The Murder at Mansfield Manor: An Inspector Ambrose Story (The Inspector Ambrose Mysteries Book 3)

by I H Laking

  Molly whirled in a wide circle towards her opponents, all ladylike pretences forgotten. Her blade sliced towards both The Colonel and Zhan, who glanced her blows aside.

  Zhan held out his hand and white light erupted in the room, knocking Molly backwards as she raised her arms across her body. She screamed and charged at Zhan, stabbing forwards and nearly landing a blow to his stomach. He smiled and countered with two high shots to Molly’s head, which parried with ease.

  Ambrose had never been much for swordplay, and he knew he would quickly be found out if he wasn’t careful. His pulse raced as he ran across the room and took his place beside The Colonel. They watched as Molly continued her advance on Zhan, her thin blade swinging smoothly through the air. Zhan’s speed was surprising for such a large man; he deftly turned each blow away, taking measured steps as he retreated in front of the onslaught. As she failed to land any blows, Molly’s frustrations exploded into screams and curses. Still the big man never lost concentration.

  As he watched, Ambrose realised that Zhan was, however, in a spot of trouble. He was running out of room, and Molly’s intensity wasn’t dropping. Ambrose sensed The Colonel moving.

  “Better get into the action, my boy!” The Colonel declared. He lunged forward just as Zhan reached the far wall. Molly saw him coming and danced backwards to avoid getting trapped between her assailants. Ambrose followed closely behind as a new attack was now launched by the two warriors. Molly held her ground, blocking both Zhan and The Colonel with fluid, flowing movements.

  And so the battle played out in a whirlwind of movement: one moment it would seem that the two men had the upper hand, swishing and swirling as Molly held them back. But then she would advance with furious intent, causing them to back off.

  As Molly began another assault, Zhan snapped, “Enough!” He jumped away from her, pulling an object from his boot. As he threw the object, Molly had the presence of mind to move her sword in its way just in time – she stopped Zhan’s small dagger in front of her throat. As it fell, she swept her sword behind it, causing a cry of anguish from The Colonel as the dagger lodged in his thigh. He fell backwards, and Molly’s eyes lit up. She lunged downwards, only to meet the dull steel of Ambrose’s poker. She backed away, ready to fight anew.

  “Come on now, Amby,” Molly breathed heavily as The Colonel crawled away. “There’s no need to fight dear – I’d hate to see this day end with you in pieces.” She smiled broadly and batted her eyelids in Ambrose’s direction.

  “There’ll be no pieces, Molly,” Ambrose said as he held up his poker, and Zhan ran over to join him.

  “And it’s Inspector Ambrose to you.”

  Molly’s smile faded into a grimace. “So, you choose death. Fine.”

  “No, Molly,” said Ambrose. “I choose justice.”

  With that statement, Ambrose felt the last of his turmoil fade away. He wasn’t much for theatrics, but he found himself charging at Molly, arcing the iron poker towards her. She seemed to read the danger in his intent, and swiftly overturned the table beside her, throwing it into Ambrose and Zhan. As they avoided the obstacle, she charged at them again, swinging her sword wildly. Ambrose felt the naked steel skim his shoulder as he tried to block her ferocious assault. Blood flew onto the wall, and he felt his bravery waver. Nonetheless, he swung his poker towards Molly, striking her right arm. Zhan followed suit, and they pushed her back, step by step, blow by blow towards the rear wall once more.

  In that moment, Ambrose sensed a turning of the battle – they finally had the ascendancy, gathering momentum to put the dangerous damsel down. But Molly’s desperation caused an unexpected turn. She knocked Ambrose and Zhan backwards with two telling blows, and as they charged forwards for a final assault, she smiled calmly and dropped her sword. What on earth is she doing? Thought Ambrose.

  The room behind Molly seemed to shimmer slightly, and Ambrose found his legs were suddenly heavy. His movements slowed, as if he was running through water. He looked to his left and saw Zhan struggling to move too.

  Is this all in my head?

