A Murder of

Crowe’s

Micah Stevens

A Murder of Crowe’s

By Micah Stevens

Designed to be Worthy

2015

Published by:

Designed To Be Worthy

102 W.McElhaney Road

Taylors, SC 29687

Copyright 2015 Designed To Be Worthy.

All rights reserved.

Printed in the United States of America.

First printing April, 2015.

Dedicated to

My Best Friend. This and future tales are for You.

Acknowledgements

The idea of this book has been in my head

for months. Now that it’s printed, I need to thank the

people who helped this book become what it is:

My mom, for staying up and helping me

make sense of my schoolwork, and encouraging me

in my ideas;

My dad, for giving me more of a historical

context for the characters that made them more real;

My sister Linnea, for helping me with editing

and making suggestions for characters and their

personalities;

My teacher Mrs. Husman, for putting me on

this path in the first place and waiting patiently for

every late document when my computer went crazy;

And, finally, my God and my King, for giving

me this gift and giving me the people that have

helped me with this. This is for You.

Table of Contents

1. Page 6

2. Page 13

3. Page 20

4. Page 26

5. Page 30

6. Page 35

7. Page 40

8. Page 44

Chapter 1 An Invitation and a Memory

The leaves in the trees were a kaleidoscope

of brown, red, and yellow, painting a unified yet diverse picture in the sky. The sky itself was a pleasing blue, strange for October.

Aline glanced up at the sky, smiling to see such a wonderful sight. As a Scotland native, she enjoyed seeing blue skies more than the average Brit. The autumn air still had a sharp bite to it though. She pulled her tartan coat closer to her chest and pulled her beret lower down.

“Aloysius, come on, boy,” she beckoned to the little curly-furred Scottish terrier behind her. He panted energetically and bounded up beside her.

Aline strode off the path and stepped in front of her mailbox. She opened it and pulled out a handful of envelopes.

“Well, this is a mite more than usual,” she muttered. Aloysius looked up at her curiously.

“Come on, then,” she motioned to him and went back from whence she had come. Aloysius trotted behind her.

Aline arrived in front of her home, a cozy little English countryside, two-story cottage, built with beige bricks and chartreuse shutters. Of course, a hibernating garden slept in front of it. A hedge lined the property. She opened the door and closed it as Aloysius trotted in.

She shed her coat and pulled of her beret, revealing her long, dark red hair and her attractive face and figure underneath. Sitting down at her large desk, she said, “Let’s see what we’ve got today, eh?”

She began sorting through the day’s mail: a bill from the heating company, a few letters from some friends, and a check from Trothdale, the college where her husband Edmund worked.

“Good, we’ve been needing this,” she announced. She grabbed her letter opener and slit it open. Then she noticed the last envelope.

“Missed that,” she muttered. Aloysius glanced up from his seat at Aline’s feet.

She picked it up and read the writing on the back. It was signed Mrs. Grace Sparrow. A look of surprise appeared on her face, followed by a giddy smile.

She eagerly slit it open and read: Dear Aline, Oh, how good it is to write to you again! I’m

so sorry it has been so long. My health took a turn recently. I’m far better now, no need to worry. My doctor said I needed a change from Fife, and he wanted me to take a trip somewhere warm. I decided to follow his orders and took a holiday in Nice for a few months. I feel so much better now.

However, the urge to go home to Fife was stronger than my ill health so I’ve returned home, and I’ve decided to have a party. You and Edmund are both invited, of course. Declan and your cousins are invited as well. The party will be held at my estate, October 21st. It’s a dinner party, but you are perfectly welcome to stay longer. I rather hope you do.

Please reply as soon as you can, Love, Aunt Grace. Grinning as giddily as a young girl, she

whipped out her pen and a sheet of paper. She was about to write her reply until reality hit her. Edmund would have to know first, of course. Sighing, she set her pen down.

“Well, what now,” she asked no one in particular. Aloysius thumped his tail.

She stood up and stretched. “I could read my book, I guess. I don’t have

to pick up Ed for another few hours.” She grabbed her book, went in to the living

room, and sat in her favorite, cushy chair. “Now, where was I… Oh yes, Out of the

Frying Pan into the Fire. Rather amusing chapter titles in this book.”

Aloysius looked up at her. She stopped and shook her head.

“I’m going daft, talking to thin air. It’s about time Ed and I started having kids; it’s too lonely here.”

A few hours later, Aline pulled up to the

door of one of Trothdale College’s class buildings.

Ed should come out soon, she thought to herself. True enough, in a few minutes Edmund was exiting the oak doors.

Edmund Blundt had a very different appearance from his wife. He was short, only coming up to Aline’s neck, with a squat, heavy build befitting a linebacker but which he rarely used as a professor of history. He had light hair and skin, and strong, somewhat-squarish features. It was his intelligent gray eyes and a mustache that covered his entire upper lip which completed his bookish leanings.

“Ah, good, you’re here,” he remarked, setting his case in the car’s back seat and settling himself down into the passenger seat. He leaned over and gave Aline a peck on the cheek.

“How was it today?” Aline questioned. Edmund leaned back with a sigh and closed

his eyes. “I got some cheek from a visitor today. He

apparently had heard a lot about our exploits against crime and wanted to see me for himself. I was a bit of a disappointment to him. Not a very pleasant reaction.”

“How unpleasant?” “Very.” Aline nodded sympathetically. “Well, I’ve

got something that might cheer you up,” she said, handing him the letter. Edmund opened it and read it while Aline kept her eyes on the road. He folded it back up and said, “I know you certainly want to go.”

Aline let out a snort. “Of course I do, you know me.”

Edmund nodded sagely. “Alright. I’ll have to let the college know. I doubt they’ll object to a little trip, especially since I’ve been doing so much for them recently.”

