A Study in Temperance (The Adventures of Ichabod Temperance Book 4) (15 page)

“We’ll have none of that, Madam.”
~clap,clap!~
“Now then, do as our Lady of the Manor instructs. We must all move out into the underground grape juice jungle and find the murderous fiend!”

“You stick with me, Miss Plumtartt.”

“Of course, Mr. Temperance. Come now, you and I must set a good example for the rest of the household.”

“This gloomy basement is like a big ol’ cave, Ma’am. The racks and pillars remind me of being in a mineshaft.”

“Mr. Temperance?”

“Ma’am?”

“I appreciate your leading us on this little investigation, as it is so kind of you to clear any threatening cobwebs from before my path, but are you sure you are not just taking advantage of the situation to hold my hand, eh hem?”

“Doh, unh, well, it just seemed like the right thing to do under the circumstances, Miss Plumtartt.”

“Quite right, I concur!”

“I think the families of several darkness loving species make their home down here, Ma’am.”

“I agree, sir. Certainly these layers upon layers of spider webbing indicate many generations of tenancy.”

“Yes, Ma’am. I think this side of the wine cellar is clear. Nobody’s been over here in years. Let’s get back to the entrance.”

“I await your cordial escort.”

“Did any of y’all come up with anything?”

“No, no, Monsieur.”

“Nae, not a thing, Ichabod.”

“Aye, Oi found me a randy Scotsman!”

“Tee, hee!”

“May we please return upstairs? One is in need of a sip of water.”

“I say, of course, Manlington. Come along everyone, let us return to the Dining Hall. Jabez, saddle a horse and proceed with all due haste to alert the authorities in Elderberry Pond.”

“Yes, Mum.”

“Gosh, Miss Plumtartt, Jabez’s normally cheerful Scottish features are now set with grim determination.”

“Circumstances determine the countenance, Mr. Temperance. I am happy to say that in this time of crisis, the KrunchGrippe sisters are showing the initiative to serve tea while we wait.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

It is not a very long time before we are rewarded with Jabez WilloughSickle’s return, accompanied by a carriage occupied by several men of serious bearing.

The country constables are shown to the scene of the crime where they are introduced to the corpus delicti. The rural detectives then reconvene where we have gathered in the Dining Hall.

“Squire Bruce Nigels, remove that overly large floral display from the center of this lengthy dining table.”

“Bup, bup, bup, yes, rather a burdensome thing, eh, what? Bup, bup, bup.”

“My name is Brettamy Jehtte. I am the lead detective in this gruesome affair. Constable David BurkHard, seat our suspects on the opposite side that I may face and query this gallery in turn.”

“Roight! You ‘eard the detective. Everyone to the other side of the table!”

“You there, you’re the butler, correct?”

“Manlington, sir.”

“Is everyone present, Manlington?”

“No, Detective. Mr. Cruikshank is unable to attend as he has a more pressing engagement in the cellar. Oh, and there is Morag the smelter on the roof. I doubt very much that you can persuade him to join our gathering. He has not been down in weeks and has shown extraordinary obstinacy as regards descending his lofty perch.”

“We shall see about the smelter, later. Now then, I expect you all to cooperate in this investigation. That includes you, Madame. Please sit on the other side of the table with the rest of the household.”

“You can’t expect me to sit with a bunch of suspected criminals! I am above suspicion!”

“I am afraid that no one is above suspicion. What is your name, Madame?”

“My name is Mrs. SaurSkowlle! I own this house! Erk. I mean, I run this house, that is, I am the chief female in charge of household.”

“Take a seat on the other side of the table, Mrs. SaurSkowlle. Ah, there, now, I have all of my suspects in a neat little row. The first of my suspects is this trio of troublingly attractive milkmaidens. Your names are?”

“Malficence.”

“Nonsense.”

“Obstinance.”

“GoodeWoodey!”

“Thank you, ladies. Now you, the boy with the out of date hairstyle that is pleasantly positioned and happily wedged in among the girls.”

“Me name is Spike McGilligin.”

“I think you next three young ladies are the upstairs maids?”

“Oh, oui! That is us! We are the upstairs maids we are thinking, too, oui. Hee, hee, hee! We are:”

“Whimsy!”

“Gaiety!”

“Modesty!”

“BummeTwidell!”

“Heeheeheeheeheeheeheeheeheeheeheeheeheeheehee!”

“Ladies, please be serious. This is a murder investigation!”

“Oh, oui, look at how we straighten up in the serious manner.”

“Oui, we purse our lips and knot our brow with the big frowny face.”

