Part 18 – In Which Bridie Visits The City Alone

 “I’ve got good news and bad news.” Darcy was surprisingly cheery this morning but I wasn’t quite ready to buy it.

It could be a trap.

“I’ll take the bad news first.” I sigh, resting my cheek in my hand and taking a drippy spoonful of a strange, unmarked red cereal that had suddenly appeared in the pantry.  “At this point my life couldn’t get any worse.”

“Well, as you know, the entire mansion knows we are looking for the culprit.”Darcy frowns and I roll my eyes. “Also-I’m-not-going-in-to-town-with-you — but, the good news is that not everyone will suspect that this whole ‘celebration of life’ is actually just a ruse because we suspect them. Basil did a little tinkering around and he figured out just how much everyone heard. Turns out: it wasn’t much.” Darcy smiles blazingly.

“Wait, what did you just say?”

“You mean the part where Basil is a freakish nerd and probably stalks people for a living? I don’t even wanna know how you can hack a soundboard—”

“No. The thing before that.” I have a suspicion Darcy knows exactly what I’m talking about.

With a nervous chuckle Darcy suddenly starts inspecting her — immaculate — nails. “Oh, uh, heheh. Well… something kinda came up… and I can’t make it into the city today. But it’s okay ’cause you’re going with Hale.” Darcy looks up for a split second to grin sheepishly and then goes back to frowning at her fingers.
“Alone.” I say.

“Yeah.” Her voice is overly cheery.

“With Hale.”

Finally she looks at me. And whines. “C’mon Birdy, you know Hale. He’s my brother!” The Darcy Swann. Throwing a tantrum. “We’ve all been friends since we were little.”

“Darce, I haven’t seen him since we were tiny, and he isn’t my best friend who came to visit me every summer vacation with my parents. He wasn’t… there.”

She sighs. “I know, Birdy, it’s just. I really want you to have fun today. I know we’ve been planning this for a while, and even though I can’t go I want you to have fun. Plus, I think Hale could use the day away too. He’s been moping about ever since he got here.”

“I hadn’t noticed.” I sulk.

“You’ll go?”

…

“Fine.”

~*~

10:00 am.

I had spent a good two hours doing my hair, my makeup, my outfit. I had traveled a lot, but unfortunately most of the cities I had visited with my parents were anything but local, and as an incredibly fair-skinned individual, I usually stuck out like a sore thumb. This was my chance to blend in like a normal human being, to get lost in the big city. Just another fish in the sea. Not a young, European-heritage millionaire with eccentric parents and a mysterious dead grandfather.

So apparently distressed denim shorts and a frilly yellow camisole with sandals and my hair half up in a samurai bun screamed ‘normal.’

Hale rips up the driveway in an odd little car. Pulling to a halt in front of me he cranks down the passenger window. “Ready to go?”

“In that?” My voice doesn’t hide a thing.

“This?” Hale nearly sounds offended. “This is a 1978 Volkswagen Golf. Show some respect for your elders.”

“We’re not taking the limo?”

“The limo? I had no idea you were so posh, Birdie. Fortune doesn’t suit you.”

My whole life doesn’t suit me.

“No, no, the limo is all wrong. No such vehicle would even fit in the big city — much too large. We need something small to traverse the crowded streets. Plus, a limousine is much to overt. No need to draw such attention.”

Some how I doubt a limo would draw half as much attention in a big city as this lemon would, but I figure it must be a car thing. Or a boy thing. And I don’t know anything about cars. Or boys.

“It’s orange.”

“Burnt umber.”

Definitely a boy thing.

I get in the car despite my objections, and Hale once again rips out of the driveway in a way that I most certainly object to, but I’m not sure if it is a car thing or a boy thing so I say nothing.

In fact, I say just about nothing the whole ride through Roseville — all two minutes — and as we drive past the place where Waif had run away, I suddenly miss him again. ‘It’s just a dog.’ Comes Basil’s voice.

“I’m writing a speech.” I don’t know what comes onto me but the words blurt out of my mouth before I can take them back.

“Really?” I’m not sure if Hale’s interest is sincere.

“Yeah. I was supposed to deliver it last night but uh…”

“Oh yeah, Darcy told me you weren’t feeling well last night. Are you better now?”

“Uh, yeah, totally. So I’m going to deliver it tonight instead but I kind of have a really big problem you see considering  I haven’t exactly wrote it yet cause I was gonna wing it last night but I don’t think that’s a very good idea when the fact is that I really want to say something meaningful about my grandfather y’know? Cause he was a really big part of my life for a while there, I mean you understand right? This has to be… right.” Realizing I had been rambling I force myself to stop. Roseville is far behind and as far as the eye could see there is rolling green hills. We pass a cow. Hale still doesn’t say anything.

Maybe he doesn’t know what to say. Maybe I said something wrong. Maybe he thinks I’m crazy. “It’s just… Grandpa meant so much to me. I wouldn’t be who I am today without him. I want to say exactly how I feel, but it’s so hard to express that. Does that make any sense?”

“Perfect sense.”

More silence.

“I could help you write it.”

I study Hale. He gives me a half smile and I know this isn’t a car thing.

~*~

Put, put, put, achoo!

This is the sound Hale’s car makes before we come to a halt, just as the high rises come into view. At least now the cow pastures have turned into suburbs and we aren’t completely at a loss. After some hopeless tinkering, Hale finally calls a tow truck.

“What’s the damage?” I ask when he appears out of the car garage.

“Just some minor fix ups. But uh…” He gives a small chuckle. “We’ll be good to go soon enough. Until then, let’s take a bus?”

“Alright. Let’s go.”

“You’re not angry?”

I smiled. “Why would I be angry? Things happen. We meant to spend most of the day in the city anyway, at least until the thing tonight.”

“Yeah, tonight is the… thing.”

I suddenly found my excitement mounting. We had the whole day ahead of us to just… live. We could go anywhere. We had nothing but what we carried. We were just… people. 

“Where do we start?”

Two in a million.

Part 17 – Which Involves A Lot Of Eavesdropping

“Pretty cool how I got you away from that crazy reporter, eh?” Darcy waltzes impressively in her heels, glowing.

“Yeah, gee wiz,” is my sarcastic reply. Because asking me to dance is so original. I follow Darcy’s lead.

“Well,” she gives a mock huff. “if you didn’t want to dance with me, you could have said so.”

As if. Darcy is a magnificent dancer. She could make goose stepping look like an art. I will never understand how I could have been around the world – twice – and this woman caught in a hick town could dance better than I can. The only explanation is that Darcy is simply Darcy; and Darcy is good at everything.

Except the acceptance of reporters at a time like this. Darcy’s eyes shoot poisonous african tribal darts at Noah as he walks past. He just grins at me and disappears into the crowd, balancing his huge camera on one shoulder.

“Do you think…”

“What?” Darcy asks, completing another box step like a pro.

“I don’t know.” I sigh. “Do you think I could do journalism?”

The look I’m given is one as though the word ‘journalist’ is the most offensive thing in the world to her. “Why would you ask that all of the sudden?”

“Uhhh… Darcy?” Basil’s voice comes through the comms. “I seem to have lost the wifi, and I’ve locked myself in a dark closet and can’t get out.”

“What the…?” Darcy says a bad word.

“Yeah, I know right? If I could reach it, hacking it would be no problem. I don’t understand how such a posh place can have wifi that doesn’t even reach throughout the house.”

“What I don’t understand,” Darcy grinds through her teeth as she drops my hand and storms off. “is how an expert hacker can’t find wifi and locks himself in a closet.”

“An expert? You flatter me.” Snow white covers her mouth with a dainty hand and giggles sheepishly.

If Darcy had sleeves, she’d be rolling them up to high heaven right about now. “When I find you, you’re gonna get a lot more than flattery.”

“My, my, so violent!” The Disney princess titters.

Out of nowhere Angus stumbles into my arms. “Would you! Like? To… dance.” He slurs.

I manage a panicked “I’m dancing with Hale!”, drop the intoxicated cousin and run away, leaving him lying on the polished floor, yelling for more punch.

Shaken, I comb the grand ball room, searching for Darcy’s brother. It’s like looking for a needle in a haystack. Except you can’t burn the hay to find the needle. Ugh. Violent.  Each face a meet reminds me of my job – to talk to people. Nothing could sound more horrible. More panic. I attempt to comfort myself, saying I already have to do a speech tonight and that’s enough for one night. Anyhow, I figure I should look busy, in case I am caught by myself. Calculating my routes of escape, I check my options. Both Julia and Vivain are dancing with their brothers. It’s easy to see that Noah is much to busy, and Darcy would not be happy if she caught me with him. I seem to be alone. Loss is just a fundamental part of my life, I guess.

Julia’s sister, Janet, passes and I ask her if she’s seen Hale. “He’s tall, blond…”

“Oh, yes! The handsome one with the cute nose. I just saw him walk out that doorway and down the hall with some lady.”

After thanking her I hurry out into the hall, and the noise of the party fades away. I take a deep breath, but it doesn’t seem to help, so I try to ignore it. “Hale, are you here some place?” No answer, but I hear voices, so I continue. The doors to one of the sitting rooms is ajar and just as I’m about to call his name again, the voices become louder.

“You’re just going to throw to waste your education?”

“No!” Came the other voice, but what was said next was lost.

The first voice comes again, but it’s inaudible, so I creep closer.

“No you’re not.” The second voice is cold now. “…so leave me out of it.”

My breath is caught. Creeping forward, I strain to hear the rest.

