Muriel’s Adventures

by Barron, Melinda

  “I’ve been hired by note before, by people who would rather remain anonymous,” he said. “But they usually send someone and, as you say, offer money.”

  “The idea of being part of one of your schemes is intriguing,” she said. She took a sip of water. “Do you have any sort of idea about what it might be? Perhaps we should challenge each other with our thoughts. We could write them down on paper, seal them and put them in the desk. Whoever comes closest wins a prize.”

  He put down his spoon and leaned toward her. They were sitting side by side, and he put his lips on her cheek. “What sort of prize?” he whispered.

  Muriel shivered. “Well, perhaps it should be something erotic, to go with the figs Tyrell gave us.” He picked one up just as Muriel turned to look at him. He licked his lips and her nipples hardened. Did they have time for one more… well, she would call it a romp; he would call it a fuck?

  A knock on the door made her jerk back.

  “Muriel?” Mrs. Haskell’s voice made Muriel smile. It was a good thing they had dressed after their activities.

  Muriel crossed to the door and opened it. She was sure her landlady was checking to make sure nothing untoward was happening in her house.

  “Good evening, Mrs. Haskell,” Muriel said as she opened the door. “Won’t you come in?”

  Mrs. Haskell smiled, but her gaze raked across the room. Her smile brightened as she saw Ewan sitting at the table, eating.

  “No, thank you, but I wanted to deliver this to you,” she said, holding up an envelope. “A young man just delivered it. I gave him a pence for his trouble. It is for Mr. McClacken.”

  Ewan jumped up and dug in his pocket. “Let me reimburse you.” He handed Mrs. Haskell a coin, and then told her they’d like to see the property next door tomorrow, while it was still light.

  The landlady beamed and said she would be thrilled to get the key from the current owner. She lingered in the doorway, and Muriel knew it was her not-so-subtle way of saying that it was getting late, and time for Ewan to leave.

  “I will see you then,” Ewan said with a bow. He crossed to the table and took another bite of his stew before he made to gather his coat. Mrs. Haskell told him to finish his meal, and Muriel wasn’t surprised when he asked her to join them. The landlady sat down with them and they talked about the weather, and then about possible changes to the house.

  When the meal was over, Ewan said it was time for him to leave. He kissed Muriel on the cheek. She wished for more, but knew this wasn’t the place, or time, for that sort of affection.

  “I will see you tomorrow, my love,” he said. “Mrs. Haskell, I look forward to touring the house.”

  When he was gone, Muriel sighed.

  “When will you marry?” Mrs. Haskell asked.

  “At the New Year,” Muriel told her. “He is filing for the banns tomorrow.”

  Mrs. Haskell beamed. “I am so happy for you.”

  “Thank you,” Muriel said. Her bottom twinged a little as she moved. It was wonderful to have this reminder of her time with Ewan.

  “If you like the place, and we can agree on things with the current owner, perhaps he can move in next door as soon as possible,” Mrs. Haskell said. “That would mean the two of you would be closer. I know you hate to say goodbye to him each evening.”

  Muriel nodded, and then she broke into laughter. “Mrs. Haskell, that is the most wonderful news I’ve heard all day. I pray it comes true.”

  “As do I,” the landlady said. “I will make dinner for tomorrow, too. Mutton, perhaps, or whatever the butcher has that looks good.”

  When Mrs. Haskell was gone, and as Muriel prepared for bed, she thought about having Ewan as a neighbor, and how she could learn to sneak past Mrs. Haskell’s door at night so she could spend the entire evening with her beloved. Despite the unanswered questions about her day’s activities, things were looking absolutely perfect, and the first of January could not come soon enough.

  * * *

  “I hope you are not going to make a habit of receiving parcels at the store.” Mr. Holmes, manager of The Written Word, handed Muriel a parcel. This one was the size of a hatbox, but it was light, almost as if it were empty.

  “I’m sorry, sir,” she said.