Aline grinned. Once they arrived home, Edmund put his

things away and set the table while Aline prepared their supper. After enjoying the meal, Aline returned to her desk and wrote their reply while Edmund formulated what his request for leave to the college president the next day.

Once she was done, Aline joined him in the living room and curled up with her book while Edmund sat and smoked his pipe in his low, leather, green chair, deep in thought. It was a nice, companionable silence. Neither one spoke; they simply enjoyed each other’s company.

Aline let out a yawn and stood up. “I’m whupped. I’ll see you tomorrow.” She bent down and kissed him on the head. “Good night,” he said. He stayed in his chair while she went to the

bedroom and decided to do one of his favorite pastimes: thinking. Letting his brain wander, it decided to travel down memory lane.

The room was bright, lit with lamps set in all

corners of the room. The smell of food and smoke was in the air. He sat in a corner, away from the main body of people. He eyed the crowd, seeing if anyone noticed or cared that he was there. Not really.

He let out a sigh and leaned back into his chair. Matthew, his host, had considerately set this little corner aside for him. He knew Edmund hated crowds. Matthew was a very thoughtful and kind person, Edmund mused. He picked up his book and opened it.

“Edmund! Hey, Ed!” He glanced up in the direction of his name.

Declan was breaking from the crowd, a big grin on his face.

“Well, hello there!” Edmund said in greeting. Declan deposited himself on the neighbouring chair, took off his glasses, and wiped them with a cloth. He put them back on and grinned. He was about five foot eleven, with a slight build and red hair.

“Didn’t expect to see you here,” he remarked.

“Same here,” Edmund replied. Declan shrugged. “My family is visiting; Matt invited me, so I

thought I’d let them come as well. Speaking of which, have you met my sister?”

“Aline, I think her name is?” “Yeah. She’s somewhere in the crowd.” Declan stood and scanned the room. “There she is. Hey, Aline!” he called. A girl on the edge of the crowd turned to

them. Definitely Declan’s sister, Edmund thought with some amusement. She walked over to them with a, “Yeah?’

“Aline, this is Edmund, the gent I’ve told you about,” Declan said, raising his arm towards Edmund like he was presenting a rare prize.

Aline sat down on the footstool and studied Edmund with a curious expression. She stuck out her hand with a grin and said “Nice to make your acquaintance.”

“Er, same,” Edmund mumbled, shaking her hand. It was soft, but rougher than he expected. She must have been outside quite often when she was younger.

She put her elbow on her knee and laid her head against her hand. She was still studying him intently. He felt rather off-put by this.

“Um,” he started, “Is there something you want to ask me?”

Her light blue eyes grew wide, and she let out a laugh.

“No, no, it’s not that. I was just thinking that you look nothing like how I imagined, based from how he described you.”

“Oh, really? I’m sorry to disappoint,” he said simply, gazing at Declan out of the corner of his eye. Declan looked both amused and mortified at the way the conversation was going.

“Just how did he describe me?” Edmund wanted to know.

“Oh, just that you were quiet, a good student, and surprisingly hilarious,” Aline answered.

Edmund sat there a few seconds, considering this, and then turned to Declan and simply said, “Surprisingly hilarious?”

Chapter 2 Aunt Grace

Aline rolled up to the doors. “See you later,” she bid Edmund.

He nodded and stepped out of the car. He watched as she sped off to the village. She needed to mail their reply and pick up a few things. He nodded in approval and walked through the doors of Trothdale.

Aline strode into the post office. Jack, the village postman, stood behind the counter, dealing with Mrs. Claggerty. Mrs. Claggerty had three sons, each one in school. She always sent them packages and writing to them. Aline smiled and waited behind her.

“This one goes to William, yes, that one, and these are for Toby, yes, Toby, and this is Ebenezer’s; it’s his birthday present. Make sure it stays upright because I don’t want it to break. Now, do you remember where their schools are?”

“Yes, ma’am, I remember. I’ve memorised them all.”

“Good lad. Well, ta-ta!” She walked out. Aline glanced as she left

and then stood in front of the counter. “Hey, Jack.” “Hello, Aline,” Jack grunted, sorting the

packages.

“How aggravating was she today?” Jack let out a moan. “Normally, she’s worse. Thank God she only

had a couple of parcels each.” He set the boxes down. “I swear, that lady’s going to put me either

in the hospital or jail.” “I’ll know who to look for when her body

turns up then.” Jack glanced at her and sniggered. “What can I do for you?” “I’ve just got a letter, thanks. Here,” she

said and handed it to him. He grasped it and examined it. “Fife? That’s a long ways away from

Lincolnshire.” “We’ll be taking the train,” Aline told him. “Ah, then that won’t take too long, then.

Well, I’ll get this sent.” “Thanks. Have a good day.” “Thank you,” he replied, eyeing the tower

of parcels for the Claggerty boys. “I hope I will.” Edmund sat in one of the wooden chairs in

front of President Parker’s desk. With his spectacles parked on the end of his nose, Parker examined his request.

Parker let out a cough and folded it up. “Is this all?” he asked. Edmund nodded. Parker leaned back. “Very well, then.

Permission granted. You’ve earned it.” “Thank you,” Edmund said gratefully.

Parker smiled ruefully. “I need one myself, what with this ulcer I’ve

gotten.” “It might be best if you do then.” “You’re probably right about that, as usual.” A few days later, Aline opened the mailbox

and found an envelope with Grace’s name on it. Grinning, she ran back and showed it to Edmund.

He opened it and read out loud: Dear Aline and Edmund, I have received your reply. I’m looking forward to your visit. Love, Grace “Now,” Aline said enthusiastically, “We

start packing!" Edmund let out a quiet groan. The next day, with Aloysius, two trunks and

a few small bags in tow, they set off to the train station.

