Dragon's Touch (Book 1 Linty Dragon Series)

by J. M. Griffin

  His heavy mustache bristled and seemed to flutter as would bird wings, while Aunt Elizabeth gently pulled Uncle Charles away. He glared at the solicitor with cold eyes, though Smythe seemed unbothered by it.

  My father shooed him away like a pesky gnat and said to Mr. Smythe, “Good man, you’re right, of course. Linty must still be suffering from jet lag and sadness over the loss of Mother. They were very close. I apologize for our actions, and will take my leave now.” He came toward me, gave me a light embrace and whispered, “If you need anything, call me.”

  I gave him a quick nod and watched him walk away. My father was the last person I’d call upon, though he was a good man. Close to me? Never. He’s been too flighty to settle in one place for long, which meant I’d spent the better part of my life in private schools so he’d be free to wander. I’d have lived with Gran, but for some reason that discussion had been prohibited. If the two of them ever discussed my living on the estate, I was unaware of it. On vacations and other visits, I’d never asked if I could move in for fear of being rebuffed. In the end, I simply treasured the time I could stay with Gran and the dragons.

  My mother had passed away when I was three years old. I had no strong memories of her, and no one had talked about her, either. My philosophy concerning that loss was you couldn’t miss what you never had. Though I was somewhat envious when other schoolmates had visits from their parents, especially their mothers, I had Gran waiting for me here, and that was good enough.

  My aunt and uncle took their leave shortly after my father drove off. Smythe and Vaughn, who both lingered as if they had unfinished business, assumed the other would leave first. I’d had enough squabbling for one day and wasn’t about to put up with much more nonsense, so I asked them both to sit down and offered them a glass of whiskey.

  Smythe glanced at his watch. I laughed and said, “It must be five o’clock in the afternoon somewhere in the world, right?”

  Both men grinned and acknowledged a drink would be fine. I handed out glasses of whiskey, stared into my glass of amber-colored liquid and then toasted Essie. “To my Gran, may she rest in peace and not be too disappointed in this family.”

  A chuckle and a “hear, hear” met my words and we all slugged down the strong liquor. I asked if they’d like a second and was assured they didn’t. I took a seat across from the men and said, “Apparently you both have something to say, so get on with it. I have things to attend to and can’t sit around all day.”

  Smythe glanced at Vaughn and then looked at me. “You may have a bit of a fight on your hands, Linty. Rest assured, the will can’t be broken, but the three of them, your father, Charles and Elizabeth can make the situation uncomfortable for you should you decide to stay on. I want you to know that Essie was serious when she wrote them out of ownership, and she was most adamant about your getting the lion’s share of her fortune.”

  My spine stiffened and I straightened up in the chair. “How much money are you talking about?” I asked softly.

  “Millions of pounds,” he answered.

  I could feel my mouth hang open and my eyes felt as though they’d bug out as I stared disbelievingly at the man. “Wh-what?”

  “Didn’t you know how wealthy Essie was?” Smythe asked.

  “No, money was never discussed. I thought she was financially comfortable, but again, money was not up for discussion. Gran always said it was in poor taste to discuss money matters. I do know my father has a trust fund he lives off of.” I snickered. Both men glanced at one another as if they weren’t sure whether my marbles had gone missing, and they said nothing.

  “It’s just that my father has never worked a day in his life, so he has always lived off his trust fund. I once heard Gran tell Dad that he’d have to manage his funds well, since she refused to give him any more money. The conversation went downhill from there, and I left the room while the going was good.”

  Smythe nodded with understanding. “Yes, yes, she did tell me that. Once the will is read, how do you plan to handle your family?”

  I shrugged and said I hadn’t thought about it.

  As he leaned forward, rested his elbows on his knees and lightly clasped his hands together, Vaughn exclaimed, “I’m glad to know you will be the dragon keeper, Linty, but you’d better give some thought to how touchy your family will be over Essie’s appointment of you.”

