“Amelia is not the killer,” growled Lindon.
“I have a little interest in the science of photography, but I’m not being suspicious yet,” I retorted in sarcasm. “I’ll find out the murderer and what not, but I should tell you, I’m on the side of suicide as well.”
Lindon’s eyes widened, and for a moment, there was silence, until he sputtered with, “I thought you said earlier that it may be a murder?”
“I would prefer if it was suicide,” I said, then turned to Wilden. “You, by the way, live in the clock tower, since you aren’t just the gardener, but also it’s caretaker. Could you not have noticed anything during the night?”
“In my defense, if she was murdered, it was not I!” Wilden gasped in alarm. “Also, I could not have noticed anything! My eyes have lost some vision, and my hearing is not that good either, sir!” His voice became a tinge frantic when he noted Lindon frowning at him.
I laughed. “Then again, you’re too nice to think about killing another person. Would you three like to see Emily?”
“No, I don’t need to,” said Lindon abruptly.
“Um – likewise.” Amelia sounded hesitant.
“I will go and check on the master of the house and see if he is fine,” said Wilden thoughtfully, “so I will be passing by the foyer. In which case, I have no doubt that I will see her.”
With that, I left towards the foyer with Wilden, leaving Amelia and Lindon in the parlor.
Jennings was bent over the body of Emily when we came out, his eyes focussed while Isaiah leaned over the doctor with equally attentive eyes. The sight of Isaiah reminds me of the times when he shows a rogue side when he would sharpen his glance and study a subject as if he was in a trace. That rogue side, built from a rough childhood of thievery, at least gave him a quick mind.
“My word, although I’ve known you to have dealt with mysterious circumstances of deaths, it is very disturbing that there would be such a thing in this household,” Wilden muttered. “And not far from the clock tower as well.”
“I have a question, Dr. Jennings,” said Isaiah suddenly, startling me and Wilden; he did not seem to have noticed us both yet, still with his eyes over the dead. “I saw you in the middle of the night, in the mansion’s courtyard, where my room faces. Doesn’t the household lock the doors before midnight?”
Dr. Jennings’ hands froze, his fingertips brushing Emily’s neck. Slowly, he managed to reply: “I occasionally sneak out of the house at night to take a walk. How did you know? If I recall rightly, you retired early last night.”
“It happens at the most ungodly hours, but I wake up in the middle of the night every day at least once,” said Isaiah. “I stay up for a bit before going back to sleep.”
The doctor laughed in relief. “I have always been under the assumption that Gremlins are I have met a few who speak what later turn out to be nonsense.” He pulled a blanket over Emily. “But my job in this castle is only as Sir Lorren’s personal physician, so I am a guest in this house until he gets better. I must admit, though, this household is filled with stubborn ones.”
“I think the same oftentimes,” laughed Wilden. “Why, I’ve told Mr. Lorren that he must take Dr. Jennings’ advice and leave the castle to the country to recover, but he refused. And then the recent conflict of the wedding ring had Mr. Lindon in foul moods in his determination to not lose it. Their actions always make people think that the stories the city people in the metropolis tell about Kamillia Castle are true.”
“Like the rumors that the castle’s clock tower is alive?” Isaiah asked.
“Why, Isaiah, my boy, you believe in that?” Wilden burst out laughing as I cracked a smile; such rumors used to make the both of us, who knew the Lorren family well, laugh so hard.
“Forgive me, but I actually find that quite believable, if I must say so,” said Dr. Jennings suddenly, sheepishly. “I…have seen the rumored orbs of fire dancing through the top floors of the house, not from far away in the metropolis of Moorwalk, but even in the courtyard. I – never had the courage to ask, but – I have no been seeing things, have I, Mr. Wilden?”
“Huh? So it is true?” Isaiah gasped.
“No,” Wilden and I replied at the same time.
“You’re not half wrong about it being alive, though,” Wilden said. “The clock. Do you know why Ethaon comes here every year to check on the clock, Isaiah? This is a question for you as well, Dr. Jennings, since you’ve been among us for a while.”
“I…have been told by the master of the house that it is because of the maintanence of the clock, to clean dust away as well as to check on the gears,” Dr. Jennings muttered. “I must say, however that it was a vague answer.”
“The clock runs on steam power, not like the turret clocks we have in the city,” I replied. “What I’m supposed to do was make sure the engine runs well, and that the fires of the house haven’t clogged any pipes with soot, among other things. If you walked into the clock tower, you would notice a quiet hum. The orbs of fire you see have something to do with his function, as gaslights.”
“It is?” Isaiah’s eyes were wide with surprise.
“Grandfather loved steam engines.” I glanced at Emily’s body. “That aside, Dr. Jennings? Have you an idea how long the Lady has been dead?”
The doctor’s eyes narrowed, but he also looked down at the Lady for a moment, contemplating. Finally, he said, “Possibly two hours, roughly estimating it. It must have been after I went indoors from my walk.”
I nodded. “I see. Thank you.”
“I will go and check on the Sir right now,” said Wilden. “Dr. Jennings, please accompany me. He may need your assistance.”
“Ah, yes.” With that, the two went up the stairs, pardoning themselves from me and Isaiah.
When they had gone and were out of earshot, Isaiah suddenly spoke, “Master, you do not think that it is a suicide, do you?”
“I would wish it was a suicide, as much as I feel bad, for this concerns someone who is like family,” I replied with a scowl. “Lindon, however, guessed correctly: it is a murder, Isaiah.”
“But I am reluctant to find out who it is,” I sighed.
“Why?” Isaiah frowned, puzzled. “Lady Emily does seem distraught over herself and she said nothing at dinner as well.”
“You’d be wrong if you thought Lady Emily was the simple wife of Lindon Lorren,” I shrugged. “She has powerful friends, a rich family, and lives in extravagance. She had enough to spend for her lifetime. She’s a socialite with a lot of influential friends. Even a divorce won’t break her, though I don’t doubt she is petty enough to hold a grudge through it. Suicide won’t be in her head, but murder – for her – is possible.”
“That’s scary!” Isaiah gawked. Then he chewed his lip nervously. “For the record, I think Dr. Jennings is lying about going for a walk.”
“The time I saw him on his ‘walk’ was three hours before dawn, when you wake up. Having gone for a walk around the castle yesterday, I found that it takes about thirty minutes to circle it, yet the doctor returned in another half-hour longer than that. If that’s so, he should have seen the Lady die. he would be the one to raise the alarm, not the Master.”
When he finished, the overhead thunder rolled as we fell silent.
“I need not tell you to stop calling me ‘Master’, do I?” I groaned. “I know he lied. Most likely, it was less than two hours since Emily died.”
“So you already know? Then what was the point of asking the doctor to give his guess?”
“To see if he, too, is a liar.” I ran a hand through my hair. “Heavens, in the year since I last visited, this Castle has picked up more secrets than it just being alive. At this rate, I may become as bald as our dear friendly investigator, Rathbone.”
It’s a little longer than a couple of weeks late, but I only reached halfway through my NaNoWriMo word count. Ahh – well, there’s always…next year? T_T. Yep, I’m definitely going to try redeeming it in the next Camp NaNo.
And, lookie! I tried my hand drawing an illustration because I thought a picture would liven it up a bit. I’m heavily influenced by manga, though, so it’s not that realistic. I had a lot of trouble inking it, but a drawing made in an hour and a half is not even my toughest job.