by Molly Fitz
“Well, what do you think?” Mr. Havers asked as he lingered close. I shot a glance at him and saw the image of the gold beetle with its lapis lazuli wings glowing in the reflection of the Englishman’s eyes. I could tell right away that this room of treasure was his life. As an attorney, people assume your best skill is arguing. It’s not. Some attorneys love to argue, sure, but the best attorneys? We see things. We see people. And right now, I could see an obsession, a lifelong passion for Egypt and all of its glory in Nicholas Havers’ face.
“You simply must take a look at his.” He led me over to a bookcase where he tugged on the edge of a fat, dusty old book’s spine. There was a soft click and then the entire bookcase swung open to reveal a set of stone stairs leading down into the dark. I couldn’t help it. A little sound of shock escaped my lips. I’d never seen a hidden doorway bookcase before except in movies.
Normally, I would not be the girl that follows some random man into a dark space, but this didn’t feel dangerous and I was fascinated. Secret doorways, Egyptian artifacts, dusty mysterious rooms. I really haven’t had a lot of adventure in my life, and I wasn’t about to miss this small experience.
When Mr. Havers reached the bottom of the stairs ahead of me, he turned on a light and I gasped. There, in the center of the room beneath climate controlled glass, was an Egyptian sarcophagus.
The mummy. Lisa and Helen hadn’t been kidding. There was an honest to god mummy in this man’s basement. It made me wonder what he kept in his attic…
“It’s from the New Kingdom. Not as old as some of the other mummies, but it’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Mr. Havers gazed down at the mummy with the adoration a man might have for his favorite child or even a favorite dog.
“Wow…” I didn’t know what else to say.
“My great grandfather brought it back from a dig in Egypt. I know I should take it to the British Musuem, but those bloody men would likely ship it back to Egypt, and with what’s happening in the world today, I fear he wouldn’t survive his trip home.” Nicholas patted the glass above the painted wood made to resemble the pharaoh’s face.
“Your collection must be incredibly valuable,” I said, thinking with sudden worry about how all of that gold was simply lying around in the study above. I would have kept that sort of treasure in a state of the art panic room with red lasers and iron cages that dropped from the ceiling to trap thieves. Unfortunately, a secured vault room would cause the charm of the current display to be lost.
“Incredibly so. In the last twenty years, I’ve spent enormous amounts of money acquiring the remainder of my collection. My son, Lucas, thinks it’s all nonsense and I should surrender every piece to the national museum.”
“Helen mentioned your son,” I replied as we made our way back upstairs and he closed the bookcase, concealing the secret passage down to the mummy’s modern tomb.
“Yes.” Mr. Havers let out a heavy sigh. “He’s a good boy, but he and I have very different views on…well just about everything. Sons are like that, aren’t they? They turn out so different from what you hope, what you expect.”
“Sir?” A woman suddenly appeared in the doorway. She was a bit dowdy with gray streaked hair pulled back in a severe bub. Her plain black dress looked like something from an English boarding school around the turn of the century.
“Yes, Mrs. Daly?” Mr. Havers’s tone was curt, and he frowned at the woman in the doorway.
“Your son is here.” The way the woman emphasized the word “son” left me strangely on edge, as she’d emphasized the word clearly but for no obvious reason. As a lawyer you get used to hearing the small emphasis and inflections in voices, and there was no mistaking something extra in this woman’s tone.
“Lucas is here?”
“Yes, that son,” Mrs. Daly replied with a withering look. Nicholas frowned back at her. “Apparently he’s come down from London and is insisting on speaking with you. I showed him to his room, but I wanted to warn you.” Mrs. Daly must be the housekeeper Helen had mentioned. A bit of a grump—Helen’s words not mine, though it did seem appropriate. It also seemed by the way he was scowling that Mr. Havers clearly had no love for her.
“Thank you, Mrs. Daly. I’ll see him in my work study in a few minutes.” Then he turned to me. “I’m so sorry to cut our visit short, Ms. Park. You are welcome to come back for a visit anytime to see more of my treasures while you are staying in our little village.”
