"My goodness, Mr. Norcroft. Do I need to prepare rooms? There aren't many available on the island right now, and I've been informed that September and October are already fully occupied," Anna said, distressed.
Reggie glanced at Duncan, who gave a slight shake to his head.
"No, I think the boys will stay in town for now, sharing a room at the Puffin. Let's wait a few days before we make any decisions regarding where they'll lay their heads," Reginald said.
"All right. I'd best busy myself preparing something special for tonight, then," Anna said, rising from her chair. "Continue with your tea," she added, waving her hand back and forth at the men, "I'll clear things up later."
The housekeeper walked to the doorway, stopped, and returned to the table, smiling. All three men focused their attention on her.
"Mr. Dewar, am I to understand that you and your brother are single young men?"
"Uhm, uhm," Donald coughed, disguising a laugh.
Anna shot the innkeeper a sharp look.
"Just planning ahead should you decide to stay at Norcroft Manor, Sir," she said to Duncan, flaunting her eyelashes as she smiled and blinked.
The investigator returned the housekeeper's pleasant smile.
"My heart is attached to someone, Dear Lady, although Harold is decidedly single. Please, call me Duncan. May I call you Anna?" the Scotsman asked.
Anna sighed and gazed at the ceiling, patting her heart with her right hand.
"Of course you may, Duncan," she said before making a retreat to the kitchen, her skirt swishing behind her.
When he was certain she was gone, Donald said, "Well, ye handled that well, Laddie! But yer poor brother's neck may be on the chopping block. Is yer heart verily attached?"
The innkeeper tilted his head, producing his best earnest expression.
The investigator ignored his friend's comments and asked Reginald, "Can I take a look at the family documents? I've got a few hours before I need to retrieve my brother for dinner."
"Quite right. Let me show you where they're kept. I'm sure you could never find your way there again," Reggie chuckled.
He'd shown the room to Duncan the day before, but the rabbit warren proved difficult for novices to navigate. As Reginald led Duncan to the archives, the investigator inquired about how the work uncovering the mosaic went. He said Julien had made little progress so far that day. Some stones were proving difficult to pry loose.
"Here we are," Reggie said as he pushed open a carved wooden door that was almost as wide as it was tall.
The Scotsman had to duck to pass into the room.
"When you are ready to come down, pull that chord," Reginald said, pointing to a rope near a desk. "I'll come get you."
The older man grinned at Duncan and then explained which shelf held the ledgers, the accounts, et cetera.
Gesturing towards the desk, he said, "The middle drawer contains the ledger with the missing page, the one my grandmother was sure had some import to Grandfather's disappearance, and his sketch book is there on top. Good luck."
Reginald left him alone in the room. A lone window provided light, but he also switched on a lamp. The room was cozy and the Scotsman imagined David Norcroft spending hours here, alone, searching for clues to the labyrinth. A sweet musty aroma hung heavy in the air, the smell of decaying paper. Duncan checked his watch and decided to ring up his brother. As the daylight waned, he didn't want Harold to feel neglected.
"Hallo, Harold. It's Duncan."
"How are you?"
"Well. We've been invited to dinner out here at Norcroft Manor with Reginald Norcroft and Donald. I believe the housekeeper is cooking up something special for us, so it would be best if we arrived hungry. I'll come back to the Puffin to pick you up, say, around seven?"
"Fine, Duncan. I'll be ready."
"How was your day, Harold?"
"I've had a wonderful afternoon reading. It's been very relaxing. Just the ticket."
"Well done, Harold. I'll see you later," Duncan said and signed off.
Although neat, the small room seem tired and worn due to faded wallpaper and a tatty window shade. The investigator glanced around and saw a bit of dust. Mrs. Peckham clearly tidied the room, but not weekly. On the desk sat the wooden box containing the newspaper articles about David Norcroft.