“Oh,” Aline exclaimed, “we’re early! Good, I need use the loo. Ed, could you be a dear and make sure our luggage is taken care of?”

“Yes, but-“ Aline gave him no chance to reply; she

shoved her bag and Aloysius into his arms and went to look for the ladies’ room. Edmund stood there for a second in a slight daze until he shook his

head and went to find a porter. Everything was taken care of in a matter of minutes.

He stood by a gate, waiting for Aline to show up. Minutes ticked by. No sign of Aline. Edmund’s anxiety started swelling like a river in a storm. What is taking so long? Where is she?

He glancedaround in case he’d missed her. Nothing. He stood there a little longer, feeling ill at ease. Finall, he decided he needed to look for her. He walked around the station, bumping into other pedestrians. Nothing. He checked around the restrooms. Nothing. After searching exhaustively for her, he had at last mustered the courage to ask a porter for assistance when he felt a tap on the shoulder. He turned around.

“There you are!” Aline cried. “What on earth made you want to go wandering around like that?”

“I was looking for you!” Edmund exclaimed. “You were so long I thought something must have happened.”

Aline’s face was a little red. “I just needed a little while, okay? Now,

let’s get on that train.” Edmund gratefully complied. In their empty cabin, Aline sat down and

pulled her book out, filling the room with silence. Edmund, blinking his eyes, lay down on his side and soon fell asleep. Aloysius curled up on Aline’s lap and did the same.

Eventually, the train pulled into station. With their luggage and Aloysius, they walked out into the village. Night was falling rapidly.

“Listen,” Aline told him, “it’s going to be a few hour’s drive to Aunt Grace’s from here, and it’s pretty late. How about we just spend the night here and get there tomorrow?”

Edmund let out a grunt of agreement. “I’d like that. I don’t fancy spending the cold

night in a car with no food.” “All right then. Now, where’s the inn?” Green, rolling hills sped by as their car

rolled along the road. The sky was light grey, and the air rushing past them worsened the chill.

Edmund bundled his scarf more tightly around his neck.

“Blasted weather,” he muttered. Aline laughed, a quaint, high noise that

managed to soothe him. They drove through a small forest.

Completely thrilled, Aline could hardly keep her hands on the wheel, she was so tired. On the other side of the forest, Aunt Grace’s house waited.

They finally broke through the trees. In front of them towered the estate.

It was a grand affair: it stood three stories tall, five times as wide as their little cottage, with deep, respectable red walls and a bronze roof. A grove of trees lined either side of the road, partially obscuring it. The front drive made a circle around a patch of grass with a tree and a fountain.

As they pulled in front of the door, it swung open, and Grace ran out.

“Hello! Hello! You’ve made it!” she cried joyfully.

Aline hopped out of the car and hugged her aunt tightly. Edmund turned off the car and got out as well. He was grinning.

As soon as they had let go of each other, Grace turned to him and hugged him as well.

“Oh, it’s been far too long since I’ve seen you!” she exclaimed.

She pulled back. Grace was a woman somewhere in her fifties, with blond hair streaked with grey, kind blue eyes, and a body still full of vitality.

“You’ve barely changed in the past few years,” she noted.

Aline laughed. “Neither have you.” Byrd suddenly appeared. Grace’s butler

looked impeccable as usual in his suit and mustache, with his black hair neatly combed.

“Shall I take your cases up?” he asked politely.

“Yes, you shall,” Aline answered. He picked up one of their trunks as Grace

said, “Byrd will take you to your room. The party starts in three hours in the dining room. Dress appropriately.”

“Okay, we’ll be there,” Aline assured. Byrd led them through the entrance, up a

staircase, and into one of the wings. He and Edmund carried a trunk and bag each, while Aline had the last bag and Aloysius.

They set their things down, and Byrd turned to them.

“It is excellent to see you here again, Ms. Aline,” he told her, smiling.

Aline, not one to pay attention to society’s stuffy rules, grinned back and hugged him.

“Now, if you will excuse me, I have to go take care of preparations for tonight’s party.”

After he left the room, Aline let out a sigh and flopped on the bed.

“It’s so great to be back!” she exclaimed. “So many memories of when I was a kid are flooding through my head like a dam’s been burst!”

Edmund sat down beside her and waited a few moments, then reminded, “We’d better start unpacking and get ready; the party is not too far away.”

Aline opened an eye, and then she groaned and sat up.

“Alright then, let’s get crackin’.”

Chapter 3 A Disagreement

“It’s time,” Edmund reminded Aline again. “Hang on a millisecond, I’m getting my earrings on,” she replied testily. Edmund said nothing and settled on the bed. He wore one of his nicer suits with deep grey coloring. Aline took a step back to examine herself in the mirror. “There. Done,” she announced, turning to him. “How do I look?” He eyed her. The dress draped in navy, the earrings glittered with sapphires, and the necklace’s opals winked at him. They all suited her masterfully. “Any artist that saw you would be begging for you to pose for them,” he told her. She smiled. “Sorry about snapping at you earlier,” she apologised. He waved it off, literally. “No, I was nagging you. Let’s just put it behind us and go down to dinner.” “Alright then,” Aline conceded.

They descended to the ground floor and entered the dining room where many of the other

guests had already arrived. The couple sat next to Declan, who received them with a hearty “Hullo!”

“Hullo, Dec,” Aline returned. “Good to see you here,” Edmund said. “That’s my line,” Declan replied with a grin.

“After all, you hate parties.” “I decided it was worth the suffering,”

Edmund said with a worn look on his face. The other two laughed.

