Agatha & the Scarlet Scarab

by Karl Fish

  ‘I tried to warn you, Ilya,’ he whispered, shaking his head disapprovingly. Gideon began to search around the remaining area next to where the cadaver was lying. The pathway to it had been cleared but beyond it were the bare bones of the department in wreck and ruin. Ilya’s grasping hand offered up no more clues but Gideon was sure he would not have arrived empty-handed. Kicking through rubble and dust, he approached the shattered window of the large exhibit case that had crushed his acquaintance and killed him. At the bottom of it were many smaller cases, some intact some decimated but all of them having harboured hundreds upon hundreds of pinned beetle exhibits. The dust and debris formed a blanket of coverage at the bottom of the case. Gideon focused on anything peculiar, anything that was out of place, well, as out of place as it could be in such mayhem. Glass, wood, thorax and abdomen of insect samples were commonly visible. Then he spotted it. A small handle, canvas, possibly beige or white, certainly not something you would find when the exhibit was intact. He grabbed at it but the satchel it was attached to was jammed beneath a layer of broken box glass. He kicked the rubbish out of the way until he gained leverage and was able to free the bag from below.

  Double-checking the coast was clear, and that Collingdale was still occupied informing the authorities of Professor Malcolm’s mysterious disappearance, he rifled through the bag. There were many documents he would have to look at once time permitted but the cold cylindrical barrel of steel was the first object he felt worthy of further examination. Removing it and looking it over it was identical to the one he had seen just weeks prior. Eric had procured it. ‘Borrowed it,’ Eric would have said. Tink had made him as good a copy as he could and now, he was looking at it again. He switched it on but in the white light of the lamps that were illuminating the laboratory, it bore no impact. He stepped over the fallen exhibits, the distorted web of twisted joists and plaster until he found darkness. He lit the beam and its violet presence cut through the shadows catching the occasional illumination of a previously camouflaged insect or two. He scoured the walls until he saw it, or it saw him.

  The ‘All-seeing eye’ glared back. Its pupil directing him further into the recesses of the laboratory where it was at its darkest. Directing him to where more secrets lay waiting to be discovered.

  Chapter 27

  Detention

  As uneventful as the afternoon algebra lesson had been, Aggie still had two hours in the company of Huntington-Smythe and Dove following the final bell. Luckily for her, Elizabeth and Eric would be there too; although it was likely the Brothers would have a far more brutal punishment for the boy.

  As Sister Harvey’s private classroom alarm rang out, the metallic clang of the actual school bell echoed through the schoolhouse in unison. The evacuees were acutely tuned to the sound more than their local rivals and vanished without a second’s thought. The Priory girls patted their cohort on the back as they left pronouncing that their ‘Parents will hear about this,’ and ‘Surely an assault is a criminal offence worthy of gaol?’

  Henrietta Huntington-Smythe acknowledged their sincerities but outnumbered by at least two to one for the next two hours she was smart enough not to make any signs of a fuss until she knew just how she would be spending the detention time.

  With a customary glance of disapproval, Sister Harvey looked down on her charges and with a silent nod, bid them a good evening. Miss Dove, who had been waiting for her colleagues’ departure then entered the room.

  ‘Today, I have been unfortunate enough to witness lying and violence in a school which should never endorse such behaviour,’ Dove scolded them. ‘It has been necessary to alert the authorities in this instance.’

  A collective gasp united all three pupils; two of them in fear, the other in anticipation.

  ‘Why?’ Elizabeth and Aggie expressed together.

  Henrietta was smiling, smugly.

  ‘Why did you try and conceal your breakfast from us Elizabeth? Why lie?’ Dove asked the older Peabody.

  Elizabeth hadn’t expected that question. She thought Aggie’s punch to Smythes’ nose had trumped her unsubtle sleight of hand. ‘I’m not sure, miss,’ she replied. Caught off guard, she hadn’t had time to prepare an answer.

  ‘Seems a little odd, doesn’t it? Do you wish to conceal what you actually had for breakfast? Bacon, eggs, toasted soldiers? Very tasty, a rare treat I would guess. So why lie? Lying just highlights a greater act of criminality does it not?’ Dove summarised contently.

