by N. M. Brown
“I’d heard.” McQueen rubbed his neck. “I figured he might cool off after a while, but I’ve proven myself on all these cases and yet he still…” McQueen flushed which he hoped couldn’t be seen in the morning light, “Ah, sorry, you’re not my church confessionary.” McQueen let out a sad chuckle at his own pathetic joke. “Don’t mind me. Early morning.”
Two just smiled, “No worries, no worries. I’m sure you’ll find out soon enough but we’re not exactly a big station. We had to pull extra details once word spread about this grisly sight. The press is already trying to knock down fence posts and climb bramble thorn bushes.” Both McQueen and Two shook their head at this. Small town they might be, but the journalists still thirsted for blood like the big cities. “Look, everyone is up in everyone’s business one way or another, so don’t let Hale’s short temper bother you.” Two shivered suddenly as a chilly Autumn wind whipped across the bridge. Preserving evidence, the paper onesie might do, but fighting off the chill, it did not.
Looking over the lad again, McQueen marvelled at how kind he was. Forget camaraderie among peers, Two seemed like a genuine article, despite his rolled out of bed look. “Thanks man.” He smiled, “I’d best catch up.” Looking up the hill, McQueen could see that luckily Hale had stopped to order some Officers around but was otherwise halfway to the House without him.
“Hay,” Two cleared his throat as McQueen mad his way off the bridge. “You’re still new here?” Stepping close again, Two kept his voice low. “Look, if you need a place, my brother and I have space if you want to flat share. The spare room is nice, cosy.” Two laughed. “We just can’t seem to find anyone and its draining my pocket to pay the rent of half a room that’s not mine.”
“McQueen!” Hale yelled across the bridge, cutting off anything McQueen could have said.
“I am looking for somewhere, but-… how about I keep it in mind.”
“Sure thing.” Two smiled, before nodding his head in indication that McQueen had better hurry. He didn’t need to be told that twice, but he made sure to smile before rushing off through the drizzle.
His socks squelched in his shoes as he approached Hale, the fake leather holding up to its stature, allowing every drop of water to soak through the cheap material. They’d reached the top of the hill by the time McQueen met his partner and whatever he’d been about to say flew from his lips as the sight before him took his breath away.
With the sun still rising behind them, the house was bathed in darkness, with nothing but the soft golden glow emanating from the pained windows. Across the foggy crest that lay before them, McQueen could just make out the smoky red bricked front that stood out against the inky black patches of climbing plants and neatly cut hedge rows. The illuminated windows shone onto a perfectly circular driveway with a neatly trimmed island, bursting with flowers. The building itself was also perfect; perfectly symmetrical down to its twin chimneys and pointed roofs. The front steps lit by twin lamps hanging either side of the door, were a cool, cold marble, that curled with a small step up and railing that guided you to the front door. The Cardinal House was grand, outstanding and impressive, down to every little detail.
“What a pompous, ostentatious eye sore.” Hale growled under his breath, before stomping down the hill. “And what the fuck is this? I thought I told you to make sure the Officers coming here were to be stationed by the door.” Hale snapped back at him.
“I did Sir.” McQueen answered, but as he followed Hale down the hill, he too saw that the door was unoccupied by any Officers, and to his dismay, a number of flashy sports cars were making a quick exit.
“All out suspects, gone in a flash!” Hale almost screamed, his fists clenching at his sides. “I’ll have their badges for this. I’ll take their badges and their dignity for this.”
McQueen’s only saving grace was the fact that Hale had said ‘their’, which left him out of the firing line… for now. A very shiny Orange Camaro spun its wheels down the gravel drive, just as they reached the front steps.
“Well there goes our ‘Possession without Legal Authority’ charges.” Hale said bitterly, grinding his teeth together. “When I find what those Officers are up to, I’ll… I’ll...” Without another word, Hale stormed towards the door, flinging it open. McQueen made sure he was only two steps behind his boss, knowing it was a safer there than in the firing line. However, he did get a glance at the house up close, just quickly, before he threw himself into whatever Hell awaited him and those poor Officers.
