by Adam Drake
Snatching my pistol off the kitchen table I went into the sitting room which I kept it in complete dark. I sat in the big easy chair in the far corner. From here I would detect if the intruder returned. And I'd be ready.
The cat paced up and down the hallway, making stressful warbling noises. Soon, it calmed a little and padded over. The large feline flopped onto the rug at my feet and stretched out.
I contemplated going up the lane to the Elderbright's residence, who had a phone, to call the Constabulary. But that would have required me getting dressed and stumbling around the dark with a potential murderer skulking in the trees. And I did not think my new friend would have any of that nonsense.
With the loaded rifle across my lap I fought against my tired body and waited for the morning sun.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
I woke to the sound of knocking at my front door.
Bleary-eyed I looked around the room. My large guardian was gone. Apparently satisfied that my safety was not in question it had returned to the knitting bag. I stood with an audible creak from my bones and waddled to the front door. With the rifle at the ready, I opened it.
Fairfax was standing there, smiling and holding a tin of biscuits. The smile vanished when he saw my state and the rifle in my hands.
“By the Gods, Mayra! What happened? Are you all right?”
I waved a dismissive hand, but was still touched by his concern. “Nothing an old woman like me couldn't handle, along with the help of an immense cat.”
At his confused expression I chuckled. “I'm okay, Fairfax, I promise.”
As I told him what happened his face became more and more grim. When I finished Fairfax did not match my gaze. This appeared to affect him more than it did me.
He said, “You should have called the Constabulary. I would have come right away.”
“Agreed. But I had little choice now didn't I? Come now, let's go inside and I can put on proper detective clothing. Morning wear doesn't help with interrogations.”
While I dressed in the bedroom, Fairfax paced around the house, checking and rechecking the latches on the windows and grumbling to himself. He even walked the perimeter of the yard looking at every leaf and blade of grass.
Once I was ready I emerged with my satchel over a shoulder and met him outside.
“Let us check the woods further back,” Fairfax said. “He may have left tracks or something of note.”
I would have pointed out such an effort was useless but acquiesced. He was upset he had not been present to protect me. For that I could entertain a short jaunt through the woods. “Very, well, Constable,” I said with a smile. “Lead the way.”
My property bordered a nature preserve which was a polite way to describe land that no one wanted to buy. Thick with trees and underbrush it had thwarted my last adventurous attempts to hike through it. Instead, I went to the park a few minutes away. This time the forest did not yield its secrets any easier than before.
After several minutes I lost my patience. “Fairfax, I do not think we will find anything in this mess. Let us return.”
“Just a little further,” Fairfax said, soldiering on. It was as if the branches and brambles did not exist to him, pushing through relentlessly. I wondered if I should be concerned. Was this more than hurt pride?
Fairfax stopped and crouched. “There,” he said in a hushed voice. “Up ahead. Do you see?”
I tottered up beside him and put a hand on his broad shoulder to steady myself on the uneven ground. Looking where he pointed I saw a cave or entranceway in a hillside.
“Let us take a closer look,” Fairfax said and moved forward, pistol in hand.
“What if there is a bear?” I said, taking my pistol out of the satchel.
“Then you can summon a bear-eating cat,” Fairfax said, and I caught the profile of a grin on his face.
We approached at an angle to get a better look. Then Fairfax stood straight and frowned. “It's a sewer grate.”
The round cave contained the concrete workings of a sewage tunnel entrance. A large grate barred any access. A foul smelling trickle of water seeped out of it and into the ground.
“Well,” I said. “That was anticlimactic.”
A huge old padlock was secured to the grate. Fairfax pointed at it. “Can one of your friends do something with this?”
“What? And go prancing through the sewers? I don't think so, Fairfax.” But at his expression I sighed and looked at the knitting bag's clasp. It was wooden. “Sorry,” I said. “They do not want to come out to play.”
Fairfax looked at the muddy ground just outside the concrete entrance. “No boot marks. There are animal tracks but little else.” He stood and glowered at the sewer grate. “I'm willing to bet he came through this.”
I shrugged. “Maybe he did. But I will admit it is good to know that this thing is here. And perhaps a little disconcerting.” Very disconcerting. A secret highway for robbers and thugs that spits out onto my backyard. I wondered how extensive the sewer network was.
“Okay,” Fairfax said. “Let's return, shall we?”
As we shuffled back to the house Fairfax asked, “He tried to shoot at you with a pistol. But the cat blocked it. Right?”
“Yes, that's right,” I wheezed. This hiking was for younger people, that was a certainty.
“Why didn't he try to turn you to stone with the Talon? Why switch to a pistol now?”
That was a good question and one I had not considered. After a few moments thought I said, “Most artifacts and relics need time to recharge their magic. My guess is the Talon was not ready to be used again, hence the pistol.”