  ‘You thieving Peabody!’ Henrietta snarled at her. ‘It was your lot all along.’

  Elizabeth didn’t respond. Aggie was confused by the accusation and Huntington-Smythe looked on with a snide vulpine leer.

  ‘Do come in, Mr Bott,’ Dove announced, beckoning the shadow that was waiting patiently outside of the classroom door.

  Wilson Bott’s day was busy enough without the misdemeanours of school children occupying his diary. A dead body in the brook was enough work for anyone to attend with but under the insistence of the Huntington-Smythe family, and the suspected revelation he was about to receive, he had made the short trip down the Steep. It was a welcome relief from an afternoon in the mortuary with Messrs Closet and Cleave.

  ‘I need you to come with me, please,’ he asked Elizabeth. Beckoning with a small hand gesture towards himself.

  Elizabeth who knew of Mr Bott as the local law enforcer and regular unwanted guest at the Poacher gave an alarmed look towards Aggie. This was far more serious then she had imagined. Aggie who had no idea who the man was, or why he was even summoned just for the small note of breakfast written on paper, could only garner the seriousness by her friends’ startled face. Come to think of it why had Elizabeth concealed the truth anyway? Elizabeth followed the Sheriff out of the room leaving Aggie outnumbered with Dove and Smythe.

  ‘Miss Dove, what has Elizabeth been accused of?’ Aggie asked concerned for her friend.

  ‘That, Chatsmore, is on a need-to-know basis,’ Dove curtly advised her.

  Meanwhile, outside of the classroom and via the school corridors, Wilson Bott led Elizabeth to the governess’s office. Lady Huntington-Smythe, with her stubby pointy nose and index finger surveying the sill for dust, lay in wait. Opening the door with his young female charge, Bott presented her to Lady Huntington-Smythe.

  ‘Ha!’ she clapped in a congratulatory tone. ‘I told you it would be a Peabody, Bott. I’m surprised it’s not that street urchin Eric, but not surprised at all it’s a Peabody.’

  ‘I’m not even sure what you are accusing me of,’ Elizabeth angrily answered back, stepping forward.

  ‘Quiet, Peabody! I’ll be asking the questions around here,’ snapped Lady Huntington-Smythe.

  ‘Actually,’ interjected Bott. ‘I will be asking the questions around here, so if you could both calm down, we will discuss this in an orderly manner,’ Bott said with authority, sensing a verbal and physical impasse between the two as he moved to stand between them.

  Lady Huntington-Smythe held up a small handwritten piece of notepaper to Elizabeth. Dove must have informed her earlier when Aggie and herself observed them arguing in the school entrance.

  ‘This was found on you by Sister Harvey this morning, was it not?’ the Lady questioned Elizabeth.

  Elizabeth nodded, recognising Aggie’s handwriting and list of breakfast items.

  ‘I knew it. Proof if ever we needed it, Bott,’ she said, punctuating the desk with a rigid index finger.

  ‘Hold on one moment,’ Bott said calmly. ‘Lady Smythe–’

  ‘It’s Huntington-Smythe, thank you,’ she reminded him angrily.

  ‘Lady Huntington-Smythe. You called me here advising you had apprehended a suspect in the robbery of Huntington Hall, correct?’

  ‘Correct,’ she responded quickly.

  ‘And this note is your evidence?’ he questioned.

  ‘Yes, yes. Do keep up, Bott,’ she said sarcastically.

  ‘It’s Sheriff Bott, thank you.’ He took glee in reminding
her of his position. ‘And I am not sure I am keeping up. Please, explain.’

  ‘On this vagrant’s note,’ she continued accentuating with malice. ‘It quite clearly expresses the indulgence of bacon and egg,’ Lady Huntington-Smythe responded, overly pleased with herself, laughing as if the Peabodys could ever afford such luxury.

  Elizabeth listened on bitterly.

  Bott still looked on puzzled.