It was as grand as it had looked from far away, if not even more perfect than before. The hedgerows were perfectly trimmed, not a leaf out of place, while the flowers were all kinds of exotic and mysterious plumes. A sweet, succulent smell danced around him, and as he marvelled up at the face of the building, he couldn’t help but be astonished by the facade. Three stories high, not including the attic, it was a late Tudor design, with dark wooden frames and solid lead panned windows with soft white curtains draped inside. The up-keep alone for the house would take hard-work and diligence. McQueen decided then and there that only a dedicated, patient person must live here; to prune so much and have everything so pristine… yes, the owner was a person of true divine being.
Taking the last few steps, McQueen was still feeling the cold, chilling marble railing beneath his finger tip, when he came face to back with Hale who’d suddenly stopped in the doorway. Open either side, were dark mahogany doors, with beautiful twisting stained glass that shimmered in the centre. Colours such as reds and greens and gold’s played across each other, and as McQueen watched, he could almost make out an image.
“What’s the meaning of this?” Hales voice snapped him to full attention and making sure he didn’t bump into his already cranky boss, McQueen stepped to the side to see what the fuss was about.
What McQueen didn’t expect was a beautiful woman, arm crossed, and palm out stretched as if waiting for something from Hale. Strawberry red curls had been swept on top of her head, while olive leaves were weaved in and out of braids and gold thread tickled her shoulders and neck. Her clothes were simple enough, a dark red dress that covered her collar-bone to feet, synched at her waist and pinned at the shoulder. Dark, smouldering eyes wandered their faces, but they held no heat. Instead they were calculative and harrowing, like she was reading a little too much about your soul. McQueen unintentionally shivered.
“You heard me Detective.” The woman said, her voice rolling at the end as her Italian roots began to show. McQueen’s own thick Irish accent had been driven from him long ago by his British-and-proud Step-father. Only the gentle roll of his tongue at the end of words, or the common slang he used ever gave him away. With curly blonde hair that tickled the tops of his ears and a mild tan, he looked more like an Aussie, than a potato farming Irishman. His mother’s side of the gene pool was due thanks for that.
“I heard you, but it’s not happening.” Hale growled. “You are obstructing justice and I shall arrest you should you not let us past.”
“And I told you; no entry without payment.” She answered, hand still out and waiting.
“I might have a bit of cash on me…” McQueen began to dig through his pockets. He’d given the homeless man a free meal yesterday, using the tenner he knew he had, but had he imagined the twenty that had been there? Surly twenty could get them into a countryside club. They played golf and card games all day…
“Keep your paper denarii. It’s not accepted here, Detective.” The woman said. “As I told your friend, to enter you must have your palm read by me. One reading will gain you full access.”
“And I told you, I am not having some mumbo-gumbo said about me just so I can walk through a door.” Hale tried to step forward but the woman quickly jumped in his path. Now a bully and a grouch Hale might be, but he wasn’t violent. As quickly as she moved to block him, he was as quick to move back out of the way, so he didn’t steam roll her. “Ms.-,” Hale hesitated.
“Sandi. You may call me Sandi.”
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“Ms. Sandi. I will arrest you on obstruction charges if you do not remove yourself from my path. Am I clear?” Hale’s voice had begun to raise a few octaves.
However, Sandi wasn’t rattled, “As clear as sand Detective, because let me tell you, there is only dire consequences for those who do not have a reading with me. I have no qualms waiting here all night, so you will hear-,”
“How about I have a reading?” McQueen quickly interjected. He didn’t believe in the mystic arts; ‘-practiced divination and witchcraft, sought omens, and consulted mediums and spiritisms. He did much evil in the eyes of the LORD, arousing his anger.’ But he would sacrifice this, so no blood was spilt. That’s how close McQueen thought Hale was to dropping his no violence rule.
