by Alexie Aaron
“Come on, girls, presents await!” I said as I entered the fairyland of the stairwell.
“All that’s missing is a ginger cat sitting in that window,” Noelle observed as we continued downward.
“Funny thing about this farm, I haven’t seen a dog or a cat. Paz, they do have them in Cornwall don’t they?”
“Cats, dogs, rats, sheep, cows, you name the beast and they be mucking around. I noticed there isn’t any birdsong. No cheeps and squeaks. Another mystery I’d say.”
We had reached my room, and the girls both climbed up on the bed. Noelle had to help Paisley up. They sat there like two porcelain dolls. Legs out in front of them, arms outreached. Noelle’s cheeks had a faint blush to them and Paz was so pale that her long dark lashes looked almost like an assault on her face.
I reached into the closet where I had stashed the goodies and pulled out a square box, handing it to Paz. She ripped it open and drooled over the CDs Noelle mentioned that weren’t readily available in the UK. I had added Alex’s band CD to the top of the stack. My son was just starting out his music career. I wasn’t too sure this was a permanent thing, but I would be supportive as long as he didn’t quit college.
“Thanks, Ms. Fin-Lathen. Lord that is too long.”
“Cin,” I suggested.
“Cin,” she nodded.
“Ahem!” Noelle’s fingers did a give-me give-me.
I handed her the clothes I bought and waited till she sorted through them. I noticed she was thinner than when she left home, but with a couple adjustments they would fit fine.
We sat amongst the clutter in my room, and I told them about my flight and the bus ride over. The girls shared their recent experiences with me. There was plenty of girl talk to pass the afternoon. I looked at the clock on the bedside table and excused myself because I wanted to try and catch Alex on the phone. I had left a brief message when I had arrived at the airport, but I said I was going to wait until Noelle brought the phone cards to sit down and have an in-depth conversation. I left the girls in my room and headed downstairs to use the phone.
Chapter Eight
The moment I heard Alex’s voice I felt balanced. We talked about my trip over the pond.
“So any murders, mysteries, walled-in virgins or the like?” Alex teased.
“Actually...” I started.
“I knew it. Sounded too easy, a nice free trip to Cornwall,” he groaned.
“Well, I’m supposed to be working here.”
“Spill it.”
I told him about the priest on the plane. I didn’t tell him about the man at the airport. After all, he could have been a figment of my overactive imagination. I told him about Angie’s assault last night and my tractor driving.
“I don’t like you being there by yourself.”
“Noelle and Paisley are here.”
“There’s no telling what can happen to you girls out there.” Alex was very concerned.
“I don’t know what to do. The Comstocks are just over the hill and they have a very beefy son that Noelle and Paz are enamored with. Plus the Chief Superintendent seems very competent.”
“But a gun, Mom. Angie was shot at. I want you to get out of there if there is any other sign of trouble. You don’t owe these people anything. I want you to be safe. I hate to say it, but I sure wish I was over there.”
“No, you don’t. Not really. I seem to recall you being over the moon at the prospect of spending this summer house-sitting with your girlfriend.” Part of me wanted him to tell me to go home, but the other part of me wanted to unravel this mystery. “Alex, they think I’m this hotshot investigator here.”
“And you want them to continue to think that, huh?”
“Yes.”
“Well, maybe I can help you out on this end. My friend Slater’s dad is a cop in Orlando but he’s got connections all over the place.”
“Slater’s dad a policeman?” I questioned, considering Slater never did anything by the rules according to Alex. “Oh, and give my conductor a call, name’s Sanders, in the Rolodex, and ask him if he remembers anything about a Donald Williams. He was last in the United States about 1939. Composer of some fame I think.”
“Okay. I’m on it.”
“Before you go...How’s my car?”
“Hey, you’re getting better. I expected that to be the first topic you’d bring up.”
“Well?” I was picturing my beautiful BMW convertible scared and alone without me.
“The car is fine. You said to drive it once a week, so...”
“Start it once a week,” I interrupted.
Alex sighed. “You can trust me. Oh, and Ma, being serious for a minute...Please promise to do everything possible to stay out of harm’s way.”
“Promise.”
“Okay, now let me talk to smelly Noelly.”
I called up the stairs and Noelle came running. She and her brother have this unusual rapport on the phone.
“So why did you call?” she started. “No, I wanted a large pizza with...Hi, Alex!”
I left them to their conversation and walked into the kitchen and started the water to boil for some tea. Noelle hung up after she got the same third degree and request for a promise to avoid any dangerous situation.
“What a worry wart,” she said as she came in the door.
“It’s nice to know he cares though.”
“We are doing the right thing by staying?”
“I hope so. Besides with the three of us plus Angie - wait till you meet her - I think we could actually end up alive.” I sounded convincing. I think I was trying to convince myself at the same time.
Paz thundered down the steps. “Hullo, I hear a car outside.”
I walked to the side door, and sure enough Billy had driven up and was helping Angie out of the car. I was all but trampled as the girls jockeyed for position to be of help to Billy. He smiled at his fan club and drove off.
