Killing Dreams ~An American Victorian Steampunk Murder Mystery

Chapter 2 Part 2

Chapter 2 part 2

Bill's expression softened. "Don't worry, dear," he said, guiding her into his own chair and pouring her a cup of coffee. "We're just doing some basic consulting work. Mostly we'll be conducting tests and developing photographs for the police. I'm sure it won't be dangerous at all."

"And we're not even sure we're going to take it yet," Patches interjected. "We'll be going to the police station today to talk about it more."

Agnes' eyes narrowed, her lips pressed together into a thin line. She looked from Patches to Bill and back again.

"Well," she stated having regained most of her composure, "tests and photographs. I suppose that means I'll have to deal with those horrible smells in the bathroom again."

Last summer Bill and Patches had taken a trip to the mountains on a nature photography excursion. They had used the downstairs bathroom to develop the negative plates and paper prints and Agnes had complained bitterly about the smells of some of the chemicals.

"We'll see what we can do about that," Bill assured her.

Agnes nodded once and rose, smoothing her apron. "If you're going to go out this morning be sure to bundle up. I've been outside already; it's bitterly cold and there's nearly a foot of snow on the ground."

Bill exchanged a knowing glance with Patches. "Yes, Mother," they said in unison.

"Don't you 'Mother' me," Agnes chastised even though there was the beginnings of a smile tugging at her lips. "I can walk out of here and find another job like that," she snapped her fingers.

"Yes, Agnes," Bill said. "We won't do it again."

"Humph! Finish your breakfast," she reminded, feigning irritation. She watched them for a moment, just to be sure, and was satisfied when they made a show of obedience.

Immediately following the meal, Patches and Bill readied to take care of the days agenda. Both bundled as per orders, Bill picked up one of his walking canes and the cases that contained the photographic equipment. Patches slung her old satchel across her shoulder and they stepped outside.

The mountain peaks glowed golden on the horizon. The sky was the clear, brilliant azure that can only be seen on wintery days such as this. Occasionally a little breeze would catch a few of the last, fine snowflakes and puff them into the air where they would sparkle in the sunlight like tiny tornadoes made of diamond dust.

"What a lovely day," Patches said adjusting her glasses to compensate for the sunshine reflecting off the snow.

"I know something that is much lovelier," Bill replied leaning down to kiss her.

"Doctor McDowell, you are absolutely insufferable," she chided but didn't move as his lips gently touched hers lingering there for a long moment.

Although their walk had been cleared of snow already, the streets were still laden with it. Patches placed her hand in the crook of Bill's elbow and they traveled down the block to hail a carriage.

"Patches," Bill queried as soon as they were settled inside the cab. "I'm curious about something."

"Oh? What's that Love?" she asked.

"Last night you said you had been working on some ideas concerning behavior patterns or something along those lines?" Bill queried.

Patches blushed and inadvertently looked down; a habit that Bill always found most charming. "Yes. It's more of a study really. Although I've developed some theories since I started."

"When did you start?" he asked.

"Hmm," she intoned curling one gloved finger around her chin. "About three years ago, I suppose, when I began noticing similar mannerisms between parents and their children. Why?"

"I'm just surprised you didn't tell me," he said, "and to be honest, I find the concept absolutely fascinating."

"I'm sorry darling," she said, not without some degree of chagrin. "I simply didn't think of it. It's just a little project I've been working on to fill up free time. I have it all documented if you would like to see."

Bill reached across and took his wife's hand. "Of course you do," he said as a matter of fact.

For some reason Bill couldn't fathom, Patches felt she could never quite trust her memory. One of the file cabinets in the study and an entire wall of boxes in the cellar overflowed with the copious amounts of notes she had taken over the years.

"And I'd be honored to take a look at them," he continued. "Are you thinking of publishing a paper on the subject?"

Patches laughed. "Me? Publish a paper?" she shook her head. "The thought never crossed my mind. It's all empirical anyway, there's no real substance to it. I'll leave the paper writing to the experts," she finished by squeezing his hand. Her husband had a number of research papers, monographs and book chapters to his credit.

Bill favored his wife with a mischievous little smile. "We'll see about that. In the meantime I do believe we've arrived. Shall we?"

TO BE CONTINUED...

@>--->--- ~*~ ---<---<@

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Killing Dreams:
Kindle Edition: http://www.amazon.com/Killing-Dreams-Myssah-Lee-ebook/dp/B0083VB32W/ref=sr_1_6_twi_2_kin?ie=UTF8&qid=1431893625&sr=8-6&keywords=killing+dreams

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Bullets and Blades:
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Authors Pages:
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For art and other things:
Deviant Art: Imager1966
Fine Art America: Myssah Lee