Hot Buttered Murder

by Carolyn Q. Hunter

  The front courtyard opened to show the magnificent and overpowering Smith Manor. Pulling around the large mansion along the cobbled driveway, Sonja spotted the servant’s house. It was large but nowhere near as daunting as the manor itself.

  As they parked, Frank reached out and touched Sonja’s hand. “You know who wrote that note,” he stated.

  Sonja looked down at his hand on hers. She carefully picked her answer. “I have an idea, yes.”

  “Who?”

  Pulling away from his grasp, she got out of the car without answering.

  CHAPTER 7

  * * *

  Before Frank could question Sonja’s dodgy behavior, the door to the servant’s home opened and two men in suits and a woman in a maid’s uniform stepped out. Sonja chuckled quietly to herself, feeling as if she was in some sort of British period drama.

  “Miss Reed, it’s good to see you again,” said the short, chubby man in front. His suit was brown tweed and well fitted. He approached and shook her hand.

  “Mr. Hanratty, how are you?”

  “Quite well.”

  “I didn’t think I’d be seeing you here today,” she offered.

  “I thought it would be nice to see that you got settled in all right.”

  “Well, I’m glad you decided to say hello one more time,” she said. Mr. Hanratty was the Smith family’s lawyer. He had been there to present all the legal paperwork when Belinda had signed the estate over to Sonja.

  “Good afternoon, Mr. Thompson, Ms. Hyatt,” Sonja smiled, holding out a hand of greeting to the family butler and maid.

  “We weren’t expecting you so soon.” The butler admitted with the same stern look on his face he always sported. His grim features made him seem like a cheap stereotype from a gothic horror movie. An older man, Gram Thomson was originally from London but had spent many years abroad studying various indigenous cultures and practices. When he started getting too old for those kind of adventures, he settled on being a butler.

  Belinda had told Sonja all about Gram’s past life since the butler had spent countless nights seeing her off to bed and talking her to sleep.

  Hanratty let out a low chuckle. “Guess the old boy didn’t get a chance to get everything cleaned up for you.”

  “I’m simply surprised to see her, that is all,” the butler defended his ability to keep everything in pristine order.

  Grendel Hyatt, a Bostonian woman in her late seventies, wasn’t smiling either and only responded to Sonja with a subtle grunt of, “Ma’am.” The maid had spent many years caring for Belinda when her father was away on business. Grendel, wanting to please the child, had been kind enough to humor Belinda and participate in seances and other similar “parlor games.”

  “I hope you two are well, and I want you to know I don’t expect you to do any sort of cooking or cleaning while I’m here. Just concentrate on figuring out your next job,” Sonja smiled at them.

  They only glowered in response.

  A low pause was interrupted when Frank climbed out of the passenger side of the van.

  “Ah, Sheriff Thompson, I wasn’t aware you were here. I hope there isn’t any trouble,” Hanratty noted, joking with the uniformed officer.

  “Just helping with the move.” He shook the lawyer’s hand, trying to act normal about this whole situation.

  “Your assistance isn’t required,” Gram informed him, walking to the back of the van and opening the doors.

  “Oh?”

  “Miss Hyatt and I are more than capable of handling this load.”

  “Oh, no. You two don’t have to do any of it. Frank and I can do it,” Sonja told him.

  The butler didn’t listen, grabbed a box, and shoved it into the maid’s arms. She grunted from the effort, her cap sliding to one side. Grabbing a box of his own, the butler led the way into the building.

  “They seem rather lively,” Frank noted with a hint of sarcasm.

  “I would be, too, if I was losing the job I’d held for most of my life.”

  “Haven’t they both been serving the Smith family for years?”

  Sonja nodded. “This is probably hard on them.”

  “Not to mention, you are forcing them out of their own home prematurely since you want to live here and not in the manor itself.”

  This gave Sonja pause. “I guess that’s true.”

  “Well, nothing to be done about it now,” Hanratty chimed in, having been eavesdropping.

  Sonja twisted her lips to one side. “I suppose I could just stay in the manor for a few weeks while they both get situated elsewhere.”

  “Nonsense, my girl. Belinda gave explicit instructions that you were to feel completely at home as the new caretaker of the estate,” Hanratty protested her attempts to make the servants feel more comfortable with this transition.

  Sonja didn’t really understand how these family-servant politics worked, so she simply gave in, not wanting to offend anyone by changing things up.

  The butler and maid came back out, grabbing more boxes. Sonja moved in to help.

  “Don’t you worry about any of these things, Ma’am,” Gram insisted with a sniff of indignation.

  “Okay, that’s fine,” Sonja said, taking a step back and letting them do their thing.

  Frank chuckled quietly under his breath. “Well, it looks like you’ve got this covered.”

  “Yes, yes. I have some other things to attend to today. Last minute documents to file for Belinda.” Hanratty lifted the manila folder he had tucked under his arm.

  “Mr. Hanratty, if you’re driving back to town, would you mind giving me a ride? I have to be back at the station soon. Police business.”

  Hanratty smiled like a Cheshire cat who had just found his ball of yarn. “I would be delighted, Sheriff.”