The door swings open and I’m knocked to the ground.

“Bridie!” Hale exclaims. “What are you doing here?”

I feel like using some of the words Darcy uses. I’ve been caught eavesdropping. Quick, Bridie, come up with a clever lie. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, I just came looking for you, and well…” I trail off. You sly fox, you.

Both our faces are flushed, though for the same reason, I’m not sure. “Are you okay?” Hale helps me to my feet.

“I’m fine. Are you?”

“Yeah, my mom’s just…”

I heard once that if you wait quietly, most of the time, people will continue to say more than if you had asked them. So I am silent.

“She wants me to… well… you know how moms are.” He looks tired, so I don’t tell him I don’t.

When he doesn’t speak, I don’t either, and regretfully, I walk with him back to the throng of people in the ballroom.

The tight feeling is back. I try to ignore it, to concentrate on the boy in front of me. The task could have been more difficult. As Hale converses about anything from coffee to automobiles, I suddenly feel a warm appreciation for him. The tight feeling lessens a bit.

A smile spreads across Hale’s face. “You’re coming to the city with Darcy and I tomorrow, right?”

Oh dear. I had almost forgotten. Darcy and her brother had promised to take me shopping with them this week.

“Jackpot!” Basil screams.

“Lord, Basil. Now what?” Be still my beating heart.

“Aw, yes! The son in law of Bethany Baxter Tesdinic is our man! Harry Pinhoe is struggling to get his carpentry business off the ground. His wife, Cecily, has a natural product business that hasn’t taken off either. Both of them have borrowed a great deal of money.”

“Everything okay Bridie?” Hale leans closer, concerned. “You seem bothered.”

Bothered is just the beginning. “It’s nothing. I just have this nagging voice that won’t go away.” I laugh as though I just cracked a real good one. Brilliant.

Hale seems confused, but chuckles. “What’s it saying?”

At that moment basil had chosen to say: “tutant meenage neetle teetles.” So I simply responded: “You would not believe.”

“Dopey, more like ANNOYING.”

“That’s not even a dwarf!” I hiss.

“Pardon?” Hale blinks.

I chuckle and tug at my dress. “I said this isn’t even a dress; it’s so annoying!” I hope my laugh doesn’t sound as forced as I think it does.

To my relief, Hale simply rolls his eyes and puts a hand on my back, steering me towards the punch bowl. “You crack me up, Bridie. Can’t wait to hang out with Darcy and you tomorrow.”

“‘Sneaky.'” Basil says through the comm. “Anyway, you and Darce need to come check this out. Seriously. I’m in the sound booth in the balcony above you.”

Suddenly I feel tired. I don’t want to go. Hale grabs a ladle and pours us some punch, first a cup for me, then one for himself. Turning to me he flashes a smile. Maybe if I just ignore them they’ll forget about me.

“Bridie, come on.” Darcy and Basil urge.

For not the first time today I feel the urge to cry. Or sleep. Or something. Maybe eat? I sigh. Casting about for some lame excuse about having ‘forgotten to check about the tomatoes with Mrs. Post’, I dart off. The fact that I have to choose between two boys in this manner strikes me as anything but funny. I don’t have to turn around to know Hale is standing with a cup of punch in each hand, deserted. If possible, the the pit in my stomach grows even more hollow.

As I shut the soundbooth door the music nearly disappears. The silence rings in my ears, almost foreign. Within this dim room is a board with a bunch of switches and buttons and flashing lights. A window on one side looks out into the ballroom. The only chair is taken up by Basil, with Darcy standing beside him, both hunched over his computer. I stand right before them before they notice me.

“Ah, Bridie, good news!” Basil looks like a  child on Christmas Day. “We have a lead. The Pinhoes are in a lot of debt. Check out these figures! They even borrowed some money from Mr. Baxter himself. Man, have they got nerve.”

“So?” I ask the obvious question: “How does that mean anything.”

Darcy nods. “Exactly right, Bridie. It doesn’t mean anything because we don’t have any proof. Yet. This just gives them a motive, so be sure to keep an eye on the family. They could have something to do with this plot. Also, we need as much information as possible. Asking people how well they got along with Mr. Ben and picking up on any rumors could greatly help our cause.”

“Uhuh. You called me all the way up here to tell me this?” I lean against the soundboard, unimpressed.

“Bridie, don’t you see? This means we’re one step closer to finding out who is responsible for your Grandfather’s death. Not much longer and we’ll have the culprit right in the palm of our hands!” Darcy grabbed my arms and shook me gently. “We’ll have our justice!”

“Guys.” Basil shushes us and we freeze. He stops us just in time to hear a faint echo of Darcy’s words. None of us move. We share a look. Then, slowly, I turn to look out the window. This party is over. Every single head in the ballroom is turned to look at us. Even from this distance I can see each face hold a different emotion. Curiousity. Confusion. Anger.

Everyone heard us.

Our cover is so blown.

We’re screwed.

Without warning I am shoved roughly to the ground. Buttons click. Basil curses. “Leave it to you to turn on the speakers with your butt.”

Holy moly. I’m such an idiot. I wish the floor would swallow me up.

I wish I would die. Disappear. If only that were possible.

Darcy yanked me up off the floor. “Let’s go.”

Whoa, girl, the last thing I needed right now was a super pissed Darcy. I had been on the verge of a breakdown all night. This was just a cherry to top it all off. A giant, horrible, possibly life ruining cherry. When we stepped out onto the balcony, every head turned to watch us in silence. I don’t know if I’ve ever felt so embarrassed or ashamed in my life. My whole family… not to mention the surrounding village, just witnessed my deception.

My soon to be ex-best friend ushers me out of the scene and all the way to my bedroom. I don’t know how I made it. My legs feel like jelly. I want to laugh, scream, cry. At first I think I am going to do of those things, but as soon as Darcy plops me onto my bed, by body seems numb. I don’t laugh, or scream, or even cry. I feel nothing. Well, almost nothing.

“Hey.” Darcy snaps her fingers in front of my face. “You’re going to be fine. Get a good night’s sleep. We’ll start again tomorrow like nothing happened.” Lifting my feet off the floor, she shoves me under the covers and tucks me in. I don’t say anything. There’s nothing to say. And even if there was I don’t think I could manage. So I let Darcy turn off the lights and the darkness swallow me without a word.

I’m sorry.

~*~

June 21 2005

Dear Bridie,

It’s strange having two little boys in the house, even if it’s just for a day. Mrs. Stubbings will pick up her nephew tonight. However, there seems to be a strange love triangle going on. Not really a ‘love’ triangle though, because you don’t like Basil but occasionally play with him anyway; Basil doesn’t seem extremely fond of Hale, nor does Hale seem rather fond of him; and then you’d rather play with Hale, but Basil is oddly demanding of your attention. It really is bizarre. I wonder what goes on in your heads and what will become of this.

 

Part 16 – In Which The Game Is Afoot

“And… the show’s on the road!” Basil’s voice crackles in my comm unit. “Lights, camera, action!”

“This is not a television show.” I mutter pointedly to both him and Darcy. Not a moment ago they were fitting me to a dress as though this was the next airing of Saturday Night Live. Why is ‘formal’ a synonym with ‘uncomfortable?’ I do understand that sometimes it is required that one dresses in fancy attire. Especially when one’s entire family I (as well as the surrounding village) shows up to celebrate the life of of a most dear and most deceased man. I get that. But why must it be heels? Can’t we switch to moccasins?

“Come on, we could do something familiar to you girls. Snow white and the Seven Dwarves?” Sexist pig.

“You would play Snow White?” Darcy snarks.

“We’ve found our casting for Grumpy!” Basil hoots. “Hey Dopey, dear, where are you? The ball has started without you.”

“Honestly?” With a huff I step out of the hall and into the entryway. It’s jam-packed with other people in fancy clothing. They’re all trying to make their way into the crowded ballroom. So many people… My palms are already clammy so I send up a quick prayer that my deodorant will hold its own. “And FYI, Snow White never held a ball.”

“Yes I did.” It’s the prissiest voice I’ve ever heard come out of a boy’s mouth.

The entryway is so jam-packed with people that elbow room is a prestegious commodity. Darcy is  at the front of the crowd and she enters the scene. Basil whistles. We flinch. “Dang, Darcy, you’re looking fine.” She is. She is single-handedly the most gorgeous woman in this room. I wish I had half her beauty.

I try to make my way into the ballroom, but there are too many people in the way to move quickly. With death defying motion, I dodge elbows, wine glasses, and fatal hugs and make it into the ballroom. Okay, maybe that’s a little exagerated, but hey, I would have made Jackie Chan proud. On a balcony watching me through a pair of binoculars is Basil. The comm unit is quiet. “What, no comment?”

“I’m speechless, darling. Now wipe that ketchup of your cheek. Somebody was motioning a little too passionately with their appetizer when you passed.”

Still haven’t gotten rid of those tomatoes.

Have I mentioned how gorgeous our ballroom is? I almost believe that the dancing scene in ‘Beauty and the Beast’ was modelled after this room. This place has everything; the polished floors, the balconies, the infinite windows. Getting tired of this place would be hard. The room is packed with people, all dressed elegantly in black. To one side is set the buffet tables, with tiers of appetizers, desserts, and drinks. Another marvellous cake sits in the forefront. The rest of the room is filled with tables and chairs, and various people mill about. In front of the doors leading out to the garden, was a platform prepared for the speeches.

I’m making a speech. Remind me how I got roped into this? Ah yes. Family relation, social expectation and decency.

