Killing Dreams ~An American Victorian Steampunk Murder Mystery

Chapter 5 Part 1

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"Agnes? I'm home!" Patches called as soon as she entered the house.

She hung up her coat and hat, sat in the chair next to the hall table and took off her boots. Placing them upside-down on the boot-rack she stood up making sure to press the little brass switch that set the brushes in motion removing the soil and snow. Taking a few seconds to turn on Bill's boot cleaning invention was well worth the effort it took to remember as they would incur what was fondly referred to as 'the wrath of Agnes' if one forgot and tracked mud all over the house.

"You're late," Agnes' dry response reached Patches from the kitchen clearly audible over the purr of steel and brass gears behind her. "Come and eat before you do anything else."

"Yes Mother," Patches whispered with a tiny smirk knowing full well that Agnes wouldn't hear her. It wasn't until she had crossed the dining room and started to push open the swinging door into the kitchen that the smell of food made her stomach growl. Once again, she had forgotten that it had been hours since she'd eaten last.

"Mm...," she intoned as she took her place at the heavy wooden table that occupied the middle of the large kitchen, "smells wonderful!"

Agnes set a plate before her which contained a steaming bowl of stew, an apple sliced in eighths, and a thick piece of freshly baked bread.

"Eat," Agnes ordered, pointing at the plate in a military-like way.

"Yes Ma'am," Patches said with much enthusiasm as she dug in. "I'm starving."

"And well you should be young lady, with all this running about today," Agnes responded with mock distain while she poured Patches a cup of coffee, "I expected you home much earlier. I take it you and the Doctor decided to help the police?"

Patches swallowed a generous spoonful of the stew and nodded. "We have. The Denver Police department has accepted Doctor and Missus McDowell as official consultants on not one but two cases."

"Oh good; I'm sure they will find out soon enough that you two are like salt and pepper," Agnes said as a matter of fact. Patches looked at her, quizzical.

"You don't get one without the other," Agnes said coming to sit beside her, interested in spite of herself. "But what is this business about two cases?"

Patches told her about the events of the day while she ate, and as she listened to herself it occurred to her how easily she and Bill were already starting to fall back into their old work habits. It felt as if they had finished their last case only a few days ago, when in truth it had been over five years.

Her eye was drawn to the clock that stood on the kitchen shelf next to Agnes' bedroom door and she had the strange sensation that time had suddenly converged, overlapped, and slowed down all at once. She heard, even over her own voice, a single elongated tick before everything snapped back into place. For an instant her head became light and she fell to silence as it cleared.

"Miss Patience, are you quite all right?" Agnes asked, touching her hand where it lay on the table.

Patches tore her eyes away from the clock and shook her head. "Yes, I'm sorry. I had a thought. Anyway, I need to get downstairs and get the lab ready. There will be much to do after Bill and I get back from the Feldman's house tonight. Will you send some coffee down please?"

"Humph," Agnes intoned already reaching for the silver service, "as if I could send anything down."

Patches paused in taking up her things, momentarily confused. "What?"

"I can't send anything down, or up for that matter," she said, "because the dumbwaiter has been broken for ages. But don't worry! I'm not so old I can't carry a tray all over the house."

Patches went over to the dumbwaiter, opened it and looked inside. "Agnes, why don't you tell us these things," she said tugging on the rope that raised and lowered the little wooden carriage. Sure enough it seemed to be stuck fast.

Agnes put her hands on her hips and faced her employer. "I did tell you. Or rather I told the Doctor, a long time ago. But no matter, I doubt I'd use it anyway. That horrid rope hurts my hands."

TO BE CONTINUED...
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