I let him get on with it, while I considered the matter. The appearance of such a powerful Being complicated matters. Not least because I couldn’t see where it fitted into a simple kidnapping. Or runaway. If I couldn’t use my Sight to find Melissa…I’d have to do it the old-fashioned way, by interrogating everyone involved, asking awkward and insightful questions, and hoping I was smart enough to know when someone was lying to me. I said as much to the Griffin, when we were finally alone again, and he nodded immediately.
“You have my authority to question all members of my family, my staff, and my businesspeople. Ask them anything you want, and if anyone gives you any trouble, refer them to me.” He smiled briefly. “Getting them to cooperate, and tell you what you need to know, is of course your problem.”
“Of course,” I said. “You realise I may have to ask…personal questions of your immediate family. Your wife, and your children.”
“Ask them anything. Feel free to slap them about, if you want. All that matters is finding Melissa, before it’s too late.”
“I’d be interested in hearing your impressions of your family,” I said. “Anything you think I ought to know…”
I already knew the basics. The Griffins were, after all, celebrities in the Nightside, their every word and move covered by the gossip rags. Which I have been known to read, on occasion. But I was interested to see what he would tell me, and perhaps more importantly, what he didn’t.
“Any one of them could be involved,” he said, scowling. “They could have hired people, I suppose…But none of them would have the guts to oppose me so openly. They’re only immortal because of me, but you can’t expect gratitude to last forever. My dear wife Mariah is loyal to me. Not too smart, but smart enough to know where her best interests lie. My son William, my eldest…is weak, spineless, and no businessman. Though God knows I tried hard enough to make him into an heir worth having. But he has always been a disappointment to me. Too much of his mother in him. He married Gloria, an ex-supermodel, against my wishes. Pretty enough, I suppose, but all the charm and personality of a magazine cover. She married money, not a man. Somehow, they managed to produce my wise and wonderful grand-daughter, Melissa.
“My daughter Eleanor has only ever been interested in indulging her various appetites. She only married Marcel because I made it clear she had to marry someone. Couldn’t have her running round the Nightside like a cat in heat all her life. I thought marriage would help her grow up. I should have known better. Marcel gambles. Badly. And thinks I don’t know, the fool. They have a son, my other grand-child Paul. He has always been a mystery to me and his parents. I’d say he was a changeling, if I hadn’t had him checked.”
And that was all he was prepared to say about what should have been his nearest and dearest. I picked up the briefcase, grunting with surprise at the weight, and nodded to the Griffin.
“I’ll let you know when I know something. Can I ask, who recommended me to you?”
“Walker,” he said, and I had to smile. Of course. Who else?
“One last question,” I said. “Why does an immortal feel the need to make a will, anyway?”
“Because not even immortality lasts forever,” said Jeremiah Griffin.
TWO -
When in doubt, as I so often am, start with the scene of the crime. Perhaps the criminals will have left behind something useful, like a business card with their names and addresses on it. Stranger things have happened in the Nightside. After I left the conference room, I turned to the butler Hobbes, and spoke to him firmly.
“I need to see Melissa’s room, Hobbes.”
“Of course you do, sir,” he said calmly. “But I’m afraid you won’t find anything there.”
Hobbes led me through another series of corridors and hallways. I was beginning to think I’d have to ask someone for a map if Hobbes ever decided to give me the slip. All the hallways and corridors seemed unnaturally still and quiet. For such a large Hall, surprisingly few people actually seemed to live there. The only people we passed were uniformed servants, and they all gave Hobbes and me a wide berth, scurrying past with bowed heads and lowered eyes. And for once, despite all my hard-earned reputation, I didn’t think it was me they were scared of.
We came at last to an old-fashioned elevator, with sliding doors made up of rococo brass stylings. Very art deco. Hobbes pulled back the heavy doors with casual strength, and we stepped inside. The cage was big enough to hold a fairly intimate party in, and the walls were works of art in stained glass. Hobbes pulled the doors shut and said
“I can’t help noticing there aren’t any indicators or controls anywhere in this elevator, Hobbes.”
“Indeed, sir. All the elevators in Griffin Hall are programmed to respond only to authorised voices. A security measure…”
“Then how did Melissa’s abductors get to the top floor?”
“An excellent question, sir, and one I feel confident you will enlighten us on in due course.”
“Stop taking the piss, Hobbes.”
“Yes, sir.”
The elevator stopped, and Hobbes hauled the doors open. I stepped out into a long corridor with firmly shut doors lining both sides. The lighting was pleasantly subdued, the walls were bare of any decoration or ornamentation, and the carpeting was Persian. All the closed doors looked very solid. I wondered if the Griffins locked their doors at night. I would, in a place like this. And with a family like this. Hobbes closed the elevator doors with a flourish and came forward to stand uncomfortably close beside me. Invading someone’s personal space is a standard intimidation tactic, but in my time I’d faced down Beings on the Street of the Gods and made them cry like babies. It would take more than one severely up-himself butler to put me off my game.
“This is the top floor, sir. All the family bedrooms are here. Though of course not every member of the family is always in residence at the same time. Master William and Miss Eleanor have their own domiciles, in town. Master Paul and Miss Melissa do not. Mr. Griffin requires that they live here.”
I frowned. “He doesn’t let the children live with their own parents?”
“Again, a security measure, sir.”
“Show me Melissa’s room,” I said, to remind him who was in charge here.
He led the way down the corridor. It was a long corridor, with a lot of doors.
“Guest rooms?” I said, gesturing.
“Oh no, sir. Guests are never permitted to stay over, sir. Only the family sleep under this roof. Security, again. All these rooms are family bedrooms. So that every member can move back and forth, as the fancy takes them, when they get bored with the trappings of a particular room. I am given to understand that boredom can be a very real problem with immortals, sir.”
We walked on some more. “So,” I said. “What do you think happened to Melissa, Hobbes?”
He didn’t even look at me. “I really couldn’t say, sir.”
“But you must have an opinion?”
“I try very hard not to, sir. Opinions only get in the way of providing a proper service to the family.”
“What did you do before you came here, Hobbes?”
“Oh, I’ve always been in service, sir.”
I could believe that. No-one gets that supercilious without years of on-the-job training. “How about the rest of the staff? Did none of them see or hear anything suspicious, or out of the ordinary, before or after Melissa disappeared?”
“I did question every member of the staff most thoroughly, sir. They would have told me if they’d known anything. Anything at all.”
“On the evening Melissa vanished, did you admit any unusual or unexpected visitors to the Hall?”
“People are always coming and going, sir.”
I gave him one of my hard looks. “Are you always this evasive, Hobbes?”
