~rat-a-tat-tat!~
“Eh, hem. Please try again, Mr. Temperance, with emphasis, sir.”
“Yes, Ma’am, Miss Plumtartt, Ma’am.”
~knock, knock, knock!~
“There ain’t nary a peep from the other side, Ma’am.”
“Indulge me, Mr. Temperance, and have a go at it with the butt of your pistol.”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
~BAP! BAP! BAP!~
“Oh my Goodness, Miss Plumtartt, whoever’s in there ain’t responding to our calls! I’m thinkin’ they must be hurt! We gotta figure a way to gets in there!”
“Suggestions, Mr. Temperance?”
“This is a strong door in a tight spot. There is not much room to operate a battering ram. Heavy tools would take a little while. I suggest that the quickest route through that door is to open her up with dynamite.”
“I say, I think I would rather keep damage to the estate at a minimum if possible, eh hem? Actually, I may have an alternative solution. If someone could fetch me a newspaper, please?”
“I got one right here, Miss Plumtartt, Ma’am. It’s that one we got in London with that photographer’s murder article in it.”
“Jolly good, Mr. Temperance. I shall open and coax the paper flat. Laying it upon the threshold and sliding it beneath the door thusly, I use a hair pin to push the key from its place. ~ka-tink.~ I just heard the key land on the other side upon the floor. With luck, the key should now be on the paper. Careful retrieval of the newspaper presents us our reward. Voilà, I present you, gentlemen, the key.”
“Bravo, Madam, well done! I shall now grant us access to the vintaging vino.”
~click.~
~creak.~
Darkness inhales the illumination from our meager candlelight. A more oppressive blackness I have never known. This is the stillness of the tomb.
“Please follow me, Madame. This room has, alas, escaped the gentle brushing of a broom’s combing touch. Note the titanic casks spreading down the walls to either side of our entrance. The great casks, each of a size that could house a family of four, rest in heavy shelves. Before us lie streets and avenues of floor-to-ceiling racks for an ocean of bottled wine.”
“I say, these candles do not spread their light but a few feet in the dust, and cobwebs. It is impossible to see out into this forest of pillared timber; however, we know someone is in here, for we know that they locked themselves in this room. Let us find them.”
“Yes, Ma’am. I reckon we all should just look around a little bit. Howdy, in here! Anybody home?”
“Howdy, he says! Tee, hee!”
“Shush, Mr. WilloughSickle!”
“Tee, hee!”
“Eeeek!”
“Hey, that was Mr. Manlington!”
“‘ey! ‘ere ‘e is. Our prissy butler is in a oigh state of anxoiety, alternating his weight from one tippy toe to the othuh.”
“Oh, oui-oui, look at how he points with the horror to something on the floor.”
“Mein candle shows to me two male hands, curled upon the blocks of stone. Beyond these is the black haired head of a man lying very still.”
“Aye, Oi knows a stiffie when Oi sees one. This bloke has expired and suffers from being very dead.”
“Eh hem, yes, thank you, Miss GoodeWoodey. I say, Mr. Temperance? Would you be so good as to make a closer examination, eh hem?”
“Yes, Ma’am, Miss Plumtartt, Ma’am. Hey! I think it’s Mr. Cruikshank! Hey, Malachi, are you okay?” ~shake,shake~ “My goodness, Miss Plumtartt, I think he’s dead!”
“Please excuse me, I need to verify this with my own eyes. Eh hem, yes, I see. I am in agreement, Mr. Cruikshank does appear to be life-force challenged.”
“Should I roll him over?”
“Yes, please. No, wait! Look there, Mr. Temperance, at his lower back. Is that a dark stain of blood I see?”
“OOOOOOOOOh!”
“Catch him, y’all! Mr. Manlington is falling!”
“Oh!”
“I got him!”
“Bloimey!”
“I say, I do believe our butler has fainted at the sight of blood. Please, everyone, there is not enough room here for all to participate. There is no need for everyone to crowd in on the scene. Can everyone please step back?”
“Is he alroight?”
“Oi wanna see!”
“Oui!”
“Eh hem! I say, see here! This man has apparently been murdered. The locked door indicates that the culprit who committed this crime is still in the room!”
“Oh!”
“Eep!”
“Murder!”
“Zoinks!”
“I say, we must spread out and find the villain!”