  I hesitated, wondering if I should tell them of Gran’s letter. Surely Mr. Smythe wouldn’t have harmed Gran, let alone kill her. With a deep breath, I figured I’d better be open about it and said, “I know. My grandmother left a letter for me with Mrs. Douglas. Gran says she was murdered by someone. Do you know anything about that, Mr. Smythe?”

  Smythe gave a start. Cullen sat back with a dangerous gleam in his narrowed eyes.

  In a dither, Smythe asked, “Could I see the letter?”

  “I take it that you weren’t aware of it, then?” I sighed, got up and pulled the letter from the desk drawer. I gave them the page where she surmised she’d been poisoned and knew her death was imminent.

  The sheet of paper was passed to and fro, turned sideways as each man read my scribbled notes in the margins. Finally they handed it back to me.

  As I took it from Smythe, he said, “Nothing showed up in the toxicity screen when Essie’s blood was drawn at the hospital. If she was murdered, and I’m not sure she was, then how was she poisoned? The blood work would surely have shown abnormalities.”

  While he spoke, I could see Cullen’s head slightly move back and forth, as though there was an internal conversation going on. I asked, “What do you think, Cullen?”

  “You could be right, she must have figured it out and wrote it to you privately so as not to appear as though she’d gone round the bend. Keep the information safe and to yourself, Linty,” Cullen warned without addressing Smythe’s remarks.

  “There’s more, but I haven’t figured out the remainder of her ramblings and handwriting. Should I get to it, I’ll let you both know. Could you have the lab run a second set of tests for me? More in-depth than the last one, maybe look for other things a simple test wouldn’t pick up?”

  As Smythe rose from the sofa, he rubbed his forehead with his fingertips. “This is quite distressing, Linty. I’ll stop by the hospital and ask about the tests, if you’re certain there should more. Do keep me up to date, won’t you? I must leave, I have appointments this afternoon, you understand. I’ll see you first thing tomorrow morning. Until then, stay calm and don’t allow anyone to intrude on your time.” He gave me a slight nod and left.

  We watched him close the door. Vaughn turned to me. “Linty, be careful. You’re about to fall under enormous pressure that I’m not sure you’re ready to handle.”

  “All I know is that I’m exhausted and when that happens, I get cranky. If you don’t mind, I could use some alone time right about now, but thanks for the warning.” I turned to the dragons and wandered over to them.

  “I’ll let you rest then, but I’ll be back to take you to dinner around seven. Be ready,” Cullen ordered.

  I glanced up, gave him an amused look and said, “What are you, my bodyguard?”

  He dipped his head. “Until everything is straightened out, yes, I am.” With that terse remark, he walked out the door without a backward glance.

  I sighed, wished I was in any position other than this one, and smoothed my fingers over Drake’s scales. “You know what’s going on, don’t you?”

  “We’ll deal with it together. No fears.”

  Golden eyes glowed with fire, a tiny tendril of smoke wafted from his nostrils. Staring at the gorgeous creature, I stepped back. How would we manage that? I shook my head and walked away.

  I called to Mrs. Douglas that I planned to take a nap, and marched up the stairs, once again noting the complaint of the fifth step. Hopefully by the weekend, after everyone left me on my own, I’d fix that tread once and for all.

  Chapter 5

  Rest was the last thing that would happe
n as I flopped onto the soft mattress and closed my eyes while thoughts rushed to take the place of sleep. Who had killed Gran and why? How had it been done? Why hadn’t the poison shown up in the lab tests? What was Cullen’s real interest here? Would he try to wrest the dragons from me? Would Charles and Elizabeth do the same? What was Smythe’s stake in it all? The man seemed unwavering in his belief that if Gran had been poisoned, the toxicology screen would have noted it. While he hadn’t dismissed the possibility, he hadn’t embraced it either. He’d worked on her behalf for so long, why would he take such an attitude?

  Annoyed to think I had all these questions, no feasible answers, and jet lag to top it off, I remained wide awake. Thoughts of the key, for the locked door at the end of the corridor, popped into my head. I swung my legs over the side of the bed and went in search of it. From the look of the door set, the key would undoubtedly be an old fashioned one. Where would Gran have kept it?