  “This is the second day in a row,” he said as he sniffed in disdain. “We have a business to run here, as you know, and I don’t have time to interrupt my day and deliver your mail.”

  “I understand,” Muriel said. “I’m sorry.”

  He nodded, and she felt like he was saying that she should be sorry. He left and Connie, the store’s other clerk, came up behind her.

  “He can be such a pompous ass,” Connie said. “Do you think it’s a gift from Ewan?”

  No, Muriel didn’t think it was. After yesterday’s activities, she was afraid it was something to do with what she was now thinking of as the Papyrus Predicament. Whoever was behind it was not going to stop sending her things until the reasons behind their actions were made clear.

  If the person’s actions made her lose her job, Muriel would be most unhappy. She knew from Mr. Holmes’s warning that she should wait until at least lunch before she opened the parcel, but curiosity won out.

  “Watch for him, please, while I see what is inside here,” Muriel said.

  “Will you show me what it is?” Connie asked.

  “I will,” Muriel said, even as she wondered about that. There was no telling what was inside the box, unless it was a large vessel for a small block, perhaps the other p. Maybe whoever it was had forgotten to put it in the list of things that needed to be picked up yesterday.

  Muriel undid the string before she slowly unwrapped the box. She took off the lid, glanced inside, gasped, and then slammed the lid back in place.

  “Does that mean I can’t see it?” Connie asked, a grin on her face. “Did your lover send you something salacious? I’m not so innocent, you know. I would love to see it.”

  “When Mr. Holmes leaves for his mid-day meal, we will open it again and examine it, but I must warn you, it is rather shocking,” Muriel said.

  “I can’t wait,” Connie said. The dinging of the bell drew them both back to the real world. Muriel stashed the box in the back room, putting it behind a stack of books and, hopefully, hiding it from Mr. Holmes who might want to open it and see what was inside.

  They waited on customers and located books for the rest of the morning, and when Mr. Holmes said he was leaving for his luncheon, they waited a few moments before Muriel went to locate her newest delivery. She took it to the front counter and once it was in place she looked at Connie.

  “I must warn you, what I saw was extremely sexual in nature,” Muriel said. “I don’t want you to be shocked, even though you said you wouldn’t be.”

  Connie laughed. “Is this what Ewan is sending you nowadays?”

  “This isn’t from Ewan,” Muriel said. She worried that she’d opened it without him, that she should have waited for him, because she knew he hadn’t sent it. She hoped he wouldn’t be angry.”

  “Who is it from?” Connie asked.

  “I’m not sure,” Muriel said. She knew this question was going to come, so she’d thought about it all morning long, wondering if she should tell her friend about yesterday’s activities. Right before Mr. Holmes left, she knew it would be the right thing to do, so she had decided to tell her everything.

  Once she was done, Connie stared at her before she said, “I must say, I’m rather jealous. My life is so boring. Does Ewan have a brother? Or even a cousin?”

  Muriel laughed. “I’m sorry, he hasn’t mentioned one.” She stroked the lid of the box. “Let’s do this now before another customer comes in, or Mr. Holmes returns early. Keep one eye on the door so I can cover it if need be.”

  “I will,” Connie said.

  Muriel removed the lid, and stared down at the offering. It was a piece of brittle paper; Muriel could only guess that it was papyrus. There was a figure painted on it, a man, totally na
ked. His phallus was erect and was painted up to his neck.

  “That is frightening,” Connie said. “It would kill a woman.”

  “It is a sign of his virility, I would think,” Muriel said.

  “Virility?” Connie snorted. “If I saw that thing staring me in the face I would turn and run the other direction.”

  “As would I,” Muriel said. “Do we have any books on Ancient Egypt in the store?” She searched through her mind, but she couldn’t remember any.

  “I don’t think so,” Connie said. “Something tells me if we did, they wouldn’t cover this subject.”

  Muriel wanted to talk to Ewan, although she wouldn’t see him until this evening when they toured the house and ate dinner with Mrs. Haskell. She thought about sending him a message at the museum, where she knew he would be, to tell him about this new development. The more she thought about it the better the idea became.

