Henry Wood Detective: Boxed Set (Books 1 - 4)

by Brian Meeks

“So what do you think of Dwight’s little murder mystery idea?”

  “I’ve never thought of murder as a game,” he said, then added after a look from Celine, “but I can see where it might be an interesting diversion for a hot summer weekend.”

  Catherine was delighted. “I’m so pleased you are not upset. It will be great fun...well, unless I’m the victim,” she said with a laugh.

  “You mean you don’t know who is playing the victim?” Celine asked.

  “I didn’t know anything about the mystery. Everything I told you was from Dwight. He just said he had a fun plan and wanted a detective to join us.”

  Henry thought this was interesting. “Did he say a detective or me specifically?”

  “He gave me your address and told me to go win you over.”

  “And you did, obviously.”

  Celine asked, “So how is it going to work exactly?”

  Dwight overheard the question, and wiping a handkerchief across his brow said, “That’s an excellent question Celine. Sometime in the evening you will each receive an envelope with your role in the unfolding drama. You must not share it with anyone.”

  Catherine brushed a small piece of something off Dwight’s shoulder. “Where have you been? You just disappeared.”

  “I had to make a call and stepped outside for a smoke.”

  “Well, we kept the party going without you.”

  Celine asked, “Do I get an envelope, too? I was sort of a surprise.”

  “Of course you do. When I heard you were joining us, I created a whole new character, full of intrigue and cleverness.”

  Celine clapped her hands and said, “I get to play, too!”

  Everyone felt like kids again. The quartet was nice but eventually dismissed, and Catherine brought out some of the latest records. Dwight grabbed his wife for a dance, everyone joined in. Henry wasn’t quite sure how to dance to this Rock-N-Roll stuff, but it didn’t matter. Celine took over, and he let her.

  * * *

  Outside the French doors, the lieutenant watched the dancing. Hiding behind a massive shrub in a more massive pot, he could hear the music, but there was too much movement to take the shot. Waiting wasn't a problem; he'd done it before and in worse places.

  An hour passed. When someone drew the curtains, it was time to return to the thick cover of the woods. He’d planned for this and didn't mind the bugs and muck. He wouldn't sleep, but his mind would rest.

  CHAPTER 36

  The Dublin Rogue’s crowd had gathered to talk about their fallen friend, a sort of pre wake. Mike had been drinking the same beer for an hour. Two other detectives ate pretzels and said little. Despite everyone’s best efforts, there wasn’t a single lead. Mike declined an offer of pretzels and said, “I’ve been thinking about it all day and I don’t want to sound like I’m grasping at straws, but…”

  One of the detectives put down his beer and said, “You may be the new guy, but in cases like these, you can’t ignore your gut.”

  The other detective agreed. “Sometimes it’s all we got, buddy.”

  “It’s pretty thin, but the only connection I can see between the murders, aside from the stuff left at the scene, is that Henry was in both places.”

  “What do you think it means?”

  Mike stood up and left a five on the table. “I don’t know…next round’s on me. I need to get some air.”

  The two detectives shrugged and went back to sitting in silence. Mike had given them something to think about, but, as he had said, it was pretty thin.

  Mike stepped outside and looked around. He checked the cars and looked for shady figures but saw nothing. A man was walking down the other side of the street, but he kept going and never even looked up.

  Mike walked to the corner. It had been cleaned but not well enough. Nothing more to see here, Mike thought to himself. He hailed a cab.

  Fifteen minutes later he climbed out of the cab. Mike was starting to suffer from too few hours of sleep and too much worry. He climbed the stairs to the second floor and stood outside Celine’s door. It was late, but he needed to check. Mike knocked. He considered sitting down in the hall but was sure he would fall asleep and then need to arrest himself for loitering. Nobody came to the door. He tried one more time, a bit louder. Mike turned to leave and then stopped.