“Oui! We say,
~grunt, grunt, grunt~
this is serious!”

“Heeheeheeheeheeheeheeheeheeheeheeheeheeheehee!”

“Bup, bup, bup, ho, ho, ho, you girls behave, ho, ho, right. Bup, bup, bup.”

“Heeheeheeheeheeheeheeheeheeheeheeheeheeheehee!”

“Let us move on. You are the laundry girl, correct.”

“Huh, huh, huh-yes, sir. Condolescense Purvey. Huh, huh, huh.”

“You are more upset than the rest of the household, Miss Purvey. Why is that?”

“Huh, huh. Oi wew-winned the waundwey, an’ Oi’ve nevvuh been near nuffin bad before! Huh, huh, huh!”

“The next girl in line. What is your name?”

“‘ello, ‘ello, Detective! Me name is Millicent Wallaby. Oi’m the cook! Let me know if you’d like me to whip up a nice scoop of soup.”

“No, thank you, Miss Wallaby. Here we have our downstairs maids.”

“Must we participate in this sordid little affair?”

“I am afraid so, Ladies. Your names are?”

“Delilah.”

“Delilou.”

“Deliriah.”

“Krunche
Grippe.”

“You were present at dinner?”

“Oh, we were around.”

“You two men are the footmen, are you not?”

“Tee, hee! The footmen, are we is!”

“Horbaz, behave!”

“Oh, but Jabez, how could I resist?”

“You are Jabez and Horbaz?...”

“WilloughSickle.”

“Very good. Now then, what about you? You’re the coachmaster, yes?”

“Hunh? Yeah, that’s me. Me name’s, uh, Bishop RooksPawn.”

“You appear apprehensive, RooksPawn.”

“Hunh! This business makes me nervous, that’s all!”

“You, the odd little fellow. You are out of place here. Your dim and open face has a peculiar, naive element.”

“Howdy, Detective Jehtte. My name’s Ichabod Temperance, sir.”

“Ah. Of course. An American. That explains it. Your purpose here at the Manor, boy?”

“Mr. Temperance is here as a guest, Detective Jehtte. I should very much appreciate your showing this guest to our country and my home a deal more courtesy, sir.”

“I see. Please introduce yourself, Madame.”

“I am Persephone Plumtartt.”

“And this brings us back to the household matron and butler, Mrs. SaurSkowlle and Manlington. Who was the last to see Cruikshank alive?”

“I believe that to have been Mr. Temperance and myself, detective. We spoke to Mr. Cruikshank when he approached us while supping here in the Dining Hall.”

“Did anyone else see or speak with Cruikshank after this? Your choruses of negative responses indicate not.”

“Lady Plumtartt and the guest are constantly witnessed since the corroborated occurrence of Cruikshank’s last sighting. Everyone else in the household passed in and out of the Dining Hall, and were often wandering the surrounding passageways throughout dinner.
There is never a minute when all were present at the same time. At some point between the Plumtartt/Cruikshank dinner conversation and finding the body, a mere twenty some odd minutes later, someone killed Cruikshank.”

“Oh, there’s one of them that bears a second look!”

“Who would that be, Mrs. SaurSkowlle?”

“Bishop RooksPawn!”

“What! No! Not me!”

“You’ve been napping when you’re supposed to be minding your chores and you were not present through most of dinner. You’ve been acting guilty and had the best opportunity of anybody to commit this ghastly murder, you sleepy cabbie!”

“I must say, your face is a miserable, horrible, twisting, caricature of desperation and fear, Mr. RooksPawn. Confess your crime and be done with it!”

“It weren’t me! Oi didn’t do it! You can’t put this ‘orrible croime onna innocent man!”

“Huh, huh, huh! Naw-oh! Huh, huh, huh! Don’t take ‘im! Pwease! E’s in-oe-cent! Huh, huh, huh!”

“What’s this? Miss Purvey, you appear most distraught at seeing Mr. RooksPawn being taken in the grip of my capable deputies.”

“Bup bup, bup. Behave yourself laddie. Bup, bup, bup. The game is up, eh, what? Hear, hear! We have you now, my boy. Bup, bup, yes, I should say, so, eh, what? Bup, bup, bup.”

“Huh, huh, huh! It weren’t ‘im, it were muh-ee! Take me, not ‘im! Huh, huh, huh!”

“If you killed Cruikshank, Miss Purvey, then how did you get out of that locked room?”

“Huh, huh, .. hunh? Oi don’t knoe-woah! Huh, huh, huh, huh, huh, huh.”