My words have the opposite effect of what I had intended upon my audience. Rather than spread out in a fervent mob of retribution, the realization that a murderer lurks in the inky gloom encourages the great mobbe to cling together all the more closely.
“Oooooo.”
“Looks like Mr. Manlington is coming back around, Miss Plumtartt.”
“Are you well, now, Manlington?”
“Yes, Madam. I beg your pardon for this lapse in self-control.”
“Think nothing of it, dear fellow.”
“Malachi has been stabbed in the back, eh? And in a locked room, no less.”
“Yes, Manlington, I fear, though, our household, as a whole, is not eager to search out the fiend in this gloomy confine.”
“We’ll have none of that, Madam.” ~clap,clap!~ “Now then, do as our Lady of the Manor instructs. We must all move out into the underground grape juice jungle and find the murderous fiend!”
“You stick with me, Miss Plumtartt.”
“Of course, Mr. Temperance. Come now, you and I must set a good example for the rest of the household.”
“This gloomy basement is like a big ol’ cave, Ma’am. The racks and pillars remind me of being in a mineshaft.”
“Mr. Temperance?”
“Ma’am?”
“I appreciate your leading us on this little investigation, as it is so kind of you to clear any threatening cobwebs from before my path, but are you sure you are not just taking advantage of the situation to hold my hand, eh hem?”
“Doh, unh, well, it just seemed like the right thing to do under the circumstances, Miss Plumtartt.”
“Quite right, I concur!”
“I think the families of several darkness loving species make their home down here, Ma’am.”
“I agree, sir. Certainly these layers upon layers of spider webbing indicate many generations of tenancy.”
“Yes, Ma’am. I think this side of the wine cellar is clear. Nobody’s been over here in years. Let’s get back to the entrance.”
“I await your cordial escort.”
“Did any of y’all come up with anything?”
“No, no, Monsieur.”
“Nae, not a thing, Ichabod.”
“Aye, Oi found me a randy Scotsman!”
“Tee, hee!”
“May we please return upstairs? One is in need of a sip of water.”
“I say, of course, Manlington. Come along everyone, let us return to the Dining Hall. Jabez, saddle a horse and proceed with all due haste to alert the authorities in Elderberry Pond.”
“Yes, Mum.”
“Gosh, Miss Plumtartt, Jabez’s normally cheerful Scottish features are now set with grim determination.”
“Circumstances determine the countenance, Mr. Temperance. I am happy to say that in this time of crisis, the KrunchGrippe sisters are showing the initiative to serve tea while we wait.”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
It is not a very long time before we are rewarded with Jabez WilloughSickle’s return, accompanied by a carriage occupied by several men of serious bearing.
The country constables are shown to the scene of the crime where they are introduced to the corpus delicti. The rural detectives then reconvene where we have gathered in the Dining Hall.
“Squire Bruce Nigels, remove that overly large floral display from the center of this lengthy dining table.”
“Bup, bup, bup, yes, rather a burdensome thing, eh, what? Bup, bup, bup.”
“My name is Brettamy Jehtte. I am the lead detective in this gruesome affair. Constable David BurkHard, seat our suspects on the opposite side that I may face and query this gallery in turn.”
“Roight! You ‘eard the detective. Everyone to the other side of the table!”
“You there, you’re the butler, correct?”
“Manlington, sir.”
“Is everyone present, Manlington?”
“No, Detective. Mr. Cruikshank is unable to attend as he has a more pressing engagement in the cellar. Oh, and there is Morag the smelter on the roof. I doubt very much that you can persuade him to join our gathering. He has not been down in weeks and has shown extraordinary obstinacy as regards descending his lofty perch.”
“We shall see about the smelter, later. Now then, I expect you all to cooperate in this investigation. That includes you, Madame. Please sit on the other side of the table with the rest of the household.”
“You can’t expect me to sit with a bunch of suspected criminals! I am above suspicion!”
“I am afraid that no one is above suspicion. What is your name, Madame?”
“My name is Mrs. SaurSkowlle! I own this house! Erk. I mean, I run this house, that is, I am the chief female in charge of household.”
“Take a seat on the other side of the table, Mrs. SaurSkowlle. Ah, there, now, I have all of my suspects in a neat little row. The first of my suspects is this trio of troublingly attractive milkmaidens. Your names are?”