Aunt Grace arrived in a sky blue dress, putting their conversation on hold. Everyone stood out of respect for their hostess.

Grace stood next to her chair and said, “I thank all of you for coming. It’s been far too long since I’ve seen many of you. Now, please take this time to eat, talk, and simply enjoy each other’s company.”

They all sat down, and conversation erupted from the table. Most of Aline and Declan’s cousins were present, and Edmund felt a bit self-conscious surrounded by so many redheads and Scottish accents.

When the group finished their dinner, they converged in Aunt Grace’s sitting room. The trio sat on a couch.

“Well, that was an excellent meal,” Aline remarked. Edmund closed his eyes and nodded in agreement. He looked as though someone had put pure joy in a needle and shot it through his veins.

Aline let out a titter when she saw his expression. He opened an eye and stared at her quizzically.

“What, may I ask, is so funny?” he asked gravely.

“Oh, nothing, nothing in particular,” she chirped.

Declan tried to cover up his laugh with a sudden burst of coughs, with mixed success.

Edmund eyed them both with faked disapproval.

Two other guests arriving at their little area abruptly turned their attention off of Edmund.

Ms. Pye, a short, rather frail-looking spinster with brown greying hair and brown eyes, barely any taller than Edmund, squatted down next to them. “How are you dears?” she asked kindly.

“Fine,” Aline said. She had met Ms. Pye multiple times before as an old friend of Grace’s. “Have we met, Mister…?”

This was directed at a tall, thin man with a fine dark beard and blue eyes standing behind Ms. Pye.

“Aquilas Orel,” he introduced himself, giving a small bow. The three of them gave their own names. He sat down on one of the chairs.

“So, Mr. Orel, from where do you hail?” inquired Aline.

“What makes you so inquisitive?” he replied.

“You have a name that’s a bit unheard of in this neck of the woods,” Declan told him.

Mr. Orel said simply, “I’m from Russia.” “Oh,” Aline said. “Are you visiting?” He released a little grunt and said, “I had to

flee from the revolution… twenty years ago.” “Oh.” An agonizing silence settled over the group

until Declan piped up saying, “How about you two

tell Mr. Orel about some of your cases?” With a slight inclination of his head, he directed his comment towards Edmund and Aline.

“Cases?” Orel asked, his interest piqued. “Oh, yes, these two are detectives,” Declan

said enthusiastically. Edmund looked at Declan with disdain and

said, “Technically, I am a history professor.” Orel leaned in and begged, “Tell me more

about this detective business.” “Well,” Aline started, until they were

interrupted by, “Hello there!” The group looked in the direction of the

call. “Oh, no,” Aline groaned. Gertrude Sparrow strutted towards them.

She was Grace’s daughter-in-law, a young, attractive girl with dark hair, and she wasn’t the most pleasant person to be around.

She perched herself on a chair. “I heard you were about to talk about your

cases,” she told them. “I’d like to listen too.” Aline muttered something only Edmund heard. “Sure,” she complied. Aline started with their first cases, and she had an attentive audience. Edmund would occasionally clarify and remind her of things that had slipped her mind. Orel ask a question at intervals, but besides that they sat silently. Until Aline said “We decided we couldn’t turn down a plea from Lady Whitcliffe, so-“ Gertrude interrupted with a rude “You should have let her hang.”

The statement was so unexpected that everyone turned to her with a start. “Well,” Aline replied, “she asked for our assistance. And since she was in a tight corner, we thought…” Gertrude shook her head. “You should’ve let her hang. Blasted aristocrats, they are always pulling others into their own messes.” “Well, I knew Lady Whitcliffe as a friend, so I had…” “You know what I want to do with aristocrats?” Gertrude interrupted. Before anyone could answer, she interjected, “Do something like the Russians did. Get the common people together.” “ENOUGH!” Orel bellowed. The whole room fell quiet. He glared at Gertrude with a rage and pain Aline had rarely seen before in anyone. He pointed a finger at her and said, “I saw what the Communists did in Russia! I saw my family murdered for the simple crime of being rich! You want that to happen here? No! I will not let that curse which has befallen my old home come to my new one!” With that, he stalked out of the room. Gertrude watched him go, and as he strode out the door, let out a snort. “Apparently, they missed one,” she said derisively, and took a draught from her drink. “I sure won’t.” Aline sat there, filled with outrage. She opened her mouth and was about to make a scathing remark until she heard Grace’s quiet voice say, “That is enough, Gertrude.”

Gertrude turned to her and was about to make a rebuttal, but her husband Richard affirmed his mother’s command saying, “That is enough. Go to the bedroom.” Gertrude looked furious, but she obeyed. She stormed out of the room and shut the door. A crack resounded within the walls. Everyone watched her go. “Well, that definitely put a damper on the evening,” Declan said drily.

Chapter 4 A Fowl Deed

The next morning, Aline and Edmund sat in the garden. It was nearing noon, with the sun climbing overhead. It was a relaxing, pacific atmosphere. Grace cleared her throat, and said, “I apologise for Gertrude’s behaviour last night.” Aline snorted and slipped in, “She should be the one apologising, to Orel.” Grace sighed and shrugged. “I can’t control Gertrude. She used to be a sweet girl, but a year ago she started reading some terrible Communist papers and books and it all went to her head. It’s so monstrously depressing.” Edmund sat there pensively; he was considering what Grace had just told them. Suddenly, a loud, terrified yell came roaring from within the house. Everyone jumped and turned to the house in time to see Richard tear out of the house yelling, “Murder! Gertrude’s been murdered!

There was a moment’s pause before Aline jumped up and ran to the house; Edmund followed.

