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 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 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.

 

Part 9: In Which There Is Simply Too Much Family

I woke up with a start. There was a split second of panic, where I couldn’t tell up from down and the only thing I could see was a sliver of light.

The wardrobe door was flung open, blinding me with light. A young boy blinked squinted eyes at me, startled. A shock of long red hair was tied back in a pony tail. He wore what looked like a pair of pyjamas. The red stripe running across it crashed awfully with his red hair and freckled face. “Hide me!” He wheezed in what he obviously thought was a whisper. “Don’t let Jonathan know where I am!” With this he dove into the wardrobe beside me. The door had barely closed on his ponytail when there was a sound like a door being broken down.

“Where’d he go?”

The boy next to me breathed loudly through his nostrils sending huffs of air into my face. The wardrobe doors had not closed all the way, letting a sliver of light shine through.

Outside, another boy crossed his arms impatiently. “Sam!” His dark hair was long like the other’s and he wore the same clothes like pyjamas. His glasses sat on his nose, shielding almond shaped eyes.  A girl ran him over.

“Did you find Sam?” Picking her self up she stamped her foot, blonde curls bouncing angrily. She was the only one of the three not wearing clothes that resembled nightwear. “When I find him, I’m gonna–”

“Shh! Vivian, listen.”

In obvious attempt to be silent, Sam slapped a hand across his mouth. He inhaled little gasps of air through his nostrils, eyes wide. It was not very quiet.

“Found you!” The two screamed and pounced upon us, throwing open the doors and pulling helpless Sam out of hiding. He inhaled noisily, red face clashing terribly with his hair and PJs. Jonathan and Vivian looked surprised to find me there as well.

“He’s never been good at keeping quiet.” Vivian explained. “Even when he holds his breath.”

“Oh.” Was all I could say as struggling Sam was dragged out the door. He looked like the type of boy grown ups would describe as ‘rough,’ and who’s shoelaces were always untied. I looked down. Sure enough, Sam’s shoelaces trailed along behind him.

“What’s your name?” Vivian asked, dropping one of Sam’s arms once we had made it to the hall.

Sam sat up, gasping. “Are you going to be in the playroom tonight?”

Fixing his ponytail, Jonathan asked: “How old are you?”

“I’m Bridie and I am the host of the party so I will not be in the play room, no. I’m sixteen.”

Jonathan expertly straightened his glasses and said rather proudly: “Sam’s eight, but Vivian and I are fifteen and sixteen–old enough to go to the party. But Sam needs some one too look after him, so he’s staying in the playroom.”

“I don’t need looking after!” Sam stuck out his tongue. It was a strange golden color.

“You monster!” Vivian screeched. “You’re the one who ate my butter pie!”

The three raced down the hall, Sam’s laces trailing behind him like banners.

A woman with a worried look ran towards me. “Have you see three children? Two boys and a girl?”

“They seem to have disappeared.” Dahlia Swann came up behind her. “Mrs. Lee is very worried they may get in to trouble.”

Mrs. Lee nodded, looking ever fretful.

There was a dreadful thump some ways down the hall.

“That’s him. Tripping on his laces again.” Mrs. Lee took off. I couldn’t help but notice her dress very nearly resembled pyjamas, though by all means not unfashionable.

“Oh! Pumpkin,” Dahlia paused. “Did you meet my son?”

“Pardon, who?” Perhaps now was my chance to finally find out Darcy’s Brother’s name. Subtly, of course.

“My son.” Dahlia repeated as though I was simply hard of hearing. “Did you meet him.”

I smiled. “Yes, I did. It was nice to see him again.”

She looked pleased. “I’m glad you don’t mind. So many people, I though ‘what’s one more?’ And it’s been so long since either have us have seen him too. He’s been away at school for a very long time. Wants to go into something good like law, medical or teaching, like that. Isn’t it nice? Well then, ta, ta!” In expertise heels, she sped off, leaving me with much information about Her Son, though nothing as useful as his name.

~*~

I found Darcy and Her Brother waiting for me in the kitchen. I entered hesitantly, looking for a inedible vegetable filled cardboard box. Darcy met my gaze and shook her head. Sitting down next to her I whispered: “The storm has passed?”

“I think so. You’re lucky Bridie. It could have been much worse.”

