Triple Threat Mysteries Collection

Chapter 12

Tea-time saw a spicy blend served with mushroom tartlets and shortbread cookies shaped like multi-legged creatures, maybe octopi or spiders. It was a silent affair. We were hungry – or peckish as Jensen may have said – and it appeared we felt like entering Zen zones again. Forty minutes later our sated re-energized group, save Jensen, marched along a west-wing corridor lined with ornaments and weaponry. Longswords, battle axes and quarterstaffs, and unusual pieces of chainmail added an interesting if not disquieting dimension to the interior decoration. King Arthur and his knights would have felt perfectly at home.

The plan was to move throughout the first floor, from back to front, starting with the larder and kitchen. If nothing else, it was something to do to kill time. Oops, maybe “kill” wasn"t the best word under the circumstances.

“Where"s that London barrister?” Rey peered circumspectly around one of two tall long metal shelving units in the large dim larder, as if anticipating finding a body tucked between cases of granola and pickling barrels. “He become too good for us?”

Linda dropped the lid to a mammoth freezer. She looked disappointed, as if expecting to find a corpse inserted between forty containers of soup and stew and twenty tubs of ice cream, but finding nothing more than freezer burn. “Become? The man was born too good for us.”

bornPercival snickered like a sibling watching his parents" favorite child being dissed and chomped into a chocolate chip cookie. When he saw the stares, he passed his sweet find on.

Adwin glanced at the bag, frowned, and handed it to Rey. Pre-fab desserts did not play a part in the life of my little dough boy.

Cookies in hand, we moved through an old-fashioned but immaculate kitchen into a large somber room that was a mix of library, study, and museum. It smelled “old”. One tall partition supported russet-stained shelves and books. Another wall was lined with oil paintings of old-world landscapes and hunting scenes; yet another wall supported two huge portraits.

Like the King Arthur corridor, the room possessed an unusual if not disturbing effect. Or maybe it only seemed disturbing because there was something perturbing about the man in the first portrait, which resembled an early twentieth-century photograph with predominant shades of browns and creams. A solemn man in his late forties, he was dressed in a dark tail coat and trousers. What was it that was so bothersome? The fixed stare? The graveness? The big Dumbo ears? The huge solitary eyebrow perched over dark beady eyes? The handlebar mustache that looked as if it had been pasted in the middle of a pail-shaped head for some unidentified effect? And what about those lips? They were so fat and flabby you might have thought the guy had encountered a collagen-happy cosmetic surgeon. This had to be Reginald Charles Moone II.

Prunella stood so close behind, my eyes began to water. Obsession was an intense and intoxicating scent when dabbed delicately behind ears or on wrists, but not so pleasant when the body had been completely doused with it. “I can"t say why, but that man always came across as eerie.”

I was glad to know I wasn"t alone in my feelings. “Did you ever meet him?”

She chuckled. “He was way before my time. Moone Number Two died in the early 1930s.”

“And the other?” I gestured the second portrait. Like Moone Number Two, this fellow had one huge eyebrow; it was perched over onyx-black eyes just as beady as the sire"s. He had the same ears and the same sober – almost grim – air. That was where the similarities stopped. Unlike his father, Moone Number Three was clean-shaven, his skin slightly scarred, possibly from a childhood ailment. His lips were well-defined, almost sensual, as if they belonged on a silent movie star. The face was remarkably thin, a dramatic contrast to the father"s. His smart and fashionable if not expensive suit consisted of a double-breasted vest worn with a single-breasted jacket and matching trousers.

“I never knew him, either.” She leaned close. “Matty once told me that Reginald rarely talked of his family. There"d been a falling out between brothers and uncles. Hence, the limited number of portraits. I understand many were removed, if not destroyed, over the years.”

That wasn"t hard to doubt. The male Moone kinfolk were much too serious for anyone"s good. “What about Aunt Matty"s hubby, Moone Number Four? Even though he was my uncle, I never met him. What was he like?”

Searching for the right words, she studied a cabinet filled with curios – everything from teapots to vases to statues. “Aloof. Frosty. Weird – no, maybe I should say different. He, too, had a few falling-outs, including one with Jensen, his youngest brother, but they made up when Reginald celebrated his sixtieth. He was extremely knowledgeable about antiquities and history.” She offered a lean smile. “Reginald didn"t talk much, except after a couple of glasses of Madeira. Good gracious, then he would get caught up in the Renaissance and Reformation, or the Napoleonic Wars, and that mouth seldom closed.” She smiled thinly.

differentI"d forgotten Reginald and Jensen were brothers. Other than sharing a somber demeanor, they bore little resemblance. Maybe Jensen took after the mother. I motioned the cabinet. “Is that his only collection of curiosities?”

“Oh my no. Oddments and showpieces fill a large room on the third floor, as well as the entire tower.” Her voice became a conspiratorial whisper. “I wouldn"t go there alone, sweetie. It might turn that lovely dark hair of yours a stark shade of white.” She turned to her brother, who had sidled up alongside us.

“Lookee here!”

We whirled and found Linda holding a 10 ½” X 13” hardcover comprised of black cloth, gilt lettering, and gilt page edges. It was very old and in pristine condition.

“It"s a book,” she announced.

We offered surely-you-jest looks.

“It"s all about old-world treatments and remedies!” She flourished an arm like a heralding trumpeter might a majestic banner. “In fact, half this shelf is about medicines and herbs, poisons and toxins. There are some awesome first editions.”

Rey sped across the room with the velocity of a tempest. “How perfect is that?”