  “Great.”

  “This way,” the lawyer gestured toward the manor’s separate garage—a building that had once been a carriage house.

  Frank started to follow but paused a moment next to Sonja. “I expect you to call me later and tell me who wrote that note,” he demanded in a low whisper. Kissing her on the cheek, he headed off.

  Sonja could only give a half-smirk in reply. She knew he’d say that before he left.

  CHAPTER 8

  * * *

  The servant’s house was built in the style of a Victorian cottage with arched stone doorways, rock facings, bay windows, and a slab chimney. All manner of ivy and other vines were growing all along the outside walls, creating a quaint and cozy appearance. The house consisted of four floors, including the cellar and attic.

  After moving everything inside, Gram insisted on a tour, to which Sonja heartily agreed.

  “Stepping in through here, the first thing we see is the mudroom,” he announced, standing on the threshold of the front door. “And to your left is the living room.”

  Sonja examined the small entryway, noticing wooden shelves and hooks for boots and coats. The mudroom split off into a T shape. On the left was the living room with all manner of plush furniture and decorations made of deep greens and maroons. Gothic style arch windows let in light.

  “And in here is the dining room,” the butler continued, stepping through to the left side of the T. Sonja followed him. The wall separating the two rooms had a stone fireplace set in the center of it that could be lit from either side.

  “Very nice,” Sonja said, feeling worse and worse about making the servants move out earlier than they needed to.

  “Through that doorway is the kitchen. There is also a serving window if you ever wish to host here.” All his comments were delivered in a monotone manner, as if he couldn’t be less interested. Sonja wondered if that was how he always sounded, or if being evicted and let go from his long-standing position were the major factors here.

  It hadn’t been Sonja’s choice, but Belinda thought it was best that the help leave since she herself would no longer be living there.

  “This is the main staircase,” he noted, moving down a shor
t hallway branching off from the dining room that led to a backdoor. A staircase with a large middle landing was on the left. “There is a second, smaller staircase from the kitchen. A door to the basement is next to those.” He proceeded up without even motioning for her to follow.

  Sonja was close on his tail. “There are three rooms up here.” He moved down the hallway which opened into a balcony on one side and looked down over the dining room. At the end of the hall, he opened a door. “And here is the master bedroom. I assume this is where you’ll want to sleep.”

  Glancing around the elaborately decorated room, Sonja saw that the Butler was still in the midst of packing his own belongings. Dark suits hung in the closet, shoes were lined up neatly along the floor, and a half-packed suitcase sat open on the bed. This had been his room, probably for many years.

  She couldn’t take it anymore and finally blurted out what she had been thinking this whole time. “You know, Gram, you don’t have to do this.”

  “Whatever do you mean, Ma’am?” he grunted.

  “I mean, if it is easier, I can stay in the main house for a few weeks, a few months even, until you and Grendel have found someplace else.”

  The butler narrowed his eyes slightly. “It isn’t easier at all. I’m nearly packed, so is Miss Hyatt.”

  “Oh, I can see that, but this is your home still—”

  “And now it is yours, as decreed by Miss Belinda,” he noted without a beat of hesitation.

  “I realize that, but I just thought you may want to stay here a little longer.”

  “We are quite content to take up temporary residence in the downstairs area of the main house.”

  “The downstairs area?” Sonja pressed, not quite understanding.

  “The servant’s quarters, Ma’am. This was previously the guest home, and the servants stayed in the downstairs area of the main house.”

  “Ah, now I understand.” He meant the basement.

  “You do not need to make special accommodations for us. Miss Belinda is paying us very well, including a large stipend to compensate while we look for work.”

  Sonja hesitated another moment, but finally nodded. “Okay. If that’s what you want.”

  “It is what we want, yes,” he confirmed.

  Sonja swallowed the nervous lump in her throat. “Very well, then. That’s fine.”

  “I will have my own personal items out of this room by this evening. I apologize they were not in order before you arrived. As I mentioned, I was surprised by your sudden arrival.”

  “I’m sorry. I should have called ahead.” She was still getting used to the idea of living here and felt odd with the servants there. It made her uncomfortable—which was another reason Belinda had opted to let them both go.

  This made Sonja feel even more responsible, and she wondered if she shouldn’t contact Belinda and ask her to reconsider.

  “Nothing of the sort. It is our job to anticipate your needs,” he said, turning to head back out of the room.

  Sonja quickly followed. Across from the master bedroom, she noticed a fourth door. She paused. “What’s in here?”

  The butler turned and eyeballed the door. “That? It is the attic door. You needn’t bother up there, it is only filled with old and useless junk.”

  Sonja reached for the doorknob, but was surprised when Gram’s hand found it first.

  “Like I said, Ma’am, you needn’t bother. It is filled with old boxes, furniture, things that need to be cleared out. Miss Hyatt and myself will take care of it when we won’t be a bother to you.”

  Sonja looked from the doorknob back to the butler. “I see. Well, you can come in whenever you need to, to take care of it.”

  Gram eyed her once more and then finally let go of the knob. “Very good. Do you require assistance unpacking?”