Yesterday, he'd seen Reggie's grandfather standing next to his beloved car, the first Baby Austin in Northumberland. The pride on the man's face and his affection for his automobile were evident in the article and the photo. He'd read about how a younger David helped collect some pilgrims who had scampered up the wooden guideposts in the causeway after being caught by the sea. David had commented in that article at length about the dangers of trying to beat the tide. He often volunteered to chaperone visitors across the causeway during low tide. In those days, only a dirt road led to the island, marked by tall poles.
Today, Duncan would review the accounts, noting the names of those working for the family in David's time and any other clues as to who might be aware of the labyrinth. He started with the ledger in the desk drawer, jotting down the names of former employees. Several of Julien's forefathers did indeed serve the Norcrofts. Anna's mother was a chambermaid when the elder Norcroft disappeared and Julien's great-great grandfather served as butler. The name Peckham appeared sporadically in the accounts, family members providing services to the Norcrofts as needed.
The Scotsman delved further into the past via the household accounts, searching for anything unusual. He moved on to earlier ledgers from the bookshelf. These leather bound tomes had embossed dates on their bindings. He found nothing out of the ordinary and returned to the ledger with the missing page. The missing leaf appeared to be from the fall of 1803. Other pages from that period included expenditures, explanations, further notations and even occasional doodles.
He gave up the ledgers for David's sketchbook. There, Duncan found countless drawings of the house in its various stages. He noticed renderings of labyrinths and references to building plans, which he located elsewhere in the room. He assumed David drew the last image shortly before his death, as blank pages filled the last quarter of the book. David jotted the name Cornelius Walford by two of his last sketches.
Duncan checked his watch and realized he needed to fetch Harold. He pulled the rope which signaled Reggie and turned to gaze out the window. As it was dark outside, he caught a clear reflection of himself. Is Harold correct? Am I the object of so much female attention? Turning his head from side to side, he noticed a square jaw, aquiline nose, and intense eyes. His brows and hair were too thick and he felt his head looked like a block of stone. His muscular frame filled the glass, but he focused on the fitness level he'd lost the last few weeks. Instead of running or weight lifting, he'd spent his time hunting down his new office space. Nae, his brother must be mistaken.
-9-
Dinner Party Discoveries
Dinner was served at eight sharp by Anna in the grand hall. The housekeeper brought out the fine china, crystal and silver, setting a beautiful table. Crisp linens and a runner down the middle added another layer of elegance. She somehow provided a floral arrangement as well, and that along with candles held by an antique silver candelabra set a formal tone. Reginald, well turned out himself, beamed with pride at Anna's accomplishments.
"It does make all the difference when the fancy bits are brought out," he said with a smile as he fingered a serviette monogrammed in heavy threads with the initial N.
Anna explained that she usually left the premises by six, but made an exception for that night. Flattered, Harold didn't realize the housekeeper stuck around to determine if he might qualify as a suitor for one of her granddaughters. There were two young ladies in question, and Anna held hopes that if married, they might return to Holy Island to live. With each course served, she swayed into the hall, her white starched blouse and long dark skirt partially covered by an apron trimmed in Battenberg lace. She paid particular attention to the investigator's
younger brother, asking him questions, and making sure his needs were met. Harold wasn't used to such consideration.
She would often wink at Duncan when she approved of his brother's answers. The older gents got a kick out of the entertainment, but he was a bit concerned his brother's feelings might get hurt, or Harold might find himself engaged to one of the housekeeper's granddaughters without realizing it.
Anna proved that she knew her way around a kitchen. A vegetable consommé with mushrooms, thin sliced carrots, celery, and herbs supplied the first course, served from a mammoth silver tureen which she lugged into the hall on a matching tray. The steam which rose from the hot broth tickled Duncan's nose and teased his taste buds with an aroma hinting of rosemary and fresh sage.
Lamb with mint jelly and potatoes provided the next stage of the meal. The housekeeper presented the succulent roast with much fanfare on a tray surrounded by a wreath of fresh herbs. She must have seared the lamb before cooking because a tasty herb crust of rosemary, garlic, salt and pepper had formed around the edges, while the center remained pink and juicy. Duncan could taste a hint of lemon in the crisp coating which paired well with the jelly.