They rushed up the stairs to Gertrude’s room and found her there, lying on her bed in her underclothes. A dagger was sticking out of her back

near her spine. A scrap of paper poked out of her hand. Declan appeared a few moments later, huffing enough air to light a balloon. He took a moment to survey the room. “Yeah, she’s dead,” he puffed. “Elementary, Watson,” Aline replied coldly. She leaned in to examine the cadaver. She glanced towards Declan and asked, “Have you got any gloves?” “Sure, I’ll get them.” He left the room. Aline took the opportunity to examine the whole room. A few minutes later Declan came back and handed her a pair of gloves. “Do you often bring these?” she asked wonderingly, snapping them on her hands. Declan shrugged, adding, “Just in case.” Aline gently slid the piece of paper off the blade and examined it. It read: No revolution here. This bird shouldn’t have opened her beak. I’ve done the world a favor. Crowe. “What in the name of…?” Declan muttered. “So, we’ve got a homicidal maniac that hates Communism,” Aline stated. “And they have a thing for birds.” Grace appeared in the doorway. She let out a moan and shrank back. Richard caught her. His face was white as a sheet. “Rich,” Aline asked, “Could you get the rest of the guests and keep them in the sitting room? Make sure none of them leaves.”

“And get the servants, too,” Edmund put in, speaking for the first time. Richard nodded and led Aunt Grace away. Declan gently pulled the dagger from Gertrude’s back and examined it. “There’s something queerly familiar about this,” he noticed. Aline peered at it. “Hey, look, there’re initials there,” she said, pointing. The initials read: G. L. S. “Grace Lucille Sparrow,” Aline breathed. The room was silent until Edmund eloquently summarized, “There are a few possibilities. First, Grace committed the murder with her letter opener, an extremely improbable possibility, since she wouldn’t have left such a damning piece of evidence behind. Also, since the murder was committed a short time ago, she would have had no time to commit the murder since she’s spent the entire morning with us since breakfast.

“Second, and more likely, someone used it either to incriminate her, which is an extremely unlikely choice, or this murder was simply unplanned. In other words, the murderer grabbed the first sharp object they could think of and used that.” Aline and Declan nodded. Edmund puffed his pipe and asked “Aline, could you check the door for me?” “Uh, sure.” She turned it. It swung easily, making a swoosh sound in the air.

“Now, could you swing more slowly, with as much care as you can?” Aline obeyed. The door made no noise. “Thank you.” Aline took a step back and asked “Now what was that for? Checking to see if Gertrude could’ve been alerted to the murderer’s presence?” “Yes,” Edmund confirmed. “And the carpet prevented any creaks or groans which might have emanated from the floor from escaping. I don’t think the house would’ve alerted her.” He turned his attention to the dress on the floor. “She was wearing that at breakfast, correct?” he asked. “Yeah, she was,” Declan confirmed. Edmund bent down and peered at it saying, “There, there’s a stain on it. It looks like it’s still wet.” Declan knelt down and sniffed it. “Smells like tea.” Edmund closed his eyes for a few seconds while Aline and Declan stood there. He finally opened them and said, “This is my theory: Gertrude spilled some tea on herself and came here to change. The murderer slipped in and stabbed her while she was changing. It’s rather simple; not all murders are like the ones in books.” “But what do you think about this note?” Aline asked, brandishing it in the air. Edmund’s brow wrinkled. “Perhaps the murderer enjoys mysteries and wanted to put a

stamp on their own deed, like in the novels,” he suggested. “Well, there’s definitely plenty of birds here, but no Crowes,” Declan remarked. Edmund shrugged. Aline held up a finger. She stared at the letter. “Hang on a mo... There’s something about this writing,… Aha!” she exclaimed triumphantly. “It’s written in left. Whoever did this is left-handed.” Edmund gave a grunt of approval. “Well, that narrows it down. We’ll just have to test everyone on their writing.”

Chapter 5 Some Questions

The group downstairs was in various states; Grace was crying, Richard’s face was blank, Mr. Orel looked stony, and Ms. Pye blew into her handkerchief. Everyone else sat uneasily.

Their attention snapped to the three investigators as soon as they entered.

“Well?” Orel asked. “What have you found?”

Aline cleared her throat and told the group what they had found. She left out the detail of the left-tilted handwriting, however.

“And now,” she concluded, “we’re going to need to question the lot of you, starting with Aunt Grace.”

“You surely don’t think she had anything to do with this, do you?” cried Lucy Lark, one of Aline’s cousins.

“It’s best to be as thorough as possible,” Declan said stiffly.

They sat Grace down in the dining room and sat across from her.

“Now, we do believe you’re innocent,” Declan started, “so let’s just have a quick overview. What did you do after breakfast?”

“Quite simply, I spent the morning talking with Edmund and Aline. I never went up to the house. They can vouch for me.”

Declan nodded. “Now, we just need a sample of handwriting,” he said, holding out a pen and sheet. She took them and wrote her name.

“Thank you, Aunt Grace, that’ll be all.” “Glad I could be of assistance,” she said.

She went back to the sitting room. Aline sighed. “I guess we’d better go on to

Mr. Orel next.” The next few interviews were unrevealing.

Mr. Orel had been with Ms. Pye during the morning, and most of Aline’s cousins had been visiting with one another. The only people who had been in the house during the time of the murder were: the cook, who had been in the kitchen with Hobbes; Lucy, who had been in bed with a migraine; and the maids, who had each other as alibis. The maids also confirmed that Gertrude had spilled her tea on herself since the two of them had been dusting the library when she had spilled it and heard her gasp. Only Hobbes was left-handed, and his writing was too different to match.

Lastly, they plopped Robin Reed down. Reed looked similar to Declan, with a tall, lanky build, red hair, and blue eyes.

“So,” Aline asked,” could you tell us where you were during 10 to 11:15?”

