Hot Buttered Murder

by Carolyn Q. Hunter

  A mewing sound from the dining room shook Sonja out of her deep deductive process.

  Leaning forward and poking her head out of the nook where she had cuddled up with her computer, Sonja noticed Misty sitting at the bottom of the stairs.

  “Misty? What is it boy?”

  His usual quiet meow grew into more of a frustrated yowl as he darted up the staircase.

  Quickly closing her laptop and setting it aside, Sonja ran after the cat. Misty rarely meowed, and even more rarely got upset about things.

  Reaching the top of the stairs, she spotted the cat sitting in front of the attic door. He was staring intently, almost as if he could see through it. The yowling continued, getting more urgent.

  “Is something up there, Misty?” Sonja whispered, stopping next to the ghost and staring at the door herself.

  For some unknown reason, Sonja found herself shaking. A familiar tingle darted up her spine as she considered what could possibly be bothering the cat. The only answer she could come up with was . . . it had to be another ghost.

  With an unstable hand, she reached out for the doorknob, prepared to swing it open and confront whatever was inside.

  CHAPTER 10

  * * *

  “Excuse me, Ma’am,” came a low graveling voice from nearby.

  Sonja nearly jumped out of her skin, letting out a frightened yelp and spinning around with her back to the attic. The cat leapt across the hall and disappeared inside the master bedroom, also scared out of its wits by the unexpected sound of a man’s voice.

  Gram stood there with a slightly amused tweak at the corner of his mouth—the most expression he’s shown all day. “My apologies, Ma’am. I just needed to squeeze by to collect my things from the bedroom.”

  “S-Sorry, Gram. I guess you just spooked me a little is all.”

  Suppressing his growing smile, he gave a little bow. “My sincerest apologies.”

  “It’s no problem, really. Guess I’m just letting my imagination run away with me.” She didn’t bother mentioning how she’d just been studying poisons for murder and contemplating potential ghosts in the old home’s attic.

  “Miss Belinda was also prone to such flights of fancy,” he informed her, stepping past the attic door and into the master bedroom.

  Sonja resented the comment, but didn’t let it show. “I see.”

  “I can hardly blame either one of you, however,” he continued to talk as mulled about the bedroom.

  Sonja, interested in exactly what he meant by that, followed. “You mean because this estate is so old?”

  “These are some of the oldest buildings here in Haunted Falls.” He was carefully and expertly folding up the remainder of his clothing—all black suits and white shirts—and placing them inside of the luggage.

  “Belinda told me that. I guess it belonged to a wealthy family back during the early Edwardian period?”

  “That is true. The Farjeon family was one of the most established and profitable names at the turn of the century. Originally from England, they moved to the Boston countryside for a period of time.”

  Sonja moved into the room and took a seat in the reading chair in the corner. “From England? How did they end up all the way over here in Colorado?”

  “One of the family’s sons had become severely ill with tuberculosis. The doctor’s suggested a change of climate, and one of the premier destinations of health was the Rocky Mountain region.”

  “Here?”

  He nodded. “That is correct. The air here is drier and thinner, and the sun is out more often, creating a better environment for the young man’s recovery.”

  “So, this is where they moved? To Haunted Falls?”

  Grabbing a red jewelry box off the dresser, he slid it neatly into one of the side pockets of the suitcase. “That’s right. They hired the best builders, the best laborers, and the best architects of the time to accompany them out this way to build this estate. Brick by brick, stone by stone, they built this magnificent home.” He gestured toward the window, indicating the daunting and enormous manor house.

  “That must have taken an immense amount of work.”

  “It was. Upon first arriving, they lived in the building that eventually became the carriage house. After that, they moved into this cottage.”

  Sonja’s mind wandered back to the attic, and the way Misty had been acting. Could it be possible that one of the original Farjeon family was hiding upstairs? She wanted to ask if anyone had died in this little house, but didn’t feel it appropriate to interrupt.

