Page 47 of Payback

“Answer his question,” said Edward. “Where are you meeting him for trysts?”

Charlotte’s lips pressed together in a tight line. If she hadn’t been in the limo that was doing seventy miles per hour on the freeway, she would probably have stormed out with her nose in the air. I’d seen her do it every time she had felt cornered in the dining hall. But she was trapped without her doppelgängers and without her rugby boys for moral support. And I was furious enough to break her nose. And this time, I wouldn’t need a hockey stick.

After several tense moments, her shoulders fell. “He still has his key to the caretaker’s lodge.”

“Thank you.” Edward slipped the phone into his pocket.

“That’s mine,” she screeched. “What are you doing?”

“Making sure you don’t arrange any more attacks.”

A huge breath of relief whooshed out of my lungs. With Charlotte unable to contact Mr. Carbuncle, a layer of stress fell off my shoulders. I wasn’t completely safe by any measure, but at least the former caretaker wouldn’t have the advantage of advance knowledge of my whereabouts.

The best part of having Charlotte’s phone was that we could now impersonate her and lure Mr. Carbuncle out of his hiding-place. I thanked Rudolph for teaching me that sneaky trick.

* * *

It was late evening by the time we reached Mercia Academy, and a warm, forest-scented breeze meandered around the campus, carrying with it the faint scent of wildflowers. Charlotte stormed into Elder House, presumably to sulk about her confiscated phone, and we walked across the lawn for a change in scenery. As it was dinnertime, only a few people strolled around the campus.

As we approached the music block, the scent of lavender filled the warm, evening air and instantly calmed my frayed nerves. Henry placed an arm around my shoulder, while Blake and Edward strolled at my side. I almost wished Mr. Carbuncle would ambush me here with the triumvirate around me. The three boys would give him a pummeling he would never forget.

The garden behind the music block was a riot of fragrances and colors. Pink roses, orange echinacea flowers, and ornamental onion grew among the lavender shrubs. We walked along the meandering gravel path crunching stones underfoot.

Blake rubbed his chin. “We should pay Carbuncle’s mother a visit and see if he’s hiding in the basement.”

“The police will have visited his family home to check on his whereabouts,” said Edward. “Carbuncle is probably sleeping in his pickup truck.”

“Are there lots of places he could hide it?” I asked.

“Countless,” replied Edward. “The entire South Downs is larger than the entire landmass of Greater London, and there are numerous farms, estates, garages, and warehouses where he could hide. The only way to catch him is by luring him out.”

“Or taking something he considers precious,” said Blake.

My brows drew together. “The only thing he seemed to value was his job.”

Edward sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. “All those bribes we paid him over the years to facilitate our pranks. He probably has the funds to do anything.”

There wasn’t much I could say to a statement like that, considering I had suffered the brunt of some of those pranks in my first term. Blowing out a long breath, I stared ahead at a drinking fountain styled to look like a cast-iron podium and tried to think of something else.

Live-in staff at Mercia Academy, such as caretakers and housemasters, were given food and accommodation. Anyone with a frugal mindset could save most of their salary. If they took bribes or sold illicit items to students, they could amass a tidy sum. In addition to whatever nest-egg Mr. Carbuncle might have accumulated, he was probably taking bribes from Philippe. I couldn’t think of any other reason why he came after me a second time.

Turning to Blake, I said, “Do you have any ideas for what Mr. Carbuncle might value?”

He raised a shoulder. “Let’s visit his mother’s home and work out if he kept anything of worth there.”

“Tomorrow,” said Edward. “We’ve already missed all our afternoon classes. Even with the end of term so close, we can’t afford to fall too behind.”

* * *

The next morning at breakfast, Charlotte approached us, her eyes red-rimmed. She turned her body to Henry, who pretended he couldn’t see her. I stiffened. At any minute, she would get frustrated at his lack of attention and lash out at me.

“What now?” asked Blake, his voice weary.

“Did I get any messages on my phone?”

“I turned it off,” replied Edward. “Why?”

“Mother sent me an email.” Her voice shook. “Peter has been attacked in prison. I-it’s really bad.”