  The footsteps coming to the door were slow. He felt bad he had disturbed Celine. The door opened a crack, and Carol looked out. “Big Mike, just a sec…” Carol opened the door and let Mike in. The look on her face shifted from groggy to worry.

  “Hey, Carol, I’m sorry to wake you. Don’t worry, nothing terrible has happened. I just needed to see if Celine knew where Henry was tonight.”

  “You look exhausted. Here, let me make you some coffee.”

  “I don’t want to put you out.”

  “It’s no bother,” Carol said, then asked, “I’m sorry, what did you ask me?”

  “Where is Celine?”

  “She is with Henry on a case. He came by and got her this morning. I’m cat sitting.”

  Mike sat at the kitchen table. He felt Buttons rub against his leg. He reached down and picked him up. “How’s it going, Buttons?”

  Buttons answered with a sleepy purr and curled up on his lap.

  “What was that again? You said they were on a case…what case?”

  “I don’t know, but she left a message at work and asked me to feed Buttons.”

  “They went on a case and didn’t come back?”

  “It’s the first time Henry has taken her with him. I imagine he stays out like this all the time, taking photos, hiding in shadows, following cheating husbands.”

  They were getting off topic. Mike didn’t know what to make of Henry being out with Celine. He gently lifted the napping cat and stood up. Buttons gave a gurgle of disapproval but resumed napping when Mike sat back down on the couch.

  “I really need to get a hold of him because…” His words drifted off. Carol decided she didn’t need to finish making coffee. She checked the door and got a pillow and blanket from the closet. Carol set them next to Mike, turned off the light, and went back to bed.

  CHAPTER 37

  It had been a short night for the staff and they gathered in the kitchen. A tray of orange juice, a bowl of fruit, and some fresh-baked sweet rolls helped everyone get in the right frame of mind. Rita sat nibbling her breakfast while the last few stragglers showed up. Morning meetings were not unheard of, but usually the gardeners weren’t there, too. Harriet came through the door carrying a basket on her arm. She said, “Good morning, all.”

  A few juice glasses were raised in acknowledgment. She continued, “We have all been working really hard to get ready for this big weekend. Mr. Palmeroy was pleased with how everything looked, and all the guests commented on the food. You outdid yourself,” she said, “and the dessert was especially well received. Now, I have something here for each of you. In these gold envelopes you will find two things: the first is rather unusual, and I’m not aware of Mr. Palmeroy ever doing anything like it. You have each been given a fifty dollar bonus.”

  She paused as the news caused instant commotion. Despite the early hour, the staff was wide awake now. As if on cue, the rising sun joined the meeting through the kitchen window. The stream of light caught the golden envelopes in the basket. The golden glow caught Rita’s eye. She asked, “What is the second thing in the envelope?”

  “As you all know, Mr. Palmeroy has written a murder mystery for the guests. What you didn’t know was that he has written parts for each of you. You will find a card with instructions enclosed.”

  Rita asked, “Mr. Palmeroy included us in his mystery game?”

  “Yes, he did. He left me very specific instructions and asked that you each keep your instructions a secret from everyone else.”

  The old gardener laughed. “For fifty bucks I’d keep a secret from my priest…and wife.”

  The younger gardener chimed in, “I’ve met your wife…and I’d be af
raid to keep anything from her.”

  Harriet handed out each gilded envelope, talking over the gaiety, “Now, there may be additional cards throughout the day. Some of you will get them, but even I don’t know what comes next. The guests will be getting multiple sets of instructions. Play your part well, and this will be a weekend talked about for many years.”

  Harriet handed out the last one and took the basket back to her room where a card table with boxes on it had been set up. The boxes were labeled, and she opened the “Guests 6 AM.” As per the instructions, Harriet put them in the basket and headed out to make her deliveries.

  * * *

  The lieutenant had buried himself in the undergrowth and, despite the bugs, slept better than he had for years. He lay there a moment and listened to the forest come to life.

