BLOOD MOON RISING - english version

~ Chapter 4 ~

"I should have known better," said the woman's voice in a fake sad tone of voice, and the woman on the bed flinched and looked up.
Catherine leaned with folded arms in the door frame and took a poisonous look at the pretty black-haired woman sitting on the brass bed, a collection of small pieces of jewelry spread out on the patchwork quilt in front of her.
"That you don't feel shame to steal from a dead woman, dear Bianca."
"Pff, you just admitted it. She is dead, so why should she need this anymore?" Bianca replied unmoved and held up a narrow chain. "Most of it is only good for garbage anyway."
"Oh, well. Suddenly it is not worth anymore?" said Catherine and walked towards the bed. "Get up. We are going to Master Hall now and you will apologize for trying to steal from one of your sisters."
"I don't even think of it." Bianca crossed her arms and angrily glanced at Catherine. "Been to bed with Master Hall again, eh? You're quite a madam, always climbing into the master's bed."
"That is none of your business."
"Sure it is my business!"
The dark-haired one jumped off the bed and stood up in front of Catherine with her hands on her hips. "Remember who you are, you little parvenu! Only six months ago, you wouldn't even have dared to speak to me like that!" she hissed, her voice shook with rage which Catherine's smile only increased. "You are in my position now just because of a stupid misunderstanding!"
"You ran away. You call that a misunderstanding? It couldn't have been more clear what you wanted." Catherine replied impassive and knotted her robe again. After olivia had left, Catherine hadn't even get dressed. Instead she had walked straight to Rose's room. And lo and behold - Olivia's intuition was reliable, in fact, Catherine had caught Bianca stealing. Just another minus point on the list of the pretty Italian woman, who just held her status of Madam of the house a few months ago and had only lost it to Catherine because of her own stupidity.
"He tried to kidnap me!" Bianca insisted, slapping Catherine's hand away when she tried to grab by the arm. "Don't touch me, you cheap whore!"
"One more word and I'll have you beaten!" growled Catherine and immediately grabbed her harder on the other wrist. Over her scuffle the jewellery started to slip and a rain of chains, pendants and rings poured down on the threadbare carpet as Bianca tried to break free.
"Hands off!" she screamed and fought back determinedly. She bumped her knee painfully on the bed frame as Catherine pulled her roughly out of bed. "Ouch!"
But the redhead knew no mercy.
"Your own fault. Come on now, move!"

The house where the "Paradise" was located had once been a high-class hotel, but the ravages of time were already gnawing at the magnificent, light blue façade, the decorative columns and the wooden balustrade. Weeds grew on the long gravel path to the house and the surrounding garden was overgrown and lush, which gave the house a little bit the aura of an enchanted castle. Built in the lavishly decorated French colonial style, it had retained some of the glory of the old days despite its shabby appearance. The windows in their whitewashed frames were mostly covered and allowed no view inside, and nothing but a discreet brass plate next to the entrance door revealed what was behind the ornate facade. The morning sun shone warmly down from the cloudless sky and Alfred raised his hand to protect his gaze from it when he looked at the house. He had enjoyed the little ride and the grey mare accepted him, after a few vain attempts to buck under him, finally as a rider. The fact that he had bribed her with a few pieces of sugar stolen from the rental stable probably contributed to this success and now she was as gentle and docile as a lamb and could be ridden very well. On the pavement in front of the house he finally dismounted and tied the horse to the post provided for it. Gravel crunched under his shoes as he walked along the path and finally climbed the short, creaky wooden stairs of the white-painted veranda.
As expected, the front door was locked, but immediately after the first bell rang, a brawny, tall man opened and stood up in front of Alfred. He did not look very friendly and a knife scar on his cheek disfigured his rough features even more.
"We are closed."
"I know. Alfred Taylor, Pinkerton Detective Agency. I'm here on business and Mr Hall is expecting me." Al replied, as cold as he could, pointing to the badge on his coat. For a moment the other man looked over Alfred once more, from top to bottom, then took a step aside.
"Well... come in."