Free Snuff the Magic Dragon (and other Bombay Family Bedtime Stories) (Greatest Hits Mysteries) by Leslie Langtry

whom I trusted. Bombays are not known for trusting anyone—even family.
    “Julian, I will be traveling briefly to the Kingdom of Hungary, specifically the area around Cachtice Castle. Could you be a good chap and find me a guide?”
    “Of course, sir.” He turned and left. If he recognized the name of Cachtice Castle for housing one of the most notorious women in history, he didn’t indicate it. Julian was the very definition of discretion.
    Baggie joined me, dressed comfortably in a long, cotton shirt, breezy linen trousers and sandals. He looked much more content.
    Tristan and Isolde chose this moment to also join us. Tristan probed the corners of the room with his bill in a rather unfortunate attempt to find hidden fruit. Isolde marched straight up to me and squawked, demanding a fig. Clever girl.
    I fed the Dodos and asked my brother for the latest news from home.
    “Do you remember old Rolfie?” Baggie’s eyebrows went up.
    I nodded. Of course I did. We were mates together as kids and responsible for several unfortunate pranks that we were frequently caught and punished for. For your own information, it is never a good idea to fill a constable’s wig with lice, even if he is a priggish prude.
    “What’s he up to these days? I thought I’d heard he’d gone to the Americas.” I’d always wanted to travel there. I’d heard stories of lush, tropical islands and warm sands. I wasn’t like the other members of the Bombay Family who preferred living in Europe. I liked the sandy, dust-swept mystery of Egypt and had lived here for many years. My isolation made it more difficult for the Bombays to get their assignments to me, but I really didn’t care.
    Western Europe and especially England were just so, so…common. Boring. I don’t know what persuaded my relatives to call it home for so long. It was cold and damp, and the food was awful. Egypt on the other hand, was full of warmth, sunshine and fresh fruits. There were adventures and interesting discoveries around every corner, and never had I experienced a dull moment. And the people! Rare, exotic flowers with an enchanting culture! Why would anyone live anywhere else?
    Of course, it helped that I was wealthy—as all Bombays are. And it helped that I was a man. Women would have difficulty here, although I did have a female cousin in India, and she was fascinating. But the other Bombays were dull beyond comparison. 
    I’d heard fantastic stories of tropical islands in the Americas. Sounded wonderful. Maybe someday I’d buy one and settle there. We could make it our home base instead of damp, chilly London, and I would name it Santa Muerta de los Bombays. (I had recently been studying the romance language from a Spanish explorer who'd found his way to Cairo.) Wishful thinking I guess. Maybe someday…
    Baggie interrupted my thoughts with his reply, bringing me back to the news of my old friend . “Seems Rolfie’s married some Indian princess named Pocahontas.”
    I slapped the desk and laughed . “Well, I never saw that coming! Good for Rolfie! I always thought he was a bit of a stick in the mud, but bravo!”
    “And little Stratford has turned five years old. He's beginning his training,” Baggie continued. Stratford-Upon-Avon Bombay was my godson. An interesting little boy but entirely too serious. Baggie produced a small portrait of him, and I felt a twinge of guilt. The lad looked like a tiny Greek god with blonde curls and blue eyes. Living in Egypt had made being a proper godfather difficult. I reminded myself to write his mother.
    After lunch, Baggie decided to have a lie-down, and I retreated to my office for more thought on the assignment. My study was built on the back of the house, which kept it out of the sun and made it nice and cool in the boiling heat of the Egyptian afternoon.
    I wrote a letter to Stratford —well, to his mother anyway—and added a dashing silver cutlass to the package as a gift. Baggie could take it back with him to