I could tell I was getting the boot, but his offer seemed genuine, and I smiled.
“Thank you, Mr. Havers. It’s been so lovely meeting you and seeing your artifacts.” With a polite nod, I let Mrs. Daly show me to the door. She didn’t say much, and I knew immediately that I didn’t like her nearly as well as I liked Ewan Dougal, the butler. Just as I was stepping outside, I turned back to face the house. Not sure why, really. And as I did, I saw a tall, dark-haired man striding down the main staircase. He was wearing gray trousers that fit his lean hips and a white button up shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows. His hair was artfully messy, and his features were so perfectly masculine that he looked cut from marble.
So that was Lucas Havers, the dangerously attractive man I needed to avoid at all costs.
Naturally, when I turned back around, I tripped down the front steps and faceplanted on the gravel drive.
“Oof!” I grunted as I the fell hard and my breath was knocked from my lungs.
“Christ, are you all right?” Strong hands lifted me back to my feet. Without thought, I began muttering all sorts of silly apologies as I brushed the dust and smaller gravel bits from my clothes. Only after I stopped mumbling, did I look up, and boy was that a mistake.
Lucas Havers had soft light brown eyes that reminded me a liquid honey, and he was tall, about six-foot-three. I swallowed hard and just…continued to stare at him.
“Er…miss, are you all right?” he asked, his brows drawn together.
“Um, yeah. Yep. Yes.” I stuttered through a series of responses like an idiot. “Totally fine. I’m just going to go…”
“Oh…” he replied back. “You’re American?”
I nodded, wondering vaguely why I didn’t simply start running away. “Yeah, just visiting for a few weeks. You’re Lucas Havers?”
“I am.” His concern for me faded as it became clear I could form sentences once again. “And you are?”
“Pepper Park. I was just looking at your dad’s artifacts.”
“Ahh yes, his little trinkets.” Lucas nearly growled the word trinkets. “Bloody rotten waste of time and money. I don’t know why he bothers. He should be investing that money in the markets. Look, I’m terribly sorry, but now that you’re all right, I must go.”
“Oh yes, of course. Nice to meet you.” I managed to turn without falling this time and nearly sprinted down the lane toward the house. While walking briskly, I examined the light scrapes on my palm and winced. Halfway down the road that bordered the small patch of woods between my cottage and the manor house, a man with dark hair came biking up the lane.
“Look out!” He called out, and I halted.
“What is it?” I asked him when he skidded his bike to a stop, climbed off, and headed toward me. He was an attractive man, probably around Lucas’s age, with light brown hair and skin tanned a soft gold from long hours in the sun.
“Euphorbias.” He pointed at the patch of plants I was getting ready to walk through along the side of the road. “Euphorbias have a milky, latex sap, which appears as soon as a stalk is cut and can cause a similar rash to poison ivy. The chemical culprit in euphorbia is a mixture of toxic chemicals known as diterpene esters.”
“Oh my god, thank you.” The last thing I needed was a giant poison ivy-type reaction.
“I’m Paul Littleton,” he greeted and held out a hand. “The groundskeeper at Champsley.”
“Pepper Park. I’m renting the cottage just down the way.”
“It’s a pleasure.” He smiled before walking back to his bike
and I notice a small bundle of flowers tucked in the front basket. Most of them I couldn’t recognize but there were blue bells…and pink blue bells? I didn’t know they came in pink.
“Those are lovely flowers.” I nodded at the basket.
Paul’s smile faltered a brief second. “Thanks. I picked them for my mother.”
“She will love them. Well I’ll let you go wherever you are going. I should get back.”
Paul threw a leg over his bike and with a little wave, he was cycling onward to Champsley while I was headed in the opposite direction. Something about Paul that tugged at my memory, but I couldn’t figure out why.
Osiris
A scent caught my attention while I was mousing in the kitchens. It tingled my nose, distracting me from the plump little field mouse who had snuck his way indoors through a tiny hole in the storeroom wall. My whiskers quivered and my ears twitched as I stared at the mouse from across the room.