Fairfax said, “Then based on the rough time frames when Elicia and Oswall were stoned maybe it can only be used once a day. Or after a long stretch of hours.”
“Sounds reasonable, Fairfax, but we cannot know for certain. We should consider it usable at any time.”
At the buggy we took a rest. I leaned against the hood and panted like an old hound dog returning from a hunt.
“Where to this morning?” Fairfax said as he eyed our surroundings.
“I had time to mull things over last night,” I said. “There is a definite connection between the museum burglary and Elicia.”
“And what is that?”
“Not a what. A who,” I said and opened the buggy's passenger door. “Come, Fairfax. We have one more interview which may finally result in a solid lead.”
xxxx
A fog had fallen across the Hearts District making driving more of a chore. But we located the Hubertus residence after I convinced Fairfax to stop and ask for directions from a clockworks toy seller at the roadside.
The Hubertus home was a narrow townhouse quite like Elicia's only theirs was painted a bright yellow from ground to roof. Pasha Hubertus was no doubt responsible for the choice in color.
“My eyes hurt if I look at it too long,” Fairfax said as we parked and got out.
“We need to be on our best behavior with these two,” I said as we climbed the stairs. “There are questions that may put an end to this, and they have the answers. So, if asked, you love the color.”
Fairfax sighed and followed.
The moment I rapped on the door it flew open. Pasha stood in the doorway, a flummoxed look on her face. She had forgone blue for today and instead wore an outfit of eye-shattering green.
“This cannot be good,” Pasha said. Her eyes darted between Fairfax and I.
“Mrs. Hubertus, we have follow-up questions for you and your husband. Is Mr. Hubertus here?” I said.
For a moment Pasha appeared to be trying to decide on whether to slam the door. Instead, she turned her head and bellowed, “Win! Those coppers are back!”
“Who?” Winimar called from the bowels of the house.
“Coppers!” She looked at us, eyes contorted with suspicion.
“Well, ask them in for tea!” Winimar said.
Pasha's stern expression transformed into a bright and happy
smile. “We've put tea on. Would you like some?”
This woman runs hot and cold, I thought. Her husband must be perpetually scatter-shot.
I thanked her and we entered the tiny foyer. After slamming the door Pasha led us through a hall into a kitchen. Winimar was sitting at a table hunched over a newspaper.
As we entered he said, “Looking for a new job. These want ads are for the dogs.”
Pasha waved at the table for us to take a chair. I sat but Fairfax opted to stand to one side of me. He was on his guard and was ready to draw his pistol in an instant. I had told him I was uncertain whether the Hubertus couple had anything to do with the murders. How they answered my questions would decide that.
Winimar pointed at the newspaper. “The only jobs in here worth looking at are for people with clockwork skills. That's not for me. I have enough trouble attaching rock lights to their clamps, let alone messing with little gears and pulleys.”
“Your fingers are too fat, Win,” Pasha said as she prepared tea at the counter. I kept an eye on what her hands were doing.
“Maybe I'll just shovel coal,” Winimar said. “Always need people to do that. Don't last long on the job, but at least it pays.”
I offered a commiserating smile then said, “Mr. Hubertus I was wondering if you could tell us how you got the job at the High Garden Museum?”
Pasha caused a small clatter with the dishes.
Winimar said, “Oh, yes. That was a bit of luck on my part, really. Didn't even need to look through the paper. It sort of landed in my lap.”
When he did not elaborate I asked, “Yes, but how? Was it offered to you or did you apply?”
Pasha turned, her tea task forgotten. “What does that have to do with anything? What's it matter how someone got a job?”
Winimar looked surprised at Pasha's outburst. “Pash, dear. It's okay.” He looked at me. “Turned out I have a family connection with favors he could call on. Really high up in the government. Makes things so much easier for a little fellow like me when you know someone, well, in the know.”
“A family connection with the museum?” I said.
“Well, not the museum. He just has influence enough in town that he can get things done with little bother.”
“Who is this family connection?”
“My cousin,” Winimar said. “He knew I was out of work, having lost my job with the sewage department due to them closing down large sections of the tunnels. And like an angel he appeared and said he had the perfect job for me. At the museum. Never been there in my life, have I Pash? And yet the very next day I was on the job, making rounds and earning a salary better than the sewage department could ever offer.”
I casually slid my hand into my satchel. “And who is your cousin, exactly?”
He looked between myself and Fairfax as if the answer was obvious. “Why, his name's Davlon. Davlon Blythe.”
A volcano of emotion surged within me, roiling through my body and threatened to explode. I heard Fairfax grind his teeth.