“I am afraid that is not quite good enough, young lady. Put the bracelets on him, Constable BurkHard.”

“Hah! So ye’ thought yeede beein’ hah-whun to gits a way with mur-r-r-r-r-r-der on our loovely coontryside, boot Ouhm ‘appy te’ foil yeer foul schemes. Ye’ll naught oot roon the lawrre in theese viesinnitty. Neigh, ye’ll paie-ee fourre yourre awhefulle kee-rhymes, reet eenoof. Aye.”

“It weren’t me, Oi tells ye!”

Mrs. SaurSkowlle appears happy for the first time since our arrival as she takes a sadistic delight in Mr. RooksPawn’s torment.

Detective Brettamy Jehtte gives a short bow and exits the room, accompanied by his deputies and their unhappy charge.

“I’m innocent!” is wailed one more time as the arresting party passes through the door.

“Huh, huh, huh, hun-noooooooo! Wuh, huh, huh, huh! Noe-woah-oh, oh, oh...”

Except for the hurtful Mrs. SaurSkowlle, we are all caught in a melancholy stillness.

Long after the sounds of the authorities carriage has dwindled away into nothingness, Condolescense Purvey’s gasping sobs continue to reverberate through the vast Hall and our fallen hearts.

“I sure do feel bad for that little ol’ Purvey girl. She’s mighty upset about Mr. RooksPawn gettin’ thrown in the clink. I wonder if there ain’t something a ‘tween them two? What do you think, Miss Plumtartt?”

“Romantic pursuits are normally discouraged in the staff, but I have never held with restraining another’s feelings in affairs of the heart. I must admit to still being uneasy in spite of the assurances of the constabulary that they have, indeed, apprehended the culprit. I share the same misgivings as Miss Purvey. This RooksPawn fellow is innocent. My intuition tells me so and it is never wrong.”

“I ain’t ruled out an intruder having committed the deed. May I issue firearms to the remaining male staff? I’d like to plot a sentry system through the night so that someone is always awake and at guard in the house.”

“A capital plan, Mr. Temperance. I trust to your decisions in this area.”

“I got a couple of revolvers for the WilloughSickle brothers and a smaller pistol for Mr. Manlington.”

“Tee, hee! Loooks at me! Bang! Bang! Oh, Oi’m’s a real cowboy now, I am! Tee, hee!”

“
OO
O
OO
O
O
O
Oh
!
I just simply
must
be the one to carry this adorable little derringer. Isn’t it just
too
divine with its precious rhinestone encrusted handle! How I wish for a spring loaded delivery system that could lie hidden away up one’s sleeve. ~
huh-sigh.~
I shall have to make do by tucking it into one of my vest pockets, thusly, eh, hem?”

“I’ll takes the first watch, Master Ichabod.”

“Thanks, Jabez. I’ll relieve you in a couple of hours, buddy.”

I reckon I’ll retire back to my room. Gee, my head is swimming with all the strange occurrences in the house. I wish we had my friend … my …
almost
friend from London to help us. He was such a fine and smart fella. I bet he would know just what to do in a situation such as ours.

What’s this in my pocket? Oh yeah, it’s that heavy duty ladle for difficult soup. I like the the thumb lever. It could be useful in a number of applications. That London detective was hankering for some tools to help in his investigation. He wanted a magnifying glass. I betcha with my familiarity in goggle design, I could whoop up a little something that he would really like. I think I could add some features that he might appreciate, just in case we ever run into him again.

“Let’s see if I have everything I need. Ladle, lens, ‘lectrics. Yessir, thought ought to do her.”

- - -

“Good morning, Mr. Temperance.”

“Good morning, Miss Plumtartt, Ma’am.”

“Did you sleep well, sir?”

“Not a lot, but good enough, I reckon. I had a little project I was working on in my room between sentry watches with the boys. How about you?”

“Mine was a restless night. I thought I would assist Miss Wallaby with the preparation of breakfast, and instruct her on some cooking and kitchen basics, but she is nowhere to be found.”

“What do we have in store today?”

“Eggs, sausages and fried bread.”

“I meant our itinerary.”

“I really could not say. I am afraid that I confess to being just a bit flustered as to a proper course of action. I think that I would enjoy a horse-back ride in order to clear my thoughts.”

“That sounds like a fine idea, Ma’am. I’ll run out to the stable and get one of the WilloughSickle brothers to help me saddle a couple of horses. I’ll meet you around front so you and I can go for a little trot about the property.”

“Splendid! I shall meet you on the drive.”