Sandi gave McQueen another looked over, but quickly returned to narrow her gaze at Hale, “You I will read, that’s fine, but what about him? I have to read both of you to allow you both to enter.”
McQueen gapped like a fish for a second trying to think a way around this crazy ruling. What kind of place was this that demanded divination at the door? However, Hale, clearly in the same belief as McQueen, answered for himself. “I’ll live with the dire consequences.” And as if he had said a magic word, Hale freely walked past Sandi. She didn’t even flinch towards him. Instead, so low that McQueen wasn’t sure dogs could have heard it, she whispered four words.
“No. No you won’t.”
“What did you say?” McQueen asked frowning, disturbed by what he’d heard. But when Sandi spun back around, she smiled so brightly, McQueen almost forgot what he was saying at all.
“Nothing, nothing anyone would believe anyway.” Reaching out, She quickly grasped his hand in hers, “Now, let’s get a look at you.”
Instead of bowing her head to his hand, tracing the creases and divots that drove across his palm, Sandi held it softly between two hands and closed her eyes to the world. McQueen suspected after too long that she’d fallen asleep, but eventually, she opened her eyes. McQueen recoiled so quickly, in after thought he was surprised he hadn’t fallen out the door. For when she opened her eyes, she’d looked at him with such sadness; it scared the living bones from his body.
“You shall be the lightening when the darkness overwhelms,
You shall be the perch when the firers take flight,
You shall be the greatest triumph, and the greatest loss.
And so, you will be all they could and all that they couldn’t”
McQueen waited a moment, then a moment more, before he cleared his throat and felt for some professionalism. “Excuse me?” He almost laughed. Weren’t fortunes meant to be filled with love for those dead, tides of great fortune and bountiful children on the way? “Who are you talking about? Who couldn’t be what?” But even as he spoke, Sandi was backing away. “Wait?” He cried out, “That’s it? That’s all the payment you take?”
But she didn’t answer him; instead, with those sorrowful eyes wide, she shook her head and back away. “I’m so sorry. Your payment has been accepted. Please enjoy your stay at the Cardinal House.” And with little more than a flutter behind her, she was gone.
“And that is why I don’t have me fortune told.” A cynical voice said from further down the hall. Stepping through the second threshold, McQueen saw Hale waiting at the base of some luxurious, curving stairs, arms folded and a look of displeasure on his face. “They spout bullshit at you, make you paranoid for a week, before you either decide the fortune has come to pass or you forget about it.” He snorted, “Utter bullshit.”
“I would be inclined to agree with you, Detective, but, I myself, have seen its truth many times.” A deep hollow voice said from the left of them. Slowly walking into view, a tall man, with a plain face and a nondescript suit on smiled at them. Jacob Smith. “The trick is, not to look for your own fortune, but to examine others. It’s almost therapeutic.” He laughed heavily at his own joke.
Neither Hale nor McQueen found it funny. “We’ll keep that in mind.” Hale said dryly, before inspected the rooms around them. “Is the owner of the establishment around?”
McQueen looked around also, but now seemed to find a lack of grandness he’d been washed in before. Everything was just as perfect and pristine, but it was like there was a bad smell in the air that his nose just couldn’t quiet find. It made him examine his surroundings that much closer.
The entrance hall was only about ten-foot-wide, but the staircase wound around their heads all the way to the roof, where McQueen could see an ornate chandelier made from twisted iron and clear diamonds dangling down. Rich, royal blue wallpaper coated the walls and when McQueen inspected it closely, he noticed a slight weave. Silk wallpaper? Letting out a low whistle, McQueen took another appreciative glance at the chandelier, before moving further into the house. To the left and right were matching wooden arch ways. Through one was what McQueen thought to be a library; cosy chairs, a fireplace and walls covered in bookshelves, though there weren’t many books. Following Hale left, they found themselves in what was a lounge area; high back chairs in lush, green leathers, red love seats and lounging couches McQueen recognised as French. The room was warm, not just because of the fireplace, but the rich auburn tones, and dark wood. He could just imagine it looking like a Christmas Grotto come winter time.