“Malficence.”
“Nonsense.”
“Obstinance.”
“GoodeWoodey!”
“Thank you, ladies. Now you, the boy with the out of date hairstyle that is pleasantly positioned and happily wedged in among the girls.”
“Me name is Spike McGilligin.”
“I think you next three young ladies are the upstairs maids?”
“Oh, oui! That is us! We are the upstairs maids we are thinking, too, oui. Hee, hee, hee! We are:”
“Whimsy!”
“Gaiety!”
“Modesty!”
“BummeTwidell!”
“Heeheeheeheeheeheeheeheeheeheeheeheeheeheehee!”
“Ladies, please be serious. This is a murder investigation!”
“Oh, oui, look at how we straighten up in the serious manner.”
“Oui, we purse our lips and knot our brow with the big frowny face.”
“Oui! We say, ~grunt, grunt, grunt~ this is serious!”
“Heeheeheeheeheeheeheeheeheeheeheeheeheeheehee!”
“Bup, bup, bup, ho, ho, ho, you girls behave, ho, ho, right. Bup, bup, bup.”
“Heeheeheeheeheeheeheeheeheeheeheeheeheeheehee!”
“Let us move on. You are the laundry girl, correct.”
“Huh, huh, huh-yes, sir. Condolescense Purvey. Huh, huh, huh.”
“You are more upset than the rest of the household, Miss Purvey. Why is that?”
“Huh, huh. Oi wew-winned the waundwey, an’ Oi’ve nevvuh been near nuffin bad before! Huh, huh, huh!”
“The next girl in line. What is your name?”
“‘ello, ‘ello, Detective! Me name is Millicent Wallaby. Oi’m the cook! Let me know if you’d like me to whip up a nice scoop of soup.”
“No, thank you, Miss Wallaby. Here we have our downstairs maids.”
“Must we participate in this sordid little affair?”
“I am afraid so, Ladies. Your names are?”
“Delilah.”
“Delilou.”
“Deliriah.”
“KruncheGrippe.”
“You were present at dinner?”
“Oh, we were around.”
“You two men are the footmen, are you not?”
“Tee, hee! The footmen, are we is!”
“Horbaz, behave!”
“Oh, but Jabez, how could I resist?”
“You are Jabez and Horbaz?...”
“WilloughSickle.”
“Very good. Now then, what about you? You’re the coachmaster, yes?”
“Hunh? Yeah, that’s me. Me name’s, uh, Bishop RooksPawn.”
“You appear apprehensive, RooksPawn.”
“Hunh! This business makes me nervous, that’s all!”
“You, the odd little fellow. You are out of place here. Your dim and open face has a peculiar, naive element.”
“Howdy, Detective Jehtte. My name’s Ichabod Temperance, sir.”
“Ah. Of course. An American. That explains it. Your purpose here at the Manor, boy?”
“Mr. Temperance is here as a guest, Detective Jehtte. I should very much appreciate your showing this guest to our country and my home a deal more courtesy, sir.”
“I see. Please introduce yourself, Madame.”
“I am Persephone Plumtartt.”
“And this brings us back to the household matron and butler, Mrs. SaurSkowlle and Manlington. Who was the last to see Cruikshank alive?”
“I believe that to have been Mr. Temperance and myself, detective. We spoke to Mr. Cruikshank when he approached us while supping here in the Dining Hall.”
“Did anyone else see or speak with Cruikshank after this? Your choruses of negative responses indicate not.”
“Lady Plumtartt and the guest are constantly witnessed since the corroborated occurrence of Cruikshank’s last sighting. Everyone else in the household passed in and out of the Dining Hall, and were often wandering the surrounding passageways throughout dinner. There is never a minute when all were present at the same time. At some point between the Plumtartt/Cruikshank dinner conversation and finding the body, a mere twenty some odd minutes later, someone killed Cruikshank.”
“Oh, there’s one of them that bears a second look!”
“Who would that be, Mrs. SaurSkowlle?”
“Bishop RooksPawn!”
“What! No! Not me!”
“You’ve been napping when you’re supposed to be minding your chores and you were not present through most of dinner. You’ve been acting guilty and had the best opportunity of anybody to commit this ghastly murder, you sleepy cabbie!”
