Prelude to Poison

by Morgan W. Silver

  I checked the pockets of my trousers and in my left pocket found the card, completely whole. “Wow, you are amazing. You should go on TV and become famous. Hey, do you require an assistant?”

  “If the assistant is you, then yeah, totally.”

  A pause.

  I grabbed his tie and pulled him a little closer. “You know what we should do?”

  “What?”

  WE STARED AT THE PULL-out ladder that led to the attic. “And why do we need to go up there?”

  “Duh, my magician friend. We need to look for clues.”

  “Okay. And they’ll be there?”

  “They might be. How do we know unless we look?” I said.

  “Good point. Can’t argue with that,” he said.

  I wasn’t sure if he was being sarcastic, but suspected he was serious. Sober Alistair would have probably shot down this idea and then set fire to it.

  “I’ll go up while you are the look-out.” I took the first step.

  “But by the time someone sees us, it will already be too late,” he said.

  “Shh, don’t think about that. Too much logic will ruin it.”

  “Okay.” He took a sip of the small vodka bottle.

  “You took that with you?”

  “Yeah.” He held it out to me, and I finished the rest of it.

  “You’re both idiots,” Detective Black said.

  I jumped.

  Alistair laughed. “What was that about?”

  “I see imaginary people,” I whispered, wide-eyed.

  “I thought I could do that once, but it turned out I had a very sporadic roommate nobody had told me about.”

  “Yep, idiots,” Detective Black said again.

  I turned on the torch and climbed the ladder to the musty attic. There was a small window at the end. The light of my torch trembled as I shone it over the wooden floor and stacks of boxes. The space was clean and organised. This stuff was probably put here around the time of the renovation.

  I opened one of the boxes and peered inside. There were candlesticks and pieces of cloth for decoration. They looked antique and images of people in old-fashioned, wide dresses flashed through my mind. The next box held kitchen utensils. They were mostly still in good condition. I picked up a rolling pin, looked at it, then put it back.

  “A rolling pin, huh?” Alistair was right beside me.

  I gasped. “I thought you were the look-out.”

  “Was I?” he asked. “Do you think the rolling pin could be the murder weapon?”

  I frowned. “He was poisoned, remember?”

  He chuckled. “I know. It was a joke.” Then he turned serious. “Actually, that wasn’t funny. Am I drunk?”

  “Yes. Anyway, I don’t think there’s anything useful here.” I stood up with difficulty, so did Alistair. I nearly lost my balance. “What should we do now?”

  “Let’s dance.” He grabbed my waist, making me drop my torch, and started spinning me through the attic. It made me even more lightheaded, but I didn’t mind. I liked the feel of his arms around me, the woody scent that clung to him, and the way he was looking into my eyes right now. A floorboard creaked as we stepped on it, and we continued towards the other corner. The fallen torch provided enough light for us to avoid the boxes.

  “You—blast, what is wrong with you? Did you not hear that floorboard? It could mean something.” Detective Black’s tone was high, and he sounded exasperated. I’d never managed to get him to do that.

  “My detective says we should inspect the creaking floorboard.”

  Alistair stopped dancing—or really just whirling me around. “I’m not your detective?”

  “Aw, of course you are.” I kissed his nose. “You’re my real detective, he’s my fake detective.”

  “Hey, watch who you are calling a phony,” Detective Black said. “Now go.” He pointed to the area of the floorboard, which was hard to spot without the torch.

  I picked up the torch and went over to where it had creaked. It took me a few stomps to find it again, but it was definitely loose.

  “Hang on,” Alistair said and pried it open.

  “Wow.”

  There were a few old papers in there that resembled blueprints. “I think those are of this building,” I said as I grabbed them. The cotton balls were slowly disappearing one by one as I studied the pages. “We should take these to the room and spread them out on the bed.”

  Alistair put back the floorboard and grabbed my hand, directing me back to the stairs. “I’ll go first,” he said.