Focus. The mouse is what matters.
When the mouse scurried along the bottom of a big burlap sack containing flour, my entire body went as still as the statues of my ancestors in Cairo. I noted the tiny scrapes in the dust on the storeroom floor from its little claws.
Unable to contain my excitement, my butt began to wiggle, and the tip of my tail swished wildly. A sudden crash on the other side of the storeroom door interrupted me mid-leap and I went sliding—on my feet, of course—across the floor before smacking into the bag of flour while my prey scurries to safety.
Blast!
After a quick sniff of the spot where the mouse had been, which imprinted his unique signature in my brain and I vowed to find him at a later date.
“Osiris, what are you doing in there?” Cookie crooned as she stooped to pick me up. I couldn’t help but purr the second I was in the plump woman’s arms.
Other than Nicholas, Cookie is, perhaps, my favorite person in all the world. She understands me; she knows I have value. I killed the rodents in her beloved kitchen and she feeds me a saucer of cream in return. We are a team.
“Catch a mouse?” Cookie asks me, studying my jaws for signs of carnage. “No? Missed ‘em eh? You’ll get ‘em next time.” She scratched that spot just underneath my chin that…oh yes…it makes a cat just want to turn into one of those jiggling jellies Cookie made for the fancy parties Nicholas hosted from time to time. I admit, I sometimes have a bit too much fun attempting to knock down those towering gelatin masses from their plates. Poking the jelly with my paw and watching it wiggle was wonderfully entertaining.
“You’d better make yourself scarce today. Mrs. Daly is in one of her moods.” Cookie set me down and when I didn’t move, she sighed. With an indulgent smile, she peeled off a bit of freshly roasted chicken and handed it to me. With Cookie’s help, I dined like a king, which also meant I have to focus extra hard on my mousing so as not to get too plump.
I licked my lips, then carefully cleaned my whiskers before I wandered out of the kitchen and into the hall. The sight of Mrs. Daly, the housekeeper, carrying a tea tray brings me to a stop. She paused in the hall and there was a furtive look in her eyes as she set the tray on a side table before she turned away and reached into the pocket of her dress. With her back to me, I can only wonder what she’s up to. I do not, and never have liked this woman, and not just because she walloped me with a broom once. I don’t trust her. It’s as simple as that.
She glanced around, did something to the tea cups, and then picked up the tray and carried it into Nicholas’s private study. A few moments later, I see one of the people I actually do like striding through the hall toward his father’s study.
Lucas.
I can’t couldn’t but purr as I rushed after him, But he didn’t see me and closed the door to the study in my face just as Mrs. Daly was leaving without the tea tray.
“Oh! You bloody stupid creature!” She snarled and swung her foot at me. I hissed and swated at her boot before dodging cleverly out of reach. As the housekeeper stomped past me, I pressed myself against the closed door to Nicholas’s study, purring again in earnest. However, my purr soon died in my throat as I heard raised voices.
“You can’t be serious. Father, that’s ridiculous and you know it.”
“Hush, Lucas. I can do what I wish. It’s my money, isn’t it?” Nicholas replied.
“So you’re just going to throw everything away?” Lucas snapped.
“Yes, if I wish to.” Nicholas’s reply was quieter but no less firm.
“You fool. I can’t believe you would do this.” The study door swung wide and Lucas nearly trampled me on his way out. I darted between his legs and flattened myself against the wall, my little heart beating frantically. There’s nothing worse than being stepped on. With Lucas already striding back down the hall, I stared after him and that’s when I smelled the strange scent I noticed in the kitchen. Something dark and sharp. Something dangerous. My ears flattened back and the fur along my spine rose. I was on high alert as I crept into the study to see Nicholas set his tea cup down with a heavy sigh.
“Hello old boy,” he greeted as he caught sight of me. Suddenly, he began to cough violently and balled up a fist to pound against his chest, attempting to clear whatever was making it difficult to breathe. I stayed back a little, not desiring to get close when he coughed because it was a particularly grating sound to my sensitive ears.
