The Splendid and Extraordinary Life of Beautimus Potamus

Chapter Five

Chapter Five

“Sam, I’ve been considering the similarities between Priscilla’s murder and Áine’s. I have a gut-feeling Chance killed Áine, and maybe Priscilla. He’s got a horrible temper. I can’t imagine why he’d murder the High Priestess’ house chimp, but as for Áine, she and Chance were never on good terms. I think she pissed him off somehow, and he lost it.”

“Perhaps, but why would Chance be in The Compound to begin with, and how could he have gotten in? No one but the badger had a key. And, besides, Áine’s murder occurred nearly two centuries ago in a completely different area of the Wayflower District. I don’t think the two murders are remotely related.”

“Both victims were Believers, and young females with their throats ripped out. What makes you think they aren’t connected? That t-rex might have used his family’s influence and money to buy his way out of trouble. I think he got away with murder, maybe two murders.”

A scratching sound attracted Beautimus’ attention. She caught sight of brown tail feathers as the hen scuttled down a shallow embankment. “Sam, I suspect our chicken is getting better at sneaking around.”

“Yeah? If she gets in Chance’s way, I suspect she’ll end up plucked and deep fried.”

***

Beautimus and Samuel made their way along the remaining length of the path to the Sacred Watering Hole. They strolled by majestic Japanese maples, magnolias and old camphor trees with spring green trunks. Some of the fairgoers played clay whistles or babuwood flutes as they traversed the path, and others sang or hummed. Samuel and Beautimus passed a knot of toads picking daisies for the festival. The toads sang an old Goddess hymn, “How Great Thou Art.”

The two friends picked up the distant strains of the festival’s tan river reed whistles, the hypnotic rhythms of pink pebble rumblers and striped pan-pan gourd rattles. The music grew louder and brighter as they at last approached the fair gates. At the entrance, they passed under an arbor of buddleia bushes heavy with plum colored blossoms. Atop the arbor, representatives of the Butterfly Counsel sat in a row attended by eager honey bees.

A particularly stunning swallowtail, Odette, called down to the groups of fair attendees, “Welcome one and all to the festival. Happy Wasenia Day. May you be blessed by the warmth of the stars.”