But she spoke too soon. Mr. Post burst through the stain glass door and accosted us with a cardboard box containing ten kilos of tomaotes and a squash like the deformed head of a baby. Mr Post left with a bang and Mrs. Post gave a ‘tsk tsk’ and set to work.

I could have cried. “Darcy help me…”

She could only shrug and pat me comfortingly on the head.

Her Brother smiled encouragingly. “It’ll be alright.” He said. “Come on, let’s have cereal for lunch or something.”

With Mrs. Post waist deep in tomatoes, I was able to pull out ten kinds of cereal, eight of which were stale and had expired six months ago. I was just pouring milk into my bowl when there came a noise like thunder. The pots and pans on the oven shook and the kitchen doors burst open, relatives flooding into the room. The giant kitchen suddenly felt ten times smaller. Each relative was demanding edible food. It was apparent that Mrs. Post had served them yesterday’s Potato Casserole. One held up a chuck like a burnt coal.

“This thing is rock hard!”

“How old are these?”

“What are they?”

Mrs. Post looked like she could bust a vesel.

A tall, regal man rounded on me. “You. You’re Ms. Baxter, aren’t you?”

“Yes, don’t you have something edible for us to eat?” Said a plump, exotic woman next to him.

“Mama, I’m starving.” Two children wailed to her. They were both round and plain.

Hearing this, all the relatives suddenly turned to me with a passion. “What are we supposed to eat in this house?” The shouting turned to a roar and a couple raised fists in the air and brought up a chant.

Oh heavens, what am I supposed to do?

Darcy was all ready to pull me out of there, but I had decided I needed to fix this. Clambering onto the counter I gave my best shout.

No one heard me.

Mr. Post had come in through the door. He gave a bellow that was heard clearly above the mob. “Shut up, you lot, and let the girl speak!”

There was immediate silence.

“Thank you.” I nodded toward the gardener. “Look. I’m sorry you’re not happy with your meal arrangements. It’s my fault. And I’d like to apologize.” I turned to the Posts. “I’m sorry I’ve angered you both. It’s simply been a very long time since I’ve been in your company, and I’d ask that you’d give me room to make mistakes.” The two nodded and looked almost cheerful. To the rest of the throng I yelled: “Who wants pizza?”

Everyone gave up a shout. Darcy clapped. Her Brother helped me down from the counter, though not without knocking over a bowl of cereal. I took a deep breath to try and stop my heart from pounding. “I’m going to have to apologize to you as well.” I shouted at Darcy’s Brother above the noise. “I can’t for the life of me remember your name.”

He laughed heartily and leaned closer to hear. “Well, why didn’t you say so? The name’s Hale. Hale Swann.” He took my hand in his and shook it.

I grinned and blushed, adrenalin gone. “Pleasure to meet you.”

“The pleasure is all mine.” And with that he led me grandly towards the telephone to call the pizza place.

~*~

April 10 2003

My Dear Bridie,

For your birthday this year I bought you a bicycle. You were more that ecstatic to try, but insisted on doing it yourself. That is, until you got on the bike. As soon as your feet left the ground you called for me to help you. I did, and after that you wouldn’t let me let go. I’m going to have to let go eventually, otherwise you’ll never learn how to do it on your own. Maybe we’ll try again tomorrow.

Part 8 – In Which Bridie’s Mansion Is Invaded

Do you have any idea how much chaos roughly fifty people can make? I’ll tell you:

Too much.

The Baxter Mansion was filled from top to bottom with uncles, aunts, cousins, nieces, nephews and staff. They all ran up and down stairs and halls, yelling and screaming. Above everyone else, it wasn’t difficult to make out the cackles of Aunts Bethany and Bonnie.

I heard all this from my bedroom, despite it’s distance from the guest wing. Unable to bring myself to venture out into the throng, I cowered here with Darcy. We discussed our next course of action.

“There will bed a party tonight.” Darcy paced my plush carpet, clicking together her fingernails. From where she lay on the floor, Waif’s head followed my friend’s every move. “The younger children–”

“Mummy, John is breathing in my face!”

“–will be in the play room, so this will be a little calmer and we will be able to interview the suspects more easily.”