  “All the while, materials from all over the world were being shipped in to make the main house a reality. After three years, the entire estate and gardens were complete and the family moved into their new home.” He finished zipping up his suitcase and then lifted it so it was upright.

  “And what happened to the family?” Sonja pressed, wanting him to continue. If there was a dark history present in this home, she wanted to know about it.

  “They lived happily here for many years. The young man’s health improved significantly and he enjoyed his marriage to another wealthy young woman.”

  “A Smith?”

  “No, the Smith’s didn’t arrive here until sometime later.”

  “What happened in between? I mean, when did the Farjeon’s stop owning the estate?”

  “During the nineteen-seventies, the family had begun struggling with finances. They had been in the horse business originally, back in Boston, and then switched to automobiles. However, they simply couldn’t keep the venture alive. Finally, when one of the young men of the family disappeared, things truly fell apart.”

  “Wait, one of the men disappeared?”

  “While they wouldn’t admit it outwardly, the truth was that the man had run off with one of the staff members. With this shame hanging over the family, eventually, they were forced to abandon the estate.”

  “No one bought it?”

  “It sat up here at the top of the mountain, vacant, for some time. Finally, when Mr. Smith arrived and bought up the estate, he put the money into having it restored and updated to the condition you see it in today. He got it listed on the national historic register so that it would always remain the way it was intended to be.”

  Now, Sonja understood a bit more of what Belinda had shared. “Were there no deaths here? I mean, you said Belinda was prone to fantasies?”

  “There were no violent deaths here, but both family members and servants alike have died on this property if that’s what you’re asking.”

  “It is,” Sonja confirmed, standing up from the chair.

  The butler lifted the suitcase, prepared to walk out with it. “No, but old houses always seem to have an energy all their own. I think Miss Belinda sensed that.”

  Sonja thought it was odd the way he used Belinda’s name, talking about her almost as if she were dead. “Gram, no one happened to die in the attic, did they?” she pressed, feeling all too silly for even asking.

  The older gentleman furrowed his brow and twisted his lip. Sonja couldn’t tell if it was a look of confusion, judgment, or irritation.

  “Well?”

  “In the attic? Why, of course not. At least not that I’m aware.”

  “I understand.”

  “Just like Miss Belinda, you truly have let your imagination run wild,” he scolded, stepping through the door and out into the hall.

  CHAPTER 11

  * * *

  Sonja didn’t get another chance to look in the attic before dinner at seven. Both the butler and the maid were in and out of the cottage house, taking care of things little-by-little, until they had all but cleared out any personal belongings. Sonja now had the freedom to make the old servant’s residence her permanent home.

  The sun had all but set, leaving only a dim orange light in the distant sky, and Sonja turned on a small table lamp.

  Continuing her unpacking, Sonja came across the box with her tarot deck in it. She had traveled down to Denver, t
o a metaphysical shop, specifically to pick up the deck. Frank had come along so they could grab dinner and see a play at the performing arts center. Afterwards, they had done a little shopping, and while Frank looked around at a three-story bookstore, Sonja snuck two blocks down to the shop.

  There had been an entire wall of decks, but Sonja had settled on an autumn themed one. All the art had fall leaves, pumpkins, cornucopias, black cats, and more. She purchased it, hid it away in her purse, and met Frank back at the bookstore like she had never left. To make things look even more casual, she picked up a random mystery novel to read and purchased it. Thankfully, Frank assumed she’d been looking at the mystery section the entire time.

  Holding the deck in her hand again, she felt a familiar excitement pumping through her veins. Despite having had the cards for the past two months, she still hadn’t had the chance to use it. She’d read the included booklet about what each of the cards might mean, but never quite felt comfortable enough to do a reading.

  She glanced toward the stairway again and thought about Misty’s strange behavior earlier that same day.

  Maybe the attic was the perfect place to try doing a reading for the very first time.