  ‘Good grief, man. No wonder the smugglers and rogues love this village so much,’ continued Lady Huntington-Smythe criticising the Sheriff. ‘When our stately home was broken into a fortnight ago, we recorded the breaking of our safe, the removal of several highly valuable personal items and –

  here lies the rub, sir -- the theft of dozens of eggs and several sides of pork from our stores!’

  Bott’s face suggested that he finally understood the cloak-and-dagger approach Lady Huntington-Smythe had taken. As a minor revelation finally expressed itself across his face. It was incredulous that first of all, she had demanded his immediate attendance of the school and now the suggestion she had actually apprehended the culprit.

  ‘I see, ma’am,’ he replied unable to conceal an underlying tone of amusement.

  ‘What’s so funny, Bott?’ the Lady angrily inquired.

  ‘Sheriff Bott,’ he reminded her again. ‘I wish you had explained your theories to me prior to your insistence of my presence.’

  ‘I do not see why that was necessary, Sheriff Bott!’ she replied with her voice increasingly getting louder. ‘You know how tongues wag in this village. I wanted to get ahead of this family of thieves before they concocted false alibis.’

  Bott knew all too well how quickly tongues did wag in Ambledown and the irony that the lady herself was the biggest source of malicious gossip was not lost on him.

  ‘This morning, as you may be aware, we pulled a body from Braggan’s Brook,’ he began to explain.

  ‘And … .’ the Lady interrupted impatiently.

  ‘And.’ Bott composed himself. ‘It appears we may have found your egg thief already,’ he replied confidently.

  Lady Huntington-Smythe, whose personal dictionary did not contain the word apology, simply turned her nose up and looked away from both Bott and Elizabeth. Once more she ran her finger across the sill for dust.

  ‘He had the means to steal eggs and conceal them. He also carried a large amount of money about his person. Ill-got gains I would say. That’s little more than a coincidence, Lady Smythe, wouldn’t you?’

  ‘It’s Huntington-Smythe, how many times must I correct you,’ she said becoming increasingly frustrated.

  ‘Which leaves me with a dilemma,’ Bott calmly expressed. ‘If this person was responsible for your break-in, and it’s increasingly looking likely he was, and then suddenly washes up dead, what conclusions can I draw?’ he asked.

  ‘We were not responsible for a dead Braggan!’ she shouted. ‘I wish.’

  ‘Oh, I wasn’t aware anyone had been informed it was a Braggan.’ Bott smiled.

  ‘Well, it’s hardly a secret when the giant clan leader leaves you outside Closet and Cleaves with his mutt, vermin bird and covered in his gold. Is it?’ she snarled.

  Admittedly, Bott knew that people were already gossiping. News, particularly bad news, always spread like wildfire. Even from the moment Lyle had been pulled from the water the whole of Ambledown would be aware within a few hours. Pop would be one of the first to have known and also the Huntington-Smythes.

  ‘I think, considering what we currently know, Miss Peabody has nothing to answer for. Do you?’ Bott suggested, offering a slight wink to Elizabeth behind the lady’s back. ‘In fact, where were you last night Lady Smythe?’ Bott questioned, almost knowingly goading the lady

  Huntington-Smythe didn’t respond. The incredulity took her by surprise. Bott took her unacceptable silence as confirmation Elizabeth had done nothing wrong and showed the elder Peabody the door, following close behind and away from Lady Huntington-Smythe’s imminent fury.

  ‘Tell me, Elizabeth,’ Wilson Bott asked ‘Was that list yours or not?’

  ‘Why does that matter now?’ She replied quickly.

  ‘I understand. You’ve nothing to prove to me,’ Bott concluded. Leaving Elizabeth in the schoolhouse corridors while he headed back to the funeral parlour.

  Elizabeth should have followed him out but concern for Aggie led her back to Sister Harvey’s room. She had promised Gideon to look after her. The room was empty. Dove, Aggie, and Henrietta were gone. She continued scouring the corridors until a whisper greeted her along one of them.

  ‘Pssst, Lizzy,’ came the familiar voice of her younger brother.

  ‘Where are you, Eric?’ she replied looking all around her.

  ‘I’m in the ceilings above,’ he said and laughed.