  In her room, I sat at her dressing table, slowly gazed at the dresser, the pictures on the walls and any possible place she could have tucked a skeleton key. With a hefty measure of guilt over poking through things that had belonged to Gran, I took a deep breath, threw caution to the wind and justified my actions that by finding the key, I might find her killer. Satisfied with that justification I realized everything here belonged to me now anyway.

  Tiny dresser drawers were packed with oddments that looked to be ages old. Victorian hair combs, filigree brooches, bits of ribbon and such, filled three of them. I felt underneath each drawer in case the key was secured there. Nothing. I’d gone through four more drawers when I decided to take them out of the dresser completely. Still nothing. Damn. Disappointed, I slid them back in place and rifled through the closet.

  Old and new clothing neatly hung on padded hangers. A few fancy dresses, harking back to days of old, were set at one end of the closet while slacks and shirts filled the rest of it. I smiled as I realized I hadn’t seen this type of hanger in years, but they fit Gran’s personality perfectly.

  The depth of the closet was more walk-in style than any of the others in the house. I searched the shelves, found old hat boxes filled with memorabilia, rather than hats, and several dust covered photo albums. I tossed the albums onto the floor for later viewing and slowly turned full circle, searching the walls for a small hook that held a key. Again, I was disappointed. I gathered the albums and shut the closet door.

  Bundled in my arms, the thick leather-bound books grew heavy as I made my way downstairs. I stumbled onto the sofa when Mrs. Douglas surprised me by entering the room on silent feet. My pulse raced and my fluster must have shown because she smiled and said she’d be going home. I said goodbye and watched as she left the same way she’d come in.

  At the door, she turned, gave the books a quick, but strange glance and then said she’d be back in the morning. I smiled, offered a slight wave and wondered at her reaction. Was there a secret I shouldn’t know? Had I become completely barmy to think there was danger here other than Gran’s demise? Good golly, if I wasn’t careful, my relatives would try to commit me to the nearest funny farm.

  Uncertain over what had happened to Gran, a slew of questions had become my newfound friends. I didn’t like it one bit and poured a glass of wine, chugged it down like water, and poured a second. I picked up the glass, decided sipping was healthier than chugging, and headed back to the living room.

  All was calm and quiet, Drake soothed me by merely being nearby. I spread the books out over the coffee table, checking to see if they were labeled by date. The earliest book of the bunch was encased in dark brown leather, edged in gold, and was heavy. I hauled it onto my lap, crossed my legs and settled in to view the photos.

  My mother and father stood arm-in-arm. She was a tall woman with a great smile, brown hair and green eyes, and had a happy expression on her face. I realized how much I resembled her and was nearly her height. My father looked about the same as he did now, but without the wrinkles and slackness added to his skin. His hair was darker than my mother’s and his blue eyes were filled with happiness. Words scrawled underneath were in Gran’s handwriting and were brief to say the least. Just their names and the date the photo was taken. It was four years before I was born. I studied the picture, wondering what my mother was like. The brief description left me feeling that Gran hadn’t thought much of her, though she’d never said as much.

  I flipped through the next few pages, realized many of the people were strangers to me, but then, I hadn’t been born yet, either. After I’d arrived and my mother had passed on, I’d lived at the estate until I was old enough to go to boarding school and hadn’t been included in the close family circle due to my father’s inability to be a family man, but an adventurer instead. I’d had a nanny until I reached school age and then I was packed off to St. Augustine’s private school in Boston.

  By the end of the first album, I’d become a tad pensive. How much family life had I missed? A lot, I guessed from browsing the pages of our history. Anger, an unusual state of affairs for me, simmered alongside a goodly amount of resentment. According to the descriptions and names of those in the pictures, I knew this was my kin, how could my father have prevented me from knowing about this proud family? The next couple of books were filled with old photos of hunting parties, fish caught and held up for display, and crowds of folks lounging on the property, dressed in party attire. No one had ever spoken of these events, and the more I browsed the photos, the more cheated I felt.