She finished with a fluff made of whipped cream, crumbled macaroons, berries, and a splash of raspberry liqueur. She proffered this final course in etched vintage martini stems. Duncan examined the design, noting the lines cut from the crystal gave the glasses an Art Deco appearance. After dinner, she served the men coffee laced with yet another liqueur as they gathered about the fire, then she disappeared into the kitchen.
As the logs in the fireplace popped and cracked, the men enjoyed their drinks. Duncan savored the smooth, nutty taste of his coffee. He detected hazelnut and heavy cream, which somehow made the hot beverage comforting. Harold and Reginald discussed the veil and the Other in hushed tones while Duncan and the innkeeper relaxed, taking pleasure in the warmth and sounds of the flames. The cozy lighting from the candles and hearth gave the grand hall a wonderful ambiance as shadows danced across the walls, driven, he imagined, by gusts of wind advancing down the flu and fanning the fire.
A bell rang and Anna scurried back across the hall to the front door. She had removed her apron and carried a silver foil wrapped dish. The men heard muffled voices before the housekeeper pulled a man by the elbow into the hall. He appeared about the same age as the housekeeper, but taller. His head held the same gray hair as Anna's, which peeped from beneath a tweed cap. The rest of his attire was covered by what appeared to be a weatherproof barrel-shaped black coat, except for bright green wellies visible from the shin down. Some earlier activity left splashes of mud on the man's boots.
"Before I leave for the evening, may I introduce my husband to your guests, Mr. Norcroft?" she asked.
"Of course, please do," Reginald answered, rising from his wing back chair with a smile and a nod to take the man's hand.
Donald and the brothers also rose to meet Anna's husband.
"This is Henry," Anna said.
"Hello, Mr. Dodd. So good to see ye again," Donald grinned and reached to shake the man's outstretched hand.
"Good to see you as well, Mr. Merriwether. I trust you are in good health?" Henry asked with the same accent as Anna.
"Aye, me knee is behaving and I feel fine," Donald responded.
"Henry, these are the young men I was telling you about, Harold and Duncan Dewar," she said, pleased with herself.
"Ah, the young Dewar brothers," Henry said, reaching first for Harold's hand.
Henry gave it a good, long shake before approaching Duncan and wringing his hand.
"So pleased to meet you," he added. He reached for the plate that Anna still held and continued, "Come along, Deary. I'm ready for my supper, and lamb is one of my favorites. Good night, all."
Henry grasped her arm with his free hand and guided her towards the entry vestibule, where she turned and waved to Harold one last time after donning her coat, a modern bright orange neoprene job.
The juxtaposition of her traditional attire and contemporary jacket was not lost on the investigator. His brother appeared to pass muster with both Anna and Henry Dodd. Just after the door closed, a black cat came strolling towards the group and leapt with one fluid movement into Reginald's lap.
"There you are, Viking!" Reggie exclaimed.
The feline ignored the guests and rubbed his ears against his master's chest. Viking soon began purring and kneading their host's thighs with his paws. At last, the miniature panther settled on Reginald's left leg, shut his eyes and at least pretended to sleep. Jet black fur could make the cat all but invisible in dark Tudor hallways, but his bright green eyes gave him away.
"Did you find anything interesting in the archive room?" Reginald inquired.
"Everything was interesting, although most likely not pertinent to our investigation. I noted that the missing ledger leaf appears to cover the end of August and part of September of 1803. Do you know of anything significant happening on the island or in your family then?"
Reginald rubbed his chin with his free hand and took a sip of his coffee before answering.
"Not that I can recall."
Duncan continued, "Not to worry. I'll check some local histories and see what turns up. One other thing, does the name Cornelius Walford mean anything to you? Any Walfords on the island or family by that name?"
"No. I've seen that name in Grandfather's sketch book and it's not an island name. He's no relation, either. I'm familiar with my ancestry, and there aren't even any Walfords on my mother's side of the line."