“I see everyone was in a bit of a hurry.” Hale mused as he gently tipped a forgotten glass over on one of the coffee tables, its contents jumping up the sides of the glass. There were more. Cocktail glasses, martini glasses, whiskey, gin; all the typical bar glasses lined the room, some spilt and dripping onto the ornate rug, while some were half drunk. “I hope you didn’t let anyone leave here drunk, and let them drive Mr. Smith?” Hale asked with a sneer to his voice. Yes, he believed that name as much as McQueen did.
Jacob Smith smiled, showing his white, pearly teeth. Bowing slightly at the waist his shimmering, white hair fell slightly in his face, hiding his silver eyes from sight. McQueen had seen Albinos on the news and had seen many animals with the same genetic mutation, but never had he seen it to this stunning degree. Jacob Smith wasn’t creamy or white, he shimmered with a silver glow. It was quite an attraction and McQueen could see the benefits of having him as a door man. Especially for the ladies.
“What the patrons do here is not a part of my domain. However, I show them the path home and guide them if I can.” Jacob straightened and clasped his hands behind his back. His tailored suit put McQueen’s and Hale’s off-the-rack suits to shame. It didn’t surprise McQueen in the slightest that there were even silver threads through it.
“So, a glorified Sat-Nav instructor?” Hale droned. McQueen would have been outraged, but Jacob just rolled back his shoulders.
“I’ve been called worse.” Jacob was all smiles and McQueen didn’t trust him. You didn’t smile that much, not with the police department breathing down your necks and if you did, that meant you were very confident. Either it was confidence that you had nothing to hide, or confidence thatnothing could be found. McQueen was betting on the latter. “Now, can I get you gentlemen a drink? Morning ‘wake-me-up-? We call it a Lightbringer.”
“No.” Hale said simply, not that either of them would have accepted anyway. “We want to speak with the owner and any staff.”
“Oh course, of course,” Jacob bowed again. “Unfortunately, the master of the house is… away, at the moment. However, I can direct you to his sister and ward.”
“Where is the owner?” Hale stepped in close to Jacob, but the silver man didn’t cower. “Was his departure recent? Say, in the time it takes for officers to arrive on scene?”
“You think Mr. Hellion capable for murder?” Jacob laughed, but it was sort, like it was something he wasn’t used to doing, “No, No Detective, Mr. Hellion is quiet incapable of murder. Besides, he has been away for some time now. Let’s see… at least a week.”
Hale growled in his throat, but McQueen had found that was a common thing he did. Mostly, if a case wasn’t swinging his way
, Hale would become frustrated and growl. He really was a big pussy cat. “We will need documents of proof: flights, car hire, transcripts of business meetings. I want proof your boss was away from this establishment and has been for that length of time. I also want to know when he will be back.”
“He’s not really my boss…” Jacob started, but Hales towering stature leaned just a little bit more over Jacob’s smaller frame and the wise child decided it wasn’t that important. “I will get you this evidence, Detective Hale. I’m sure my-… boss, will be most pleased and willing to hand over this information.”
McQueen’s spine gave a sudden shiver and he felt all his muscles tightened just a fraction as Jacob bowed for what McQueen hoped, was the last time. He didn’t like how low Jacob scooped, or how no matter how low he went, there was never a sense of respect with it. “So…-,” McQueen cleared his throat. “You said a sister and ward were here?”
“Yes, Detective. They’re upstairs in the Summer Annex: up one flight, take a left and it will be the only door you can see.” Despite Jacobs’s pleasant tone, and how happily he informed them, McQueen couldn’t shake the off feeling that tingled his toes.