  His mission would be an exercise in self-control. His target requirements were flexible; he just needed the kill. The difficult part would be leaving the ‘clue’ on the body. This was the key to the mission because it was the little piece of his and Henry’s shared history. It would let the detective know the score. He decided if he were going to do any reconnaissance in the daylight that this was the best time, so he eased himself from his hiding spot.

  The morning light was sparse in the thick of the trees, but it wouldn’t last long, so he fished his binoculars from his bag and started out. The stone wall was only ten feet from the spot he’d chosen. From it, he could see the back of the house clearly. Two men in rough clothes were walking out of the house and reading some sort of cards. They looked to be gardeners. They disappeared around the side of the house. He hadn’t been that far last night and would need to make his way around the entire property to be prepared. A window opened, and he saw a large woman looking out while stretching. The other windows all had their drapes drawn.

  Nobody else was in sight. He found the path and began the slow process of learning the grounds. Between the forest, the manicured shrubs, and extensive gardens, there were plenty of blind spots he could use to creep around the estate. It took a while, but he eventually made his way around the side and got a view of the front of the house. A wide, arching drive led off into another shallow wooded area and presumably ended at the front gate with the guardhouse. He didn’t notice any guards patrolling the grounds.

  The lieutenant made his way around until he found the front wall. It was too tall for him to climb over. A six foot buffer area ran the length of the fence, too, and footprints told him there would be patrols. He followed the wall until he could see the main gate and guardhouse. Three men stood drinking coffee and smoking. They looked serious. Though the lieutenant was sure he could take any one of them, two might be more than he could handle.

  He meticulously covered the entire grounds and noted anything that could help or hinder his mission. What he didn’t notice were the two wild cards sitting in a car parked not far from his, just getting their own plans finalized. They had been given a detailed description of the grounds, maps, and a schedule of where all of the guests would be and when. The lieutenant was a trained soldier; the associates were that and more.

  CHAPTER 38

  The crack of dawn caught Henry like an unexpected right hook. Or more accurately, the chirpy ‘Good Morning’ from Celine and subsequent drape opening, were responsible for his less than stellar beginning to the day.

  “Oh, good god, Celine, shut that curtain…and why is there sunlight in the middle of the night?”

  She bounded past his encampment on the couch and squealed at the sight of the gold envelopes that had been slid under the door. “They are here!”

  Henry flipped the pillow over his face. “I hate you for making me take this job.”

  “No, you don’t. In fact, you said you loved me for the very same reason last night. I believe it was somewhere between the 20-year-old scotch and your third Cuban cigar. You, Mr. Witherspoon, and Mr. Harriman seemed to become lifelong friends.”

  “I don’t know how I ended up drinking so much.”

  “From where I was sitting, it looked like your glass never quite made it all the way to empty…but you sure seemed to be trying. That Mr. Harriman was just quicker on the bottle than you were on the glass. Now, do you want to read your card?”

  “No.”

  Celine dropped Henry’s envelope on his chest as she sauntered over to the dressing table. Inside her envelope was a folded piece of paper with instructions not to share the contents of the card with anyone unless specifically told to do so. The card was handwritten in a neat script.

  Celine,

  You have a mysterious past that even your employer, Mr. Wood, is unaware of. Your family history has been shrouded in mystery for several generations. There are rumors that your great uncle who disappeared and was presumed dead actually changed his life and became a successful businessman. The story is told that he passed away without any heirs. His brother, your great-grandfather, described him as a secretive person who was paranoid about banks. This has led to speculation that there may be a hidden fortune somewhere out west.

  You recently received a note from a stranger who claimed that someone had proof that the story about your great uncle was true. They didn’t tell you who it was but did say that the person was to be at the Palmeroy Estate this very weekend.

  Your first task is to figure out who the person is and try to get them to tell you all they know.

  Sincerely,

  The House Palmeroy

  “Oh, this is so neat.”