  Zhan gritted his teeth and muttered something about dark days. Energy seemed to pulse around Molly as she stood before them, now holding her sword across her body with her left arm outstretched. She pulled her blade up and leapt forward. To Ambrose, it felt as if the world was moving in slow motion, and all he could see was a sword swinging towards his face. He willed his legs to move, or his arm to raise the poker above his face, but his body was like lead.

  Move!

  Molly’s sword was coming towards him at a rapid rate, and Ambrose felt helpless to defend himself. As the blade neared his face, Ambrose closed his eyes and waited for the painful strike.

  But no strike came. Instead, the pressure ended with a smashing noise. Ambrose opened his eyes to a startling scene. There on the ground lay Molly, covered in pieces of ceramic. Behind her sprawling body stood a rotund man in black pants and a red jacket. His thick brown hair was pasted to his forehead in a matted mess, and he held the remains of a shattered vase in his hands. Overall, he looked quite stunned by the situation. Ambrose immediately broke out in a large smile.

  “Percy!” he exclaimed, before collapsing on the ground himself.

  When Ambrose came to, he found himself lying on a couch in the lounge. Felicity was cradling his head, dabbing a damp towel against his forehead. He smiled at her, and she gave him a relieved grin in response.

  Ambrose gave his sister’s hand a squeeze and sat up. He had no obvious injuries, but felt incredibly sore throughout his body. All around him the guests were buzzing with a mixture of relief and excitement. Molly sat opposite him, her hands bound behind her back, and Zhan standing watch over her. In the corner, Clank and Sam were seeing to The Colonel’s injured leg, which appeared to not be faring too badly considering the dagger that had hit it. Servants were bustling to and fro with food and drinks, whilst other guests chatted about the events that had just unfolded.

  As he stood and stretched gingerly, Ambrose could feel the tension flowing through his back. They really had taken a beating subduing Molly. Ambrose heard a familiar voice behind him and turned to see his partner, Detective Percy Portland, standing by the doorway interviewing Mystico. The magician was wildly describing his version of the weekend’s events while Percy struggled to scribble notes quickly in his notebook. Eventually, Percy looked up and noticed Ambrose standing there, at which point he politely excused himself and walked over to greet him.

  Ambrose grabbed his partner by the hand and shook him furiously. “Percy, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to tell you how good it was to see you earlier,” he said, in an unusually strong outpouring of emotion. He finished shaking his partner’s hand and paused to think. “Tell me, how on earth did you know what to do when you found this room in such a flurry of dangerous activity?” he asked.

  “Well, to tell you the truth Inspector, I didn’t know what to do,” said Percy, “I arrived here at the Manor, ran towards the shouting, and got here just in time to see this young lady swinging her sword at someone.”

  Percy pointed his thumb over his shoulder at Molly. “It didn’t seem normal, that was all, so I picked up the vase by the door and smacked her over the head with it. I figured that things couldn’t get much worse, then next thing, I saw was you collapsing. Thought your heart might have stopped beating for a second!”

  Ambrose smiled. How good it was to be reunited with Percy.

  A commotion from the corridor caused every head in the room to whip around. Lucas Lamarre entered, carrying a large package wrapped in white cloth that matched his wide white smile. He walked to the centre of the room and carefully placed the package down on a low table. Turning to Percy, he said, “You were right, Detective. It was hidden in the assassin’s room – a short search of her luggage turned it up quickly.”

  Ambrose knew exactly what they had found. “How did you know where the gem would be hidden?” he asked, to which Percy shrugged.

  “Wel
l, I did a bit of investigation about who this assassin might be,” Percy said. “Word on the street held that the Guild had dispatched a novice assassin who had access to the Mansfield family. Based on the fact that the assassin was a novice, I assumed they might not have bothered to think everything through, such as where to place such a valuable item once they had stolen it. Starting with the luggage is always a good idea.” He smiled slightly, and Ambrose gave him a pat on the shoulder.

  “Someone taught you well, my friend,” Ambrose said.

  Ambrose bent down and gently unwrapped the cloth to reveal the Eye of Gothmore. As the guests muttered amongst themselves, he picked it up and inspected it. The light from the gaslamps hit the Eye at many angles, causing prisms to float around the walls. Ambrose took a closer look, and then stood up, bouncing the gem in his palm. Gasps arose from the other guests. Ambrose smiled as he looked at the gem sparkling dimly in the glow of the gaslamps.