“Bridie, you take the Lee’s and the Chant’s, I’ll take the rest of the family.” Come’s Darcy’s voice. “Basil, I want you to keep an eye out for suspicious behaviour. When you can, undertake intensive background checks. Update on any findings.”

Basil hums. “Well, that cake looks suspiciously tomato-ey, eh Bridie?”

“Shut up.” I can feel my face going beet – er, tomato – red. “Darcy, I don’t think I can do this.”

“Of course you can.” It’s Darcy’s prevalent, encouraging voice. “Just watch me and do as I do. Oh Mr. Tesdinic!” From across the ballroom, I watch Darcy grab a maid (Darcy! What the – !) and tap my Uncle Conrad on the shoulder. “Could I interest you in any bruschetta? It’s mozzarella and tomato.”

“Ah, thank you my dear.” Darcy’s comm unit picks up my relative’s voice. It carries the same confident air as his cousin, my Uncle Christopher.

I zone out of their stimulating conversation when Basil’s voice comes through the comms. “Conrad Tesdinic, Son of Bethany Tesdnic, formerly Bethany Baxter. Never married. Hobbies include hiking and skiing. Spends a lot of time with his cousins, Christopher and Millie Chant. Nothing interesting about him. He’s well off. Own’s a prominent line of bookstores called ‘Tesdinic & Grant.’ Prefers the city, but visits the Chant’s castle whenever he can.” Here Basil lets out a low whistle. ” Wow, there’s some pictures of it here. Blimey, this castle is neat. It’s got towers and – ”

“Basil, focus!” I hiss.

“Like I said, nothing suspicious. But you never know.”

“Where the heck are you getting this information?” Darcy interjects, finished with her conversation and marching off to her next victim.

The comms is silent. Basil must have shrugged.

“He came to visit once or twice when I lived here.” I offer. “He brought me books.”

“He brought me books.” Snow White mimics.

“Unless they’re in a lot of debt, I guess this rules the castle-owning Chant’s off the list.” I add. Julia  “I mean, there’s no way it’s them, right?”

A moment of silence, then: “According to his bank activity, the family is well off.”

“What?” Darcy just about shrieks. A couple people around the room turn and stare. Ever the quick thinker, she rips out her cellphone and cheers. “No way! I won!” The small crowd applauds.

“What did you win?” Someone asks as she races away.

Basil and I are the only ones to hear her mutter: “A lifetime in prison.”

“Bridie, are you okay? You’ve been wandering around talking to yourself for a while now.”

Startled by the sudden appearance of Vivian Lee, I stutter out an explanation. “I… am just a little overwhelmed by the amount of people.”

“Oh, I know. I can’t believe you invited so many people to your grandfather’s celebration of life.”

“Vivian Lee,” Basil drones through the comms. “daughter of Ranjit and Jenny Lee, granddaughter of Bonnie Lee, formerly Bonnie Baxter.”

“It’s lovely.” Says Vivian. “We once held a celebration of life in our mansion…” At the same moment Basil states: “They own a large mansion — quite well off.”

“We held it out in the garden and it started to rain.”

“Mr. Baxter didn’t seem to harbour any hatred towards them. He visited them rather often.” Basil says, in the same moment Vivian tells me: “Uncle Ben was there, you know. I liked him. He offered me his jacket. I wish I had known him better; my father speaks highly of him. Bridie, are you sure you’re okay? You haven’t stopped watching Cousin Angus chug champagne.”

“Just distracted, that’s all.” Someone stop the man. I bid farewell to Vivian, only to bump into a strange being.

“Oi! Watch where you’re going.” Says the thing.

“What are you?” I ask.

The thing moves. I realize that it is, in fact, a boy with a large camera hoisted upon his shoulder and huge rucksack on his back. “I’m a reporter.” Flashing a freckled grin he shakes my hand. “Basil invited me to do an article for the paper. The name’s Noah. Noah Collins.” He runs a hand through his chin length hair.

“A reporter?” Darcy is having her second breakdown of the night. “Basil, what made you think it was okay to invite a reporter?”

“Because,” He clears his throat. “you said, and I quote: ‘do anything to get information.'”

“That is not a direct quote.” She hisses. “And don’t you realize how compromising this could be? The press is never a good sign, Basil.”

“Hey, come on, it’s just Noah. We’re tight. He’s a friend of mine.”

“You must be Bridie. Basil told me about you.” Readjusting his camera, he announces: “I’m here to gather some information for the article.”

There’s a sound like a dying animal coming through the comm unit and it’s not Basil. “Bridie,” Darcy hisses. “Do something about him.”

Basil scoffs. “Darcy, it’s not like…”

“Just. Do something!”

Panic. There’s a lump in my throat and I feel frozen. My hands are clammy again. I can feel my nerve slipping, along with my bandeau. Blood rushes to my face and I’m pretty positive that I’m shaking. It’s all I can do to stutter: “Could you…? I mean. What I meant was–” Gulp. “Could I… watch?”

“You’re interested in journalism?” Noah seems pleased.

“I’m not sure.” I say truthfully, having never given it any thought.

Nodding thoughtfully, he says, “That’s alright. Follow me around and I’ll show you what it’s about.” He takes off and I am forced to go after him.

“Bridie…” Darcy groans.

I’m sorry. I look around for my friend, hoping she’ll come rescue me. I meet the faces of many people, but none of them are Darcy. Most of them are family, but all of them are strangers. For not the first time tonight, I feel small and lost. She probably got stuck helping the maids. Breath, Bridie, breath. Atleast you have Noah. Speaking of, he seems to have found his first person to accost with questions.

“What was your relation to Mr. Baxter?”

“He was my brother,” answers Aunt Beatrice.

I find it odd that of all people, Noah would choose the most formidable as his first victim.

“I’m sorry for your loss.” Noah nods. “Thank you for agreeing to answer a few questions for me, especially this soon after…”

Twenty-one and a half days, comes the unwanted reminder. Not that I’d been counting.

Aunt Beatrice says nothing, only shoots me an unintelligable glance.

“How close were you were you?”

That heavy feeling in my chest is back again. The one that never stays away for too long. Someone bumps into me but I don’t pay them any mind. My aunt purses her lips and inhales through her nose. I don’t know if it’s my imagintaion, or if she takes a long time in replying.

“He was the youngest of the six of us, and the only boy. I was the oldest.”

“That’s quite the distance!” Noah chuckles. I find his grin contagious. “He must have been quite the little brother, and to be the only one at that! What was he like?”

After some thought, she replies, “I must admit: he was such a bother. Loud, and not in the way my sisters were. He was so rowdy, always coming home dirty. Sometimes he brought inside frogs, mice…” She shuddders. “Not at all the gentleman I thought he should be.”

“He sounds like quite the handful!” The boy next to me exclaims, and once again I find myself smiling despite the circumstance. “You must have many fond memories of him, then.”

“Yes,” There’s something in Aunt Bea’s eyes.

For some reason I look at Noah and find him waiting intently for her to continue. Suddenly I know why he chose journalism. Admiration fills me like a warmth to chilled bones. I wish I could be like him.

“One time,” My aunt continues, the same look in her eyes as the one I saw in the kitchen that one morning. “when we were still very little we dressed him up in our dresses and made him play tea. We set him up in one of our chairs around the table and fed him biscuits and juice. He looked ridiculous.” And then my aunt laughs.

And the heavy feeling is gone.

~*~

May 10 1999

My Dear Bridie,

It’s not always like this, you know. Sometimes we get along quite suitably. In fact, I get along with Bea most of all, though you wouldn’t know from watching us. We argue terribly. But that is simply our way, and I’m fully positive we enjoy it just as much as one another’s company, for we do enjoy one another. Maybe one day we will be civil to one another, but today is not that day. And hopefully when you are older you will get along with your Aunt and Godmother.

 

Part 15 – Which Involves Plenty Of Schemeing

I never like to see Basil two days in a row. However, there never is a good time so see Basil, so the next morning (after much mental preparation on my behalf), Darcy and I make our way over to his place. Darcy’s reasoning is that it’s the safest place to be sure we aren’t overheard. Rubbish. I live in a mansion. Sometimes I wonder whether she’s oblivious, actually intends to inflict me with pain, or just doesn’t care. Probably the latter.

As we sit down at the kitchen table, Basil crosses his arms and begins: “I’ve gathered you all together today to –”

“Cookies and milk?” Mrs. Stubbings enters the room with her walker. It has been a long time since I have seen Basil’s elderly great aunt. As far as my limited memory goes, she’s still the same woman she was so many years ago. Old, wrinkled, welcoming. Despite my feuds with her grand nephew, she would often invite me and my grandfather over for sweets, tea, and lemonade.

Darcy starts to speak, but for some reason I’m watching Basil. His eyes are on his great aunt, who slowly and gingerly takes out some cookies and milk. Is it just my imagination that he tenses when she reaches to take cups from the lowest shelf?

“…and that’s why–” He leaps up from the table to help pour the milk, despite Mrs. Stubbings annoyed expression. Then with a nod and a smile the treats are set upon the table and the woman disappears into her garden.

“What do you think?” Darcy finishes with a satisfied expression. I blink.

“I think it’s marvelous.” Basil says, grinning widely.

My friend looks dissatisfied. “What part do you like?”

“I have no idea.” He frowns at his cookie, studying it. “I’m not quite sure I understand what you’re getting at. Could you repeat the whole thing?”

Darcy huffs. I laugh. Basil eats his cookie with a gleam in his eye.

