by HANNA, H. Y.
It was not a “cosy” kind of library but rather the type of sombre, formal room found in grand stately homes. The lighting was dim, despite large sash windows along one wall, and the ceilings soaring overhead reminded Caitlyn of cathedrals. The walls were filled floor to ceiling with dark mahogany bookcases, each displaying rows upon rows of neatly ordered books, and more bookcases were arranged in a series of rows running down the centre of the room.
The Library seemed to be empty and Caitlyn wandered slowly among the bookcases, marvelling at the number of volumes on display around her. She didn’t think she had ever seen so many books in a private collection! The air was thick with the smell of old paper, dust, and leather, and dust motes danced in the shafts of sunlight that had managed to come through the windows and penetrate the library gloom.
A thud behind the next shelf reminded her of why she was here and she strained her ears to listen.
“Viktor? Is that you?” she whispered.
No sound.
Caitlyn frowned and crept forwards. She peered around the corner of the bookshelf, then jumped in fright as a plaintive voice said behind her:
“Have you seen my teeth?”
She whirled around. “Viktor! What are you doing here?” she hissed.
“Looking for my fangs, of course,” he said huffily. “I thought they fell out in the greenhouse while I was having breakfast this morning. I was interrupted at the most inconvenient moment—really, how is one expected to get a decent meal when you have fools scurrying about like leprechauns hiding their pot of gold, I ask you—just as I was trying to decide between the figs and the nectarines… mind you, the grapes didn’t look bad either… but I never—”
“This is the Library, not the greenhouse,” said Caitlyn in exasperation. “Why are you looking for your fangs in here?”
“I was just coming to that,” said Viktor irritably. “Impatience is a very unattractive trait in a young lady, you know.”
“Viktor, you can’t skulk around the Manor like this!” said Caitlyn, glancing nervously over her shoulder towards the door. “What if one of the staff sees you?”
He drew himself up indignantly. “I’ll have you know, I am a vampire—I am well versed in the art of travelling through the shadows and remaining invisible. In fact, I have been sleeping in the Library for days and no one has seen me.”
“You’ve been what?”
“Sleeping in the Library here. There’s a nice warm corner up above the shelf of travel memoirs, and a handy little hook embedded in the cornice, for hanging upside down from. That’s what I was trying to tell you earlier, if you’d had the courtesy to let me finish.” He glowered at her. “I like to do my morning stretches here before I visit the greenhouse for breakfast. So it’s possible I may have dropped my fangs then—”
“All right, all right, I’ll help you look,” said Caitlyn hastily. “Where do you think you might have dropped them? In which corner?”
She followed him to the back of the Library, where a corner shelf stood next to an armchair and a large glass cabinet. Viktor began complaining about having to shift the armchair to search in the corner properly but Caitlyn was no longer listening to him. Her gaze was riveted to the glass cabinet and she remembered James telling Inspector Walsh that the bloodstone ring had been kept in a glass cabinet in the Library.
She went up to the cabinet, pressing her nose against the glass pane to look at its contents. She recalled seeing the tourist group heading to the Library the day she had got lost in the house; it must have been part of the official tour of Huntingdon Manor and, as such, it made sense to have some items—things with historical or local interest—on display for visitors to see. This glass cabinet had obviously been put in so that those items could be displayed safely. It seemed to be filled with various Fitzroy family heirlooms and other curios, each with a little label and card giving more information about the item. There was a piece of parchment paper covered in spidery writing, for instance, which the accompanying card claimed was an original letter from Oliver Cromwell to one of the Fitzroy ancestors.
Caitlyn’s interest, however, was focused on an empty spot within the cabinet where the red velvet lining was bare, except for a small photograph of a ring. The card next to the space read:
This bloodstone signet ring has been in the Fitzroy family for several generations and is believed to be imbued with powerful magic. Bloodstones are highly mystical stones, said to bring their owners riches and fame, and help overcome enemies in battle. In ancient times, they were treasured as amulets of protection, with an unrivalled ability to heal wounds, stop blood flow, draw out snake venom, and even cure tumours. Also known as heliotrope, bloodstones are usually dark green, with only small flecks of red—this ring contains one of the few rare stones that is almost completely red.