  The Colonel spoke up. “Inspector, I do hope you’re not planning to finish this saga off by dropping the Eye of Gothmore. It wouldn’t do to go to all this trouble just to destroy the gem.”

  Ambrose looked at the group. “Yes, it would be a shame, wouldn’t it? And it’s right to worry about dropping the Eye of Gothmore.” He threw the gem high in the air, and Felicity stifled a cry as it looped down into Ambrose’s outstretched hand. He caught it and held it up for everyone to see.

  “But this is not the Eye of Gothmore.”

  “What on earth do you mean?” said The Colonel. “We all saw this gem in the safe. Bijonne (rest his soul) assessed it in front of our very eyes!”

  “Yes he did,” said Ambrose. “And before he died, Mr Bijonne told me that something was wrong with the gem, but he couldn’t quite figure out what it was.”

  Ambrose turned to the group, and held the gem up before them. “Bijonne’s words got me thinking. Why was Mrs Mansfield not stricter with the security of this precious artefact? How could it be so easily stolen? Finally, I realised that she was simply following the old rule: sometimes the best place to hide something is in plain sight.” He turned and walked towards the lounge room entrance.

  “Ever since I was a child, I noticed that there was something different about you,” he said as he walked. “Why would Mrs Mansfield, a lady with a low tolerance for anything imprecise, put up with you not being able to do your job properly?” Ambrose stopped.

  “When did you receive the Eye of Gothmore?” he asked.

  Clunk looked down at him. “When I arrived here, Master Ambrose.”

  “May I see it?” Ambrose offered his free hand to the Mech, who dutifully removed his right eye, and placed it in Ambrose’s hand.

  Ambrose smiled as he felt the weight of the real Eye of Gothmore on his palm. It gently pulsed with energy.

  So the rumours were true. It is more than just a stone.

  Ambrose wasn’t sure if he believed the whole legend of Gothmore, but this was certainly an important piece of history. He bought it to the group, who admired it from a distance; none more so than Zhan, who seemed to be struggling to understand how he had been so close to the real Eye of Gothmore all this time without knowing it.

  “That still doesn’t explain why poor Mr Bijonne had to die,” said Felicity, slowly processing the dreadful situation.

  “Well actually, it does,” said Ambrose, picking up the fake gem and carrying it over to Molly. He looked down at her, grazed from the combat moments earlier. The assassin was a picture of defeat, but defiance burned in her eyes. Ambrose felt his heart pulling at him once again. She put on such a lovely mask.

  Ambrose looked around the room. It was time to unpack the solution he had been building in his mind: every twisting piece of evidence had come together to form the final conclusion.

  “When Molly noticed Mr Bijonne’s concern about the gem, she decided to quiz him on it. After a gentle piece of persuasion, evidenced by grip marks on his arm, she found out that he didn’t believe the gem in the Guest House safe was the real Eye of Gothmore.” Ambrose looked back at the other guests. “That placed him in a deadly situation. He was the only person who knew that Molly had failed in her task of stealing the real gem, and her dream of progressing as an assassin could well have been over.” He looked back at the umbrella. “Mr Bijonne must have got the fright of his life when Molly dropped his arm and pulled out a sword from her umbrella. Old, alone and unarmed, he never stood a chance.”

  Ambrose met Molly’s defiant glare. “You, my dear, have greatness within you. But the corruption you have bought to this house will never be excused. Your inexperience led you to steal the gem when the opportunity arose. And we all know that the Assassins Guild does not accept failure.”

  Finally Molly’s resolve broke, and a wave of fear swept over her face. Ambrose drew up next to her and whispered in her ear, “I know who sent you here. Tell me why Morticus wants the Eye of Gothmore.”

  Molly’s eyes were wide at the mention of Morticus’ name.

  “How did you…?” She could barely utter a word.

  “We came upon him by accident, on another case,” Ambrose said.

  Molly was about to answer him when a shadow passed over her. In an instant, her eyes glazed over, and instead of speaking, she smiled and whispered so that only those close to her could hear.

  “I cannot ffail.”