“Okay, here’s what we know. Not a year ago, Mr. Benedict Baxter (God rest his soul) was found dead in his mansion office. After an autopsy, evidence was found for poison. An investigation was performed, but found inconclusive, and the police dropped the case. Now it is our job to answer the question: ‘whodunit?’ To our knowledge, the entire Baxter family is well to do. However, they may not be as wealthy as we think. This is a perfect motive for trying to get at Mr. Ben’s inheritance.”

“Didn’t see you coming, did they?” Basil kicks me under the table, and is met with two frowns.

“Yet we have no proof. We have no way of knowing whether any of Bridie’s relatives are struggling. What could be another motive?” Before we can reply, she continues. “Hatred. Everyone knows Mr. Ben never got along with his sisters. But did they hate him enough to commit homicide? Also, is there anyone outside of the Baxter family that would have anything to do this? Now.” She gives a loud clap. Basil lifts his head from his arms. “It’s our goal to answer these questions. We have some investigating to do. I have a plan.” Basil and I look sceptical. “Celebration of life. A week long thing. Send out the word: everyone is invited. Anyone who shows is a suspect. Trust no one. Question everyone. Basil, hook something up; I don’t care what it is — tapes, hidden recorders, cameras — bug the whole place. Do a background check of everyone, I don’t care how illegal.” Darcy received a flashing grin, a wink and a salute from Mr. Shady. “Bridie, you and I have some sleuthing to do. Talk to everyone, keep an eye on anything suspicious. Also, if either of you have any other ideas to help us, do it. We need anything we can get.” Silence all around the table. Basil’s cookie drowns pitifully in his glass. “Are we clear? Alright let’s do this.”

~*~

November 4, 2010

My Dear Bridie,

I just received news of Pamela’s passing. These are sad times for us all. The tragedy of her death is only made more poignant by your absence. If only you were here we may comfort one another. I can only imagine your pain.
My sisters have surrounded me with such love that I am taken aback. Perhaps they are only tenderhearted copies. But yet I hear the twins cackling. Is it not odd, but sad, how sometimes it takes the worst and most desperate of times to bring out the best in people? I wonder if it goes also the other way around. Can the most perfect of moments bring out the best in people?

Part 14 – Which Is Far Too Full Of Washing

Sebastian, standing at the end of the drive under a black umbrella, was the most welcoming thing I had seen all day. When I neared, he handed me the umbrella, wrapped a large towel around my slumped shoulders, recollected the umbrella and  lead me up the drive.

“There is hot cocoa and a fire waiting for you inside.” The man soothed.

I shivered.”Th-thanks.”

Squeezing my shoulder warmly, he inquired: “Where has Master Waif gone off to?”

I knew he was only teasing, but I lost it. I blubbered.

“He’s gone.” Sniffle – slurp! “He ran away.” Oh great. A snivelling wail and a snot-dribbling nose. Perfect end to a great day.

Sebastian produced a handkerchief out of nowhere. “Do not fret, Ms. Baxter. All will be well soon.”

I hoped so.

~*~

Once we entered the foyer, we found the entire house in an uproar. Apparently the “predicament” with the washing machines had grown completely out of proportion. And when I say “out of proportion,” I mean I’ve never seen the meaning of the term so literally. It was everywhere. Laundry bags were stacked, one on top of the other, in tower-of-piza-like fashion, all around the entryway. Relatives waded through piles of soiled attire. Garments and insults flew back and forth. Things like T-shirts, pajamas, and ‘please settle down’s, as well as trousers and “WHO THREW THOSE PANTIES?”

“I’m afraid ‘soon’ will have to be slightly postponed.” Sebastian commented warily.

“No kidding.” If it was possible, my heart sunk even further. Aunts Bonny and Bethany both cackled and waved, swan diving through the heaps. Their youth was… inspiring.

As if things could get any worse, Basil waded through the upheaval towards me. “Geewiz!” He whistled. “This sure is a party. Is it always like this now?” A pair of spiderman underwear landed on my shoulder, and before I could react, Basil plucked it off and chucked it back in the direction it had come from. “Keep your repulsive undergarments to yourself! Hey Bridie, mind if I stay for the rest of the show.”

I sighed grudgingly. “Well, since you’re already here -”

“Superb!” He snapped his fingers and scrambled off. “Now, where did I see that br-”

“Basil!” I frowned. “How did this happen?”

Shrugging as he continued to walk away, he shouted: “I dunno. I just came when I heard the screams.”

Julia and her father appeared just then. “You’re here to fix this, are you?”  Despite the havoc, Uncle Christopher was completely pristine from head to toe. Even his top hat was perfectly aligned. He looked… stately. With his usual brooding manner, he hung over me, waiting.

“Um…” I blinked. “Ow!”

That’s right ladies and gentleman, I had just been pinched by my own butler. Sebastian gave me cheeky grin. He made a motion with his hands. Go on.

“I mean of course.” Throwing back my shoulders I marched into the throng. I had not waded two steps when a run-away laundry bag bowled me over. Cousin Angus chased after it, cackling, a laundry basket over his head.

Gasping like a fish, I managed to wheeze: “Help. Oxygen… necessary… for life!”

Two strong hands grasped me by the waist and righted me. Hale. The room suddenly went from stuffy to suffocating. He had seen that.

A smile. “Let’s get this cleaned up, shall we?” He brushed a stray sock off my shoulder.

” ‘Kay.” Getting harder to breath. I took a shaky step forward to address the room. “Um, hallo everyone?”

I caught Hale attempting to stifle a smile.

A sound shattered the chaos, and every motion stopped as a voice that chilled every bone screeched: “ICE CREAM!”

The silence was so this you could cut it with a knife. Everyone headed for the kitchen. I’ve never seen such a somber precession headed towards frozen treats.

As he passed, I grabbed Basil by the shirt. “You’re sticking around.” I said, firm. “And what on earth have you got on your head?”

Basil righted the long johns wrapped around his cranium. “It’s a turban. I wear a turban now. Turbans are -”

“To whom does it belong?” I growled.

He frowned, scratching under the butt flap. “Judging by who was running after me, it was probably one of the fat octopus ladies.”

“Great. We’re going to give that back once we’re finished, but now I am in need of your assistance.”

Basil’s bottom lip protruded. “But I was gonna get some ice cream.”

“Not now. This is important and a part of agreement.”

“Oh yes I need to talk to you about that.”

“Good. Stick around. Besides, I’m pretty sure Mrs. Post’s homemade ice cream contains a certain red species of round vegetation.

~*~

Once what could be managed was sent to the Roseville Laundromat, and the washing machine mechanic was notified, we set to work. Every available tub was filled with hot water and soap. The maids had been sent outdoors with a mile of clothesline, to be used once we had finished washing. Irons sat at the ready.

Some may think it out of the question that the head of such a mansion should help with the laundry, but this was a special crisis. Every hand was needed to aid the household. Except the guests, who had proved their usefulness in the foyer incident. Besides, I had never tried it, but I’m pretty certain that ‘Death-by-Tomato’ wasn’t among my favorite ice cream flavors.

This day wasn’t about to get any easier.  Before the first load even made it into the tub, I had soap suds in my hair and sleeves soaked to my elbows. Basil insisted on having facial hair composed of bubbles, simply to torment me, and wouldn’t take of his turban until I reminded him it needed to be cleaned for a reason, and he had no idea where it had been. He doused it quite thoroughly. During his violent washing he also managed to soak me from head to toe. Darcy returned just as I was preparing to place Basils head in the washtub and hold it there.

“Whoa, Bridie, enough homicide.” She held me back by my soggy sweater. “Ew, you’re wet! What happened?”

“He did.” I growled.

A smirk came from Basil.

Breath, Bridie, breath. “How did you get home?” I asked. “Did you get caught in the storm?”

“What storm?”

Hale burst through the back door of the laundry room with mock enthusiasm. “The sun is shining, the birds are singing, and the laundry is hanging out to dry!”

Basil stopped creating a bubble wig long enough to notice Hale. He frowned. “Who are you?”

Was it my imagination, or had Hale’s prevailing grin faded just a little?

“If you’ll remember correctly, my name is Hale.”

Basil crossed his arms over his chest. “Never heard of you.”

“I’m Darcy’s brother. Bridie’s friend.”

I was given an unintelligible glance from Basil. “Bridie’s neighbour.” A blob fell from Basil’s wig. “Not related to Darcy in any way.”

“Good to know.”

The boys partook in a greeting of the common kind: they shook hands.

I was afraid that this exchange would turn into a staring contest, but fortunately the washing continued.

“Hey Bridie,” Hale said, a while later, amidst idle chitchat. “What are you planning on doing this week?”

Oh you know, solve a murder mystery; avenge my grandfather. “I’m not sure yet.”

“Well, Darcy and I need to take a trip to the city in a couple days, to pick up some things. Would you like to come?” His hands paused in the wash tub, waiting. An uneasy smile played across his lips.

“Sure.” I heard myself say. At least, I think it’s my voice I hear, but it’s suddenly so small.

The smile reached his eyes then, sincere. “Great.”

“We’ll let you know when we plan on going, as soon as the week clears up a bit.” Darcy splashed soap suds in my direction. I splashed back. “Okay.” Hale flicked water at both of us.

Bubbles flew, water splashed, and clothing got soaked, washed, washed, and hung to dry.

We stopped for dinner, which consisted of tomato soup, then set to ironing straight afterwards.

Darcy set to it like a pro, and Hale with surprising ease, but Basil turned a single shirt inside and out five times before beginning to iron — holding the appliance backwards.