  I slumped back against the sofa pillows and slid the book from my lap. Had my life been so bad? Hadn’t I met people from all over the world and made fast friends with them? I’d been invited to spend long weekends with families of publishing magnates, senators, and film stars in places like New York, Chicago, and Los Angeles. I’d even gone to the Cayman Islands and stayed at a Congressman’s estate with his daughter for a few weeks on a spring break from Harvard. Would I have had those opportunities if I’d been here on the estate my entire life? Likely not, but would Drake and I have become closer? Could I have been more aware of what was truly happening to Gran if I’d lived with her, or if my father hadn’t been such a wanderer and we’d been a real family? Eventually, I’d ask those questions and see what his answers would be.

  The mantel clock struck the hour and was joined by a rap on the door. I jumped off the sofa, sent books flying and knew Cullen had arrived. Shit, I wasn’t ready. I looked down at my clothes, saw my disarray and wished I’d been more cognizant of the time.

  When a second rap sounded, I rushed over and invited Cullen in. His eyes took in my attire, a displeased look crossed his features, and I said, “Don’t get upset, I’ll be right back.”

  I left him standing in the doorway, while I raced upstairs, freshened up and threw on a dress that I’d left hanging in the closet the last time I’d visited Gran. Thankful for small reprieves, I combed my hair, ran lipstick over my lips and stood gawking in the mirror for a moment. This would have to do.

  He flipped through page after page of photos as I descended. His attention seemed especially intent upon one or two photos. Before I could get a gander at them, he closed the book and turned to me, a smile lifting the corners of his mouth. It seemed I passed muster and was glad of it.

  We’d left the property behind and careened over the narrow road. At one point, I gripped the armrest and said, “Do you think we’ll arrive at our destination safely, or do you always drive like a madman?”

  He glanced over, gave me a cool grin and said, “If you hadn’t been tardy, we’d be on time.”

  Okay, so I’d been reprimanded, big deal. I shrugged and stared out the passenger side window. “No need to get your knickers in a twist.”

  “If you’d have been ready as I asked, we wouldn’t be rushed,” he remarked.

  Still feeling bitchy over my father’s lifestyle, and how it had affected mine, I took my irritation out on Cullen.

  “If waiting was too much of an imposition for you, why not t
ake me back home and leave me to my own devices for the evening?”

  Tension filled the car. I’d been cranky to the one person who’d treated me well since I’d arrived, other than Mrs. Douglas, that is. Contrite, I murmured, “Sorry, just tired. Where are we going for dinner?”

  “I think you’re more than tired, but we can discuss that later. Tonight you and I are on a fact-finding mission, so get your head together and pay attention. A man named Arwin Perkell will be the guest of honor at a dinner party. Listen to what he says when he has conversations with others. You’re an unknown at the party, attractive, and well spoken. He’ll find you interesting, especially since you are assumed to be the new dragon keeper.”

  He thought I was attractive? Really? The rest of his words slowly sank in, and I gaped at him as he smoothly negotiated a sharp curve in the road that led into a deep valley, where an enormous mansion loomed, imposing on the entire area.

  Windows blazed with light, cars were strewn willy-nilly across the estate in a haphazard manner. Apparently no one cared who parked on the lawn or where they left their cars. I imagined how the grounds keeper might cringe in the morning when he had to groom the property to return it to a pristine condition.

  We left the car near the edge of the grounds, sauntered across crushed stone, and walked into an ostentatious vestibule that made me gasp. Gilded walls reminded me of mansions that I’d seen on a tour of Newport, Rhode Island. Velvet furnishings were accentuated by petite marble-topped tables, and rich tapestries hung everywhere.

  I felt the grip of Cullen’s hand tighten on my arm as he whispered, “Show time. Keep your wits about you and don’t gasp again.” He turned to the man on his left, who ogled me as I stepped back, and gave him a cool smile. “Good evening, George.”