Reed nodded. “I admit, I was in the house. I was in the library, perusing the books, looking for something to read. Gertrude was in there, too. She was reading something and sipping some tea. I had my back turned to her until I heard a cup clatter

and she let out a cry at which point I turned to see her, tea dripping down her dress. She got up abruptly and left.”

“Did you follow her?” Declan shot in. Robin jumped and said with a nervous

stutter, “N…no, I didn’t. Why would I follow her?” “Mmm…,” Aline said. “Now, please write

something for us.” Reed wrote down his name, sweat beading

on his neck and head. His writing hand shook. “Here,” he said, handing it to them. “Thanks,” Declan said, taking it. “Now you

can join the others.” Reed nodded and departed. “Left-handed,” Aline said with some

triumph. “And I know Robin. He’s always been a bit of a shady character. He most likely knows something having to do with this.”

“But,” Declan reminded her, “we have twenty different signatures to check against the note. You can deal with these!”

He handed the paper to her, got up, and stretched.

“Oh, all right, you big prat, I’ll do it,” she said peevishly. “At least I’ll be doing something for the case.”

“Who said I wouldn’t?” Declan replied. “I’m going to notify the police!”

He strolled from the room. Aline let out a sigh of exasperation and

glanced at Edmund. Without a word, he sat down and picked through the different signatures.

It was a meticulous process. Each piece of writing was examined and compared to the note.

“Orel’s looks a little similar,” Aline noted. “What do you think?”

She tossed it to Edmund. “Maybe,” he admitted, “but this doesn’t

strike me as something he would do. If he were to murder someone, this way would be likely, but the note’s tone doesn’t strike me as something he would write.”

“Yeah,” Aline conceded, “He’s a bit too… dignified, yes, that’s the word for this sort of thing. What do you think about Robin’s?”

She handed that signature to him. “It’s too scrawled for me to tell.” Another sigh escaped from Aline. “Yeah, you’re right again.” “You say, ‘Yeah’ quite often, have you

noticed?” Edmund querried. “Can we please focus on this?” Aline

replied. “Yes, sorry, my mind is a bit fuzzy.” A few minutes of silence passed before

Aline said, “Hey, Ms. Pye’s signature is similar, but… she’s right-handed”

“She could be ambidextrous,” Edmund shrugged.

Declan returned. “How’s it going?” he inquired.

Aline shrugged. “The most similar signatures are Orel’s and

Ms. Pye’s. Robin’s is too messed up to tell.” “Blast,” Declan muttered. “Well, I came to

let you know lunch is almost ready, so you might want to vacate the dining room.”

“Thanks,” Aline said.

“By the way,” Edmund remembered, “how did the call to the police go?”

“They have a constable on the way as we speak,” Declan told him. “He’ll be here in the next couple of hours.”

“Good,” Aline replied. “It’ll be nice to have a real constable here.”

Declan sniffed and said, “Do you think my skills as detective are so hopeless we need a constable?”

“No,” Aline responded. “I just want another gun here in case the murderer decides they want another bird dead.”

Chapter 6 An Ally

The constable arrived after lunch and introduced himself as Constable Cobb. He had bright brown eyes and a youthful appearance. “So, what’s this whole mess, then?” he asked as he sat down in the sitting room. The three of them summed up what had happened and showed him the evidence they’d collected. He looked quite enthused by the time they were finished. “The whole things a puzzler, that’s for sure,” he exclaimed. “That’s the truth,” Declan muttered.

“So, now what do we do?” Cobb asked. “It would be best if you saw the crime-

scene yourself,” Edmund said. “Alright then, could you lead the way?” Cobb asked. “O’ course,” Aline replied. Grace was standing outside the door when they exited the room. “Oh, it’s so good of you to be here!” Grace cried. Cobb respectfully doffed his helmet.

“Glad to be of assistance, ma’am,” he professed. They led him up to the room. Cobb took a look around, going over every surface.

“I can’t really see anything you haven’t told me about already,” he said. Aline shrugged. “No offense, but I’d be surprised if you did find something new.” He nodded. “Well, that’s that, then.” “Mmm,” Aline mused. There was an awkward silence, until Edmund suggested that they go back to the sitting room. Robin passed them on the stairs as they went down. He gave a little jump when he saw Cobb.

“What’re you doin’ here?” he asked nervously.

“There’s been a murder, you daft twit,” Aline snapped. “Of course we called a constable.”

Robin nodded but eyed Cobb suspiciously. The afternoon passed, and nothing of note

happened. The atmosphere of the house was dim, and the grey autumn weather did not help either. The occupants were subdued, nervous, or half-heartedly trying to enjoy themselves in spite of the tragedy weighing on their minds.

Finally, dinner was ready. Constable Cobb sat next to Lucy Lark, who seemed rather keen on him. Aline smirked when she saw her cousin make adoring eyes at him.

“Heaven help Cobb,” she remarked. “He needs it as much as we do, but I don’t

see the joke,” Edmund replied. “Lucy. She looks like one of those damsels

in movies. It’s rather hil-” “What?”

Aline was eyeing Robin suspiciously. “I don’t like his look,” she muttered. “I’ve

seen that look too often to brush it off. He’s definitely up to something.”

Edmund nonchalantly put his gaze on Robin. He had an air of normality, but Edmund’s dealings with characters of all kinds had made him adept at reading people, although not quit on Aline’s level.

“He continually glances at Lucy,” Aline noted.

Edmund nodded. “We might need a little chat with him

later,” she decided with a hint of relish in her voice. Edmund was silent for a few moments, then

said, “I think we need to talk with Lucy first. She appears to be the one in danger.”

Aline pondered this, and then conceded, “You’re right, as usual.”