  Gazing upwards she could just make out an eye from his mischievous little face through a knothole as it peered down on her. ‘What on earth are you doing up there, Eric?’ she said, concerned.

  ‘Dove’s got the girls dusting down and cleaning out lots of old school mem’ribilya. I’m the lackey fetching it from up ’ere. It’s brilliant; treasure everywhere and I can spy on nearly every room,’ he enthused.

  ‘Keep an eye on, Aggie. I don’t trust Henrietta one inch. I best be getting back or McGregor will have poor old Gem trying to lift barrels.’

  ‘Right-O!’ Eric replied, a wink just visible through the dark opening above.

  ‘Oh, and Eric, Henrietta’s mother is in Dove’s office. Be sure “not” to scare her.’

  ‘I’ll definitely “not” do that.’ He laughed as he scurried away making ghostly noises above the ceiling.

  *****

  Gideon directed his torch, and contorted his body in and out of the tumbledown debris, following the occasional illuminated eye that guided his path to a plain wooden door. It glided open easily, unaffected by the surrounding chaos and devastation that had brought down the majority of the eastern quadrant and had ultimately stalled Ilya’s plan, whatever that had been.

  The room he entered had windows on several sides and was on old storage and porter’s room. It was well lit in comparison and full of outcast exhibits. Bell jars with part-stuffed animals, half-jawed skulls of large reptiles, and a large broken tusk of a Narwhal dominating the space. Its primary resident he knew all too well.

  ‘Hello, old friend,’ Gideon mused, staring up at the one-eyed giraffe he had donated to Professor Malcolm to resurrect.

  ‘Don’t suppose you can tell me what went on here can you?’ he said and laughed. A dumb silence from the forlorn creature greeted him as he began to investigate the room.

  The violet torch beam was not as prominent in the subdued natural light but he rotated it around the room nevertheless. The exit door had the final mark of the eye. There was no doubt in Gideon’s mind this had been Ilya’s route in and out. The chaos of fate had dealt the crushing blow to stop him in his escapade. He stepped across scattered exhibits and stumbled as he caught his foot in the tiger skin that was strewn across the floor. He wouldn’t have given it a second look considering the surroundings but his foot was caught in what appeared to be a sleeve. That’s odd, he thought as he unravelled the material that was wrapped around his foot. He held up the skin and immediately it draped into the bedraggled form of the long garment that it actually was. Why would a tiger skin coat be left here? He asked himself. Surely, they were rare and extremely expensive not some throwaway exhibit from yesteryear. He had seen one before, recently in fact. He rifled through the pockets. There was nothing much to show in any of them. Just the quarter-end stub of an unfinished cigarette. He looked closer at it. The filter end had scarlet lipstick on it, no surprises that such a fancy coat belonged to a lady who would wear such rouge, however the filter itself had a small thread of violet silk that ran around the circumference. He took the torch beam and shone it over the end, using the cup of a hand to shroud it in darkness for optimum effect. Within the cigarette tobacc
o small emissions of light, as if minuscule diodes, sparkled and illuminated as they reacted to the ethereal effects of the violet beam.

  ‘This is no coincidence,’ he thought to himself.

  ‘Belchambers!’ came Collingdale’s booming voice from the distance of the Entomology department. ‘Where are you, Professor?’ the noise continued.

  Gideon paused for a while and gathered his thoughts. He did not reply to the Major. Instead, he opened the door emblazoned with the ‘All-seeing eye’ and had a decision to make. Should he take flight or stay and make things right? Should he stay and confess everything of what he knew to Major Collingdale. It would be a lot for the belt and braces man to digest. He paused for a while as Collingdale’s voice disappeared once more.

  He looked down at Ilya’s satchel. ‘So what secrets are you willing to reveal to me?’ he spoke softly to himself.

  *****

  Half an hour had passed as Aggie and Henrietta scrubbed filthy furniture, frames, and pictures at the bequest of Governess Dove.

  ‘Why I should be punished after such an attack is beyond me,’ Huntington-Smythe complained.

  ‘Insubordination, Henrietta!’ Dove confirmed. ‘And I’ll have less of it.’