by Alex P. Berg
I glanced at a clock on the far wall. Much to my surprise, the hour hand had almost reached five. Apparently we’d eaten lunch much later than I’d suspected, or I’d kept my head buried in the case file longer than I’d thought. Maybe both.
Steele caught my look. “What are you thinking? Want to stop for dinner on our way back?”
“Actually, I thought we might mooch off the Vanderfellers again.”
Shay lifted her brow. “So you liked LeBeau’s cooking after all.”
“That was never in question. This is more about my lack of means. I need to find a way to stretch my funds until the paycheck arrives at the end of this week, and I’m not above taking advantage of the rich and famous. Now let’s get going before the captain hears of my plan and reports me for ethics violations.”
I stood, but before leaving, I gathered the two case files, removed the summary reports from the front of each, folded them, and tucked them in my jacket. Though I didn’t yet have the evidence to support it, I had an unshakable suspicion the fire and Nell’s disappearance would ultimately lead us to Clarice, and I didn’t want to have to trudge back to the precinct for information if a suspicious clue wandered my way.
18
I pulled my hand back from the knocker that hung from the Aldermont’s front doors. After a moment, Lothorien pulled them open and ushered us in. “Welcome back, detectives. I hadn’t realized you’d left.”
“Come on, Lothorien,” I said. “You can admit you missed us.”
“Very well, sir. Your renewed presence has, ah…filled the yawning emptiness within me with a warm glow. Is that suitable?”
I pursed my lips. “Not bad. Though I can’t tell if you’re joking or preparing for a poetry slam. If the latter, you should add more abstract imagery.”
Lothorien failed to crack a smile. “I enjoy jocularity as much as the next butler, sir, but I have more weighty subjects on my mind at the moment. Perhaps you could tell me in which way I could assist, Detective Steele?”
“We’re looking for Vezig’s quarters,” she said. “Mind showing us the way?”
“Not at all. Follow me.”
The butler led us on another tour of the mansion, eventually ushering us down a flight of stairs into a sparsely decorated pseudo-basement hallway, similar to if not the same as the one in which his room lay. He waved a hand toward the end of the corridor.
“You’ll find Vezig’s room at the far end on the left. Fezig’s quarters are second to last on the left if you desire to find him, as well.”
“Thank you, Lothorien,” said Steele.
The butler retreated up the stairs, and Shay and I headed down the hall. Upon arriving at Vezig’s room, I grasped the door handle, twisted, and let myself in.
I paused inside the frame. “You’re not Vezig.”
A young woman stood in the middle of the space, broom in hand, sweeping dust bunnies onto a pan. Glossy black locks fell to the middle of her back, loosely held together by a white ribbon tied into a bow at the base of her neck. Matching that, or perhaps vice versa, was her traditional maid’s attire, a black knee-length dress with a ruffled white half-apron laid over it.
She stared at Shay and me with abnormally large amber eyes, eyes that made me think perhaps the young woman had some amount of fairy blood flowing through her veins. Her rounded cheeks and gently curved jaw also seemed somehow familiar, but I think only because of their generic nature.
She blinked and shrunk back. “Oh. Apologies. If you’re looking for Vezig, I believe he’s in the kitchen. He takes his supper earlier than the rest of us.”
“You’re, uh…don’t tell me.” I snapped my fingers a few times. “Obviously the younger of the two housekeepers. Iolite?”
“Correct. You must be the police officers. Lothorien found me earlier and told me you’d arrived to investigate Mrs. Vanderfeller’s, ah…disappearance.”
Shay nodded. “That’s right. I’m Detective Shay Steele, and this is my partner Jake Daggers. As you already guessed, we were hoping to find Vezig, but this works, too. We need to speak to everyone in the household about Mrs. Vanderfeller.”
“Of course,” Iolite said, bowing her head. “I’ll help however I can.”
Like Lothorien’s room, Vezig’s pad was sparsely furnished, with a bed, dresser, card table, and mirror being the main attractions.
Shay pulled a chair out from the table and sat. “Perhaps you could start by telling us about the woman. What was she like? How well did you know her?”