As I continued to watch, his eyes rolled back in his head and he slumped into the chair he was sitting in. I rushed toward him, leaping onto his lap as his eyes closed. He went still with a soft trickle of exhaled breath.
All I could do was stare at him, this master who’d handed me this mouse-filled kingdom. My feline senses told me my human was dead. I let out a long, keening mreow. When Mrs. Daly came into the room, there was fury in her eyes a second before she saw the body. That’s when the screaming began.
Chapter 3
Pepper
My earbuds were in my ears as I listened to Enya and caught some sun while sitting in the white wooden Adirondack chair in the small front garden of the house. A girl could get used to this relaxation thing. My eyes were just starting to close when I saw I saw a police car rip down the narrow street heading toward Champlesy Manor. It’s light were flashing wildly. I pulled my earbuds out and tucked them in their case before I sat up and listened to the siren as the car vanished from view.
Huh…I wondered if everything was okay back at the manor. From across the street, Helen waved at me and I waved back. Deciding there was not much else to do about the police car, I picked up my romance novel from the bag at my feet and proceeded to get lost in its pages.
About an hour later, movement out of the corner of my eye made me glance up. Helen was power walking across the street straight toward me with a determined look on her face.
“Oh my goodness, Pepper, you simply won’t believe it. Mr. Dougal just called me. It’s positively the worst thing—” The woman was gasping for breath, but I couldn’t tell if it was because of her brisk walk or because she was upset about whatever she was about to say.
“What happened?”
“It’s Nicky…he’s dead. Oh, Nicky…” She fell into the second chair beside me in such a dramatic fashion that she reminded me of a Shakespearean actor swooning upon the stage.
“Mr. Havers is dead?” For some strange reason my heart began to race, and I felt a little sick. I’d only just been to see him today. And now he was…dead. He’d seemed like such a nice man, too.
I’d never had much experience with death. I’d lost my grandfather when I was ten, but this… this was somehow different.
“Yes, isn’t it just the most dreadful thing? And what’s worse, he was poisoned.” She lowers her voice as she whispers the word “poisoned” as though whoever was responsible might be close enough to hear us.
“What?” My voice came out a bit shrill. “Poisoned, how do you know?”
“The constable, Jerry, he’s my brother-in-law. He’s the one who called me. He kne
w I’d want to know since Nicky and I were old childhood friends.”
“Poisoned…” I echoed again.
“Yes. Oh dear, and Lucas is here. He’ll have to handle everything including the funeral. Poor dear.”
“Helen, I don’t want to be morbid, but what kind of poison was used?” I was not a poison expert, but I’d watched my fair share of detective shows and knew a little bit about cyanide and arsenic.
“They’re not sure. The doctor will have to run some tests when he performs the autopsy. All Jerry told me was that the doctor knew Nicky had been in perfect health for a man his age, and that his heart had just stopped. Only, not from a heart attack. The doctor was sure of that.” Helen fanned herself for a moment, then climbed out of the chair and sighed.
“Well, I’d better get home. Harold will want his tea and supper shortly.”
I hadn’t met her husband Harold yet, but apparently he worked in a nearby village at a dairy farm with cows. His hours were long, leaving Helen plenty of time to be the local gossip queen.
“Helen, you’ll keep me posted, right? You’ll let me know what they find out about Mr. Havers?”
“Of course.” She shuddered. “To think…a murderer in our midst. Why it could be any of us! A murderer in Chelsworth! I have to go tell everyone. We must all be on our guard.”
I stared after her for a long while as she walked away. She’d said poison, but the word hadn’t fully sunk in until just now. Someone being poisoned wasn’t usually by accident; there really could be a murderer right here in this cozy little town.
Trying to distract myself from thoughts of murder and the idea of some villain creeping around in the gardens of my little house, I packed up and went inside. I knew it was ridiculous and that I wasn’t exactly a prime target for murder, but I couldn’t stop thinking about it. Maybe my thoughts were running wild because I’d seen Mr. Havers alive only a few short hours ago.
Maybe that’s why I screamed like I was being murdered when the doorbell rang.