When the party shuffled out if the dining room to the sitting room, Aline tapped on Lucy’s shoulder. She turned with a “Yes?”

“Ed and I would like to talk with you.” “About what?” Lucy asked. “Erm…” Aline paused. “It’s best if we go to a

separate room.” “Oh, okay,” Lucy stuttered, confused. They entered Lucy’s room. Aline shut the

door and locked it. “Wha-what’d you do that for?” Lucy was acting skittish now. Aline sat down on a chair across from Lucy. “Quite simply, Lucy, Edmund and I are

concerned about your safety.”

“Why? You don’t think the murderer, Crowe, or whatever his name is, is going to come after me next, do you?”

Her expression reminded Aline of a cat cornered by a dog or a fox, hopeless and scared.

“No, nothing like that, but…” “But what?” she implored. “We think Robin might wish you harm of

some kind,” Edmund put bluntly. Lucy was silent. “Do you know anything about this?” Aline

asked. Still silent. “Lucy, Ed and I want to help you. You don’t

have to be afraid to…” “I’m pregnant!” she blurted out. Dead silence filled the room. Edmund, who

had been puffing away on his pipe, stopped completely.

“Well, then,” Aline said, dazed. Now that the dam was burst, the truth

would be flooding out. “It was my husband Patrick, you remember

him, right?” “Yeah, of course I do.” “You remember how he died?” “Car crash, wasn’t it?” “That’s what I thought, but Robin came to

me a few weeks ago saying he had evidence that this wasn’t the case!”

“What?” “Yes! And he refuses to tell me what he’s

found unless I pay him!”

Aline was incensed for the second time in so many nights.

“Excuse me while I go punch Robin’s throat in,” she growled.

“Why haven’t you told the authorities?” Edmund put in.

Lucy’s expression was miserable. “Because he threatened to destroy what

evidence he’s found if I told anyone! And when he first told me this, I didn’t think anything about it, other than he must be trying to scam me, but he persisted so often, I started to believe him.

“So, I gave him a small amount, and he showed me a little of what he’d found. I couldn’t believe it, but he refused to show me anymore.”

“What did he show you?” “He… It said that Patrick was involved in

something… illegal. Some sort of scam or robbery or something.”

“Hmm…” Edmund considered. “How far along are you?” Aline questioned. “Just four months. My doctor confirmed it.” Aline stood up. “I say it’s about time we went and had a

chat with Robin,” she announced. “Oh, please,” Lucy objected, “don’t do that,

he might destroy what else he has.” “We won’t give him the chance,” Aline told

her grimly.

Chapter 7 Confessions of a Murderer

Robin was in the sitting room with everyone else when Aline arrived. He looked up when they entered and narrowed his brows when he saw them. “Robin,” Aline said, “I’d like it if you’d let Edmund and I talk with you.” “’Bout what?” he asked suspiciously. “I’m not telling you that right now,” Aline laid out firmly. “Just come with me.” “No,” he refused obstinately. Aline glared at him. “Come with me,” she ordered through gritted teeth, “now.” Aline could be quite the fearsome sight when she wanted to be. Robin gave in. When he saw Lucy, he stopped dead in his tracks. “What d’you want”” he asked. She rose. “I want you to give the information concerning my husband’s death!” “What?” he asked incredulously. “Are you drunk? I don’t know anything about that!” “Oh, yes, you do!” she cried angrily. “I don’t know a thing!” he repeated, a panicked look on his face.

Edmund watched the interaction curiously. “Robin, just shut up and tell us what happened,” Aline snapped. “That’s a contradiction,” Edmund pointed out softly. “Oh, whatever,” Aline cried. She directed her attention back to Robin, whose expression was one of sheer shock and confusion. “Now, tell us-“ “Alright! Alright, I’ll tell you!” he bellowed. Aline sat back to let him confess. “I know who murdered Patrick. It was Lucy.” “What sort of cockamamie story is that?” Aline spluttered. “That’s a filthy lie, you animal! What sort of monster are you?” Lucy shouted. “Aline,” Edmund said, “let him speak.” Aline stopped and turned to him. “But-“ The expression on his face calmed her down. “Alright.” She sat down. “You’re letting him speak more of that filth?” Lucy demanded. “Yes,” Edmund responded, “because I prefer to listen to both sides.” Lucy sat down, and although she looked angry, Aline noticed she appeared nervous as well. Robin cleared his throat. “Lucy murdered her husband. I’m pretty sure she killed Gertrude too.”

“What makes you claim this?” Edmund queried. Robin looked triumphant. “She told me about Patrick herself. She knows I’m… Well, I’m not exactly the cleanest bloke around.” Aline snorted and snapped, “No, duh, Doyle.” “Well, she thought Patrick was acting differently a few months ago. She wanted me to see what he was doing.” “What was he doing?” “He and Gertrude were having an affair together!” Robin declared with an odd amount of pride at his knowledge of such privy information. Edmund paused, receding into his mind to think it over. “That makes sense,” Aline remarked, slightly dazed. “When I told Lucy what I had found, she went bonkers, swearing and throwing things and making death threats. I’ve never seen anyone so raving mad.” “Lies!” Lucy rebuked. “All lies! Patrick loved me! He would never…” “I’ve got the proof of the affair,” Robin retorted. “It’s no good trying to deny it.” Lucy looked abashed. Edmund and Aline were silent until she finally sat down and confessed, “Yes, yes, I admit it! I killed them both! “I wanted them to pay for the hurt they caused me! I hated them both! I killed Patrick by messing with his car’s brakes! It was an old thing, so it was bound to happen, naturally! About

Gertrude, well, ... I snuck into Aunt Grace’s office to steal the letter opener and since no one was around, it was an easy theft. I snuck to her room to see if she was there, and I saw her changing. I just snuck in and…, and drove the blade through her back!”