I would’ve been willing to cool my heels if Iolite was, but the young woman stood rooted to the floor. Maybe she was overly used to a servant-master dynamic and felt the same was appropriate with police. Either way, since she refused to sit, so did I. Call me a gentleman.
Iolite leaned her broom against the dresser and clasped her hands lightly in front of her. “To be honest, I…didn’t know her very well. She kept to herself, as I’m sure you’ve heard. My interactions with her were mostly spoken, not physical. But when she did speak to me, either through the tubes or through a door, she was usually kind. Thanked me for bringing her food, or for cleaning her room. Her tone of voice made her instructions seem more like requests than commands.”
“So you were in charge of cleaning her chambers?” I asked.
“Sometimes,” said Iolite, nodding. “My mother and I split the duties, but that doesn’t mean I had any real contact with her. She’d retreat to her boudoir while I cleaned her quarters, and in the event that the boudoir and bath needed cleaning, she’d hide in Mr. Vanderfeller’s chambers until my mother or I were done.”
“Mind if I ask when the last time you tidied up her room was?” asked Steele.
“About a week ago, give or take a day.”
“And did you notice anything out of place while you were there?” asked Steele. “Any objects you hadn’t seen before, or evidence that anyone else might’ve been in her chambers besides her?”
Iolite shook her head. “I’m sorry. Mrs. Vanderfeller was quite neat. She also didn’t seem to have any hobbies, as far as I’m aware, which helped keep her room tidy. To be honest, I’m not sure what she did in her free time. I only brought her food. Perhaps Lothorien or Mr. Vanderfeller brought her books to wile away the hours.”
“And what about in the rest of the home?” asked Steele. “Have you noticed any evidence of someone skulking around? Mud on floors where there shouldn’t be any, unlatched doors, disturbed dust, that sort of thing?”
“I don’t mean to be snide, Detective, but I’m not sure I could tell the difference between mud that should be somewhere and mud that shouldn’t. The cleaning is all the same. Sweep the hardwood, mop the tiles. Dust, wipe, polish. The work blends together, and the manor is so large it’s hard to recall which rooms have been cleaned recently, much less whether a scuff on the floorboards was there the last time I entered.”
“I’m not so sure about that,” I said. “From what I saw after wandering though the third floor suites, it’s pretty obvious which ones haven’t been dusted recently.”
She blushed, taking the statement as an insult. “Apologies, Detective. My mother and I try, but given the staffing situation, we’re forced to compromise. Less used suites get little attention.”
I swallowed, feeling sheepish. “Erm…sorry. That came out wrong. So it’s just you and your mom taking care of the whole house?”
“Yes. Has been my entire adult life.”
“When did you start working?”
“At age twelve. About seven years ago. Shortly after the, ah…fire.”
I opened my mouth to get her opinion on that particular incident, then thought better of it. Thaddy had mentioned Aaron, who died in the fire, had been Opal’s husband. That might be a sore spot, even so many years later.
“That must’ve been a difficult time,” said Shay softly.
Iolite spoke in hitching tone. “It was…difficult. But at least we didn’t have to
fear for our future. In the wake of it, Mr. Vanderfeller…promised my mother he’d take care of us. Despite whatever financial troubles they might have, he said we’d…always have a place here. He’d make sure of it.”
We gave her a moment. Eventually Shay spoke. “So you don’t know what might’ve happened to Mrs. Vanderfeller, then?”
Iolite shook her head.
“Do you have any suspicions?”
The maid looked up, her eyes a smidge wider than normal. “I…no. I’m sorry.”
The hesitation in her voice when speaking of her father’s loss I understood, but I was less willing to overlook it now. “Miss Streamshine, was it?”
“Yes…”
“If you know something, we need to know. I understand the Vanderfellers have been good to you, but concern over your job safety is no reason to keep things from us.”
Her cheeks darkened again, more strongly this time, and her voice hardened. “You misinterpret me, Detective. I don’t know what happened to Mrs. Vanderfeller, and I mourn her loss as much as anyone else in this home. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have many more rooms to clean and never enough time to see to them all.”
She gathered her broom and dustpan and shouldered her way past me.
I waited for her footsteps to fade before turning to Steele. “She’s protecting someone.”