  He carefully made his way down the steps, then waited for me to come down. I moved slowly, considering my propensity for tripping. Then he took my hand again as we ran down the corridor to make our way back to the room on the first floor. It instantly triggered the memory of that day we spent together.

  The way he’d taken my hand as we ran for the bus stop, giggling like naughty school children, which technically we were. And now we were doing something naughty again. Perhaps I was a bad influence. But that day hadn’t been about skipping school, it had been about escaping reality for a day.

  Alistair had found me on the roof where I sometimes went during lunchtime on rough days. They were rare, but each time my mother came to visit or wanted custody from my aunt, it made things very stressful. I’d really just sought solitude, yet I didn’t mind when he found me up there. And even though we’d never spoken to each other before, not really, he’d mentioned the fair that was in the next town over, and he’d whisked me away for a day.

  A day of sweet memories, and to this day my favourite Valentine’s Day.

  We made it to the room unseen. “Do you think the ladies were trying to find us while we were gone?” I asked.

  “I’m sure they’ll come back if they were.” The sharpness in his gaze had returned somewhat, and I had the feeling he was sobering up. “I’m just going to splash some cold water on my face, I’m still too—” he said, not bothering to finish the sentence. He disappeared into the bathroom while I unfolded the blueprints and laid them out on the bed. My heart was thumping.

  “Why are there so many?” Detective Black said. “And they don’t look complete.”

  I studied them. The blueprints showed secret entrances and passageways, if I read them correctly. There were also illegible scribbles at random spots, but they were useless to me.

  When Alistair came back out, he grabbed a bottle of water and stood next to me. “The woman who had this built used it to kill people, right?”

  “Yes, she was a serial killer, and she hired different contractors so that nobody really knew the layout of the place but her. These must be those plans, and they’ll reveal the rooms that were deathtraps.” I shivered. Though the building was beautiful, to know that it was built to be a murder weapon was very disturbing.

  “The hotel was owned by a rich couple after that, and they claimed they had those trap rooms sealed off, but still people disappeared. Only this time they were married men who were known cheaters, which is how the curse came about.”

  “And how will this help us?”

  “I don’t know. It might not.” I bit my lip. “But it’s worth studying, I think.”

  He checked his watch. “Sorry, it’s getting late. I should probably go. I have to go to work tomorrow.”

  “I understand. Thanks for hanging out with me. It was fun.” I smiled.

  “It was. Though you do have a strange influence on me. You bring out a side of me I didn’t think I still had.” There was a certain sadness in his eyes.

  “Do you remember that day we spent?”

  “How can I forget?” His eyes dipped to my lips.

  “What were you doing on that roof?”

  He blushed. “I’m not sure I should tell you.”

  “Why not?”

  He muttered something incoherent and then made his way to the door. “I’ll see you around. Don’t get into trouble.” Before I could protest, he was gone.

  “You really are an
idiot. He was obviously looking for you in order to declare his undying love for you.” Detective Black sniggered.

  It had been Valentine’s Day, and he did remember what I looked like when I was doing that poetry reading years ago. Would he really have liked me back then? And what about now? Why did he run away when he could confess something that would have likely landed him a kiss?

  “Murder isn’t complicated,” Detective Black said. “Love is.”

  Unfortunately I would soon find out how true that was.

  Chapter 12

  When I went to find the lovely women of the Castlefield Book Club, I found them in the lounge. They were singing “Hey Jude” with the handful of other people in the lounge. I knew them long enough to know that they weren’t drunk, just not ashamed to be themselves. Mr Field stood in the corner with a bemused look on his face. This was the perfect time to find out where his wife was.

  “They’re a wild bunch, aren’t they?” I said.

  “They certainly are...special.”

  “Do you guys like Castlefield?” I kept my eye on the singing women to avoid looking too eager for answers.

  Some muscles in his face tensed. “Yeah, sure. We like it just fine.”

  “Despite the murder?”

  “Yes, that was unfortunate. However, we are now fully booked for the next few months, so I suppose it isn’t all bad,” he said in a business-like tone.

