure to give a wink to Charisma who Flossie reckons has taken a fancy to her. 

“Morning missus,” he said and then in a whisper, “She was raising hell at me already. Beckoning me to leave if you took any longer to arrive.”

Flossie sucked her teeth and rolled her eyes as she pulled open the carriage door.

“Took you two long enough to get here. Youth today, Amelia. They’ve no head for manners these days.”

“WHAT WAS THAT?” Amelia shouted, tipping to the side so she could better hear. Hannah repeated her statement a bit louder as Flossie stepped inside and took the seat opposite Amelia. Charisma raised her eyebrows at the coachman and smiled before getting inside herself and shutting the door behind her.

Hannah banged the roof of the carriage with her cane. It was shaped like a thin tree branch with bends and knots throughout. The handle was made of brass and the tip matched it in kind.

“Our apologies. We were accosted by a couple of gentlemen on the way,” Charisma said. Flossie gave her a look. She didn’t think it was necessary to explain why they were just a few minutes late but Charisma was always the polite one.

“Well, if you insist on wearing trousers what do you expect, my dear. It certainly is no way to get a man, and at your age. I’m sure your father is beside himself with grief,” Hannah said.

“I’M SURE THAT’S WHY HER MOTHER—” Amelia started to say but stopped short when Flossie kicked her as she raised her leg to cross it over the other.

“Oh, I am sorry, Lady Davenport. How clumsy of me,” Flossie said. She then took Charisma’s hand in her own.

Hannah and Amelia averted their eyes. Each choosing to look out of their respective windows as the carriage pulled away.

“LOOKS LIKE RAIN TODAY, HANNAH, DON’T IT?” Amelia shouted rather loudly. It was an unfortunate result of working on the south side of the colosseum during its reconstruction after the fire. The use of heavy machinery meant shouting was the only way anyone could be heard. As such, Amelia lost most of her hearing and shouts even when no noise can be heard.

“Yes, love. But I’m sure Miss. Pomroy will have us working inside so we can stay nice and dry.”

Flossie rolled her eyes again. “What’s in the bag?” She asked Charisma, ignoring the conversation 

The carriage started to bounce and rock as the ground changed from dirt to cobblestones. They were getting close to the colosseum in the heart of Wondermere.

Charisma opened it to show her the two paintings she took from Ember Hall last night. Amelia glanced over and gasped when she recognized one that was laying on Charisma’s lap.

Flossie looked over at Amelia who quickly averted her eyes to look at her friend, Hannah, who was fussing with her handbag looking for something. Amelia used her elbow to poke Hannah but she continued to pay her no mind.

“What is it, Amelia? Can’t you see I’m looking for my handkerchief?” Amelia moved her eyes, rather obviously, towards the paintings on Charisma’s lap. When Hannah landed on it she gasped as well.

“How did you come by that painting?” Hannah asked, pointing a shaky finger at the painting.

“That is none of your business,” Flossie answered back.

“Like hell it isn’t. My great-grandfather painted that. Commissioned it special for…” Amelia squeezed Hannah’s arm just then. “Well, that part’s not important. What is important is that you’ve clearly stolen something that doesn’t belong to you. Now, hand it over.”

The carriage stopped abruptly and all four passengers were jostled.

“Come on. We don’t have to stay here and be accused by the likes of them,” Flossie said, grabbing the paintings and putting them back in Charisma’s bag.

“Wait, she’s right,” she said, looking at Hannah, “but I didn’t steal them Mrs. Cropley, only borrowed. I promise I was gonna put ‘em right back after I examined them.”

“Examined them?” Hannah said. “What is all this about? Last I heard of these paintings they were hanging in Halls across Wondermere. You haven’t been in a Hall recently, have you Ms. Price? You know as workers at the colosseum it is strictly forbidden.”

“Trust me, no one knows the rules better than Charisma. She’s the last person who’ll go about breaking them. And if she says she’s gonna return them, she means it.”

The carriage door opens and the coachman sticks his head in. “I’m sorry ladies but I have another errand I must run. If you wouldn’t mind?” He steps aside to give everyone a chance to exit the carriage.

Once they have, a rather stout woman of considerable age is shouting to get Charisma’s attention.

“Don’t think this is the end of our conversation, Ms. Price,” Hannah says as she and Amelia walk into the colosseum and out of sight.

“And where have you lot been?” Mrs. Pomroy, never one to mince words, appeared as if out of nowhere and immediately started giving orders before waiting for anyone to reply. “And I need someone to cover for me while I’m gone.” Mrs. Pomroy wore a button up blouse that did not manage to conceal her well endowed bosom. Her collar was already stained from sweat as she is always the first one in before sunrise and the last to leave long after sunset. 