From where I sat on my bed I heartily nodded agreement, just as an elderly cackle made it’s way through the noise. “More or less.”

One of the maids poked her head into the room. Her brows were knit together with a mixture of polite patience and desperation. It wasn’t hard to see she was at the end of her rope. “Darcy, we could really use your help out here.”

“I’ll be there in a minute, Euphemia.” Darcy waved her away.

I objected. “I need Darcy in here with me.” They could not take her away from me at a time like this. As much as the unfortunate maid (Unfortunate is the only suitable adjective I could find for someone with a horrible name like Euphemia.) needed help, I needed Darcy so much more. There was something much greater at stake here.

The maid didn’t dare disagree, but her face twisted even further into vexation as she backed out the door.

I immediately felt guilty and called after her: “My apologies!”

Darcy continued to pace. Waif continued to watch. “We must keep our eyes and ears peeled. Everything they say could be held against them. Everything they say could be a clue, could lead us to something.”

“Everything?”

Darcy nodded solemnly. “Everything?”

“Even if one of the little cousins ask the way to the loo?”

“Bridie.”

“Sorry. But how are we supposed to tell what’s useful information and what’s idle chit-chat?”

Darcy paced. Waif watched.

“With our massive intellect.” She grinned. “I don’t know, but the human brain can do marvelous things. It notices a lilt in the voice, a flicker of the eye, a shift of the posture.”

“Yeah, but not mine. I can’t do that. I’m not Sherlock Holmes, Darcy, I’m not even sixteen!”

A dam broke inside of me.

I think many times we, whether or not we realize it, push aside certain thoughts. Whether it is because we do not enjoy the implications of said thought, or simply because it does not manage to surface to our consciousness, it is forced into the attics of our mind. There it sits collecting cobwebs and dust bunnies until we take a moment or a breath and it slips out. And that thought, so much larger because of the dirt and dust, tumbles down the stairs to the main room that is our conscious, taking everything else with it as it comes. It this way it creates a tidal wave of doubts and fears.

“What could I possibly do Darcy? I’m just a little girl with a big toy and impossible ambition. I have no idea what to do with this. I have no where to begin, no idea what to do, and no way to accomplish it.” I gathered the sheets in my fists. “What was I thinking, Darcy? That I’d play sleuth? Nose around a bit and the culprit would come to me begging for mercy? Stupid! There’s fifty of them, Darcy! And only one of me.”

Throughout my speech, Darcy stood quietly, didn’t pace, didn’t butt in. Now she came to sit beside me. Waif jumped on to the bed and placed his head in my lap. “You’re not alone Bridie. I’m here. Waif will protect you. There are so many people behind us on this, Bridie. You’re not alone.” She placed a hand on my shoulder. “And say we did fail. What have possibly we got to lose? At least we can say we tried. How can we not try?”

I didn’t feel like trying. I felt like sitting in my room until the moment passed and the family went away. The sounds hadn’t faded. “Okay.” I scratched Waif’s ears and sniffled. “I’ll try.”

Darcy smiled. “Good.”

A knock. “Hello?” There was polite pause, waiting for an answer.

Darcy rolled her eyes. “Euphemia! We told you–”

The door burst open. “I’m not Euphemia!” A young man charged into my bedroom, a great big grin on his face.

Darcy screamed. Waif and I jumped. Darcy jumped too. Right into the man’s arms. My dog and I simply sat, feeling quite frightened, while the two hugged, talking excitedly in my middle of my bedroom.

“How’d you get here?” Darcy squealed.

The man laughed. “I swam across the Atlantic Ocean.”

“When did you get here?”

Another laugh. “Just now.”

“Darcy…” My voice squeaked.

The two stopped and seemed to suddenly notice my existence.

I sat there, thoroughly embarrassed, for a very large variety of reasons. First, I had nearly been crying a second earlier and was not quite fully recovered. Second, I nearly felt like crying now, having been given an near heart attack by a stranger bursting into my room and sending my friend screaming. Third and lastly, there was a man standing in my bedroom. Despite the vast amount of people outside my door, I was not ready for company. In fact, I was in my comfy shorts with my Nintendo t-shirt. With my previously stray dog in my lap.