  If I had the same volatile tendencies as Nancy, I’d have kicked his shin or hit him with a lamp. Even if Victor didn’t deserve a husband-of-the-year award, he also didn’t deserve to be murdered. “How’s your wife?” I asked through gritted teeth.

  “She’s a bit upset, I suppose. She’s staying with her sister in Rockfield.”

  Seeing as how cold he was being, it didn’t surprise me. There was something reserved about him, and he didn’t seem like a man to easily connect with. He also didn’t seem to be worried about his wife. And for her to be so upset that she couldn’t stay here anymore was perhaps also a clue in itself. Although, I wasn’t sure if I would want to stay in this place if I were her.

  I spent the rest of the time with the women, singing more Beatles songs even if Poppy slept through most of them. After they left—without having found anything—I went up to my room to sleep. I set the alarm for three in the morning when I’d be breaking into Mr Field’s office.

  THE CORRIDOR WAS QUIET and the wall lights provided ample light. Despite the fact that it wasn’t dark, I still had to fight the urge to run back to my room or call Alistair. The fact that we had discussed the hotel’s history had given me a nightmare and the feeling of terror still clung to me like wet tissue paper.

  I made my way downstairs and avoided the reception desk. Mr Field had to have hired someone for the graveyard shift, but I wasn’t keen on anyone seeing me at this time of night. So I went through the reception area and exited through the archway in the back as I hurried over to Mr Field’s office. I tried the door, but it was locked; not that I’d expected it to be open.

  “Stop dilly-dallying and hurry up,” Detective Black said.

  “I’m trying.” I took out the lock pick set from the pocket of my pyjamas and got to work. It could take a while, but I couldn’t give up. I knew this could work and if it did, then I could find something valuable and catch the killer. That would impress everyone in this village, including Alistair.

  “When you get in, go for the desk first. Also check underneath it and be on the lookout for hidden cameras. I don’t trust this man.”

  “I know,” I muttered as I focussed on the lock. It took me about as long as ten minutes before I finally turned the lock and opened the door. I glanced around to make sure I was still alone and then hurried inside, shutting the door behind me. I put on gloves. It was dark, and I decided against turning on the lights. There were no curtains, so the moonlight enabled me to see. I’d brought my torch, but didn’t want to use it in case someone was looking in. It was highly unlikely, but I was a bit paranoid and even if it turned out that Mr Field had nothing to hide, he wouldn’t take kindly to some random author/shop owner snooping around in his office.

  “Creepy,” Detective Black said as he observed the mounted animal heads, their glass eyes staring at us. I told myself they weren’t real so that I’d feel better. It didn’t work.

  The mere fact that I was trespassing made me tingle all over. I peered into the bathroom to the right and then checked his desk, searching top to bottom. There was one drawer that was locked, but after rummaging around for twenty minutes, I found the key in a small box behind a stack of books in his bookcase. Hopefully my efforts will be rewarded. I opened the drawer.

  For this I did need my torch, and I turned it on so that I could read the small notebook inside. It had eight different dates, times and locations, including room numbers, which indicated it was right here in this hotel. I wasn’t sure what they meant, but there was also an envelope that was sealed. I picked it up and squeezed it. “I think they might be photographs.”

  “Of what?” Detective Black asked.

  “I won’t know until I open them, but I can’t do that, can I? He’ll know.”

  “You can if you use steam.”

  I bit my lip. That was true. “No, it’s too risky. I don’t want him to get spooked when he finds out it’s missing.”

  “He doesn’t have to, you can open it now.” Detective Black pointed at the teakettle that was on a table in the corner along with a few mugs and teabags.

  There was a reason Mr Field kept this locked up, and it was probably worth it. And so I tried. I boiled the water and held the envelope over it, but there wasn’t enough steam and it didn’t do enough. “Wait,” I said and went back to the desk. In one of the other drawers was a stack of envelopes.

  I looked up at Detective Black and ripped open the envelope.

  “What are you doing?”