Mr. Walford remained a mystery. The Scotsman's near photographic memory did not recall the name in any of the family accounts he'd reviewed. He figured the man might be an important key in solving the mystery. The fact that David Norcroft was murdered lent credence to the idea that a hidden treasure existed, and Duncan found his excitement rising at the thought of finding the centuries-old cache. Uncovering what happened to David Norcroft provided an irresistible lure to the Scotsman, more so than locating any gold. The investigator had solved crimes that were years old, but never anything that occurred almost a century before.
"What do you make of your grandfather's final sketches?"
"I've been thinking a lot about those of late, Duncan. Several appear to be simple crosses and one certainly is similar, in form at least, to the carpet page in the Lindisfarne Gospels for Saint John's writings."
"I agree, Reggie. I'm going to have to think on this for a few days. In the meantime, I'll come by tomorrow to help Julien. I just never found the time today, but tomorrow, I'm all yours."
"I'd like to help, too," Harold said with enthusiasm.
"Quite right! We'd love whatever assistance you can give. Chipping away at all those layers is tedious physical work, and I know Julien will value the assistance. Harold, you haven't even seen the mosaic yet, but we'll wait for the light of day for that. I do appreciate your help."
"It's settled then. What time should we arrive?" Duncan asked.
"Julien comes between nine and ten, so ten o'clock should work," Reggie said.
"I don't know about the rest of ye, but I'm ready fir bed," the innkeeper proclaimed, rising from his seat. "It's been a fine evening, Reggie, but I need me beauty sleep," he added.
"Yes, quite," Reginald said, eyeing his friend up and down before laughing.
The party said their good-byes and Viking chose that moment to slink from Reggie's lap and depart the hall, strolling towards the kitchen. Duncan preferred cats to dogs, but this feline's attitude of superiority seemed a bit insulting. Once ensconced in the Vauxhall, he decided to get some answers from his brother.
"Harold, it occurred to me earlier today that you didn't come by auto to Holy Island. Just how did you get here?"
Harold shifted in his seat before answering, "I took the train to Berwick-upon-Tweed and then a shuttle to the causeway. I chose to walk across the pilgrim's path to the island."
"Who took you to the train station?"
"Uh, Angus."
"Hmm. It appears our brother decided he didn't need to inform me you were coming until you were already almost here."
Harold stared out the window at the dark countryside and said, "That's how it appears."
"Be careful about that pilgrim's path. The locals recommend you have a guide walk you across."
"I joined a group that had a guide. I just tagged along at the end. I don't think anyone even noticed me. Good thing I arrived after the tide ebbed."
Duncan was sure someone must have noted the skinny chap with the bright orange hair and freckles toting two suitcases. Harold could be so daft.
"Oh, and another thing. Where did you get the idea that Angus had Angela as a girlfriend. As far as I know, they aren't dating. Angus doesn't have a girlfriend at present."
Duncan felt his temper rising and his face getting warm. He kept his eyes on the road and tried to act nonchalant.
"Well, he talks as if he does. I know he's sweet on her, and what woman doesn't find Angus irresistible?"
Angus has brainwashed Harold!
"That one, meaning Angela. Don't be so glaikit, Harold!" Duncan snapped, regretting his words and tone immediately.
He'd call Angela in the morning and sort this out. Since Spain, he thought of his former assistant continually. He missed her sweet disposition, violet eyes, lovely face, and thick, reddish-brown hair. For a moment he imagined running his fingers through that mane. He didn't intend to waste anymore time where Angela was concerned.
"Sorry," he added, glancing at his brother.
"I don’t understand you, Duncan. First, you blow it with Cassandra Baines and then you let Caroline Menzies go."
Harold leaned away from his brother as if to get a better look at his face.
He continued, "I could have fancied Caroline, you know. We get on so well."
Did I just hear that correctly? Duncan asked himself. Did Harold say he gets on well with Caroline, present tense?
"You mean you got on with Caroline well. You only met her a couple of times, Harold."
Mystery: The Laird's Labyrinth: A Duncan Dewar Mystery of Murder & Suspense (Duncan Dewar Mysteries Book 4) Page 8