  Her eyes rolled back in her head, and she collapsed onto the ground.

  “NO! The poison!” shouted Ambrose. His heart broke as he realised what was happening.

  Lucas was already standing over Molly, trying to revive her, as Percy held Ambrose’s weight to avoid him collapsing, too. Felicity was screaming and trying to get to her friend, but Zhan was holding her back. Ambrose made eye contact with Percy and he immediately understood.

  “Don’t bother, Lucas,” Percy said to the young man. “She’s taken some of the poison.”

  “What? When?!” Lucas asked.

  “When she knew we had found her out,” Ambrose said, keeping his emotions down as best he could. “After she killed Mr Bijonne, Molly would have known that the end was coming. The remaining poison would have acted fast to stop her heart beating.”

  Lucas stepped back, cursing his luck as Felicity fell to the floor, cradling her once-good friend in her arms. The room was awash with sorrow, and even Ambrose sat down and found himself weeping.

  What a beauty. What a tragedy.

  He let out a deep sigh, and moved to comfort Felicity, who was gasping for air between deep sobs of anguish.

  The horses pawed at the snowy ground outside Mansfield Manor’s front steps. The driver of the carriage looked quietly at the horizon, and then back at the two men in red jackets he was waiting on. Up above them, the Manor loomed large, its imposing frontage lit by the rising sun.

  Felicity looked at Ambrose as they stood out on the steps, sharing a few moments together. It had been two days since Molly’s death, and the dramatic discovery of the real Eye of Gothmore, and Felicity finally seemed to be improving. Ambrose felt a small comfort that such tragedy had at least bought him closer to his sister at last. Finally, she spoke.

  “Amby, I must ask you,” Felicity said, “All this pain, all this death – what on earth can we learn from it? I find myself consumed by worry that I’ll never trust again.” She looked downcast at the thought, while her expression was amplified in the pale morning light.

  Ambrose thought about it for a moment. “Ambition,” he said emphatically.

  “What about it?” asked Felicity, somewhat confused at the obscure answer.

  “Ambition is dangerous in excess. A little bit is important; it drives change, and makes for progress. But too much ambition can ruin your life.” Ambrose looked at his sister, who was thinking hard about his statement.

  “Your ambition to be a society lady; don’t let go of it,” Ambrose said, “But keep it in measured amounts. Molly tried to advance herself – she desired power, and it led her to use people in order to gain what she wan
ted. And once she had a taste of power, it corrupted her, destroying what good there was in her.”

  Felicity nodded and gave Ambrose a hug. This time, he hugged her back. He could felt the tension of the weekend beginning to ease out of her as she held him tight.

  If only she were this calm all the time.

  Eventually Felicity stepped back and adjusted Ambrose’s collar. “Thank you, Amby,” she said as she dusted off his shoulders. “I never dreamed this trip would end in such sorrow, yet I shudder to think what would’ve happened had you not been here.” She smiled a little. “Do promise me you’ll get out more.”

  “I will,” said Ambrose as he walked to the waiting carriage. Percy joined him, and Felicity walked them to the open door.

  Percy hopped into the carriage first, and made himself comfortable in the corner. Ambrose watched the detective as he alighted.

  “Don’t get too comfortable Percy, I want to hear exactly how you managed to make it to the Manor on such short notice,” Ambrose said as he climbed aboard and shut the door.

  Percy blinked at him. “Well, it’s quite a story, Inspector – you’ll need to be ready for a long one.”

  Ambrose smiled at his partner. “Well if there’s one thing we’ve got on our way to Traville, it’s time.” He turned back to Felicity, who was leaning in the carriage window.

  “When will I see you again?” she asked.

  Ambrose looked towards the horizon. Far away towards Traville, dark clouds roiled in the light of the dawn. A black tide seemed to threaten the Empire from the capital city, and Ambrose felt a chill run down his spine. He shrugged it off and looked back at his sister.

  “I imagine you’ll see me soon enough. When you’ve rested and feel ready, come and see me in Traville – I’ll make sure the guest room is ready for you. But make sure you contact me before you start your journey.” He looked back at the bubbling black clouds.

  “There’s a storm coming.”

  A short note from the Author.