“At least you haven’t burned yourself yet.” I sigh, finally moving over to help. Before I can grab the shirt, Basil deftly turns the shirt right side out and begins ironing properly. “Ah.” He smirks at my dumbfounded expression. “I thought you’d never come over to help me.” This he whispers secretively, leaning over the ironing board.

“So you don’t need my help.” I say. Basil whips through another shirt like he’s been ironing his whole life.

“Pff, naw.” He scoffs. “I’ve been helping my aunt iron my whole life.” Folding the shirt that had taken him fifteen minutes just to start, he begins on the next one, obviously entirely capable. “I just needed to speak to you privately.” I follow his wary glance around the room. Darcy and Hale dutifully iron nearby, and the maids and staff hurry about, washing the few last filthy garments, folding what didn’t need to be ironed, and helping to iron what did. Everyone was busy. No one seemed to notice the troublesome boy from next door speaking in undertones over an ironing board to the girl who despised him.

“You see,” He continued. The iron moved a little to close to my finger and he gives me a cocky grin when I meet his gaze. “I’m not sure I’m sold on this whole thing.”

I purse my lips angrily. “You’re backing out.”

“Nah-ah-ah-ah!” He wags a finger at me. “Not so fast. I just want to remind you that you still owe me something.”

Darcy is suddenly beside me, as though she knew all along what he was saying. “What do you want?” She asks, business-like. Like I’m about to make an important deal and she’s my ever-advising secretary. Which is pretty close.

Basil stroked his chin. “I don’t know… what do you think is a good exchange?”

“We’ll pay you.” Then she coughs. “She’ll pay you.”

Grabbing he by the elbow, I pulled her aside, hissing. “Darcy, I don’t even have a job.”

She looked at me seriously, placing her hand on my shoulders, and says quietly and slowly, “Bridie, you’re a millionaire.”

There was a moment of complete silence, as though even the washing had gone quiet in a moment of solemnity for my stupidity, which was only broken by Basil’s howling and spirited thigh slapping.

“Oh.” Was all I could manage through mortal embarrassment. “I forgot.” Breathing seems impossible through the heat that creeps through my body. I send what I hope is a deathly glare in Basils direction. I’m unable to meet his gaze. He’s laughing so hard his eyes are mostly closed anyway.

Once he manages to compose himself, wiping away a tear, he says: “I don’t want your money anyway.”

I let out an impatient huff. Breathe, Bridie, breathe. “What do you want then. What. Are. You. Here. For.” I want to scream. Maybe cry. His bruise has faded a little. I could darken it.

“I dunno.” He shrugs, then looks me dead in the eye. “I’ll think of something.”

What does that mean? I hope he doesn’t see me shiver.

“You’re in then?” Darcy asks. “For sure?”

He cocks his head and gives me a smug grin. “For the laughs.”

So he can laugh at me, I think. This is all at my expense. Who got the better end of the deal, I wonder?

He’s laughing at me now, I see. That classic smile, laughing down at me He’s so tall, like he always was. I was always short. So small. The room feels suffocating now. Too full of people. I’m so small.

“Bridie, are you going to help more?” Darcy sounds distant.

“No!” I don’t mean to shout. What’s wrong with me? I say it again, quieter this time. “No.”

Darcy and Hale look surprised, concerned. Basils eyes are on me, calculating. Judging.

I need to leave. Now. Before I have a meltdown. Again. For everyone to see. Gathering what’s left of my dignity I hold my head high. “If you’ll forgive me,” I manage to say. “I will be retiring. I never quite got my hot cocoa.”

~*~

December 2, 2004

My Dear Bridie,

Today was a busy day. Many people underestimate the capabilities of a six year old. You withstood endless amounts of Christmas shopping, the loss of a most beloved stuffed rabbit, hours of snow-play, the bullying of older children, and suffered through a breakdown as soon as we made it home. I don’t blame you. Even I felt especially grumpy after today. There is only so much a person can take. I hope that in the future, both you and I will become more aware of how much we can handle. To think our only reward for such agony was a cup of hot cocoa.

Part 13 – Which Falls Under An Unlucky Number

Darcy was more than ecstatic when I told her Basil had agreed. She raved on and on about how I knew he would come around, Bridie, and didn’t I tell you, Bridie? Oh yes, oh yes this is going to be amazing, Bridie!

“Don’t get a swelled head.” I growled. “You might trip on it and kill yourself.”

Darcy frowned. “You’re right,”

“I am?” I blinked rapidly and pinched myself, just to make sure this was reality.

“You are.” She nodded firmly. “This is important. We should be taking this seriously. There is a murderer on the loose.” She whispered the last part very quietly, as though the walls might be listening. “From now on, we must take this seriously. We—”

Her words were cut off by the sound of a vibrating phone. She took a moment to read and text, then placed the phone back in her pocket. Smiling hurriedly she turned to go. “I have to go into town. See you later then.”

“What? I’ll come with you.”

“No. No that’s alright.”

“Uh… I have to walk Waif anyway.” I insisted, as the dog came scampering up to us. Reaching down to pet him I burst into the typical petting-little-animal-voice-mumbo-jumbo.

“No really, I– okay. I’m just going to go change.” She said and hurried off. I began rifling around my room for Waif’s leash, which had mysteriously moved from it’s usual spot on my dresser, to under the bed. Once I got the dust bunnies out of my hair, I hurried to find Darcy. I decided to wait for her on the front steps. However, I was halted by Aunts Bethany and Bonnie.

“Dear,” Began Aunt Beth.

“Yes,” Agreed Aunt Bonnie. “Dear,”

“We seem to have a predicament.” Aunt Beth said seriously.

“Yes, a serious predicament.” Aunt Bonnie nodded vigorously, which did unflattering things to her pit-bull-like  face.

And then they waited, staring at me intently, with expecting,

Remembering my manners as hostess, I smiled pleasantly, avoiding eye contact with either of them, and squeaked: “How may I help you two, uh, ladies?”

“Well,” Aunt Beth began again, and the other began nodding vigorously again. “There seems to be a problem.”

Waif tugged on his leash and I prodded with more urgency. “What kind of problem?”

“The washing machines are down.” Aunt Bonnie finally blurted.

My mind blanked for a moment, faced with something with which I didn’t know how to resolve, and Darcy and Waif waiting for me. Then, intelligence returning, I suggested that they give their laundry to the maids and tell them to bring them to the laundromat in town.

At this, both turned the shade of Mr. Post’s prized potatoes, which is a shade somewhere in between the color of a tomato and a beet, and somewhat resembles that of your common octopus. Then I realized that, in that moment, they both reminded me of a pair of octopuses, with bulging, beady eyes, and colored a sickly shade of purple.

“Well,” Aunt Beth hesitated.

“You see,” Aunt Bonnie sputtered.

With a nod of reassurance from one another, they finally burst out.”We don’t like strangers to wash our undergarments.”

At this confession, both fell into fits of laughter. I stood embarrassed next to an alarmed Waif. In my mind I could hear Darcy calling, and a mutual instinct to flee was being exchanged frantically between my dog and I.

“I’ll take care of it later.” I blurted, and took off, leaving the two entangled, cackling aunts behind.

Darcy was not in her room. I decided to wait for her on the steps, hopefully out of the way of relatives. As soon as I opened the door, I saw Darcy hurrying down the street. Screaming her name, I pelted after her, Waif’s tiny feet working double time to keep up.

“Why. Did you. Leave. Without me?” I asked between inhaling puffs of air to comfort my screaming lungs.

“I’m in a hurry.” She answered curtly, walking faster in heels than anyone I knew. “Dahlia wanted me to do some errands in town and I’m busy, so I haven’t got much time to stop and wait for you to sort out relatives.”

“Oh.” I looked at down at panting Waif. “How did you know I was dealing with relatives?”

“Lucky guess.” I looked up at her to make sure that she was serious, and her expression was humorous. “Bridie, the house is full of them. I ran into a few on my way out as well.”

“Oh.” I felt foolish for thinking that Darcy had been trying to ditch me. “Where are you going?”

“Lowlsey’s.”

“What’s that?” I had never heard of Lowsley’s, and not for the first time began to wonder how much I had missed in my past years away from Roseville.

Darcy looked at me with a smirk. “It’s a new shop in town.”

The walk to town took a little less than an  hour, and all the while Waif explored as far as his leash permitted, Darcy hummed as she walked, and I pondered how in the whole wide world she could possibly walk three miles in those heels. I mean, honestly, it’s like watching someone juggling on a unicycle whilst yodelling. You wonder how they do it.

When we arrived at main street, Darcy left me standing on the side walk outside of Lowsley’s, saying she had private business, Bridie, and don’t wait for me because I’ll be a long time, Bridie. I asked her what would take so long and she replied that she was making a large order. A large order of what, I demanded, and she closed the decorated door in my face. The name of the store was printed in gleeful, flowery script across it. I glowered at the sign. “It still doesn’t look like it says Lowsley’s.” I told Waif.

In reply, Waif towed me towards the bakery, drawn by the scent of fresh pasties. On the journey, I collected a rip in my jeans, a scarped knee, and a lousy attitude. The bakery was closed. “Unable to serve the public due to short staff.”

I snarled as Waif clawed at the door. “I suppose hiring me wouldn’t help.” Here I experienced a moment of lunacy in which I imagined my dog laughing at my short 5’1″ frame.

“Don’t laugh.” I said.

Waif relieved himself on my shoe.