  Henry removed the pillow from his face and begrudgingly asked, “What did it say?”

  “I can’t tell you.”

  “Why?”

  “It says so in the rules.”

  “Wake me when it's all over,” Henry said as he repillowed his face.

  Someone knocked on the door and announced that breakfast could be had whenever they wished. Celine yelled, “Thanks,” and she breezed past Henry, taking his pillow and disappearing into the bathroom.

  Henry decided he was going to file a complaint with Office Manager Buttons as soon as he and Celine escaped. He put his arm over his eyes and tried to let the day begin a bit more slowly. After fifteen minutes of calm, he decided it was okay to be awake.

  The envelope looked too official for him to deal with in his current state, so he set it on the coffee table. It would be a long, painful task, but Henry stood, determined to close the drapes. He shuffled over to the window and grabbed the heavy velvet with both hands, but he let go and opened the window instead. “Good morning, Peter.”

  Peter Witherspoon looked up from reading his own mystery instructions. “Good morning to you, too, Henry.”

  “Are you ready to start our mystery weekend?”

  Peter smiled. “I’d say it has already started…but that might be telling. Have you read your card yet?”

  “No, I’ll need some coffee first.”

  “I think we can assume that you won’t be the victim, being our guest detective and all.”

  “The way my head feels, I’m not sure you are right. I’ve already told Celine that if this hangover kills me, it’s you and Edward who are to blame.”

  Peter chuckled. “Have your coffee and I’ll see you after my walk down to the lake.”

  Henry closed the window and left the curtains open. He sat down and turned the envelope over in his hand. Nicely done, good weight, and impressive calligraphy. Maybe this will be fun, Henry thought to himself and stood to look for a proper letter opener.

  Celine emerged from the bathroom wrapped in towels, a robe, and an upsetting glow of “morning person.” She grinned. “It’s all yours.”

  “I’m looking for a letter opener.”

  “It’s on the dressing table. Don’t you dare peek at my card!”

  Henry lost interest in his envelope and dropped it back on the coffee table.

  “Aren’t you going to open it?”

  “I don’t need to.”

  “Why is that?”

  “I’ve alr
eady solved the case.”

  Celine stopped rubbing her head with the towel and looked at him suspiciously. “Oh?”

  “The victim was killed with a letter opener in her bedroom by the detective,” Henry said. He walked past her and closed the bathroom door.

  CHAPTER 39

  The chatter at the dining table started out somewhat forced. Celine had taken a seat next to Edward Harriman and was listening to him tell a tale of adventure in North Africa. He occasionally slipped into a British accent. It was apparent, and sort of cute, that he was playing his role.

  His wife walked in intently reading her card. She stuffed it into her purse and grabbed a glass of juice. “Good morning, Celine,” she said.

  “Good morning, Mrs. Harriman.”

  “Please, dear, call me Judith. I hope he isn’t boring you with one of his stories.”

  Edward gave a hearty laugh. “I suppose I am.”

  “Oh, no, I’m enjoying your delightful tales of Rommel…what did you call him?”

  “The Desert Fox.”

  Judith seemed momentarily confused. “North Africa?”

  Edward, being true to his character, said, “She has heard me tell them so often that she is trying to forget the time I was a consultant for her Majesty’s Royal Air Force.”

  Judith recovered by saying, “Oh, those North Africa stories. Yes, there was a time during the war when they sought Edward’s council. The stories seem to grow in size and grandeur with each telling. I’m sure if you listen long enough, he’ll take credit for winning the whole damn war.”

  Celine gave a pleasant laugh, not too girly, and said, “I can’t wait,” and smiled.

  Edward started right back up as his wife wandered off, “Now, where was I? Ah, yes, I was in the command car as we headed off to a briefing about Rommel’s superior tank forces. It was a dark time during those days in Libya, and…” Edward paused taking a sip of his coffee and presumably trying to come up with more story.