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"Nice place you've got here," I remarked casually, taking off my hat and moving over to the fire to warm myself. "It suits my humble needs," Garrick replied with obviously false modesty. Without asking, he moved to a side table, lifted a decanter and poured a generous measure of whiskey into each of two cut-glass tumblers. He handed one to me wordlessly. He did know me quite well. I took the proffered drink and sat myself in one of the two armchairs, placing my hat on the side table. I placed the whiskey tumbler next to it, on a dark leather coaster designed to protect the glossy French polish of the table surface. The old Professor sat in the other chair. He looked me in the eye, raised his own glass and pointedly took a deep sip of the amber fluid within. Rebuked, I picked up my own glass, returned the salute and took a polite taste. The warmth spread down my throat and I nodded appreciatively. It really was particularly fine single malt, much better than anything I would normally have bought for myself. "So why are you here?" Garrick asked. "I have a locked box problem," I began to explain, "A locked briefcase, in fact, secured with what looks suspiciously like a very expensive set of protective glamours." Garrick steepled his fingers and looked at me very directly, in the fashion I had always found so very disconcerting in tutorials. His long years of reclusiveness had evidently not diluted his penetrating stare. "What's in the briefcase?" he asked. "I have no idea," I admitted, "But it's gotta be important. And it might just lead me to a killer." "Indeed. Very moral, very worthy." He raised an eyebrow. I sipped again at the very fine scotch, which was warming me up as much as the fire blazing in the hearth. "Well, in these circumstances, there are three possible ways forward," he said after a few moments reflection, "One, find someone who the glamour will recognise as authorised." "Not possible," I said, "The only one who I know has access is dead, in what I think are suspicious circumstances." "Never impossible, dear boy, never actually impossible," the Professor admonished gently, "But I'm willing to accept that you think the prospect is remote. But the dead owner, did he not have a last will and testament? Conventionally, such documents include either a key or the name of a person who can take on ownership of such elaborately protected property, do they not?" I nodded in agreement. "But such an approach," the Professor went on, "Would necessitate engaging with relatives of the deceased, or the police or, still worse, lawyers. And I imagine you have reasons not to engage with at least one of these groups." I nodded again. The old boy had certainly not lost any of his marbles since I had seen him last. "Two, you accept that it is not possible to open the box. Therefore, you will have to solve your case without the aid of any information which might be contained within, or appreciate that the case cannot be solved. And to forestall your next remark," he continued, holding up his glass with a slight smile, "The fact that you are here suggests that you are otherwise out of options." "You're my only hope," I said. "Which leads me to option three. You find someone with the necessary skills and expertise to open this locked box. Someone with a deep knowledge of glamours of all kinds, somebody expert in disarming and defusing protective spells, and someone who will perform these difficult, nay, dangerous tasks for only fifty percent of the reward money." "Twenty percent," I said automatically. There was a faint creak from the doorway that led to the laboratories, barely audible over the crackle of the fire. "Thirty-five," the Professor insisted. "Okay, okay," I said, "So will you open the damn thing for me?" "Of course, dear boy," Professor Garrick, "That was never in question." "Just whether I was willing to pay for it, I suppose?" "Filthy lucre, of course," he replied with a wider smile, "But I do have certain expenses to find, you understand." I understood all too well. Maintaining this joint would cost a lot, especially since he evidently wanted to remain out of sight, hidden from the common view. But I really didn't have much of a choice at this point.
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Part 26