Beatrice: An Alarming Tale of British Murder and Woe by Tedd Hawks (the reading list book .TXT) 📕

            Corinthianaturned to Crockett, her eyes bright. A lilt returned to her voice. “Awrk! Isthaaat how theee underclaaass haaandles such measures?”

            “I’msorry Corinthiana,” Petrarch said softly. “I think in light of the situation itmay be best to handle this discussion with more lower-class precision. I knowyou usually like to air grievances a bit more dramatically.”

            “Mustwe, really?” Corinthiana asked sadly. “I had prepared a speech.”

            “Perhapsthere will be time later. I’m sure it’s very good.”

            “Itis. You’ll hear an abbreviated version during the eulogy for dear Bixby—Ireused parts. You can’t always re-invent the wheel.”

            Corinthianaslunk further into her chair. Her jewels dimmed in the melancholy atmosphere,their usual garish luster thrown into shadow by the bent posture of theirmistress. “There’s no money. There’s nothing.”

            “Thatwe know,” Petrarch said.

            “Idon’t think you realize the extent,” Corinthiana said softly. She put her headin her bejeweled hands. “Bixby liked to be cavalier about it. He told you therewas nothing, but there’s less than that. We owe thousands of pounds. These,”she said pointing to the diamonds in her massive necklace, “are fake. The realones sold off, one by one, to pay off Bixby’s debts.”

            Inall his years working for Petrarch, he had never seen such shock on the oldman’s face. His expression contorted as if he had been struck in the stomach.

            “There’sless than nothing…” he said quietly.

            “Lessthan,” Corinthiana nodded.

            “Butthe will…it—”

            “Isa fake,” Corinthiana said. Nimbly, she opened a desk drawer and retrieved asingle sheet of paper. She pushed it across the table to Petrarch.

            Theold man scanned the sheet. “When was this made?”

            “Justafter he went to see you. He was too humiliated to tell you the truth. He had alocal solicitor to do this work.”[13]

            Petrarchread the document carefully.

            “Whydid Petrarch even need to come?” Crockett asked. “If the local solicitor didthe work, we don’t need to be here for the reading. There can’t be legaldisputes over less than nothing.” Crockett smiled, his mismatched eyes lookingat Corinthiana humbly.

            Theold woman did not appreciate the joke. She awrk’ed and threw her head back.When she returned her gaze forward, she gave Crockett one last glare ofhostility before turning her attention to Petrarch.

“He loved you,Petrarch; you are such old friends,” she said massaging her temples. “He neededto make sure it all ran smoothly. Bixby said you were indispensable.”

            “Morethan that,” Petrarch leaned back in his chair. “I know something more. WhenBixby visited me, we discussed his late wife’s letter. It was to be read whenhe passed away.”

            Corinthianacringed. “Lucindaaa?”

            Petrarchlooked at her warily. “Yes—”

            “Whaaatwould sheee haaave tooo dooo with aaany of it?” Corinthiana asked, nearly rabidwith suppressed anger. Her vowels swelled alongside her feelings ofconsternation.

            Petrarchreached across the table and took Corinthiana’s hand. “My dear, it’s the rathersensitive subject of Lucinda and Bixby’s son, Bixby, Jr.—Pip. It’s nothingmore. No secret affair, just a letter to her son.”

            “Tobe read when Bixby the elder died?” Crockett asked. “Why?” He tried to suppressthe agitation in his voice; he was irritated Petrarch kept this and theknowledge that the family did not know of the delay of the entombment from him.

            “Shehad hoped Bixby Hawsfeffer and Pip would reconcile, but it was made in casethey didn’t. She penned it when he went to France. She assumed his homosexualproclivities would pass like a cold, but they didn’t. This letter was to be alast chance of family amicability upon the death of his father.”

            Corinthianaimmediately became tame. Her eyes grew wet with tears. “I’m sorry for myreaction, Petrarch. Humiliation or not, Pip is family. Lucinda was trying to bea good mother.”

            Petrarchpatted her pudgy hand. “Corinthiana, no apology necessary. We all know you arevery protective of your Bixby.”

            Theold woman’s eyes flashed. “Indeed. Haaad it beeen a letter tooo Maaarthaaa, yoooumaaay haaave seeen quite theee theeeatrics.” To add emphasis to the statement,the old woman swelled out her bosom, just as a cobra would show its hood whenthreatened.

            Crockett’sagitation transformed to thoughtfulness. He steepled his fingers and leaned forward.“Petrarch, do you have a copy of the letter?”

            “Ofcourse, my boy. Just a moment.” The old man reached into his leather attachécase and dug through a number of crème-colored papers.[14]For all Petrarch’s admirable qualities, his organization skills left much to bedesired. After several moments, he had to give up merely flipping through hisbelongings and lifted the whole case onto his lap. A jangling of keys, arustle, and the clunk of some unknown objects followed. Corinthiana lookedbriefly at Crockett with a questioning look. Crockett smiled and shrugged hisshoulders. He held up his index finger to indicate it would just be a moment.In the end, the letter came out, crumpled with a torn corner.

            “Sorryabout that,” Petrarch said jovially. “It slipped into a dark corner, but hereyou are.”

            Crockettlifted the paper. His eyes scanned the neat handwriting.

            My Dearest Child,

            It would appear that my fears wererealized. In this event, I hope this letter finds you and that history has notmade the contents less precious.

            If your father is dead, you mustcome home. Find me where I rest and sing, like we used to, the old rhyme of“Duck Man of the Old Hat,” and think of the games we played when you wereyoung.

            Although time is not kind, there isalways a chance to make amends for past wrongs. I hope you will have theinsights and the ability to do so for myself and your father.

            Love always,

            Mummy

            “It’srather sad,” Crockett said reading it again. He now realized the deeplypersonal nature of the letter. The epistle was out of the realm of their businessdealings—it was no wonder Petrarch did not feel the need to share it. “Butyou’re right. There’s nothing odd about it at all. Lucinda was a mother whowanted her family to forgive past wrongs and celebrate their history.”

            “Itried to find some hidden meaning.” Petrarch flipped over the piece of parchment,as if expecting some secret to be written on the other side. “However, nothing wasout of the ordinary. She simply asks him to forgive and go see her sarcophagusin the tomb.”