Her black trousers were covered in dirt all the way down to her boots which went all the way up to her knees. They were her favorite boots that she’d wear even when visiting the king. Tracking mud was her way of letting the upper class know she was always hard at work.

“Aye, where you headed?” Hannah asked as she stepped down from the carriage after Amelia.

“I don’t see how that’s any concern of yours. Have you two finished preparing the paper for the main event? You know we need it ready once his royal highness gives me the list,” Mrs. Pomroy said, taking one step into the carriage they just exited. The coachman was noticeably annoyed as he did have business elsewhere but it was too late. Once she stepped onto it he could only go where she directed. “Charisma, be a love and hold down the fort till I get back.”

“Surely he doesn’t have the list already?” Charisma asked, assuming Mrs. Pomroy was on her way to see the king. “The theaters are only just now opening for the season.”

Hannah and Amelia departed, turning their nose up as they went about their duties for the day.

“I have been summoned. But I suspect it has to do with this stranger nonsense. I hear he’s gotten himself in a right tizzy over it,” Mrs. Pomroy said, a chuckle in her voice and a smile on her face that was so wide they all, including the coachman, joined her. Then she contorted her face to give them both a stern stare. “Listen, the pair of ye, till this bloody business is settled you’re to go straight home at the end of the day. I won’t have any of my ladies mixed up in whatever this is.”

“Yes, Mrs. Pomroy.”

“Yes, Mrs. Pomroy.”

Charisma and Flossie stepped aside to let the carriage pull away with Mrs. Pomroy safely on board.

They turned to enter the colosseum when they heard a rather loud PSST behind them. They spun round again to see across the street, Felix was waving for them to to follow him.

He rounded a corner into The Crooked Arms pub. It was frequented by magicians but not this early in the day so it was mostly empty, save for one drunk man at the bar and the barman. He ignored Felix who entered first but when he was followed shortly by Charisma and Flossie his curiosity was piqued.

Felix went to the furthest end of the pub where the booths were and sat down. His hair was disheveled and his clothes were crumpled. He looked like he hardly slept last night and he said just as much when he was joined by Charisma and Flossie a moment later.

“We have a problem, ladies?”

“What? Don’t tell me our friend got up and walked away in the night?” Flossie joked.

Felix rolled his eyes and continued, ignoring Flossie’s crass comment. “Someone broke into my flat last night.”

“Why would someone want to break into your flat? She’s the one with—” Flossie stopped herself and looked back at the barman who averted his eyes too slowly. They knew they couldn’t be in the bar for much longer without suspicion.

“The book. They took the book!” He shouted then lowered his voice, trying to remain calm.

“The Codex? Are you sure? Maybe you misplaced it,” Charisma posited.

Felix shook his head. “No, definitely not. I hid it in my secret hiding place and when I went there this morning to check, I found this in its place.” He pulled out a piece of folded paper and unfolded it onto he table between them.

Charisma and Flossie looked down at the large handwriting that read:

“Garrigill? Why does that name sound familiar?” Flossie said.

Charisma didn’t say a word, just pulled out one of the two paintings she borrowed from Ember Hall and placed it beside the note. Flossie looked at it and immediately saw the name etched on the saw the magician held up in the air.

“Why did you take that?” Felix asked.

“I knew it would be important somehow. And the woman. The magician in the painting. Do you now them?”

“No, but I know who painted it and I know where Garrigill is as well.”

“That’s good. So we’ll go there tonight and find out who took the codex and why,” Flossie surmised.

“It’s not that simple, child. Garrigill is…well…it’s a members only sort of place. I haven’t exactly been a member for a long time, you see…”

“That’s where I’ve heard the name. It’s the place where real and true magicians come together isn’t it. To the outside world all magicians are enemies of each other. Each wanting the top prize and the glory for themselves and their families. But Garrigill is where they leave all that at the door and they pledge the code to each other,” Flossie said.

“What’s the code?” Charisma asked.

“I don’t know. But I can guess…” Flossie answered, not taking her eyes off of Felix. “What I’m puzzled by, is how a man who’s hated by magicians everywhere, family practically disowned him, ends up with the codex?”

“If you haven’t figured that out by now, Ms. Finnegan, however do you hope to be a crack detective?” Felix asked, trying to find his voice again. “I don’t need you reminding me of my faults. I know them well. I’ve not once made any commentary on your family. Though there be much there, of which you are well aware. Instead, I think we need to do what we can to get to the bottom of all this before any more trouble lands on our doorstep.”

“Trouble?” The voice came from the other side of the booth where they were sitting and startled the three of them. “Garrigill is the den and you poor misguided fools are no lions.”