Caitlyn peered through the glass, squinting to see the photograph better. She hadn’t seen a picture of the bloodstone ring yet and now, after reading all the romantic legends, she expected some kind of magnificent gem set in an intricately carved ring worthy of Gollum’s lust… To her disappointment, however, the photograph showed a very ordinary-looking signet ring with a dull red oval stone; the kind of thing she wouldn’t have given a second glance to if she had seen it in an antique shop. She began to wonder if James had been right and all the “mystical legends” stuff was just manufactured for the tourists’ benefit.
A noise next to her reminded her of her companion and she turned to see Viktor looking under the armchair.
“Viktor,” she called to him softly. “Viktor, do you know anything about this bloodstone ring? The one that’s been stolen?”
“Eh?” He straightened and came closer, peering through the glass pane of the cabinet. He made an impatient noise as he read the card. “What a load of garlic!”
“Aren’t the legends about the bloodstone true, then?”
Viktor sniffed disdainfully. “There are some bloodstones that are magical, but most of the ones being bandied about are just worthless trinkets. Of course, everyone likes to think that they have a magical bloodstone heirloom in their family.” He leaned close to read the card again. “Really! From that account, you’d think that the Fitzroys owned the Ring of Sanguinum!”
“What’s the Ring of Sanguinum?”
“Ah, well, if you are talking about magical bloodstones, that is the most valued one of all.” Viktor wagged a finger at her. “It is a bloodstone ring which gives its bearer power over daemons, and other powerful dark magic. But it has been lost since antiquity and no one knows of its whereabouts now, if indeed it still exists.”
“If it’s been lost, then how do you know that the Fitzroy ring isn’t the Ring of Sanguinum?”
“Because the bloodstone on the Ring of Sanguinum was engraved with the image of a bat,” said Viktor. He peered through the cabinet again. “That is a photograph of the Fitzroy ring, is it not? I certainly do not see any engraving on the stone.”
Caitlyn looked again at the photo and had to admit that Viktor was right. The Fitzroy bloodstone was smooth and opaque, its only special quality being its unusual dark red colour.
She sighed. “Well, I—” She broke off as she heard a sound from the other end of the Library. Carefully, she peeked around the edge of the bookcase which shielded this corner from view. She saw a young woman walking down the room, holding a feather duster and a rag. It was Amelia, Caitlyn realised with surprise. She thought that James would have fired the maid, given that Amelia had been caught trying to steal from the house. She watched in dismay as the girl began running the duster along the shelves, working efficiently and swiftly down the rows.
She turned back to Viktor. “You’ve got to go!” she hissed. “One of the Fitzroys’ maids has come in—it looks like she’s cleaning the Library. She might see you! Maybe if you take your bat form, you can hide and then creep out without her noticing—”
“There is no need to do that,” said Viktor loftily. “I told you that I am adept at movin
g through shadows. I can walk right past her without her seeing me. Watch this!”
Before she could stop him, he straightened his jacket, smoothed his hair over his balding pate, and sauntered out from behind the bookcase. Caitlyn heaved an exasperated sigh. Still, perhaps she was underestimating the old vampire—after all, he did say he had been sleeping in here for days and hadn’t been discovered. Perhaps he really could “walk through shadows” and make himself invisible—
The air was rent suddenly by a piercing scream.
“Aaaaa-eeeeeeeek!”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Caitlyn scrambled out from behind the bookcase and nearly crashed into Amelia, who had run down to this end of the Library. She caught the maid by the shoulders and was rewarded with the girl thrashing around in a blind panic, screeching:
“Let me go! Let me go!”
“Amelia! It’s me!” Caitlyn gave her a shake. “You’re safe!”
