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

concept in The Viscount’s Ram. It’s discussed during thesecond meat pie scene in act three.”

            “Isit what you think, though? It’s someone from the past?”

            Kordeliatransformed. She was suddenly not the impish character he had been with forseveral days, but a real girl, tired, drained by unhappiness. “I think Grandfatherwas a bad man. I think he killed them both, Lucinda and our great-uncle. Ithink this follows. Death makes way for death.” Her golden hair blew wildly ina gust of wind. She hesitated. “Can I tell you something?”

            “Ofcourse.” Crockett gently stepped forward.

            Butit was at that moment that a shot rang out behind them. A squawk and a thud brokethe moment of intimacy between them. They heard August cheer, followed by hisheavy footsteps coming over the hill.

The safety of themoment was gone.

Kordeliaquickly moved away from Crockett. She looked at him and

smiled sheepishly. “It’s not over,”she said softly, then turned and ran along the riverbank.

            Augustwas soon beside him. He clicked his teeth.

            “Whatdid she say, my boy? Anything in the way of clearing up the Beatrice mess? Youknow she killed a cat once, burned it up in a moment of rapturous excitement.”

            Crockettshook his head. “She didn’t say much. She’s very cryptic, your daughter.”

            “I’dsay it’s a reaction to the Swiss rösti—it makes the head a little,” he shookhis hand by the side of his head and laughed. “We think a few more weeks in thecountry will get her right as rain.”

            Abird flew high above them. August snorted and thrust his gun up to look throughthe sight. A blast rang out around them.

            Augustroared with laughter again and started singing merrily as the bird fell fromthe sky. He interrupted his song when he turned to Crockett, his mustache erectwith joy.

            “It’sfunny how people can get caught up when a pet dies but love sport like this.Perspective, I suppose.”

            Hetrod off toward the river.

            Leftalone, Crockett looked to the water. It was high up the bank, moving quickly.If Bixby had fallen into its rushing current, it would be difficult to escape,especially if there was some trouble with his heart.

A bright spot of sunrippled on the surface of the brown water, making him think of Kordelia’s wordsabout the past.

            Inthat moment, Crockett had no confirmation whether August was a murderer, but herecognized that something in the man was indeed monstrous; he needed to becarefully watched.

Chapter 14: May’s Secret

            Kordelia’sgloomy outlook appeared to materialize and shroud the Hawsfeffer Estate in mist.Clouds kept rolling in from the west, the wind rising, a soft, intermittentdrizzle falling over the countryside. It was a welcome reprieve from theintense heat of the afternoon.

Everyone was in higherspirits when Crockett went back into the house. He greeted those gathered inthe sitting room, then went to his room to further contemplate the day and meditateon the afternoon’s insights from Kordelia.

In her eyes (and theeyes of many), Bixby Hawsfeffer was a monster. August’s role in hisdisappearance, even if it was cold-blooded murder against his father-in-law,could, in a sense, be justified. Even the death of poor Beatrice, when comparedto the atrocities of the patriarch, seemed a parlor game.

            Butthe truth—no matter how much it looked like August was behind the madness—waselusive until he could get Brontë to confirm her father had done it all. Partof him couldn’t help but wonder if there was something more—logic led him toAugust, but his instinct led him to an entirely different conclusion. Despitetrying to resist it, the puzzle box in his mind still shifted toward a solution,creating thousands of possibilities, the most ludicrous of them plausible whenhe was alone in the large house, the only sound the soft rush of wind throughthe cracks in the windows. Brontë’s theory that there was some other mysteriousperson from outside the house assisting with the chaos stoked the fires of hisimagination. He was rent in two, wanting to believe the logical but obsessedand inspired by the possibility of a grandiose plot of transgenerational murder.

            Afterwashing his face and putting on his last fresh shirt, Crockett knocked onPetrarch’s door to seek counsel. The old man was sitting on his bed in hisundershirt and trousers smoking a pipe.

            “Yourthinking pipe, Petrarch! This must be serious.”

            “Itis, my dear boy! It is! The key—its revelation must be planned precisely. I’mhoping to get a response that we can use to propel our inquiries further.”

            AsPetrarch puffed away, Crockett drifted to the wardrobe in the room and examinedhimself in the looking glass. He looked pale and wan. In that dim light, hecould be mistaken for a ghost.

            “I’vebeen doing some sleuthing, Petrarch,” he said examining his nose, which lookedpaler than either his forehead or chin. “This afternoon I was inspired to seekevidence and facts.”

            “Andwhat did you find?”

            “ThatI’m a terrible detective.” Crockett’s ears turned red. “I did have aninteresting discussion with Kordelia.”

            “Didshe tell you some nonsensical aphorism? Perhaps she saw a bear having tea party.”

            “Shewas actually very serious.”

            Aplume of gray smoke swirled around Petrarch. “I don’t quite know what to makeof her. She seems overtaken by idiocy but, also, at times, as if she’s the onlyone here who is intelligible.”

            “Iwould agree with that assessment. She said she thinks her grandfather was akiller.”

            “Alot of people do. We talked about that on the way here. He very well could be,which makes the case of finding who would want to kill him even moredifficult.”

            “Ithink, Petrarch,” Crockett said with a sigh, “that there was no murder…of aperson…in this case. I think there have been a lot in this house, in general.”

            “Ifthere are any more dead singing ghosts along the river, they’ll need a warshipto carry them all.”

            Crockettsmiled. “Augoust—”

            “Augüst."

            “Well,he interrupted my conversation with Kordelia, and I think, perhaps, it’s assimple as Bixby Hawsfeffer having a heart attack in his boat and Augüst tryingto expedite the will reading.”

            “So,you think he’s behind the séance and the Beatrice incident? Lucinda’s note andkey are simply a tangent that made us worry unnecessarily?”

            “Ido.” Crockett said resolutely. “I always jump to conclusions, get