“I must say, your face is a miserable, horrible, twisting, caricature of desperation and fear, Mr. RooksPawn. Confess your crime and be done with it!”
“It weren’t me! Oi didn’t do it! You can’t put this ‘orrible croime onna innocent man!”
“Huh, huh, huh! Naw-oh! Huh, huh, huh! Don’t take ‘im! Pwease! E’s in-oe-cent! Huh, huh, huh!”
“What’s this? Miss Purvey, you appear most distraught at seeing Mr. RooksPawn being taken in the grip of my capable deputies.”
“Bup bup, bup. Behave yourself laddie. Bup, bup, bup. The game is up, eh, what? Hear, hear! We have you now, my boy. Bup, bup, yes, I should say, so, eh, what? Bup, bup, bup.”
“Huh, huh, huh! It weren’t ‘im, it were muh-ee! Take me, not ‘im! Huh, huh, huh!”
“If you killed Cruikshank, Miss Purvey, then how did you get out of that locked room?”
“Huh, huh, .. hunh? Oi don’t knoe-woah! Huh, huh, huh, huh, huh, huh.”
“I am afraid that is not quite good enough, young lady. Put the bracelets on him, Constable BurkHard.”
“Hah! So ye’ thought yeede beein’ hah-whun to gits a way with mur-r-r-r-r-r-der on our loovely coontryside, boot Ouhm ‘appy te’ foil yeer foul schemes. Ye’ll naught oot roon the lawrre in theese viesinnitty. Neigh, ye’ll paie-ee fourre yourre awhefulle kee-rhymes, reet eenoof. Aye.”
“It weren’t me, Oi tells ye!”
Mrs. SaurSkowlle appears happy for the first time since our arrival as she takes a sadistic delight in Mr. RooksPawn’s torment.
Detective Brettamy Jehtte gives a short bow and exits the room, accompanied by his deputies and their unhappy charge.
“I’m innocent
!” is wailed one more time as the arresting party passes through the door.
“Huh, huh, huh, hun-noooooooo! Wuh, huh, huh, huh! Noe-woah-oh, oh, oh...”
Except for the hurtful Mrs. SaurSkowlle, we are all caught in a melancholy stillness.
Long after the sounds of the authorities carriage has dwindled away into nothingness, Condolescense Purvey’s gasping sobs continue to reverberate through the vast Hall and our fallen hearts.
Chapter Eight.
Memoir-able Meanders
Upon the Moors.
“I sure do feel bad for that little ol’ Purvey girl. She’s mighty upset about Mr. RooksPawn gettin’ thrown in the clink. I wonder if there ain’t something a ‘tween them two? What do you think, Miss Plumtartt?”
“Romantic pursuits are normally discouraged in the staff, but I have never held with restraining another’s feelings in affairs of the heart. I must admit to still being uneasy in spite of the assurances of the constabulary that they have, indeed, apprehended the culprit. I share the same misgivings as Miss Purvey. This RooksPawn fellow is innocent. My intuition tells me so and it is never wrong.”
“I ain’t ruled out an intruder having committed the deed. May I issue firearms to the remaining male staff? I’d like to plot a sentry system through the night so that someone is always awake and at guard in the house.”
“A capital plan, Mr. Temperance. I trust to your decisions in this area.”
“I got a couple of revolvers for the WilloughSickle brothers and a smaller pistol for Mr. Manlington.”
“Tee, hee! Loooks at me! Bang! Bang! Oh, Oi’m’s a real cowboy now, I am! Tee, hee!”
“OOOOOOOOOh! I just simply must be the one to carry this adorable little derringer. Isn’t it just too divine with its precious rhinestone encrusted handle! How I wish for a spring loaded delivery system that could lie hidden away up one’s sleeve. ~huh-sigh.~ I shall have to make do by tucking it into one of my vest pockets, thusly, eh, hem?”
“I’ll takes the first watch, Master Ichabod.”
“Thanks, Jabez. I’ll relieve you in a couple of hours, buddy.”
I reckon I’ll retire back to my room. Gee, my head is swimming with all the strange occurrences in the house. I wish we had my friend … my … almost friend from London to help us. He was such a fine and smart fella. I bet he would know just what to do in a situation such as ours.
A Study in Temperance (The Adventures of Ichabod Temperance Book 4) Page 13