I wrapped my grey cardigan tightly around me to hide the bright red logo. “Who is this?” A thought struck me that this was Darcy’s secret significant other and the two of them had been separated for a long time because their parents forbade them to see each other, but that idea didn’t work at all because Darcy said:

“This is my brother.”

I blinked. “Oh.” I could see the resemblance now, matching blonde hair, same eyes and noses, similar chins. But I still could not recognize him. This was awkward, because I had met Darcy’s younger brother on several occasions. I became further embarrassed to find I could not remember his name. The only excuse I could find was that he was for the most part off at some posh boarding school and the last time I had seen him, I was quite young. I managed to smile. It was a very good excuse, I thought. Then I became embarrassed again because apparently he remembered me.

“Bridie! Long time no see! Too long in fact.” Darcy’s Brother flashed his smile. “How’ve you been? Remember me?”

Here I nearly said no, I don’t remember you, but I figured that would not be polite. I could see now how he was not the older man I had thought him to be, but a boy a little older than myself. And he could have once been a small boy come to visit his family during vacation, much like I did mine way back then. Somehow my brain was having a difficult time matching up this Darcy’s Brother with the much younger Darcy’s Brother I had met a very long time ago. I gave him an uneasy smile and came over to shake the hand he offered. I didn’t know what to say, so I didn’t and there was an awkward silence.

Darcy’s Brother smiled again. It was a sort of pitying, comforting smile, as though he saw how anxious I was feeling and wanted to help. This made me all the more uncomfortable.

He suddenly looked embarrassed. “To be honest, I don’t remember much of you at all.”

This made me feel much better and I was able to give a little laugh and say: “That’s alright. I don’t really either.”

Darcy’s Brother headed for the door. “I’ll leave you ladies to yourselves. I want to take a walk through Miss Baxter’s glorious mansion.”

Darcy hurried after Her Brother. “We’ll come with you.”

“Actually,” I backed toward my wardrobe. “I think I’ll stay here a while. I need to get ready for the party tonight.”

Darcy looked puzzled, but she didn’t question me. “Alright, see you later, Bridie?”

“Sure.” Giving a little wave I forced a smile. “See you later.”

Once they had left I scooped up Waif and carried him to the wardrobe, swinging open the heavy wood doors. Instead of picking out a sweater I shoved them aside and slid into a corner, placing Waif on my lap. I closed the doors part of the way (As it is foolish to shut ones self in a wardrobe.) and leaned my head against the back of the wardrobe. Breathing in the warm scent of wool, I let myself drift away. The riot outside my wooden fortress raged on.

~*~

June 21 2005

My Dear Bridie,

Mrs. Swann’s boy came to stay for a while. You looked a little wary of him at first, probably thinking he would be much like Basil. You soon found he was of mild temper, and you, him and Darcy had a jolly good time. I seem to have a problem, however. Even now I can not recall his name.

Part 7 – In Which the Guests Arrive

The suspects (I mean guests.) began to arrive the next day. Darcy and I insisted on being at the front door to greet them all. The foyer was one of the many rooms of the mansion that fascinated me. For hours as I child I would examine every inch of the vaulted ceiling and intricate marble floor. As we waited now I had to resist the urge to kick off my shoes and slide around the polished floors. But my willingness to please Darcy and Sebastian kept me in check. It couldn’t have been too soon for the family to arrive.  They came in bustling, demanding groups.

The great aunts came first. They all wore demure dresses and sort of blended together in an elderly lump. Sebastian, in all gentleman fashion,  greeted every one as they entered. The porters whizzed about,  grabbing the ladies’  bags and suitcases. Sifting through them, I tried to pick out the most suitable suspects.

Tall, withered and dark, Aunt Beatrice approached me first, looking me up and down with a sniff. I smiled politely. “Nice to see you, Aunt Bea.” Nodding curtly she brushed past.

Aunts Bethany and Bonny came next, ever plump and boisterous. They pinched my cheeks and patted my head. “Where’s the guest rooms?” They crowed. Bonny stumped her cane with impatience. “I’m hungry. How soon is supper?” I greeted them both briskly and they hobbled off, cackling.

Lingering a while was Aunt Betsy. She seemed timid and small. She shook my hand without a smile or a single word and followed her sisters.