I go out to the stable but don’t immediately see anybody. As I walk into the barn I hear softly giggly male and female noises. A light rain of hay dust from the loft indicates the positioning of rhythmic movements.

“Er, eh-hunh-eh-hum, uh, howdy and good mornin’ to anybody here in the barn. I am trying to be delicate in making my presence known.”

Soft shushings precede a cessation of movement.

“Don’t worry, it’s just me, Ichabod Temperance. Miss Plumtartt was wantin’ to go for a horsie ride.”

“Tee, hee! Master Icky!”

A moment later the upside down grinning face of Horbaz WilloughSickle appears from the ledge of the loft peering back at me.

“Joost you wait there a mooment, lad, Oi’ll be rights dooon.”

His freckled face is replaced by a pair of freckled calves. They face me heel first. A pair of britches then appear. They are held down for the legs to enter. The feet turn around toes to me and are lowered until the lanky, loony Scotsman can drop himself lightly to the floor.

“Sorry to interrupt you, Mr. WilloughSickle.”

“Tee, hee! Not a worry, me little American mate! As it is, I ‘ad joost finished me business with one of the milkmaidens. Dinnae ask me which one, I ‘ave’s troooble tellin’s ‘em apart. Tee, hee!”

“You don’t mind if Miss Plumtartt and I take a couple of the horses out, do you, sir? I ain’t had a chance to have a real horse between my legs, nor Miss Plumtartt in a side saddle manner, in a possum’s age.”

“Tee, hee! Oh, Ickity, you tickle me so with your foreign and devilish colonial way of speech! ‘Sir’ he says! ‘Howdy’ he says! Now you speak to me of your dangerous wild game that roam the wild barrens of your savage lands. Tee, hee! Possums, now, is it? Tee, hee! Oh, God love ye my boy, but I do loves ye so!”

“Does that mean you’re gonna help me hitch up some horsies?”

“It’s ‘horsies’ now is it!? Tee, hee! But to answer your question, no. Oh, how it breaks me heart to tell ye that the horses ‘ave fled the barn. Ye see, with Mr. RooksPawn bein’ arrested, that makes me the Coachman. Tee, hee! I have had me broother take the rig to tooon for a bit o’ mie-noor carriage repair. O’ course, that entailed having the horses ah-hitched to pull her, right?”

“Oh, well, I reckon we’ll take the pony cart, instead.”

“I’m sorry to tell ye that our coook, Miss Wallaby, has taken the basket cart for her groocery shooping.”

“Oh, well. Thanks anyway, Mr. WilloughSickle.”

“Tee, hee! Not at all, Master Icky. Always happy to be of service me boy, tee, hee!”

“Gee, this sure is a long walk to get around to the front of the house. Miss Plumtartt ain’t gonna be happy about this. Uh oh, there she is.”

“Where are our horses, Mr. Temperance?”

“Mr. Horbaz said they were all in use, Ma’am.”

“I was under the impression that those horses belonged to me, Mr. Temperance, that they may be at my use when called for. I am not amused, sir.”

“Golly, I sure am sorry, Miss Plumtartt. Tell you what, why don’t we just stretch our legs a bit and walk down to the gates, Ma’am.”

“I am not at all happy about ‘stretching my legs’, Mr. Temperance, when I am supposed to have that carriage or at least the pony cart at my disposal.”

“No Ma’am.”

“
Sigh.
Let us walk then, Mr. Temperance.”

- - -

“I think the walk has done you some good, Miss Plumtartt.”

“Indeed, Mr. Temperance, I feel my spirits to be immensely improved as we approach the gates here at the end of the drive.”

“Oops! Uh, I didn’t expect there to be anybody out here, but as we walk through the big gates I am surprised to see that we have company.”

“Eh hem, yes, quite so. A lounger is leaning against the wall. He is tallish, and dressed in the manner of the locals as we saw at
The Wailing Pig
yesterday.”

Tilting his head back, he lifts his hat just far enough to get a look at us. He gives Miss Plumtartt an inappropriately long and admiring view.

“Howdy, sir, may we help you?” I try to distract the cad as I am not happy about this open ogling of Miss Plumtartt.

He gives me a dismissive scoff.

“Oi was gonna ask the Missus if Oi could ‘elp ‘er. You are the Missus ‘ere, roight? Oi understand that you foind yourself short a gawdeneh. Woi don’t ye ‘ire me, then, eh?”

“We strive to maintain a certain standard here at Plumtartt Manor, sir. I normally do my hiring through an agency but as we are in a pinch to fill this position, we shall take you on a trial basis. I have been unhappy about the pruning of the shrubberies at the end of this wall. If you do a good job at getting them in order, perhaps we shall see to hiring you on in a permanent position.”