“Agh!” With a scream I sat down, nearly grabbing my soiled shoe before entirely realizing the abomination. “You. Have. Got to be kidding. My favorite sneakers! Waif, when we get home I’m gonna…” There was no dog to be found. The leash had slipped from my hand when I fell and Waif had left me. Stumbling to my feet and calling his name I tried to follow where I thought he might have gone. My knee was bleeding badly now, and I couldn’t run after the animal, nor did I know which direction he had set off.

“Well,” I said to myself. “If it’s any consolation, this day can’t get any worse.”

Thunder rolled in the distance, and the silver clouds opened up their reservoirs and dihydrogen monoxide burst forth from the heavens.

“You have got to be joking.”

~*~

February 13 2004

My Dear Bridie,

Everything possible went wrong for you today. Early this morning, the Posts had a row, waking you up from your much needed sleep. You cried. I attempted to comfort you. After wiping your tears, I brought you to the kitchen to make you breakfast, as Mrs. Post had left for the day. Good riddance. Your favorite cereal had been emptied, and though you didn’t complain, I knew you were greatly disappointed. We went outside to play, but business called me away, and you were forced to play, miserably, alone. You fell and scraped your knee. A bug bit you. It started to rain. In the end, you returned to the indoors, scraped, stung, and short-tempered. On the couch next to me now, you lie, passed out with a tearstained face. I hope things begin to look up for you.

Part 12 – In Which Bridie Keeps Her Friends Close And Her Enemies Closer

Sadly, this good feeling didn’t last long. Darcy squashed it flat as soon as I told her about Basil’s phone call.

“Darcy! You said I would like this idea!”

“I said it was brilliant.” She corrected me patiently. “I never said you would like it.”

Giving a heave of exhaustion I collapsed onto my bed. “Well I don’t like it one bit. It’s a terrible idea.”

She corrected me again. “It’s a fabulously cunning idea. It’s only the implications that are so terrible.”

Something like moan rose out of my throat. “Of all people, Basil!” I groaned. “Why couldn’t it have been someone like Julia or… or Hale!”

Darcy began to lose patience. “Hale doesn’t know how to plant stink bombs, set fireworks or hack Facebook accounts for teenage millionaire’s private cell numbers.”

“We don’t know that.”

“Considering the alternatives, it’s our best bet.”

“Well then, I guess I’ve got to give him that much.” I quipped sarcastically.

Nodding with a hard look in my direction, Darcy paced. “If we can just get some leverage on him, we may be able to bribe him into helping us.”

“That’s that then.” I said cheerfully. “What could Basil possibly want from me? Besides, he hates me.”

Tapping a finger to her lips, Darcy’s eyes screwed up in deep thought. “Just the simple joy of some mischief may be enough to get him to come along. If not, we’ll have to owe him something.”

Defiant, I shook my head furiously. “I’m not going to be in anyone’s debt, especially Basil.”

Darcy stopped pacing for a moment and rounded on me, pleading. “Bridie, we need him. We might finally learn something valuable with his help. And it would be the last thing our murderer would suspect.”

I huffed.

“Please say you’ll do it Bridie. For Ben.” She added the last bit knowingly.

“For Grandpa,” I agreed reluctantly. “I’ll try.”

“Good. Now get out there and show him your stuff.”

“Darcy, I’m attempting to bribe a guy into helping me plant stink bombs.”

“Right. Go.”

~*~

The Stubbings House was a fair bit down the road, considering the size of the Baxter estate. Following the wrought iron fence that ran around the acreage I made my way slowly down the gravel road, dragging my sneakers through the pebbles. Finally the iron pegs ended and gave way to a white picket fence which signaled the beginning of the Stubbings House. Ms. Stubbings lived in a comfortable cottage nestled in the hillside and surrounded in magnificent gardens which she took great pride in. She had never married, though took it upon herself to raise her brother’s son, her nephew, Basil, who came to live with her. It was a fair sized building, not too big, not too small. It was surrounded in trees, bushes and flowers, well kept and homey. It was bright and cheery, white with evergreen shutters and gables. As I shuffled up the brick walkway I admired the property as a whole, the ambience of tranquility that it emitted was entirely welcoming. I couldn’t help but want to stay.

But then, I remembered, there’s him.

I raised the knocker and tapped it three times, then waited. Maybe he’s not home? I hope he’s out. He must be home. Maybe he’s in bed? I hope he’s ill. He’s probably not ill. I hope he’s out.

These circles came to abrupt halt as the door creaked open. Basil leaned against the doorway, arms folded over his chest and snout high in the air, half turned away from me. My heart sunk like a lead brick. “Hey Basil.”

“Have you come to apologize?”

“Apologize?” I nearly screamed. “Why would I need to apologize to you?”

He still didn’t turn to look at me, staring superiorly at the ceiling. “For your unacceptable behavior last night.”

“My unacceptable behavior? What about your unacceptable behavior?” My fists were clenched so hard my nails dug into my palms.

A smug grin swept across his face. “I don’t know what your talking about.”

“Basil Stubbings,” I marched right up to him, shaking with anger. “I’m gonna–” He dropped his act of superiority and held up his hands in defense. It was then that I saw his shinning purple bruise in all its glory.

“Oh.” I breathed. It was perfect. I had hit him straight in the eye, causing a mottled purple-green bruise the size of my fist to form on his pompous face.

He scowled angrily. “Good shot, eh? Girl’s fists get right in there.”

I grinned. “Have you been hit by a girl before?”

He turned away again, black eye hidden. “Now, what did you want?”

“I daresay you probably deserved it then too.”

“Stop wasting my time. What did you come for?”

Then I too scowled grudgingly. “I came to make a bargain.”

He scoffed at me. “I’m not interested.” Seeing as he was making to close the door, I lunged to fill the gap.

“Basil, please, just hear me out. It’s important.”

“Is it now?”

“Yes! It’s about my grandfather. Darcy and I need your help.”

He seemed to consider me, eyeing me from head to toe, sizing me up then staring in to my eyes for a long moment with a look that asked me if a could possibly be serious. After this moment he turned and stalked away. “Fine. Come in. Follow me. Close the door. You’re letting all the cool air out.”

Hurrying to do as he said, then following him throughout the house, I took everything in with a mild curiosity. The inside of the house reflected much of the outside: homey, comfortable, antique. There was carved maple furniture, lace curtains, doilies galore, and it was all very clean and sort of… fresh? No, perhaps not. There was something in the air that I could not quite describe, but felt with great intensity. Was it emptiness? Yet the place was so peaceful, it could not be an unhappy emptiness. It was much to content. I examined the back of Basil’s scraggly black head with great scrutiny, somehow… intrigued. What sort of mysteries and secrets did this boy hold? Thinking about what Aunt Beatrice had said, I wondered what had made him the way he was now.

“What?” He asked suddenly.

“What what?” I realized that we had stopped. We were in the kitchen. A sliding door opened onto the patio, where two white chairs were sitting next to a table.

“You were staring at me.”

I blinked in mild surprise. “Was I? Sorry.”

He scowled at me once again. “Let’s sit on the patio.”

“So. What do you want?”

Taking a deep breath, I examined the situation, deciding how to start. “Darcy and I… we need your help.”

“I got that much.”

I scowled back. “Then shut up and don’t interrupt. You probably know that the police hardly looked over the case, practically decided it was murder or suicide and left it at that. Darcy and I want to find out who did it.”

“That’s nuts!” He was laughing at me.

The patio chairs were tall. My feet didn’t quite touch the ground so a glared at my toes as they swung back and forth. “I’ve told you not to interrupt. Anyway, that’s not important here. All you need to know is that we need you.” Ugh. I hated saying that word. We didn’t need him, his aid was simply very vital.

“What do I get out of it?”

Uh oh. This was going to be the hard part. “Well… you get to cause a bit of fun. We’ll need to set traps of course, and we need your computer skills, cause a bit of mischief.  Something, I think, that is right up your alley.”

Leaning back in his patio chair, he studied me mockingly. “Is that all?”

“That’s the main idea, of course. There may be more.” I nodded. “Will you do it?”

Staring off into the distance with a vagueness and stroking his chin, he said: “I’ll think about it, maybe give it a try.”

“And, um, I want to make another bargain with you.” I wriggled in my seat, watching his eyebrows raised a fraction of an inch. “For that picture of me and the cake.”

He let out a great guffaw and slapped his knee heartily. “It’s a superb pic. Wanna see?”

“No,” I hissed. “I want you to delete it.”

Leaning across the tiny patio table he grinned smugly at me. “And what are you going to give me for it?”

Another black eye, I thought, staring at the dark blotch scathingly. “I don’t know. What do you want?”

“I’ll think about it.”

“You’ll delete it though?”

He took a deep breath. “Fine. But you’re gonna owe me.”

Sighing with relief I leaped off my chair. “Great. Thanks.”

“I’m still thinking about it.”

“Great. Thanks.”

“I wont promise you.”

“Great. Thanks.” I stuck out a hand.

Eyeing it warily he hesitated. Then he took his hand out of his pockets and we shook on it.

I grinned. “Great.”

He stuck out his tongue. “Thanks.”

~*~

June 10th, 2005

My Dear Bridie,

Mrs. Stubbings was called on urgent business to the city, so she asked if Basil could stay with us for a while. I agreed, as Basil has no where else to go. I also hope you two might learn to get along. Perhaps some time forced in each other’s company will spark some friendship? Sadly, this is a very large mansion, and as soon as Basil came to the door you ran and hid. I was forced to entertain Basil by myself, so we took out checkers. We had lots of fun, actually. Basil is very good at checkers. However, he keeps glancing around nastily, as though you might jump out soon enough. I do wish you’d join us.