  She quickly wrote a note, telling him she needed to see him at The Written Word as soon as possible, and after she’d sealed it in an envelope, she opened the door to find one of the street boys who was usually in the area. She found one rather quickly and gave him a shilling and the note.

  “Come back to me when you’ve found Mr. McCracken at the museum and I’ll give you another shilling,” she said.

  The young man’s eyes lit with appreciation. He grabbed the note and the coin and took off in the direction of the museum.

  “You’re giving him two shillings?” Connie asked.

  “It will ensure he returns as quickly as possible,” Muriel said. “Oh, here comes Mr. Holmes. I’m going to hide the painting.”

  She grabbed the box and headed for the back room. Luckily, no one had come into the store while she and Connie had been examining the painting. She picked up a duster when she came out of the back room and started to work.

  “Ah, good,” Mr. Holmes said when he came around the corner to find her dusting books. “It’s been slow today. I hope business picks up before the end of the day.”

  He went into his office and shut the door without waiting for an answer. Muriel kept dusting, and as she worked she conjured up several difference scenarios as to recent events. Someone could be looking for a scroll of erotic images, but why were they being so coy about it? Why didn’t they just contact either herself or Ewan and ask if they knew about such an item, and if they did, how it could be found.

  Of course, there was also the possibility that someone could have lost such an object and they wanted it recovered. But then again, why didn’t they just come out and say what they wanted? It was all so odd, and it made her think that there was a nefarious aspect to the situation. She’d felt in danger when she and Ewan had met, but she’d always relied on him to keep her safe, even if they had disagreed on some things.

  She would have to rely on him right now, too.

  “Does he pay you to stand and look into the air?”

  Ewan’s words made her smile. “That was fast,” she said.

  “What was fast?” he asked.

  “I just sent a note to you at the museum.”

  He shrugged. “I must have missed the messenger,” he said. “I came to tell you I think I know what is happening, although I don’t know who is behind it. Yet. I will soon enough.”

  “Then you don’t know about my latest delivery?”

  His eyes, which had been full of amusement, darkened.

  “What has happened?”

  She told him about the painting, and he smiled. “I didn’t think Connie would laugh about such things.”

  “I think she wants a man in her life,” Muriel said. “She asked if you had a brother.”

  He laughed. “I have a few friends I might introduce her to, later. But right now, I would like to see the painting.”

  Muriel glanced at the still closed door of Mr. Holmes’s office. “I’ll give it to you, and you can take it to the house. I’ll meet you there around six tonight. After the tour, we can talk about the relief.”

  He sighed. “More reliefs. All right, I’ll take the package.”

  “After I hear about what you learned at the museum this morning,” she said.

  “Oh, yes, about that,” he stroked his chin. “It seems the home of a prominent archeologist was burglarized while he was in Egypt. It could have happened at any point in the three months he was gone.”

  “He doesn’t have a housekeeper?”

  “He’s an Egyptologist, which means he’s an academic,” Ewan said. “He doesn’t have money for staff. Most of the items that he hadn’t donated to the museum were taken. Among them was a scroll which depicted erotic activities.”

  “Oh my,” Muriel said. “Do you think he is the one sending us these messages?”

  Ewan shrugged. “He could be. The only thing I got out of my friend at the museum was his last name, Lewis. I’ll do more digging to see what else I can find out.”

  “Now?” she asked.

  “It’s a good time,” he said. “Maybe I should just take a peek at the package, and then leave it with you. It’s safe here, and I don’t want to carry it around while I visit a few more museums, and perhaps the library.”

  She took one more glance at Mr. Holmes’s door, and then motioned him to the back. Once in the back she removed the lid from the box.

  “What do you think?”

  “I think an artist made extra money for exaggerating certain parts of the pharaoh’s anatomy.”

  Muriel giggled. “Only a man worries about the size of his dick.”