  A knock came on the front door, making Sonja jump again. “Come in.”

  The door opened and it was the butler. “Dinner is ready, Ma’am.”

  * * *

  “You guys really didn’t need to go to all this trouble,” Sonja told the butler and the maid when she had finished eating the meal in the enormous dining room. While the meal had been magnificent—whole roasted duck marinated in lemon and thyme, butter mashed potatoes, gravy made from the drippings, lightly toasted greens, and crème brulee for desert—she’d felt a little odd sitting at the end of such a long table. In fact, because the servants had served the meal by candle and firelight alone, she could hardly even see the opposite end of the room.

  “It only seemed right to welcome you to your new home with a hot meal,” the maid noted, smiling for the first time that day. It was clear that Grendel got great joy from cooking delicious food, something Sonja could heartily agree with. “Besides, Miss Belinda said to make you as happy and comfortable as possible.”

  Sonja felt even worse, only wishing Belinda hadn’t decided to let them go. “Well, that’s very kind of you, but I certainly don’t expect it. I tried to tell Gram not to worry about it.”

  “If you had refused us, you would have only been hurting our feelings,” she responded. “Isn’t that right?” she asked, turning to the butler.

  “Positively,” he agreed in a less-than-convincing tone.

  Sonja gave a timid shrug. “I guess, to me, it all seems a little unfair.”

  “We don’t hold it against Miss Belinda, changing her mind and all,” Grendel started in. She was quickly interrupted by the grumbling cough of the butler, clearly his discreet way of silencing her from saying anything else. “Oh, excuse me. I spoke out of turn,” the maid noted.

  “Wait, what exactly did you mean, changing her mind?”

  “Did you enjoy the food?” the maid asked, not so tactfully changing the subject. Sonja decided to let it slide for the time being.

  “It was magnificent, one of the finest meals I’ve ever eaten.”

  Grendel beamed with delight. Her behavior had made quite the change from when Sonja had first arrived.

  “We’ll take the dishes down,” the butler offered, taking the plate and silverware and making a speedy exit. He shot a glance at the maid, telling her she needed to come along.

  “I think I better help,” she said, taking the cue.

  “Wait,” Sonja protested quietly, placing a hand on her arm.

  “Yes? Are you still hungry?”

  “No, not at all. I’m stuffed to the brim. Everything was delicious.”

  “Ma’am, I really am very glad you enjoyed the meal, but I should be getting downstairs.”

  “What about Belinda? What did she change her mind about?”

  The maid’s smile slowly faded. “Look, Miss Sonja. As far as I’m concerned, as long as we’re here, you’re the new mistress of the house. However, there are just things I shouldn’t say.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I should not and will not talk about Miss Belinda. It would be out of turn.” Sonja knew the maid wasn’t about to give up so easily.

  Unfortunately, Sonja never got to ask her next question. A loud gong-like noise filled the room.

  “That’ll be the doorbell. I better answer it,” Grendel took the opportunity for escape and bolted to the main hall.

  Who could be here at this time of night? Sonja found herself wondering.

  Too curious to just sit around and wait for the guest to be introduced, she hurried along to the side door of the dining room and cracked it open.

  “Where is she?” a low, male voice demanded.

  “Excuse me, Mr. Daniels, but you can’t just come barging into this home.”

  “Where is Belinda? I’m going to talk some sense into her.”

  Instantly, despite the amount of time that had passed, Sonja recognized the figure who had shoved his way inside. It was Kirk Daniels, the Smith family’s former assistant. After both Belinda’s father and step-mother passed away, she had let the man go. He was no longer needed, in her estimation—not to mention his uncontrollable temper was a blight on the staff.

  Daniels, of course, had claimed he quit. In either case, he had disappeared from Haunted Falls and not been seen again.

  “Mr. Daniels. You do not work here anymore, and you do not have a place here in this home. I must ask you to please leave.”