Shay shrugged and rose from her seat. “Maybe. Or maybe she doesn’t like the suggestion that she’d willingly withhold information from a police officer.”
“Think we should follow her?”
“Where? To the next room she’s going to clean? If she has a confidant, she won’t beat a path directly to them.”
I snorted. “I suppose you have a better plan for what we should do next.”
“Of course,” said Shay. “Exactly what we set out to do. Talk to Vezig.”
19
I walked into the kitchen to find an enormous ogre seated at the same butcher block counter Shay and I had eaten our lunch at, his back to us and his face stuffed into a bowl.
I approached him. “Hey, Vezig.”
He turned, a long, broth-slicked noodle undulating as he sucked it into his mouth. “Huh?”
I stopped in mid stride. “Wait…Fezig? Where’s your brother?”
“I’m Vezig,” he said, smacking his lips. “Who are you?”
The fog in my head didn’t immediately clear. The ogre was the spitting image of his brother. Same complexion, same stubbly hair, same thick lips. Same neck that looked like he’d been yoked to an ox cart full of pig iron for the last few years. Same gravitational pull. His jacket was lighter in color though.
“We’re twins,” said Vezig, noting my stupefied look. “You know. The kind that looks the same?”
“Identical. Yeah. Right.” I couldn’t quite blink away the fog. Identical twins? Both working security? I’d been around the block enough times to smell a scheme when it wafted past me, and right now my Speculation-O-Matic was churning into overdrive.
Vezig eyed me curiously. “And you are…?”
“Oh. I’m Daggers. Detective Daggers. This is my partner, Detective Steele.”
Shay extricated herself from my shadow and gave a friendly wave. “Pleased to meet you.”
“Hello!” Vezig jumped out of his stool and extended his hand. “Vezig Gruelong. The pleasure’s all mine, I assure you.”
“Alright, roll your tongue back into your mouth, big guy,” I said. “We’re police officers, here on official business, okay?”
“Madame Steele!”
LeBeau’s chipper, lilting voice cut across the kitchen. He headed straight towards us, a blood red bottle cradled in his arms.
“Zo good to have you back! Can I interest you in a glass of merlot? Pellier-Mont Blanc, special reserve. Zesty, with a hint of coffee and chocolate. One of ze favorites here at ze Aldermont. Or perhaps zome amuse-bouches? To whet ze appetite?”
Vezig mumbled in a deep voice, “Official business, my ass.” Then louder. “So, ah, Miss Steele. Tell me about yourself. You like to, ah…investigate things?”
Shay put a hand on LeBeau’s arm. “Pardon me, Pierre. I’d love a glass, but not at the moment. Do you mind if we speak with Vezig first?”
“But of course,” said LeBeau. “Should you need me, zimply look into ze corners of ze kitchen, in search of a man whose best efforts are lost in ze gaping maws of ogres late for zeir shifts. But maybe not tonight, yes? Tonight, perhaps, we feast!”
“Of course, Pierre,” said Shay.
The man left, taking his bottle with him.
Vezig cleared his throat and puffed his chest. “You know, I’m a big eater myself. Big fan of food. Love to cook.”
“Do you now?” Shay turned her attention to the big guy. “What’s your favorite dish to craft?”
“Um…” Vezig scratched the back of his neck. “Well, steaks are high in my book. Trust me, I can sear with the best of them. I could cook you one if you’re hungry.”
I frowned. “You know how you can see through a pane of glass? What’s the word for that? Oh. Right. Transparent. That’s you right now.”
“What?” said the ogre. “I’m just offering your lovely partner my services, free of charge. Any of them. You know, if you’re interested.”
Shay smiled. “I’m flattered. But we’re here to talk to you about Clarice Vanderfeller.”
“Oh. Right. Right. Sure,” said Vezig, looking crestfallen. “Her disappearance. Kind of freaky, don’t you think? Especially given how her daughter Nell went missing those years back?”
“We noticed the similarities, but thanks,” I said. “We’re more interested in what you can tell us about security at the Aldermont over the last week or so.”