  “No, no. I’m alright.” She wanted a little time alone in her new place.

  “Very well, then. I will make sure that Miss Hyatt is situated nicely in the main house and then will be back for my own items.”

  “Okay.”

  “We will serve dinner at seven on the dot in the main house dining room,” he informed her.

  She was about to argue that they didn’t need to make her a meal, but he was already off down the stairs like a shot.

  Sonja glanced at the attic door one more time and then headed downstairs to start unpacking her things.

  CHAPTER 9

  * * *

  Sonja wanted to contact Belinda. She had a thousand questions about the servants, the house, the grounds, but most importantly about the note. Sonja was ninety-nine percent sure her friend had written the note and sent Kara Bran to see her.

  But why? It couldn’t have been just for waffles alone.

  Unfortunately, she had no way of contacting Belinda. The wealthy woman informed Sonja on their last night together that she wasn’t planning on using a cell phone or having a permanent residence in the coming months. Ultimately, she was going to travel around looking for people who needed supernatural help.

  She felt this crusade was potentially a dangerous one, and she didn’t want to have any consistent contact. “I’ll be in touch,” she’d said.

  Basically, all this meant was Sonja, as the new caretaker of the estate, was up a creek if she had any questions or problems. Belinda had gone off to live a completely new life, said her goodbyes, and disappeared into the night.

  There would be no finding her now.

  What could it all mean, and more importantly, why had Kara Bran been murdered?

  That got Sonja thinking on the few simple facts she knew about the case. Perhaps, even if Frank wouldn’t give her any details about the case, she could find some on her own.

  Without another moment’s hesitation, she began digging through the boxes and found her laptop computer. Unpacking was a daunting task she wasn’t completely ready to tackle that evening, so she decided to do a little research as a way to take a break.

  Finding the perfect spot in the living room, sitting in a plush red chair tucked in an alcove, she opened the computer. It only took a moment to find the estate’s wi-fi and log on with the password Belinda had given her.

  Getting on her browser, she took a moment to regroup and consider the clues she had. The biggest thing she knew was that the woman had been poisoned. Frank had basically admitted that fact earlier when he first showed up to her parent’s home. Even when he had declared it as classified information, she knew it was the truth.

  The coroner himself had stated that he believed the woman had been effected by a neurotoxin. Additionally, the strange symptoms displayed on the body were like nothing Sonja had encountered before. Mainly, the poor woman had been sent into some sort of convulsions or seizures, likely created by paralysis.

  She pieced these elements together, and then typed in her first search: Neurotoxins which cause paralysis.

  The list of results popped up immediately. The first few hits were just definitions of neurotoxins and paralysis respectively, but further down she found a list of different poisons. There were too many to narrow it down quickly, at least not without a few more bits of information.

  Sonja drummed her fingers on the large arms of the chair while she tried to think of anything else that might be useful to her.

  Most of the poisons on the list seemed like they were either ingested, inhaled, or absorbed through the skin

  Considering the little wound on the woman’s neck, Sonja knew the poison was probably injected. At first, she had thought it may be a sting or bite. However, considering it was murder, Sonja’s figured it had to be a needle wound. Maybe someone had held Kara down and used a syringe on her.

  Sonja didn’t remember seeing any bruising anywhere on the body—not on the exposed arms or neck, at least. It seemed unlikely that there had been a struggle.

  Had the poison been administered in some other way, perhaps?

  Sonja shook her head. She needed to stick with the facts.

  She decided, for
the sake of her current research, to just assume that it was done with a needle. She searched for any neurotoxins that could potentially be injected.

  The first thing she found were a few articles about botulinum neurotoxin, which was administered for therapeutic reasons to patients. She wondered if a high enough dosage could kill someone. If that was the case, maybe the killer was a doctor of some sort—someone who had access to drugs like that and could use them freely.

  Sonja continued her search, reading various articles about poisons and how they may be administered—either on accident or on purpose.

  Finally, getting fed up with the limited amount of results she was getting, she simply searched for any kind of poisons that were fast acting and deadly.

  The first, and most obvious hit, was Cyanide. However, that was a chemical compound, something different from a what Sonja was looking for.

  The second hit was something called tetrodotoxin. Opening the article, Sonja read on.

  This particular poison, derived from various species of sea creature—in particular, pufferfish—was most often ingested when people attempted to eat it. Supposedly, pufferfish was a delicacy in some parts of the world, including Japan. On first glance, all of the side effects and warning signs matched what Sonja remembered from the body.

  Had the victim accidentally ingested some fish with the poison in it?

  Sonja shook her head. That didn’t make sense. Frank specifically said it was a murder, so how could the woman have accidentally eaten some fish and died?

  Sonja considered that perhaps the reason Frank knew that Kara Bran was murdered had to do with what the autopsy revealed. The level of potency or the sheer amount of the poison in her system must have been extremely high—too high to have been ingested naturally. Sonja also knew it was possible that the poison had been synthesized in some way.

  It would explain the pinprick mark on Kara’s neck, as well as the red swelling around the wound that made it appear like a sting or bite.