Chapter 2 Part 3 (#killingdreams)
The carriage had come to a halt in front of the CSM Elementary school. Bill arranged for the carriage to wait while they conducted their business assuring the driver that they wouldn’t be long and they hurried into the building.
Bill held the door for Patches when they reached the main office. The room appeared to be empty.
“Miss Harper?” Patches called as they approached a large desk laden with papers and books. A tight gray bun appeared over one of the book shelves that separated the rest of the room from the reception area. A wizened, older woman peered from around it.
“Missus McDowell, Doctor McDowell,” she said approaching the desk. Though barely five feet tall, Miss Clara Harper, the spinster head mistress of the school, carried a weight of authority all out of proportion to her diminutive size. “To what do I owe the pleasure of such an early visit?”
“Please forgive the intrusion, Miss Harper,” Patches said, getting straight to the point. “If it’s not too much trouble, something has come up and I would like to see if it’s possible for someone to substitute for me today.”
Miss Harper looked at the two of them over her reading glasses, closed her notebook and sighed. “As you both appear to be in good health, why are you of the opinion that you are entitled to a day away from your position? Has there been a death in the family?”
“A death yes, in our family, no,” Patches said, gauging her employer’s reaction. “I presume you’ve read the paper this morning about Councilman Feldman?”
“Yes, terrible business, he seemed far too successful to commit suicide. What does this have to do with you?” Miss Harper had no tolerance for mincing words.
“My husband and I have been invited to join the investigation regarding his untimely demise,” Patches informed her employer. “The police seem to think there is much more to it than a simple suicide. I would like to pursue this opportunity in order to solidify some scientific theories I’ve been developing in the area of observation and behavior.”
Bill risked a sideways glance at his wife. He didn’t miss her creative, yet subtle use of words and he was sure she designed them with a specific purpose. Patches’ gaze never wavered and neither did Miss Harper’s. It almost seemed like the two women were staring each other down. Whatever the intent it was working; he could see the impact of what she said on the demeanor of the staunch and matronly Miss Harper. Although her business-like stance hadn’t changed, a pronounced sparkle appeared in her eyes.
“That is most interesting, Missus McDowell,” Miss Harper said after a long pause. “I presume you have your lesson plans for the day?”
“I do,” Patches responded. Miss Harper held out her hand, rubbing the fingers together. Patches handed the head mistress the leather bound ledger.
“Do you think there is foul play involved?” Miss Harper asked her eyes skimming the first page of the book, her tone casual as if she were asking about the weather.
“That’s what we’ve been hired to find out,” Patches said.
“I will take over your classes for now,” the head mistress stated, snapping the book closed. “Please let me know well in advance if you need more time. You may go.”
“I will. Thank you Miss Harper,” Patches said taking Bill’s hand. Together they walked toward the door.
“Oh, Missus McDowell,” Miss Harper called out. Patches turned. “Do let me know how it goes. I’m sure the details would be… most interesting.”
“Of course,” Patches smiled. “We’ll have tea; at my house.”
Miss Harper nodded and waved them away.
The ride to Larimer Street was brief even though they were in no hurry.
Fortuitously Bill kept his Friday mornings open for reading and research so there were no conflicts with his schedule at the university until the afternoon. His watch chimed eight o’clock just as the carriage came to a stop in front of the police station.
The couple jogged up the front stairs under the tower that formed the center of the building. An officer in the hallway directed them to a large room on the second floor with several desks, bookcases, and file cabinets scattered around the perimeter of the space. Two large circular benches were built around the central support columns in the middle of the room. A couple of half-awake reprobates sat there; each of them handcuffed by one arm to iron rings fixed in the columns. A second officer pointed them to a desk near a steam radiator and a window, explained that Weston was momentarily detained elsewhere and invited them to wait while he would fetch the Captain himself.
“Apparently our dear Captain likes it warm,” Patches muttered, shrugging out of her coat. Bill did the same and hung them both on a nearby rack. Patches took the only free chair and Bill leaned against the desk, placing the photographic equipment on the floor next to it.
“Patches,” Bill said softly, he had been looking at the things on the desktop. When she looked at him he turned a framed photograph toward her. Depicted in the picture were an older man and a frail looking woman. On the corner of the frame was a black ribbon tied in a bow, a common symbol of the remembered dead. The resemblance of the people in the portrait to Captain Weston was clear, they were his parents.
Patches favored Bill with a lopsided smile and a tilt of her head. She held up one finger making an invisible tick mark in the air. Bill nodded, realizing that there was probably more to her theory than even she realized and couldn’t wait to delve into it further.
TO BE CONTINUED...
@>--->--- ~*~ ---<---<@
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Killing Dreams ~An American Victorian Steampunk Murder Mystery
Ficção HistóricaA Denver city councilman is found dead, and the Denver Metropolitan Police Department is frustratingly lost on how to proceed. There are no leads, no clear pieces of evidence, and nothing more than a mysterious untimely death. In desperation, the DM...