Winimar, for his sake, looked baffled at our reaction. “Don't you know him? Works for Mayor Archambault, he does. His right-hand man.”
I made a tremendous effort not to scream. Instead, I took a breath and asked, “Once you were working at the museum did Mr. Blythe ask you for any favors in return?”
“Just one,” Winimar said. “And it wasn't a very big favor either, if you ask me. He only wanted me to tell him when new objects and things arrived from the Capital. Figured I'd be the first to know since I had the run of the place.”
When neither I nor Fairfax said anything more Winimar looked worried. “Am I in more trouble now?”
Pasha swatted her husband with a spoon and said, “Told you this would be no good.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Erring on the side of caution, we brought both Winimar and Pasha to the Constabulary to be held for further questioning as a pretext. I did not think there was much else they might offer in the way of information but it kept them from warning Blythe that we were looking for him.
Once the Hubertus couple were tucked away Fairfax and I drove straight to the mayor's offices located at the Town Hall.
“Should we confront him directly?” Fairfax asked. He was eager to collar Blythe.
“Let's give it a few hours, I want to watch him and see what he does,” I said. “We might learn something. When the Winimar and Pasha are released we can question him.
Fairfax glowered. “We still have no direct evidence to him and the killings. Not unless he has the Talon on his person or spits out an admission of guilt.”
I didn't disagree. What little we had to hang on Blythe was minor to the point of being laughable. Yet, I still wanted a chance to observe the man, now he was our prime suspect.
The plan was to stake out the mayor's office from a distance and follow Blythe when he left. But when we arrived at the Town Hall the place was locked. There was no sign of the mayor's big white car which meant Blythe was driving it around somewhere at that moment.
Fairfax stopped the buggy next to a gardener tending to the bushes next to the building and asked him why it was closed.
“Strangest thing,” the gardener said, wiping sweat from his brow. “Mayor declared today a holiday. Told everyone to go home. Not me though, I chose to stay 'cause work still needs to get done, holiday or not.”
“Holiday for what?” I asked.
The gardener shrugged. “Beats me, ma'am. Said that there would be a grand spectacle later today. A once in a lifetime event. Everyone should prepare themselves, he said. Sounds loopy to me. But the mayor has always been off kilter.”
I asked, “Do you know if the mayor's assistant is still inside?”
“You missed him. Drove off with the mayor a short while ago in that huge white buggy of his.”
“Know where they went?”
“Sorry, not a clue. Hopefully they went to find a new mayor.”
We thanked the gardener and drove on.
“Now where?” Fairfax asked.
“Let's try the mayor's house as a start. We may get lucky.”
The mayor maintained a residence in White Cliff, a rich part of town. Fairfax knew of the mayor's mansion and took us there.
As we drove I touched on the facts of the case. “So Blythe uses his connections to put Winimar on the payroll of the museum. Blythe manipulates him to give information on the items arriving. He learns of Gunther's Stone Talon this way and gains access to the museum. Blythe then casts a sleep spell on Winimar, opens the vault - probably with another spell - and takes the trunk with the Talon in it.”
Fairfax said, “Spells Winimar to sleep but doesn't kill him. Why?”
I shrugged. “In regards to family Blythe might have a conscience. So he has the Talon but can't use it. He becomes aware of the Mad Scribe's book with the reversal spell in it. At first he tries to buy it from Rousset.”
“While wearing women's make-up,” Fairfax said with a shake of his head.
“True. A bad disguise but it was to cover up his birthmark which would have made him easy to identify with Rousset's description.”
Fairfax coughed a laugh. “That is an awful disguise if you consider it.”
“Yes, but it kept us from making a direct connection to him,” I said.
“Here it is,” Fairfax said as we drove past a large beautiful mansion. A driveway pulled up to the front doors with the huge white buggy parked out front. We kept on going.
“At least they are there,” Fairfax said. “I'll park up ahead and try and get an angle on the place.”
Thankfully, the mayor's mansion was near the base of a hill. We drove up the hill, turned around and parked. From our vantage point we could see most of the building.
After a few minutes of no activity below I continued with my fact list. “Unable to purchase the book Blythe then approaches Elicia with the promise of money if she would steal it from the shop. She does, and he uses its spell to reactivate the Talon, binds i
t to himself and turn her to stone.”
“And Oswall?”
“Well, by this time Oswall had quizzed Pasha Hubertus about Winimar's job while the man was asleep. Pasha must have revealed Winimar got the job because of Blythe. Sensing a potential angle Oswall then followed Blythe around which takes him to Rousset's store. After Blythe leaves, perhaps the next day, Oswall went in to talk to Rousset but he was at the auction. Oswall talks with Elicia, what is said I can only guess. In regards to Blythe's earlier visit or, as you say, he was looking for a date.”