“Perfect for what?” Percival asked flatly.

“For Thomas Saturne"s killer. Everything he or she needed to know about committing the perfect murder was – is – right here in this room.”

“Sure. His "killer" came in here the day of his death and researched all these books to find the perfect poisonous substance.”

“It"s merely a coincidence, dear,” May-Lee added quietly. “If Thomas was murdered, and we must assume it"s an "if", then it"s unlikely his murderer would have had time to research poisons, never mind find one that satisfied his or her needs, much less acquire it.”

“Unless it was the help. They"d have had access to this information at any time and could have researched poisons days, weeks, maybe months in advance.” My cousin"s chin rose with defiance. “That could hold true for a lot of folks.”

Adwin offered a placating smile. “If I were going to kill someone – as in predetermined murder – I"d have made sure that my research, method of murder, and timing had been methodically devised. There"d be no leaving things to chance or examining last-minute details. I"d have had all my ducks in a row.”

predeterminedMy cousin pouted. “I say we move onwards and upwards, and hit the second floor.”

“I say we hit her,” Percival said under his breath.

herHis sister"s response sounded like the haunting laughter of a hyena.

But upwards and onwards we did troop – along a narrow rear staircase to an unchartered wing of the house.

Rey sneezed, Linda coughed, and I held my breath as long as possible, and when I had no option but to suck in air, my sneeze and cough were of booming Jolly Green Giant properties. We were in the first room at the top of the stairs, a large L-shaped room that hadn"t been aired for some time and where Swiffer hadn"t yet given new meaning to cleaning. Egg-white sheets, layered thinly with dust, covered most of the furniture.

“Another guestroom?” Linda asked, throwing a Werther"s Caramel Apple candy between those unusual button-like lips.

“I think this may have been Reginald"s parents" room.”

We turned to Percival, who was peering beneath a covering draped over what appeared to be a huge dresser. He pulled out a small oval gold-framed photograph of a young couple and held it up for all to see.

“That would be Moone the Third and Theadora,” Prunella agreed, taking the photograph.

“Theadora?” Rey smirked.

“I don"t remember any Theadora,” I searched my mental family files.

“She came from Bohemian parents.”

“Unlike most Bohemians, however, her parents had lots of money,” Percival explained with a knowing look.

“Which made her very suitable wife material,” I responded.

He tapped the tip of his nose with an index finger and pointed.

Rey yanked a sheet from a carved cherry armoire and sneezed. She sounded like a backfiring Mack truck. Delicate did not appear to be these two cousins" middle names.

“Should you be doing that?” Prunella asked, her high forehead crinkled like a linen pantsuit that had been worn on a transatlantic flight.

“Why not? We"re exploring.”

“We don"t have to explore every little thing.”

every“Come on, Rey,” Linda coaxed, “if we look behind and beneath every stick of furniture, we"ll be here at the end of next month.”

“Let"s stick to cursory exploration, shall we?” Percival suggested. “Which means quick strolls into rooms, peeks under beds and into cubbyholes.”

cursory“And closets,” Rey added, pulling open a wide, heavy door beyond the armoire.

“And closets,” he sighed, rolling his eyes and then nearly having them leap from their sockets when she offered a strident scream or curse, or combination thereof.

We hastened forward.

… And found Jensen perched on a shelf, sporting an unlikely and most mischievous grin, looking like an office mail-boy who"d pulled one over on the ever-critical boss. In his vein-lined hand was beige floral-etched stationary and written on it in large ornate script was: having fun yet?

“It took you b****y explorers long enough. My word, I thought I"d be here well into the midnight hour.”

Jensen Q. Moone, dressed in designer jeans and an alpaca mock turtleneck, hopped to his size fourteen loafers. How come we"d never noticed those clodhoppers before? They stood out like yams amid fingerling potatoes. And that crucifix – it could anchor a small boat. He no longer seemed so stiff though. In fact, considering the flexibility he"d displayed, he was very much the opposite. Even his accent seemed less severe or forced.

“What"s going on?” Percival demanded, stepping before him. “This isn"t at all funny.”

“No?” he smiled. “You should have seen your face from where I was.”

Prunella pulled her brother back gently. “You did have a rather interesting expression.” She smiled, then giggled.

Rey chuckled. “It was priceless. I thought you were going to pis –”

was“Let"s not go there,” Adwin suggested hurriedly. “What"s your story, Jensen?”

“Mathilda had requested my services some time ago and I acquiesced.”

“Services?” Rey asked curiously.

The serious demeanor returned. “I was asked that when this collect-your-inheritance week came to pass, I assist matters along.” He smiled darkly and then chuckled. “I must say, that was rather fun.”

was“And Thomas?” Adwin asked acerbically. “Was he part of assisting matters along?”

Jensen shook his head. “His death was an unfortunate, unexpected event.”

“I have to say, considering Aunt Mat"s sense of humor, that you playing closet peek-a-boo isn"t up to her usual wit,” I said.

“Who"s to say I"m all there is?” His expression waffled between mirth and flippancy, suggesting more pranks and tricks were afoot.

I smiled drolly. “That"s more like Aunt Mat.”

That"s“Can we move on now?” Rey asked impatiently. “Anywhere we should look or go that you haven"t been?”

youThe barrister shook his head. “I haven"t seen that much of the house.”

“But you lived here once upon a time ago,” I stated.

“I stand corrected.” He bowed his head. “I haven"t seen that much of the house since I left to attend university.”

“Good.” Tossing her head, Rey led the way.