Part 11 – Which Concerns Ice Cream

An irritating buzzing noise pierced through my consciousness. I opened bleary eyes to darkness. What time was it? My alarm clock read 5:43. Must’ve broke. I slapped my hand over the snooze button, yet the ringing continued. Waif awoke and barked. I winced at the loud noise and hushed him. A foggy thought managed to surface. Your phone. I reached a clumsy hand to where I thought it might be. My fingers touched something that vibrated. The object slipped through my fingers and fell to the ground. I groaned. Unwilling to get out of bed I pulled myself to the edge and fumbled around in the dark until I found it. I sat back in bed, the bright screen blinding me as I answered the call. Who could be calling me at a time like this? Few people knew my number besides my friends, and I had few friends, and those few I had, I had set with unique, individual ringtones. I didn’t recognize the number, but answered anyway.

“H’llo?” I asked through a yawn.

“Bridie? Bridie Baxter?” A voice blared through the speaker, so loud in the still morning I winced. “Are you up? You should be.”

“Who’s this?” Another yawn.

The person chuckled. “It’s me, Basil!”

Why him? I groaned.”How did you get my number?”

“Did you have any idea just how many Bridie Baxters there are out there?” He droned. When I didn’t reply he continued: “Come on. Ask me how many.”

Why now? Through a half sigh half yawn I asked: “How many?”

“About three.”

Why am I wasting my time? As I awakened my sarcasm returned to me. “How lucky for you only one of them is a girl living in the very teeny-tiny town of Roseville.”

“It took some sleuthing, let me tell you.” He laughed. “Did you know that your name is actually Bridget? Bridget Baxter! Who would have ever thought?”

“Never in a million years.” I moaned truthfully.

“I know right? Oh and by the way, you need to update your Facebook profile picture.” He laughed. “I mean, when’s the latest picture from, age twelve?”

“For your information, I put that photo up last night.” I hissed through gritted teeth. He had just touched a soft spot. I knew I looked like a child, but I didn’t need the most annoying human being in all the world to tell me so.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” he said in a voice that was only pity. “Is that the dress you were wearing last night too? It was hard to tell since the last time I saw it it was covered in cake.”

“You think you’re so funny. It’s six in the morning, so get to the punchline or I may kill you.” Ha ha now I’m the funny one. May kill. That’s a laugh. I totally will.

“I don’t think I’m funny.” He sounded wounded. “I’m hilarious. Anyway, what I really called for is to apologize.”

Chuckling, I cut him off. “You’re right. I was wrong. Basil, you’re a laughing riot.”

“A mob, really.” He added dryly. “Bridget, I’m serious. I’m sorry I planted the stick bomb. I’m sorry I set the fireworks, and I’m sorry you fell in the cake.” I must have heard a snicker on the last note. I must have. There had to be some sort of hitch to this. “Look, Bridget.”

I stiffened. “Don’t call me that.”

“What I’m most sorry about, and really is the main reason I called, is that I’d be really, terribly sorry if this picture of you, a sweet young millionaire, where to end up, oh… on the front page of the Roseville Times?”

“What?” My voice rose a couple octaves.

“Now Bridget, it hasn’t happened yet, but–” He gave a ‘hrm’ and I could practically see his innocent shrug. “You never know.”

“Basil Stubbings, if you so much as–”

Click.

Tossing my phone away I let out a stifled squeak. Waif jumped onto my bed to lick my face. I felt numb. Blood pounded in my ears. Dragging myself out of bed, I fumbled through the dark until I found my knitted robe. I didn’t know where I was going, only that it was too early to know and I needed to move. Carefully opening my door, I slipped into the hall, bare feet stepping silently on the plush rug. I wandered the halls, shivering. Waif tagged at my heels, letting out an occasional concerned whine. “I’m alright, Waif. Really. I just need…” I blinked, taking in my whereabouts.

I stood in front of the open kitchen doors. Moonlight spilled into the room, illuminating the cold floor beneath my bare feet. Rainbow colours shone through the stained glass window of the back door. A hunched figure sat on a stool at the island.

I blinked. “I just need some…”

“Ice cream?” Aunt Beatrice offered, finishing the sentence which had really no definite ending.

“Um, sure.” Wrapping my robe tighter around my small frame, I only stared.

She grunted. “Well don’t just stand there, girl! Come and scoop yourself!”

I crossed the frigid floor, grabbed a bowl from the cupboard and pulled up a stool next to her, filling my bowl with ‘Death by Chocolate.’ Waif fell asleep at my feet. Then we sat and ate in silence for quite some time. The kitchen was quiet except for the clinking of our spoons on our bowls and the dog’s soft breathing. Shoveling the last bite and feeling much better, I plucked up the courage to break the stillness.

“What made you come here, Aunt Beatrice?” It came out in a timid whisper as I took a second helping.

She held out her bowl. “Give me some more. I could go asking you the same question. Why are you here?”

Scooping the last bits out of the container, I shrugged. “I dunno. Couldn’t sleep. I guess I’m just a little overwhelmed.” When she didn’t answer I shot her a glance. She seemed to be ignoring me. Or was she waiting for me to continue? I plopped back into my seat and simply stirred my ice cream around in my bowl. “I don’t know. I guess it’s just a bunch of stuff all piling up.”

“You already said that.” She commented.

“No, I–” Well, then again I suppose I did.

“Let me help you along, seeing that you don’t know how to help yourself.” She gave a dry, elderly chuckle. “What sort of things are piling up.” It was really a statement more than a question, yet I know she intended for me to answer it.

My ice cream was starting to melt. “I dunno, I guess cause of moving, and Grandpa dying, and my parents before that, and because school’s over I just have less to fill my mind and I start thinking a lot.”

Aunt Beatrice nodded knowingly, but didn’t but in, so I continued. “And then there’s Basil.”

She crooked a thin eyebrow. “Basil.”

I wished I knew what she was thinking. “The guy next door that planted the stink bomb and the fireworks.”

Something like disappointment crossed her face, as though she had hoped there was some love drama. “You’re angry?”

Nodding, shifted my feet to a high rung on the stool so that I could hug my knees. “And humiliated, and absolutely furious so that I want to…” I continued a little guiltily. “hurt him.”

To my surprise, she chuckled. “You’ve never had a brother, but I’ll tell you that is often how I felt about mine.”

A weak smile was my only reply. I had a brief flash of memory, of Grandpa telling me of of his ‘stubborn old hag’ of a sister.

“He was a trouble maker, that Ben. Drove the lot of us nuts.” She turned her wrinkled face to look at me meaningfully. “But we put up with him. Every once in a while we saw something good in him.”

I laughed a little sadly. “I don’t think Basil has any good in him.”

She chuckled too. “Judging by last night’s events, I can see where you’re coming from. But, have you really tried looking?”

Curling my lip distastefully, I asked: “That would mean that I’d need to keep speaking to him, wouldn’t it?”

“Sadly, yes. You have to decide how much you want to give to see that good. Is it worth it to you to spend your time with him in order to see that little bit of good?”

I shrugged. “Not really.”

“I often find that the most annoying people are the most troubled people, though not in the way you might think.” She had a glazed, faraway look in her eyes. “Benedict? I think he was simply very lonely and very bored, being the only boy in the family and the youngest, as he was. I felt sorry for him plenty of times, though I must admit, that feeling would end when he started nagging me. Ah, the cursed little bogey. Sometimes I wanted to murder that boy.” She said this almost fondly. “I miss that kid.” Shaking her head, as if coming out of a trance, she slid off her stool. “Alright. I’m going back to my room.” She said briskly. “Good day, Bridget.”

“Please call me Bridie.” I nearly begged.

She glanced back as though this were a ridiculous request. “Fine.”  Turning to go, she added. “Then you can call me Aunt Bea.”

“Alright.” I smiled and remembered something. “You never told me why you were up.”

She was already down the hall. “Yes I did.”

Frowning in thought, I gathered the dishes and cleaned the ice cream container, which she had left me to clean. I brooded on what she had said. Was she up because she missed her brother? Everything Grandpa had told me when I was little had gone against Aunt Bea showing any feeling whatsoever. Then again, perhaps the things they said were simply a result of being siblings. I grinned at the thought of my grandfather and his sisters being fond of each other. I glanced out the window. The sun was beginning to rise over the hills of the Baxter acres. I decided I felt much better.

~*~

May 10, 1999

My Dear Bridie,

My eldest sister called today. She had heard that my son and his wife had brought you to stay with me during his eccentric travels. First she insulted Howell and Sophie for leaving their child with me, then she proceeded to offer her help with you. I called her some nasty things and we both hung up. You wont stop screaming now.  I don’t know what to do. The caring of young children is not an area of my expertise. I hate seeing you in such a distressed state. ‘Sure wish I had some help.

~*~

Part 10 – In Which Nothing Goes Right

The ballroom (Yes, the Baxter Mansion had a ballroom) was filled with people of all shapes and sizes. Aunts, uncles, cousins, and your father’s cousin’s niece once removed. There were suits, ties, dresses, hats, you name it. They were a group of well dressed peoples.

I felt awful. I couldn’t believe I had let Darcy convince me into wearing heals. And a dress, not to mention the fact that said dress had no sleeves. None. And my hair was revealingly done up off my shoulders in a decorative bun.

I was adorable.

I was elegant.

I was so exposed.

All I could do was cower behind my barely Bridie-Modesty-Test passing neckline and hope for the best. The best did not come, but a relative did, and not necessarily the best relative.