“Well, there’s, ah…not much to tell,” said Vezig. “I’m guessing you spoke to my brother. He told you what we do, right? I’m like a glorified guard dog. I wander the property at night, scaring away drunk idiots and possums and stuff. It’s pretty boring. Nothing ever happens around here. You know…except for people who go missing.”
“So you’re saying you didn’t notice anyone creeping around the manor during any of the past few nights?” asked Steele. “Or heard any strange noises during your patrols?”
Vezig’s face crinkled, which wasn’t an easy feat given the size of his melon. His lips contorted into a weird grimace. “Ah…no. No, nothing like that. I mean, I already talked to Mr. Vanderfeller. I didn’t see anyone.”
I felt my own face contort, but I didn’t particularly care if the ogre knew what I was thinking. I touched my partner on the arm. “Steele, you mind seeing if LeBeau has more beer on hand? You know, for dinner.”
She got my drift, though I could tell from her look that she wasn’t sure why exactly I wanted her out of the picture. “Sure. Be back in a minute.”
Shay called out for LeBeau as she walked away, and I tried to wait for her voice to fade before proceeding.
Vezig didn’t afford me that luxury. “Man, what the hell’s your problem? Here I am trying to get my game on and you have to go screw it up. As if I didn’t have a hard enough time meeting chicks working this joint.”
I grabbed Vezig’s collar and yanked on it hard, pulling his face near mine. The ogre’s eyes widened in surprise, either at my courage or incredible stupidity.
“Listen here, noodle-breath,” I said. “That elf chick over there is my girlfriend, and I’d appreciate it if you’d stop undressing her with your eyes. She’s also a police investigator like I am, with more wits than you and your brother combined, so stop treating her like she’s a bimbo at a dive bar. Got it?”
“Alright, man. Cool it. Sheesh.” Vezig tried to pull away.
I didn’t let him, tightening my grip. “Not so fast. I don’t know what your game is, but unless you want to take a walk with me and stare at the inside of a cell for a few hours, you’d better start telling the truth. What do you know about Mrs. Vanderfeller?”
&nb
sp; “What? Nothing, man. I swear.”
Again the big lug tried to pull away, but my grip work at the gym was paying off. I pulled harder. “What was that? It sounded like ‘I’m full of crap, and I’m not terribly concerned about my job security.’”
“Okay, man. Fine. It’s nothing, but I’ll tell you, alright? Just keep it between you and me?”
“No promises, but I’m listening.”
I let go if his collar. Vezig straightened, adjusting his shirt and smoothening his lapels. For a pair of hired toughs, he and his brother sure took their wardrobes seriously.
Vezig glanced around the kitchen, then spoke in a hushed tone. “So here’s the deal, alright? Three nights ago, the night before Mr. Vanderfeller discovered Mrs. Vanderfeller was missing, I was on patrol. It was a quiet night, same as any other. I was walking the perimeter, you know, outside, when I thought I heard a shout. It was faint, but I was pretty sure it was a person, not like a dog howling or anything like that, and I thought it had come from the house. So I doubled back on my route to the nearest doors, on the north side of the home. They were still locked. And that’s when I heard it again. A scream. Stronger this time. Definitely from inside the house. So I pulled out my keys, unlocked the door, and headed inside. I waited for it again but…nothing. That was it.”
“No more screams?” I said.
Vezig shook his head. “Nothing.”
“And you didn’t bother trying to investigate?”
Vezig snorted. “Come on, man. Give me some credit. Sure I did. I walked the halls, first floor, second floor, third floor, but I didn’t hear a thing. The entire home was quiet as a mouse. Everyone asleep, far as I could tell. I started to think maybe I’d imagined it, or that someone had suffered from a nightmare and cried out in the middle of it. Mrs. Vanderfeller in particular used to get those, because of Nell you know? But I think they went away over time.”
“Why didn’t you tell anyone this?” I asked. “Didn’t Mr. Vanderfeller ask you if you knew anything?”
“Well, yeah, of course he did. But I didn’t want him to think I was crazy. That I was seeing things again. Besides, it doesn’t matter. He didn’t sit us down and ask us about the last few nights until after we’d split up and searched the house for her. Nobody found a thing. She’d disappeared into thin air. What’s my recollection of something I maybe imagined worth versus hard evidence like that?”
