The Information Man
()
About this ebook
George Weatherstaff believes he's found a way to escape his scandalous past: marry the beautiful and mysterious Lydia Botsaris. When she goes missing on a cold November morning, George knows exactly who to turn to: the information man.
Gifted with the ability to remember everything, Rex Malin is once again called upon to help Ontario's leading citizen. A murder victim, gnawed to death in an alley, draws Malin's attention elsewhere, until realizing Weatherstaff's missing miss and the murder are connected.
After aboriginal friend Egbert Watching Moon warns that the eclipse might scatter the veil between the natural and the supernatural, Rex is glad he's not a one-man investigation team. With his gentleman brother Oswald, his infallible and feisty secretary Estella, and her distant cousin Inspector Cavendish, Rex has a strong cavalry assisting him. But it's his experiences during the Great War that provide the smartest clues to Lydia's disappearance, clues the wolves suddenly running rampant around downtown Toronto, and clues the secret to his own powerful memory.
Lore Lippincott
Hello, I'm Lore Lippincott and I write stories.I donate to different charities, and anytime one of my books is purchased the money goes to one of these. For more information please browse my blog. I update it with some frequency, even with the occasional relevant thing, and even irrelevant things...Thanks for stopping by!
Read more from Lore Lippincott
Zandry of Bonewood and Other Stories Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsThe Carols of Holly House Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsThe Hero and the Holly Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsThe Treasure Box Murder Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratings
Related to The Information Man
Related ebooks
The Patchwork Mystery Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsAll of Them Nightmares Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsStalkeristic: The Art and Mind of a Desert Stalker Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5The Brown Mouse Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsHomemaking for the Down-At-Heart Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5A Widow's Tale, and Other Stories Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsThe Island Of Terror Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsManifesto for the Dead Rating: 3 out of 5 stars3/5Aunt Jimmy's Will Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsThe White Lady: A British Historical Mystery Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Cold Is the Grave: A Novel of Suspense Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Blood on Her Hands: South Africa's most notorious female killers Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsCast of Zanies Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsMorning Ran Red Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Herbert Brewer's Dirty Little Secret Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsMilligan and Murphy Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5The Last Kiss Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsThe Metal Shredders Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsCurtain for a Jester Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Brain Twister Rating: 3 out of 5 stars3/5Squatter with a Lexus Rating: 2 out of 5 stars2/5Love Among the Chickens Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsThe Crime at the House in Culver Street (A Classic Short Story of Detective Max Carrados) Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsA Struggle For Life Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsMartha in Paris: A Novel Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Leaving Gilead Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsThe Fungus Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Dalyrimple Goes Wrong Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsCooley Wyatt Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsRainbow Nation Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratings
Historical Mystery For You
The Word Is Murder: A Novel Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5The Sentence Is Death: A Novel Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Miss Marple: The Complete Short Stories: A Miss Marple Collection Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5The Stranger in the Lifeboat Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5The Watchmaker's Daughter Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Eight Perfect Murders: A Novel Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Spider's Web Rating: 3 out of 5 stars3/5Murder for Christmas: A British Holiday Murder Mystery Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Find Me: A Novel Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5The Pearl Dagger Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsLady of Ashes Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5A Line to Kill: A Novel Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5We Have Always Lived in the Castle Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5The Herb of Death: A Miss Marple Story Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5The Untitled Books Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5The Mystery of Mrs. Christie: A Novel Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Murder Under a Red Moon: A 1920s Bangalore Mystery Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5The Apothecary's Poison Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5The ABC Murders: A Hercule Poirot Mystery: The Official Authorized Edition Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5The Last Seance: Tales of the Supernatural Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Last Jew in Prague Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Universal Harvester: A Novel Rating: 3 out of 5 stars3/5The Cater Street Hangman Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5The Librarian of Crooked Lane Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Things in Jars: A Novel Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Lady in the Lake: A Novel Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Murphy's Law: A Molly Murphy Mystery Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5When I Come Home Again: 'A page-turning literary gem' THE TIMES, BEST BOOKS OF 2020 Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5The Guardian of Lies Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5
Reviews for The Information Man
0 ratings0 reviews
Book preview
The Information Man - Lore Lippincott
The Information Man
By Lore Lippincott
Copyright 2014 Lore Lippincott
Smashwords Edition
Smashwords Edition, License Notes
Thank you for downloading this free ebook. Although this is a free book, it remains the copyrighted property of the author, and may not be reproduced, copied and distributed for commercial or non-commercial purposes. If you enjoyed this book, please encourage your friends to download their own copy at Smashwords.com, where they can also discover other works by this author. Thank you for your support.
All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation to anyone bearing the same name or names. Any resemblance to individuals known or unknown to the author are purely coincidental.
For Cousin Robin.
* * * *
Table of Contents
The Information Man
About Lore Lippincott
* * * *
1.
For the fifteenth time in the last five minutes, George Weatherstaff patted the pockets of his morning jacket, wondering if he had packed into them all that he'd meant to. Handkerchief, cigarette case, photographs—yes, yes, they were all exactly where they should be. When handing them over, he could reach them very easily. That was good, since he knew his hands would shake. They always did shake whenever the day deviated from its preferred routine. He liked schedules. They structured his life, now that the bottom had been taken out of everything. He woke in the morning, yawned and watched the sunrise. He found the world unfolding as it was meant to, according to the timetable of his life. But then—
The whole blasted day was ruined by the unequalled worry steaming through him. Unused to such an exceptional state of concern, particularly when it came to the welfare of one he knew so well, George retained just enough awareness of his environment, and himself in a thankfully familiar environment, that he circled through the motions of an everyday morning proportionately distracted.