The Aunts were not yet settled when the entire rest of the family managed to arrive at the exact same time. They literally drove up in a honking, budging mess of taxis, yet some how strangely synchronized. Then every single on of the taxi doors burst open at the same moment and people flooded towards the mansion. The Relative Apocalypse had begun. If the the porters had been in a hurry before, at that moment they must have been experiencing utter panic. Darcy and I only managed  to greet a handful of the family. Darcy must have seen my desperate look, but nothing could stop the constant flow of relatives.

As quickly as they had come, they were gone, and my friend and I were left standing in the empty foyer. Down the hall could be heard the sound of many men, women and children.

Slumping against the wall, I let out a sigh. Darcy crossed her arms and chewed her lip, looking somewhat stunned.

“Now what?” My question echoed off the vaulted ceiling and hung there, unanswered.

~*~

December 20th 2003

My Dear Bridie,

This morning my sisters arrived. Obviously overwhelmed with the amount of new ladies you turned to me and asked, not at all quietly: “When can we bring the grouchy old hags back?”

From here on forward I’m going to have to watch what I say.

Part 6 – Wherein Bridie Meets the Neighbors

The Mansion gate had only just come into sight when Waif decided he couldn’t walk another step. Without warning he collapsed on the lawn, letting out a most exhausted huff that blew his whiskers.

Glancing down the road, I said: “Come on Waif, we’re almost there.”

Another huff.

“Might as well carry him.” Darcy suggested.

I obliged, heaving the dog into my arms. I had only just turned away when a voice demanded: “Did you just let your little mutt relieve himself on my front lawn?”

Turning, I saw a man stalking over to where we stood. A few feet away from me he stopped, hands on hips. Now I could see he was not a man, but a boy. Though he towered above me, he had boyish features. His freckled face was pulled into a menacing frown. “I asked you a question, madam.”

With I huff I answered angrily. “I heard you, sir, and no, I would not allow my dog to use anyone’s lawn as a loo, most of all yours.” From my arms came the low growl of Waif.

Cocking his raven head back, the boy smirked. “Oh great, just when I thought my day couldn’t get any worse, look who appears. Mrs. Bridget Baxter herself.”

I blinked. “Excuse me? Do I know you?”

The boy laughed. “Of course you wouldn’t want to remember me.”

“I supposed not, though I can’t imagine why.” I retorted.

Darcy nudged me, reminding me of my manners.

Sticking out a hand, I muttered. “My name is Bridie Baxter. Pardon me, but I seem to have forgotten yours.”

He took it grudgingly. “Basil Stubbings. We never saw each other much, but when we did, they weren’t happy meetings. Do you remember what I did to your dog?”

I had a vague idea, but I replied: “No.”

Flashing a grin he made a motion with his hand. “I tied pop cans to her tail and let her run around.”

My face must’ve turned bright red, because he laughed. It took everything in me not punch the guy right in the face. The look Darcy had told me that if I hadn’t been there, she would’ve said a really bad word. Both of us had been very fond of Little Dot.

“Hey, girls, don’t look like that. That was years ago. I’ve matured a little.” He held up his hands in defence. “By the way, who’s this one?” Bending over me, a little too close for comfort, he patted my dog’s head.

Waif growled. I frowned. “Waif.”

He stepped back, mocking grin still plastered across his face, eyebrows raised. “Really? Do you know what that means?”

“No.”

“Stray. Lost person or animal.”

Desperate to defend Waif’s honor, I replied with a snarl. “Well, I don’t know why you find that so funny, cause that’s exactly what he is.”

Darcy had been watching this whole time, rather angrily. Mrs. Post’s potatoes were probably the only thing that kept here this long. “We’ll be leaving.” She said finally. Placing a hand on my shoulder she steered me away.

I  back at Basil, who gave me a lopsided grin, cocked his freckled face and waved good-bye.

“Man alive, I wish I could give that boy a piece of my mind.” Darcy mumbled.

“Or fist.” I added.

Waif yipped.

~*~

June 5th 2005

My Dear Bridie,

Mrs. Stubbing’s great nephew moved in with her this week. She called me this morning and explained–very kindly, mind you– that yesterday he came home with a black eye. With a very angelic look on your face you explained that “Basil hates dogs, and I hate people who hate dogs.” I’m sure there’s more behind this.