The girl sagged in relief. “Oh! Oh my God, I thought… I thought I was…” She gasped for a breath, then she turned and pointed a shaking finger towards the other end of the library. “There was… there was a man—there! I saw him! With a white face an’ white hands. Looked like someone risen from the dead, he did!”
“You must have made a mistake,” said Caitlyn quickly. “I’ve been in the Library for the past ten minutes and there’s no one else in here.”
“I saw him!” Amelia insisted. “He was there! This creepy old man in a black suit. He walked right past me!”
Cursing Viktor under her breath, Caitlyn pinned a bright smile on her face and said, “I think you probably imagined it. Maybe you saw a… um… a shadow and thought it was a man. These old rooms can have a creepy atmosphere sometimes and make you feel—”
“I didn’t imagine nothin’!” said the girl, shaking her head vehemently. “I know what I saw! I have to go and tell Lord Fitzroy. He’ll—”
“Uh… no, no, wait… er… don’t you think you’re over-reacting?” said Caitlyn desperately. She cast around for something to distract Amelia. Then she remembered the girl’s position as a murder suspect. “Um… so have the police questioned you again?”
The maid’s expression changed. “No… why should they?” she asked warily. “I told them—I had nothin’ to do with Mrs Brixton’s murder!”
“Oh, I wouldn’t blame you even if you had,” said Caitlyn smoothly. She lowered her voice. “I overheard what Mrs Brixton said to you, that day in her sitting room—she sounded like a horrible woman. I felt really sorry for you.”
The girl’s eyes widened and she stared at Caitlyn in astonishment for a moment, then a small smile tugged her lips. “Thanks,” she said. “Yeah, she was a right cow, Edith Brixton. I mean, I’m sorry she’s dead,” she added hastily. “But everyone’s been goin’ around talkin’ like it’s such a tragedy an’ nobody realised what a nasty piece of work she was!”
“Yes, I was shocked when I heard her threatening you,” said Caitlyn, her voice full of sympathy.
The girl eyed her sideways. “I wasn’t really stealin’, you know. That’s what I told the police. I was just helpin’ someone out.” Something in Caitlyn’s expression made her add defensively, “For a small fee, of course. But you can’t expect me to do all the work for nothin’, can you? An’ I needed the money. I have a sick mother, you see, an’ she needs full-time nursing. I help to pay her medical bills.”
Caitlyn felt a pang of pity, but then something—a glint in the girl’s eyes—made her wonder how much of that sob story was true. She had a feeling that Amelia was the kind of girl who had a quick tongue and a knack for spinning a story so that she always came out looking good in any situation.
“What do you mean, ‘helping someone out’?” she asked. “I thought the police said you received an anonymous note asking you to steal the ring. How would you have known whether you were helping somebody?”
“They explained in the note, see,” said Amelia. “They said that the ring didn’t belong to the Fitzroys. It was somethin’ that the Fitzroys took from their ancestors an’… an’ Lord Fitzroy would never miss it anyway! These rich, posh folk have so many things in their houses—he wouldn’t even notice.”
Caitlyn started to say that that still didn’t make it right to steal, but bit her tongue on the retort. She didn’t want to antagonise the girl. Instead, she said, “Do you have any idea who sent you the note?”
“The police keep askin’ me that an’ like I told them, I don’t know,” said Amelia sullenly.
“Was it handwritten?”
“Yeah, it was actually. In really dark ink—you know, like the kind of writin’ from those old-fashioned fountain pens.”
“Have you given the note to the police?” asked Caitlyn eagerly. “They’ll probably have handwriting experts who can—”
“I did but the writin’s gone.”
Caitlyn stared at her. “What do you mean, ‘the writing’s gone’?”
The girl shrugged. “When I showed the note to them, it was blank. The writin’ had disappeared.” She shivered suddenly. “It was right creepy, if you ask me.”
“Maybe the person used a trick ink—you know, the kind that fades with time or something like that,” suggested Caitlyn lamely.
The maid didn’t look convinced. “Maybe. The police couldn’t figure it out either.”
“Do you mean they have no way of tracing the person who sent you the note?”