He patted his pockets for the sixteenth time in the last five minutes, descending on lithe but large feet on the shallow steps of the front staircase of his Deer Park mansion. In the grand hall below, he saw the lineup of his liveried staff, Domenico and Lucy and the sharp, trenchant Mrs. Bowman. A formidable staff, really. The majority of them leftover from his boyhood days, when his mother ruled with any compound of compassion that oxidized the iron fist his father used to rule.
Behind him, still in his chambers, his aide-de-camp, Williams, and the frisky, yet uncouth lad Williams was training as his potential replacement. Williams was, to everyone's regret, getting old, arthritic, and would soon retire in one of those faraway towns George had only heard about and never been, like Hamilton or Brampton. A man with power and influence on Toronto had no business going to Hamilton, unless it was to start a new factory or take over a company. George Weatherstaff hardly left Toronto. He hadn't left yet—
But it was no use. He couldn't push the thing from his mind. It was the first time in his thirty-five years that he began to feel a pang of envy for Williams, a man who could walk away to Brampton, Hamilton, London, Owen Sound—one of those damnable impartial towns that didn't really exist and had no influence on the Dominion as a whole. It would almost be nice to become as invisible and unimportant as Williams, or as one of those unfortunate towns with nothing to recommend them but quiet, tree-lined streets, of skating and pond hockey in the winter, and mosquitos in the summer.
What was it like to live so anonymously? As George Weatherstaff, he'd never know.
Well?
he demanded of Domenico, brushing off a peculiar piece of lint that Williams, eyesight about as useless as his knurled hands, had missed. George's conscious attempts to run the house with the compassion of his mother and the rusting iron of his father had landed him somewhere between indifference and sarcasm. Feeling that there were worse attributes his attendees could find in a master, George had no emotional woes when it came to his staff. If he were to tell them the problem facing him that morning, no doubt he'd find a crowd teeming with sympathy and a desire to fix it for him. It was like having a brazen fraternity at one's fingertips. Through the last three hours, George had found nothing to tell Williams, nothing about his suspicions or his doubts. He was equally silent in front of Domenico.
Domenico had been in Canada so long that his Italian accent had been lost, and he hadn't any of his brothers' haughtiness. It was why he had done so well for himself, and they so terribly. He bowed a bit to Mr. Weatherstaff. Good morning, sir. If you are willing, I should like to go to Hamilton today. A nursery auction is—
New trees. Damn it all. A man comes to me with trees. Aren't you aware that it's November?
Yes, sir.
He caught the smallest note of laughter in Mr. Weatherstaff's eyes, coming and going quickly. Yes—yes, sir. But the ground is not entirely frozen, and if it should warm up—
Please yourself—go. Take the Oldsmobile, if you'd like. And take that firecracker boy with you, the one Williams is trying to house-train. Frankly, I support the idea that he's best suited for outdoor work, at least until the full brush of winter is upon us.
He glanced out the window beside the oversized front door. Which seems to be today.
Domenico agreed that winter was nearly at their door, and commented that Eustace would go with him to Hamilton.
In George Weatherstaff's much-inflicted mind, he wondered who Eustace was, and why he was going with Domenico to Hamilton. In a flash of understanding, he grasped what he needed, returned the name Eustace to the incompetent youth standing beside the bent old oak tree Williams, and sent the groundskeeper on his way with a symbolic wave of the hand. George longed to perform the same with Lucy. What could the cook want? Words about a dinner menu for his upcoming birthday party. He cared very little. On a day like that, to think of having a birthday party!
Put the evening on hold,
he demanded in his darkest, most guttural voice. "I will not entertain guests at this time. It is ridiculous to suppose that I would."
Yes, sir,
mumbled the cook, curtseyed, and disappeared down the hall to her world of pots, pans, void of contrary masters.
"Mrs. Bowman, bring me some sense this morning!" he begged, applying a corner of a soft linen handkerchief to warm spots on his roomy forehead, below thick hair not quite red and not quite brown.
Mrs. Bowman, employed the last dozen years by Mr. Weatherstaff, was under the impression that he was fatigued that morning. She teetered on the motherly verge of suggesting he return to his room before noting the intensity of his eyes as they hit the newspaper still folded in her hand. She held it out to him, wordless, practically thoughtless.
He grabbed it, fanned it to an open position, and hungrily tore through the headlines. A body on Mutual—but it was a man's body. That was gratifying—relieving, even. But there were other headlines he breezed through—economics on Prohibition, editorials, leads, sports, but nothing—nothing at all—of what he most wanted to know.
At least she was not lying dead in an alley on Mutual, and given a restitution of sorts through the hyperbole of a gifted journalist.
The newspaper, atrociously folded, was thrown back at Mrs. Bowman. Seeing the obvious distress of her master, Mrs. Bowman tried distracting him.
Did you see the article on the new hockey rules, sir? Most interesting, allowing the gentlemen players to substitute even while the game is going on. I think that will prove to be very confusing.
He hadn't the faintest idea what she was talking about. Who cared for new hockey rules when his life was in turmoil? It might be best if he say something, permit the charade of wellness to go on a little longer. Oh, yes, I suppose it will.
Dumb and aimless, he began to follow Mrs. Bowman into the rear of the house, where it was more open, sparsely furnished, and several degrees warmer near the busy kitchen.
Shall you have breakfast in the dining room or nook this morning, sir?
Neither,
he said, suddenly facing the action he must take. I think—yes, I'd better go out this morning. I have a call to make. Yes,
he said, clearly distracted, yes, I think that is the best thing to do.
For the seventeenth time that morning, George Weatherstaff patted the pockets of his morning jacket. He had everything required, hadn't he? Photos, handkerchief, cigarette case. But what hadn't he done? What was missing? Other than the obvious, of course.
Morning post,
he muttered