  “If you wish,” he said. “But I think some women do, too.” He ran his finger over a blank piece of the paper. “It’s brittle. I think this could be genuine.”

  “What are we supposed to do with it?” she asked.

  He put the lid back into place. “I will find out who the unfortunate Egyptologist is and set up a meeting with him.”

  “Do it at a time when I can attend,” she said.

  He kissed her gently. “I will make sure of it. Put this back in its hiding place and leave it there. I will come back when you close so I can accompany you home. I have decided I don’t like the idea of you carrying this through the streets of London, alone.”

  “Thank you, my handsome protector.” She kissed him, and he pressed his lips into hers, which made her body tingle.

  “Don’t leave without me,” he said.

  Muriel nodded and they walked to the front of the store. When he was gone, Connie asked what he’d thought of the relief. She repeated his quote about the artist earning extra funds, and Connie laughed.

  “Just like a man,” Connie whispered as she walked to the door to greet a new customer. Muriel couldn’t help but laugh, too.

  * * *

  She spent some time that afternoon looking for books on Egyptology, and found only a few, most of them so full of facts and science that they made Muriel’s head spin. The only thing she knew about Egypt was that Ramses II was supposedly the pharaoh of the Book of Exodus in the Bible. Other than that, she knew nothing.

  The young man she’d sent to the museum came back with the undelivered missive, and a frown, telling her he couldn’t find the man in question. She gave him the shilling she’d promised him and he’d perked right up, telling her he would be available to help her whenever she needed.

  “Name’s John-John,” he said. “Just call it out and I’ll come running.”

  She had no doubt he would. “Why the double name?”

  “Sos I know it’s me you’re wanting,” he said. Then he winked and ran out the door.

  When Ewan hadn’t returned before the store closed she became concerned. He’d told her not to leave without him, which meant he would have been here before they closed unless he’d run into trouble, or he’d discovered who the Egyptologist was and had gone to visit him, and lost track of time.

  She waited about thirty minutes, and knew Mr. Holmes was becoming anxious to lock the doors and go home to his wife and children. She glanced at the clock and decided
she had to take matters into her own hand. The fact that Ewan wasn’t here made her concerned about events. She didn’t want to leave the relief here, but she didn’t want to carry it through the streets, alone.

  Someone was trying to draw them into something, and she was rather nervous about this recent turn.

  Muriel opened the store door and called out, “John-John!” The young man, who was almost as tall as she was, appeared at once. “I need someone to accompany me to my home. It’s ten blocks from here. How much would you charge for such a service?”

  “Two more shillings?” he asked, his voice high with hope.

  “Two shillings it is,” Muriel said. “But there is a rub. I have a package I’ll be carrying. If something happens and someone tries to take it from me, can you grab it and run with it?”

  “I can, miss,” he said.

  “Good. If that happens, take it to a safe place and leave it there. Then come and see me tomorrow. That service will earn you five shillings.”

  His eyes grew and he nodded. “I’ll keep you safe, miss, you can count on that.”

  “Wait here.” Muriel went back into the shop. Mr. Holmes stood by the counter, his arms crossed over his chest.

  “Is there something I should be aware of?” he asked.

  “No, I just don’t like the idea of walking this late by myself,” she said. She winced at her words because, as she knew the minute they were out of her mouth, he frowned.

  “You’ve never been worried about it before,” he said. She wished Connie had not left, accompanied by her brother. She was very good at deflecting Mr. Holmes when he was prying into events.

  “Tell me what is happening,” Mr. Holmes demanded. “If we need to wait for Mr. McCracken, then we will wait. We’ll send your John-John to my home with a note to my wife telling her what is happening. She will wait supper on me.”

  “Nonsense,” Muriel said. “John-John and I will be fine.”

  No sooner had the words left her mouth than John-John yelled out, “Miss!” The front door of the shop flew open and two men, with hoods over their heads entered. There were eyeholes and an opening near the nose cut from the cloth, but nothing for the mouth.