“Henh. Oi guess that’s good enough, but Oi expects to get paid for me work today, regardless.”

“Of course, sir. I think you will find that our former horticulturist left his shears at the site. I trust you will be more considerate of the estate’s tools. Good luck, Mr. ...”

“Oi don’t gives me name out to just anybody. Oi’ll speaks to you later.”

The surly, side-burned chap moves down the Great Gnarly Growth Passage towards his point of occupation.

“Look back yonder in the opposite direction, Miss Plumtartt. A buggy is approaching.”

“This would appear to be the WinterBottoms, out in a single-horse phaeton.”

“Looks like they recovered from their unusual attacks that they endured yesterday.”

“Hullo there, Miss Plumtartt!” calls the Colonel. His spamosdic jaw is now firmly under control and supports a jovial countenance. “Lovely weather, eh, what? I see you still have that little fellow from the United States with you. Eh, what? Burbity-burb. Heh, heh.”

“Yes, Colonel, he does come in handy on occasion. That is a very becoming outfit, Mrs. WinterBottom. Not everyone can pull off wearing a bustled kimono with pintucked bodice. The voluminous shoulder poofs coordinate in a manner I would not have thought possible.”

“Thank you, Madame Plumtartt.” Mrs. WinterBottom’s wide open peepers are surrounded by generous amounts of blue mascara. They give her the appearance of a punched out panda. “My tastes run to the eclectic, you see.”

“We are given to understand that you had a bit of unpleasantness in the Manor, eh what?” the Colonel politely questions, “something about somebody getting themselves ‘knocked off’, so to speak, in an unusual manner, eh? Rotten luck, that, I should think. Burbity. Yes.”

“Yes, Colonel, it did put a damper on an otherwise lovely dinner.”

“I have some amount of skills as concerns the world of the occult, Miss Plumtartt. Perhaps I could be of assistance somehow?”

“We should be most grateful for any assistance that we can find Mrs. WinterBottom. Of what nature is the assistance that you offer, Madame?”

The eyes of the spiritualist grow many times again in size.

“I am well versed in opening channels of communication across the great rift; the cosmic, inter-voidal seas between the worlds of the living and the dead! I propose conducting a séance! You should open a gate to the spirit world and reach out to the deceased to have him name his murderer himself!”

“Yikes! I don’t know, Miss Plumtartt. Sounds pretty spooky to me!”

“Actually Mr. Temperance, the idea may contain merit. Yes, a very interesting idea, Mrs. WinterBottom. You may expect Mr. Temperance and me tonight at your house promptly at nine o’ clock.”

“NO!”
The Colonel and Mrs. WinterBottom call out aloud and simultaneously. Mrs. WinterBottom then resumes more quietly.

“Eh, hem, I mean, eh, no, eh, the spirits will be easier to contact if in the same house as where the unfortunate event took place.”

“I see. Very well, then, I suppose that we shall look forward to seeing you both tonight at Plumtartt Manor.”

“Yes! Hear, hear! Burbity, burb, burb, burb! Good show!That is absolutely smashing! Isn’t it my dear?”

“Oh, yes, dear! How very gracious of Lady Plumtartt to welcome us into her esteemed estate so freely!” exclaims Mrs. WinterBottom. I would not have thought her eyes could have been held in a more open and unblinking state, but the sound of Miss Plumtartt’s invitation has made Mrs. WinterBottom happier than an elephant quality control clerk at a peanut factory.

The Colonel and his kooky kabuki koala wife turn their carriage about and head back to their home on the GrimSmackle Trail.

“You sure did make them folks awfully happy, Miss Plumtartt. They were both real excited about coming over to our house to coaxe a ghost into materialization and socialmacation.”

“Indeed, Mr. Temperance. The WinterBottoms do appear very eager to get inside Plumtartt Manor.”

“Why, look there Miss Plumtartt. No, not up the road, but out there on the Forsaken Barrows. It appears that Mr. and Mrs. Purrington are making their way here over the dangerous boulder and thicket choked marshy mire.”

“My word, Mr. Temperance, so they are. What is that unusual breed of horse that they share?”

“It looks like a shorter but stouter size of horse than I am familiar with Ma’am. It has got thicker hair than I am accustomed to seeing on a horse, also.”

As the neighbors from the nameless track that bridges the GrimSmackle Trail and Ill-BeGotten ByeWay get closer, identification of their horsie becomes more apparent.