Lucy’s voice was venomous as she talked. “I wrote the letter to throw you off. I’m

ambidextrous; it’s something I keep to myself.” “Well, then,” Aline said, still in a daze. “I

never would’ve thought it was you.” “I knew that, and I played you like a piano,”

Lucy said with a hint of glee. “Excuse me,” Edmund suddenly snapped,

“but shouldn’t we get Declan in here?” Lucy laughed. “I don’t care anymore. I don’t care. They’re

both burning in hell, and that’s all I wanted.”

Chapter 8 A Story and an End

Cobb shoved the car trunk shut with a clunk and walked over to Edmund and Aline.

“You have everything?” Aline checked. “Yep,” Cobb answered. “All her things are in

there.” Declan suddenly appeared, toting his

suitcase. “What’s that for?” Aline inquired.

Declan grunted and said, “I’m going with Cobb to make sure everything goes correctly.”

“Great!” Cobb injected. “I’m glad to have some company.”

Grace and some of the others stood by the front door while the car drove away. Edmund and Aline watched with them for a few moments, but soon decided to go back inside.

They found Orel in the sitting room, smoking his pipe by the fireplace. Ms. Pye was sitting near him. They joined them.

“This whole thing has been so terrible!” Ms.Pye exclaimed. “I’ve never been so stressed in all my life! I’m glad it’s over!”

“So am I,” Orel said quietly. Edmund and Aline nodded.

Orel looked at the two of them and said, “I enjoyed listening to your stories last night. I think I shall tell you mine.”

Aline’s eyes grew wide, and she shifted closer to him. Orel let out a sigh and spoke.

“I was still young when the Bolsheviks took over, thirty six, with a happy marriage, children that were the joy of my life, and a comfortable home. I was only nobility, but I was an aristocrat. The Communists decided that was a crime.”

He paused to let out a puff from his pipe and then continued.

“They came towards supper, with guns and blades. They broke my belongings and tore my nice clothes. I didn’t care, I just wanted my family to be safe. We managed to escape: myself, my wife Anna, and our five children.”

He paused again and said, “They caught us.” He took a sip from his drink.

“They found us on the road. They caught Anna and three our children, Vladimir, Victoria, and Markus. I managed to evade capture with Mikhael and Alyosha. A forest was nearby; we hid in the trees and watched as they… as they questioned Anna about where we were. We were too well hidden for them to find us. She knew what would happen: they would kill all of us if they had us, and she knew death would come either way. She refused to tell them. They beat her and the children, stripped them to leave them in the cold, but she refused to tell. They finally gave up and shot them all.”

“Oh, gosh…” Aline murmured as he took another sip from his glass.

“They went on, taking the clothes with them and leaving the bodies by the side of the road. When they were out of sight, the boys and I did our best to bury them. We spent the next few months making our way to Finland, where we bought passage to here, to Britain.”

He let out a puff. “It was hard. Your aunt let us live with her

for a few months until we could find a place for us to live. I managed to find a cottage on the coast. The three of us lived there, on your aunt’s money, until the boys were grown. When they had grown, she let me come live here.”

The others were silent until Aline tentatively asked, “What did happened to Mikhael and Alyosha?”

He smiled for the first time. “They’re married with children now.

Mikhael is a doctor while Alyosha is a professor of forensic science. I’m proud of them both. They remember that cold, dark night and do their best to ensure nothing like that will ever happen again.”

Aline nodded, “Thank you for telling us.” “Yes,” Ms. Pye agreed and added, “thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he said, pausing for a moment. “There is something else I would like to say, but that is for Ms. Pye and me alone.” “Alright,” Aline replied, slightly puzzled. His expression was different for him. He looked… shy.

The two of them stood outside the door, not exactly eavesdropping, but not exactly respecting privacy either. They heard some muffled words from Orel and an excited shriek from Ms. Pye, followed by laughter from both. Aline looked at Edmund and grinned, saying, “I knew it.” Aline put the last of her socks in her trunk. “Ready,” she told Edmund. “It’s about time,” he muttered.

Byrd carried down their trunks. Grace, Mr. Orel, and the soon-to-be Mrs. Orel, along with the rest of the servants waited for them.

“Oh, I wish you could have stayed longer,” Grace murmured as she hugged Aline.

“We’ve already stayed longer than everyone else,” Aline laughed.

“Still,” Grace smiled. Aline turned to Aquilas and Margaret. “I wish you nothing but the best,” she

smiled. “Same from me,” Edmund agreed. Ms. Pye giggled. “I know I already have the best,” she said. Orel’s face flushed red.

“I do hope I don’t lose you again like last time,” Edmund remarked as they sat down in their compartment.

Aline laughed and kissed him on the cheek. “Don’t worry,” she said warmly. “You will

never lose me.”

About the author

Micah Stevens has had a passion for reading

since the age of seven. Now planning on being a

writer, he is proud to have written his first story. He

is planning on using Edmund and Aline in future

tales as well as writing a fantasy series and a series of

historical novels. He lives in Taylors, SC, with his

parents, his sister, and four crazy cats.

“Intriguing, uncrackable plotline kept me guessing right up to the climax. Beautifully described settings made me imagine the story with vivid details. The well-developed characters did an excellent job of developing the story through dialogue. I can't wait to read more stories starring Aline and Edmund! ---Linnea, Sister

“Engaging, edge-of-your-seat stuff; a must read.” ----Jennie, Mother

“Yah, the book is good! Of course, when I read that Aline is Scottish, my mind resorted to using a slightly high-pitched Demoman voice for her …I really like it!” ----Jonathan, Best Friend