It was none other than Angus Flint, the most beastly relative of them all.

“Well if it isn’t Miss Baxter herself.” He swirled a glass of champagne and a sly smile spread across his face. “The lady of the house finally decided to show up. Why aren’t you all dolled up…”

I smiled weakly. “Yes, Darcy and I–”

He cut me off. “How would you like to have your first dance with yours truly.” His eyes rolled heavenward as though that is where he himself was bestowed from, to grace us females upon the earth.

My eyes rolled to the floor beneath us. “I–”

The laugh that he produced was nearly a giggle. “Oh, no need to be shy, I don’t bite. Unless you want me too, of course.” Hooking an arm around mine, he shoved his glass into another relative’s hands and dragged me towards the dance floor. I nearly tripped in my heels.

Help me.

A firm hand dropped on my shoulder. “I believe Ms. Baxter promised her first dance to me.” Hale reached around me,  tugging me gently towards him and away from slimy Angus Flint.

“You have no idea how uncanny your timing is.” I said quietly.

He looked bewildered. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I really did want your first dance.” But there was a teasing note in his voice and his surprised mask gave way to a charming smile. “Glad I could help.”

“So,” Hale’s hands wrapped around mine. “What do you think? Of the party I mean.”

I glanced around. “Alright I suppose. There are some sleazy relatives, the rest seem all right, and Mrs. Post seems to have made the most wonderful four tiered cake.”

He took a breath. “It looks delicious, doesn’t it?”

“Beautiful.” I agreed. The towering cake was a pleasant pink from top to bottom, adorned with white icing lace.

Hale looked back to me. “You do as well.” He released me in one hand and twirled me with the other. “Beautiful.”

I entirely greatful I knew how to dance. I knew twenty three different dances in total, with countless varying steps in between. All thanks goes to my parent’s eccentric travels. No matter how many varied steps I knew, nothing had prepared me for this moment. I had never danced in heels.

Putting my foot down wrong sent me flying out of Hale’s arms and onto the polished floor, where I lay for a moment, splayed out ungracefully on the floor. A chuckle ran through the crowd, mixed in with Aunt Bethany and Aunt Bonnies howls.

“Are you alright?” Hale hurried to my aid.

I nodded, flaming red and unable to meet anyone’s gaze. Where’s Darcy? I could really use some support here. I tried to inconspicuously hike up my strapless dress, which, I think had slipped down only slightly during my clumsy fall.

Hale helped me to a chair near the punch table. “Are you sure you’re all right? Can I get you anything? Ice pack?” He glanced at the table nearest us. “Punch?”

I nodded again, still staring at the floor. My ankle throbbed. “I fine, thanks, just need to sit for a moment. Punch would be great, thanks.”

He obediently poured me a cup of punch, asked me if I was alright once more, then seeing all I wanted was to be left alone, gave me a comforting smile and went away.

“Hallo, Bridie.” Said a plump girl I had seen earlier. “I’m sorry about your little spill. Looked painful. And embarrassing.”

I went furiously red. Would this be one of those things I’d never lived down? Hey Bridie, remember that time you tripped in your heels and had a graceless nosedive? That was so funny!

“It was.” I managed to laugh a little. This girl seemed friendly enough and didn’t seem to only be here to mock. “I don’t believe we’ve officially met. You obviously know who I am, but I never caught your name.”

“Julia.” She smiled. “Julia Chant.”

Chant. Chant was the last family to visit Grandfather. This puts them at the top of the suspect list. What could their motives possibly be?

I smiled politely. “Nice to meet you. Are you enjoying the party?”

She lowered her voice and leaned closer. “Well, to be honest, like most parties this one is quite dull, but the punch is good so I don’t mind. However, I do hope something exciting happens before the night is up, don’t you?”

Laughing a little I nodded my agreement. “Yes, I hope so too. Just not to me. I’ve had enough excitement to last me the evening.” She seems all right. I suppose to find out anything of use I will have to speak with her father.

Vivian ventured towards us, punch in hand. “Hallo, Bridie. Julia.” She wore a dress of a fashion popular in the 1930’s, and she looked stunning in it.

“Hallo, Vivian.” We chorused.

She looked about to mention my little episode, then hesitated, a peculiar look on her face. “Is it just me, or does it feel stuffy in here?”

Julia and I sniffed the air. A putrid smell filled our nostrils and she coughed. “Do you smell that too, Bridie?”

“How strange.” I agreed. “The maids had this aired out not long ago and they informed me that everything was in order.”

The smell was growing stronger and Darcy came to me with the same look on her face as almost everyone in the room. “What’s going on?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know! One second everything’s fine and now…”

“Smells like something awful.” She nodded.

“What are we going to do, Darcy?”

Julia butt in, smiling excitedly. “We could move into the garden. It looks lovely.”

Darcy nodded firmly, then turned to a servant. “We need to move everything outside. Open the doors and let this putrid place air out. Notify some men to move the food and drinks outside as well.”

This was all done swiftly. The doors of the ballroom were flung open and people streamed onto the grounds, women fanning themselves and men simply complaining about the odor of the ballroom. I tested my ankle. At first I wobbled, but then I gained proper balance and hurried after the rest of them as quickly as my high heels and sore ankle would allow me.

It was much nicer outside. I took a deep breath and inhaled the fresh smell of blooming flowers.

“Bridie, I think you ought to see what I found.” Darcy pulled me back inside to a far corner of the ballroom. Here the smell was much worse and we both had to pull out handkerchiefs to cover our faces.

Darcy picked up a round object. “Stink bomb. A simple gadget. Anyone could make or buy it.”

I frowned from behind my handkerchief. “I wonder which one of us put it here and why.”

“I don’t know, but we must be careful, Bridie. They could be plotting anything.” Wrapping the object in a napkin, she stuffed it in a drawer of a table.

I nodded my agreement, then remembered something. “Darcy, where were you when I… um… fell?”

“Testing the food.” She looked guilty. “All of the appetizers have some form of tomato in them, Bridie. At least they don’t taste awful.”

I could only laugh at her sheepish grin as we returned to the garden.

Julia greeted me again and removed me from Darcy without so much as noticing her, intent on pulling me towards the cake table.

“Come on! It looks delicious.”

Sadly, our little cake walk was rudely interrupted.

There was a scream and a bright spark shot to the sky. A sharp pop and and the dark sky suddenly lit up with brilliant bright lights. The whole group of guests was thrown into an uproar. Everyone began screaming a whizzing about.  Shooting up into the air with piercing screams and exploding with violent pandemonium, the fireworks showered sparks upon the havoc.

“Look out!”

A shrieking, sizzling rocket had malfunctioned, plummeting back down towards earth. Towards me.

Julia and I did a hasty split, and I was thrown backwards, the firework barely missing my feet. I landed in the cake. Vanilla icing dribbled down my left cheek. A pink hunk of cake fell into my lap. I licked my lips. Ketchup cake. Will the tomatoes never end?

After extracting myself from the cake I became aware of a certain laughter. Of course, by that time nearly everyone was, if not full on howling, at least snickering a little. Even Julia gave a giggle of betrayal. But one laugh I recognized, and it wasn’t supposed be be here.

With raging fury I stalked towards the wrought iron fence surrounding the Baxter Mansion, walking in those heels like I’d been doing it my whole life. I was furious. Not even heels or twisted ankles could stop me now.

“Basil Stubbings!” I was so close to calling him some really bad names. Or at least chucking dangerous footwear at him. Maybe I’d be lucky and hit him heel end forward.

This boy, however, paid no heed to my rage and only laughed harder, holding on to the bars of the fence as though they were the only thing keeping him from falling over.

I was so overwhelmed with feelings of embarrassment, loathing, and vexation that all I could manage was a stuttering: “Why did you do this?” My voice cracked to an awfully high pitch, partly because as I spoke, a big glob of wet cake slipped down the front of my dress.

He wiped tears from his eyes and took a shaky breath. “I only wanted to have a little fun, ruin your big party, but–oh geez–I never thought something as rich as this would happen. This is too good.” He succumbed to another fit of laughter, but only after taking out his phone and snapping a picture.

I didn’t think. Grabbing two humongous fistfuls of ketchup cake, I flung them at his face. One landed squarely on his fore head and the other on his neck, dropping down the front of his shirt and onto his shoes. “Take a picture of that.” I snarled. If only this dog-gone dress had pockets, then I would have my phone with me.

As I turned to leave, Basil leaned through the bars of the fence, licked his lips and chuckled.

I swung around at punched an icing covered face, right where I thought his eye might be. I though better of this later, realizing I could have missed a hit a nasty wrought iron fence instead, but at the time, my only other option was flinging a high heel, and I didn’t want to be charged for attempted murder. Still, it brought back memories of the day he had toyed with my dog and I gave him what he deserved. I suppose nothing had changed.

“Agh!” He yelled, and fell back from the gate, holding his eye. Or if I had missed, his head.

Darcy was suddenly behind me, pulling me away. I’m not sure think she whispered one of the many bad words running through my mind. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

I cast one more angry look at the boy next door and walked away.

~*~

June 11th 2005

My Dear Bridie,

I’m going to have to keep you and that Stubbings boy apart. I fear that if I don’t, you and Basil may kill each other before the summer is up. It’s a pity though–he seems a decent fellow. I really do with you would make friends. But then, I suppose that is simply not your way.

 

5 – 21 – 14

Look I can art too:

As per the unevenness of the eyes, in my defence It was a quick couple minute sketch. Bare with me people.