  I put the pictures on the desk and studied them with open mouth. “That’s Mrs Field. And Victor.”

  “Oh, boy. He really did get around, didn’t he?”

  “This one definitely took place in this hotel. It looks like they were taken through a peephole. I bet if I study the blueprints, I might find a secret passage along the rooms. Holy pickle, that’s creepy. I hope he hasn’t watched Alistair and me.”

  “If he has these pictures then he could have used them to blackmail Victor. Or his wife, for that matter. It could also mean that he’s the killer.”

  “He could have delivered the tea, or made his wife bring it up, not knowing it was poisoned. And if he isn’t the killer then it might mean he knows who is, if he happened to be spying at the exact moment of the murder.” I sighed. “I’ll have to talk to his wife as soon as possible and tell Alistair this. Also, I really want to get out of here.” I put the pictures in a new envelope and sealed it with glue because I didn’t want to use my DNA. I kept the original envelope just in case and put it in my pocket. I didn’t want to leave anything behind.

  After putting everything back where it belonged, I turned off the torch and tiptoed to the door, which rattled as I reached it. My heart nearly shot out of my chest, and I ran into the bathroom, softly closing the door just as the other door opened.

  There was a bath with a shower curtain in here and I thought about hiding behind it, but just then the bathroom door opened. I sucked in my breath and pressed myself against the wall as the door swung open wide. My whole body tensed with panic. I expected Mr Field to peer around the door and spot me, but instead footsteps moved away towards the bath. There was a pause and then the curtain was ripped open.

  I closed my eyes as my blood turned to ice. Pure fear settled in the pit of my stomach, and I was too afraid to even breathe. Several scenarios played out in my head, all of which involved me fighting for my life and ended with me being buried in a shallow grave. My lungs were starting to burn.

  It was so quiet, yet I knew he was there. Was he drawing it out? Did he enjoy playing with me?

 
; Just then the door closed, and I opened my eyes to see I was alone. I let out a shaky breath and felt tears of relief sting my eyes. I blinked them away and listened at the door but couldn’t make out much.

  “He hasn’t left yet,” Detective Black said. “I didn’t hear the other door.”

  My eye went to the window above the bath. It was large enough for me to fit through, and we were on the ground floor. Terrified that the bathroom door would swing open again, it took me a moment to compose myself and sweep up what little courage I had left. I thought about that cartoon I used to watch with that purple dog who was terrified of everything and still always saved the day.

  “If you don’t make a noise and move quickly, you’ll be fine.” Detective Black stood by the window already.

  I joined him and pushed the window open slowly. It made some noise, but nothing that Mr Field could hear from the other side of the bathroom door. Especially if he was at his desk. This bathroom must have been part of the renovation. The window itself was clean and opened up wide enough for me to fit through it. It also wasn’t placed too high and with a bit of wiggling and breath-holding, I managed to stick halfway through. Still terrified that my ankles would be grabbed at any moment, I let myself fall in the bushes below, even if it meant a moment of pain and several branches in my hair. I struggled to roll away as thorns grabbed hold of my clothes, but I managed. Without thinking about it, I ran.

  The entire time I wrestled through the window, it had occurred to me that if I left without checking out and went straight to Alistair, that Mr Field would know what I’d been up to. I didn’t want that yet, because it meant he could accuse me of trespassing, and then even Alistair wouldn’t have much to go on unless he got a warrant. By that time Mr Field could get rid of the evidence, and all of this would be for nothing. If I went back to my room, stuck it out for the next few hours and checked out, it would buy me time to speak with his wife. I could even convince her to talk to Alistair and provide a statement. It would earn her husband a spot on the suspect list.

  And so I ran. It was possible that Mr Field had left his office while I was climbing out of the window, but it was a chance I was willing to take. Without so much as a sign of him, I slipped through the front entrance and ran up the stairs two steps at a time. The carpet absorbed any sounds my footsteps made, though it couldn’t silence the sound of my panting. I really had to start working out.