  “I’m not going anywhere until I get to see Belinda. She can’t just write us all off like this.”

  Sonja couldn’t stand by and listen to this anymore, not when he was verbally attacking the maid. “If I am not mistaken, Mr. Daniels, Belinda wrote you off over two years ago,” Sonja announced, stepping out of the dining room and using his own words against him. She folded her arms defensively.

  “Who the heck are you?” he shouted, clearly not remembering her.

  “Miss Sonja, please let me handle this. You shouldn’t have to deal with this man,” the maid said.

  “Sonja? Sonja Reed?” he stomped forward until he stood face to face with the young red-haired woman. “So, you’re the one who is stealing all of this out from under us.”

  “I am taking over the estate at Belinda’s request. That is true. I am not stealing it, though,” she argued.

  “How dare you? You get all buddy, buddy with Belinda and the next thing you know, you’re in charge of the house and grounds. I bet you planned it this way.”

  “Mr. Daniels, please,” the maid broke in.

  “Stay out of this, Grendel. You always were a push-over.”

  “Kirk,” Sonja demanded, using the man’s first name, “this is currently my property and my home. Belinda has left me in charge of it, and therefore you need to leave.”

  “I have every right to be here. I’m owed some portion of this monstrosity.”

  “I highly doubt that.”

  Mr. Daniels looked back at the maid. “Are you and Gram okay with this? Don’t tell me you’re just catering to these whims.”

  “This is Miss Belinda’s decision, and we have to respect that.”

  “You can’t be serious,” he snapped.

  Grendel stomped her foot, creating a surprisingly loud echo through the hall. “Mr. Daniels. What could it possibly matter? You were written out years ago, when you quit, as per the stipulation in the will.”

  The will.

  Those words stuck like glue in Sonja’s mind. What could that possibly mean?

  “I didn’t quit. I was fired.”

  “That’s not what you said two years ago,” the maid retorted.

  “Well, it’s the truth.”

  “Whether you were fired or you quit, the clause is the same.”

  “Not if I can help it. I’ve got a very good lawyer
and he can argue against these ridiculous changes.”

  “Excuse me? What does the will have to do with anything? Belinda hasn’t died, as far as I know,” Sonja pointed out.

  “You stay out of this, woman,” Daniels barked.

  “Kirk, you may not remember me, but I remember you. I also remember your terrible temper and poor attitude. Belinda fired you years ago. Now, I believe I asked you to leave my property this instant.”

  “You have no say here,” he tried to argue.

  “Grendel, please place a call to the sheriff. Ask him to come up here immediately.”

  “Right away, Ma’am,” the maid agreed, rushing into the study.

  This caused Daniels to pause, his nostrils flaring in anger. “Fine. You win this round, but it isn’t over. You’ll be hearing from my lawyer.” With an angry wave of his arm, he stomped off through the front door and disappeared into the night.

  Sonja let out a sigh of relief.

  CHAPTER 12

  * * *

  After the ordeal in the main hall, Sonja felt slightly light headed and decided she needed to sit down. The library, with its plush chairs and floor to ceiling bookshelves, seemed like the best option. Snuggling down on the settee, she lay back and closed her eyes. The one thing besides food that brought Sonja comfort was books. Just being around them made her happier.

  “Are you okay, Sonj’?” Frank asked, suddenly entering the library.

  Sonja realized she’d been dozing and hadn’t even heard the doorbell.

  “Yeah, I’m fine. I texted you, you didn’t need to come up. Kirk Daniels is gone.”

  “I at least had to come and see if you were okay.”

  “You’ve always been such a worry wart,” she teased him.

  “Also, I wanted to do a little walk-through on the grounds and make sure he really left.”

  Sitting up from her relaxed position, she looked Frank in the eye. “You think he didn’t leave?”

  “I don’t know for sure. I just wanted to double check. If I remember correctly, Kirk Daniels is a bit of a firecracker.”