Amelia shook her head. “I think they’re tryin’ to trace the paper… see if they can find out where it comes from. But I don’t know if that will tell them anythin’.”
Caitlyn looked at the girl thoughtfully. She suddenly realised that there was no way of verifying Amelia’s story. They only had her word that she had been sent an anonymous note but with the message on the note conveniently disappearing and no other lead, there was no proof that this anonymous person had ever existed.
What if it was just Amelia’s quick tongue again, coming up with a clever story to cover up her own petty stealing? When the maid realised that she had been caught red-handed, she might have decided that it would make her look less guilty if she fobbed off the prime motivation behind the theft to this mysterious third party. It also made her look good too, in that she could say she had stolen the ring partly out of an altruistic desire to help another person regain what was rightfully theirs.
Caitlyn was beginning to realise why Inspector Walsh felt so frustrated with this investigation! There were too many suspicious circumstances and yet they all led nowhere and could all mean nothing!
“It’s the curse of the bloodstone,” said Amelia suddenly.
Caitlyn focused back on her. “I’m sorry?”
“Mrs Brixton’s murder,” said Amelia. “It’s because she tried to prevent the bloodstone ring bein’ returned to its rightful owner.”
Caitlyn gave her a sceptical look. “I’m sure a lot of that is just superstitious non—”
“It’s not!” the girl insisted. “Matt told me all about it. He’s good with legends an’ things like that, an’ he said bloodstones have powerful magi—”
“Matt? Matt O’Brien?” Caitlyn said.
Amelia flushed slightly and Caitlyn wondered about the maid’s feelings for the handsome gardener. After all, Amelia was a young, impressionable girl… and Matt O’Brien was exactly the kind of charming rogue that a lot of women fell for.
“How does Matt know so much about the bloodstone?” Caitlyn asked casually.
Amelia shrugged. “He’s Irish. He says he was told lots of stories an’ legends growin’ up.”
Maybe, thought Caitlyn. But it still seems a strange coincidence.
“Anyway, I’d better get on with the cleanin’.” Amelia craned her neck to look back towards the other end of the Library, which was all quiet now. “Maybe you were right, maybe I did imagine it… although, I could have sworn I saw the old man…” Still muttering to herself, Amelia drifted back to the other side to continue her work.
Caitlyn looked surreptitiously around for Viktor but she didn’t see him. He must have already made himself scarce. She left the library and walked back up the main hallway towards the foyer, deep in thought.
What if Matt was the person who had asked Amelia to steal the bloodstone? She could imagine that if Amelia had a crush on Matt, the maid wouldn’t want the police to suspect him—so rather than say that Matt had asked her to steal the bloodstone ring, she had quickly made up the story about the anonymous note from the mysterious third party.
If that was true, then it meant that Matt could have murdered Mrs Brixton… He could have nipped out of the conservatory, done the deed, got the ring, then gone back to continue flirting with Pomona. He was just the kind of smooth, confident guy who could pull it off…
But what had he done with the ring? Caitlyn was sure that the police would have searched Matt’s living quarters by now, so it couldn’t be hidden there. Had he sold it off already? No, somehow she thought he would lie low for a while—wait until the hullaballoo from the murder had died down, before trying to get rid of it.
Which meant that the ring was still safely hidden somewhere… but where?
Caitlyn looked up as someone else came into the foyer. It was the other maid, Jenny. The girl was carrying an enormous flower display, made up of beautiful old-fashioned roses, peonies, freesias, and stocks, with trailing tendrils of jasmine.
“Wow, what gorgeous flowers,” said Caitlyn. Then she laughed in delight as she saw the clusters of grapes tucked amongst the blooms. “Hey, there’s even fruit in the arrangement! How creative.”
“They taste fabulous too,” said Jenny with a smile. “Matt O’Brien grows them in the greenhouse. He’s a whizz with the fruits and veggies—Huntingdon could start supplying some of the local shops in the villages around here, if Lord Fitzroy was interested.”