We waited until Angie was seated comfortably in the living room before the introductions where made. Paz was poking around at Angie’s bandaged head.
“Go away child. Stop fussing.” Angie waved her away with her hand. “Just because a person’s old, you’d think I was made of porcelain or something.”
“But you were shot in the head,” I reminded her.
“Very near.”
“Miss Bathgate,” Noelle started, “Do you have any idea why all this is happening to you and your brother?”
“I have been walking in circles in my head thinking.” She sighed. “No. But I’m sure it has something to do with the music school.”
“Bobby mentioned your father left him the contents of the school when he died. How long ago was that?”
“Twenty years ago last October.”
“You would think if there was anything valuable that you would have had trouble back then.” I paused. “Why now?”
“I don’t know. Bobby has been here at least two times since then. He picked up some brass arrangements of Father’s and an instrument or two.”
“Miss Bathgate...”
“Noelle, call me Angie, you too Pa...”
“Peapod, no I mean Paisley,” I bobbled.
“Paz is fine. Peapod indeed.”
“You are a tiny thing, like a pea in a pod I can see it.”
“Ugh, not you too. Stop laughing Noelle, aka booger,” Paz shot at Noelle. Noelle didn’t stop laughing and Paisley threw up her hands.
“Angie, why was it so urgent that Bobby fly in now?” Noelle sobered up enough to ask.
“I was gonna sell the place. I never had much luck farming here, and the winters have been too cold for my bones.”
“Did you have any offers?”
“Two estate agents have already approached me. The first one was a local chap from St. Ives. He said he would put out feelers to see if the market was right. Then I get this call from a high-strung woman from London. Wanted me to sell it with all the contents. The offer was high. I told her I intended on kee
ping some of the furnishings, and my brother would have to go through the music school first, and then we would let her know.”
“This was before the fire?”
“Yes, a week or two before. I have her card around here somewhere. A shame though; I really wanted the farm to go to someone who would be farming it.”
“There are a lot of cattle and sheep around here,” Paz noted. “Maybe...”
“Funny thing about this property, Paz dear. I can’t keep an animal on it. They just run away as soon as my back is turned. I remember as a child we had cats, dogs and a goat. We were just here in the summer, but they all showed up when we settled in.”
“So it’s not the fairies keeping the animals away?” Paz teased.
“They wouldn’t be called fairies here.”
Noelle stood up. “Okay, now that was a chill. Paz shut up about your fairies.” She looked over at me. “And if you bring up spirits I am going back to Exeter.”
I held up my hands innocently. “Let’s get back to Bathgate. There must be something here someone wants. They want it so badly that they would buy the whole farm. They want it so badly that they almost killed for it.” I took a deep breath. “The school is in the center of this. I only hope we can figure out what it is before something else happens.”
“It’s nigh on four, my dears. I am famished. Paz, my dear, would you and Noelle go around back and bring in some wood. I’m in the mood for scones. Cin, I am going to show you how to light the stove.”
“Why the wood stove when you have all the other new appliances?”
“Out here we lose the electric from time to time. I never liked eating cold food so I kept the wood stove.” Angie got up and walked me into the kitchen. “Oh, bring us a bottle of whisky. My head’s hurting a bit.” I returned with a bottle from the sideboard. Angie already had the teacups out, and I poured us a measure before the girls trudged in with the wood.
Noelle insisted on Angie calling out directions to her as she made the scones. My daughter has always been the adventurous cook of the family. When she craved something she found a recipe on the Internet or even went as far as the bookstore to find a recipe to make the thing she craved. Oh we had some non-eatables along the way - beet borsht comes to mind - but the majority were wonderfully delicious creations, even if they didn’t look anything like the picture in the book.
Angie and I left the girls to the baking and settled into a couple of chairs. We were on our second cup of whisky when the room became filled with wonderful smells. I got up and walked into the kitchen just in time to see Noelle pull hot scones from the oven. Hey, they even looked like scones. Angie pushed another cup of tea at me with a wink. I was going to need that cup because I had decided we were going to stay.
The evening was uneventful. The girls excused themselves and ran upstairs. Angie and I talked for a bit, and then I tucked her into bed early. She put on a brave front but I could tell she was hurting. We left the music school for the next day. I climbed into bed feeling safe. I was tired but not tired enough to not notice the music playing as I fell asleep.
Chapter Nine
Angie was already in the kitchen when I came down. She was moving about more spryly. I plopped down at the table, and she poured coffee in a cup before I had a chance to say, “Good morning.”
“Ah, it will be a better morning once you eat the breakfast I’m preparing.”
“Should I wake the girls?”
“No need, they are up and looking for berries for me.”
“I don’t know how you do it. I can imagine the face Noelle would give me if I asked her to pick berries.”
“It’s the way you ask. Noelle is a dear, but Paz is a bit spastic. She flits here and there. Like a...”
“Fairy?" I ventured. "I know there is something other-world-ish about her. Noelle says she has a lot of blokes, that she calls friends. She calls them about this and that. One of them loaned her his car. She never seems to have a lot of money on her but manages all the same.”
“Well here comes our fairy and Noelle.” Angie spotted them from the kitchen window. “Oh oh, looks like they’ve had a row.”
“If you would just stop talking for a moment,” Noelle was saying as they entered the kitchen, “I would have told you that you were backing into a picker bush.”
“Here I have pickers in my ars...behind and all you can do is laugh.” Paz stuck out her behind for all to see.
I walked over and sure enough there were thistles on her behind. I carefully removed them and tossed them in the garbage.
“There, now you can sit.”
“Yer Mum’s got a heart. What ‘appened to yours.”
“HHHa Happened, not ‘appened. You’re not from the east end.”
“Girls, sit down and eat,” Angie ordered.
Noelle put the gathered berries on the counter, washed her hands in the sink and motioned for Paz to do the same. Paz rebelled, stuck out her tongue and wiped her hands on her pants. It was very quiet at the table that morning. There wasn’t any talking because we were all eating. I think Angie's breakfast rivaled my mother’s. My mother won out because when we visited her in Michigan the breakfasts lasted until lunch. Angie’s fare was thick Cornish bacon, free range eggs, coffee, and thick slabs of oven-toasted bread and jam. I ate till my stomach rebelled.
We all helped with washing up. And soon we were following Angie to the music school.
“I thought I would tell you a bit about how all of this came to be," Angie swept her arm to take in the hillside of buildings, "before we go in. My father was a Professor of Music. We lived on campus during term and here during the summer. This was my father’s family farm. My father loved his work and was always bringing home his ‘pets’ during the summer. This not only created more work for my mother, but also infringed on the peace and quiet she so craved after the long semesters at the university. After one of their biggest arguments, my parents agreed to turn the outbuildings on the hill into a school. That way my father could have a place for his students, and they would be out from under my mother’s feet. They would sleep in the house, but the music making would be done out here.
“He also had a big bathroom with two showers put in after one bad summer when my mother never got a hot bath. She wasn’t a bad woman. She just thought that after cooking all day she should be able to soak in the tub.
“There was always music here. I grew up with the sound always around me. Sometimes I still hear music that shouldn’t be.” Angie shook her head as to shake away a memory. “Anyway, my father had students here between the wars. You know he was responsible for launching many a career. His last group he felt was his finest. It broke his heart when they all went away because of the war.”
“Did anyone come back to visit?” I interrupted.
“Some of the early students but not that last class.” There was a new sadness to her voice. She seemed to be lost in thought for a moment. We stood there uncertain of our next step when she pulled the keys from her pocket and opened the door to the largest building. “This is the performance room.”
We carefully stepped inside, and as Angie added the electric lights to the sunlight that streamed in through the windows the room leapt to life. A large grand piano stood majestically in the corner playing peek-a-boo under a dust cover. Faded but sound red curtains hung across an elevated stage. Various dust covered chairs and couches formed the audience.
Angie guided us past the couches and a bathroom to a door that opened out into one of the covered walkways.
“This leads to one of the two practice buildings. Each building has three practice rooms and one storage room. The instruments are in the next building’s storage room, and the music and other papers are in the back building’s storage.”
She took out the ring of keys, pointed out the one to the instrument building and turned the key in the lock. The building was amazing. It had three rooms cut out of it. Each was lined ceiling and wall with acoustical tiling. Each room had an u
pright piano. Paz tried each one. All the pianos were out of tune but intact.
“The rooms were supposed to be made so you couldn’t hear what was going on from room to room. It didn’t really work, and there were fights sometimes. Especially when Father had the march lads working. Oh dear me, what a racket. Back here is where the remaining instruments are kept.”
She opened the door and turned on the light. I knew we would be spending a lot of time in there doing inventory. The room had shelving from the floor to the ceiling, and not one inch was spared from a string or wind instrument. There weren’t any windows in the room, and the light was dim at best.
“I think we’ll have to move these out of here to get a good look at them,” I said.
“Some of those cases look pretty heavy,” Angie fretted.
“No problem, we American girls have good strong muscles.” Noelle flexed her arm.
“I guess all the tea drinking has made me weak,” Paz grumbled as she tried to make something resembling a muscle of the flesh and bone of her tiny arm.
“Do what you have to do. Don’t expect anything too priceless. Bobby already picked over the room years ago.”
Angie unlocked the back door, and we walked to the last building. She didn’t have to get a key out because the door was ajar. She had already pushed the door open before I could warn her that someone may be in there. I did manage to grab her just as she put on the lights.
This building was laid out just like the previous one. We only glanced in the three practice rooms. We would examine them more closely later. What held our interest and fear was the storage room at the back of the building and what or who we might find in there. I reached in and fumbled around until I found the light switch. File cabinets, some wood and some metal hugged the walls. The majority of the drawers were open with their locks pried off. Splintered wood and bent metal held the newly formed scars of the forced intrusion of these cabinets.
Group pictures were hung on the free wall space above the cabinets. A nail and a vivid square of color was all that indicated that one group picture was missing.
