The Cin Fin-Lathen Mysteries 1-3 (5 page)

I approached the house with caution.  Did you ever try to be
quiet when you just drank a pint of whisky?  On top of that the only meal I had
that day was those tiny teacakes and finger sandwiches at the hotel.  Plus the
Scotch, plus all the booze on the plane.  I think I need to cut back a bit. 
“Ouch!”

I slammed into a tree. “Shhhhh,” I told the tree. 

I tried the front door.  “Stupid.  No one used the front
door.”  I walked around and hesitated a millisecond before walking in.  “Hey,
if you are here to kill me,” I announced, “do it quick cuz, I hate
sus...sus...oh hell.”  I waited in the kitchen and no one came to kill me.  I
shut the door and turned the lock.  “Hey, if you are here to kill me, you have
to wait till after I use the little girl’s room.  Hey, do you know where the
bloody bathroom is?”  Nothing.  “How rude.”  I proceeded to open up anything
that remotely resembled a door, looking for the bathroom.  Under the stairs I
was rewarded.  “Hey, I’m under the stairs in the bathroom.  You will just have
to wait to kill me.” I called and shut the door.

I dreamt I was on the airplane and had to go to the
bathroom.  I opened up the door and there was Father Michael using it for a
confessional.  I was so mad.  Pee dreams are dangerous.  Because if you pee in
the dream, odds are you’ll wet yourself.  I woke up.  I was sitting in complete
darkness in a room where I could feel three of the walls from where I was
sitting.  Sitting?  Yes, I was sitting down with my pants around my ankles? 
Now I remembered I was in the bathroom.  I fumbled for a light switch and
confirmed it.  I finally got to pee.  It was wonderful.

I left the bathroom and walked into the kitchen.  Why were
all the pantry doors open?  Oh yeah, that must have been me.  My mouth was all
fuzzy and my head.  “
Crāpulae gravēdinibus labōrō
.” 
I closed the pantry doors.  “What a bad guest.”  My stomach growled.  I
rummaged around in the refrigerator and came up with some ham.  The breadbox
donated bread to the cause, and I had a wonderful sandwich.  I drank two
glasses of water.  I risked having another pee dream, but I was already
dehydrated.

I turned off the light and walked up the stairs.  Funny, the
darkness didn’t bother me but my achy body did.  I found my room and another
bathroom.  I opened up the mirrored cabinet and found Paracetamol with codeine,
over-the-counter Paracetamol with codeine.  “I love the British,” I said and
popped two, no, three in my mouth.  I remember taking a shower, walking naked
down the hall to my room.  I don’t remember anything else but the music. It
seemed to come from the very walls. I fell asleep.

I dreamt I was floating on a black sea.  My hair spread out
in the water and surrounded my body like an aura.  I assumed I was clothed
because I wasn’t trying to cover anything up.  A thought filled my head, “As
long as I look to the heavens I will be safe.  If I close my eyes I will
sink.”  The light left and the stars came out.  A larger light burned across
the night sky which I tracked with my eyes.  “
Lux in tenebris
,” I heard
myself say, light in the midst of darkness.  A roar was building in the
distance, and I felt the water surrounding me being pulled towards a great wave
that was building.  Things are going from bad to worse, “
Rēs male
inclīnant
.”

I sat straight up in bed and as the dream waned I felt a
cold chain slide from my throat.  I shook away the last of the dream, fluffed
the pillow and lay back to sleep and dream hopefully somewhere drier.

I was surprised to wake up so refreshed.  You would think
that after all the booze I would at least have a hangover.  My head was clear,
and as I rolled over and sat up I found my body was stiff but moveable.  All in
all, I faired pretty well considering.  Although, why I was wearing my raincoat
instead of pajamas did alarm me.  That was until the events following my walk
back from the Comstocks’ last night oozed back into my memory.

I got out of bed which was some feat considering it was more
than four feet off the floor.  Grabbing some clean clothes I went in search of
the bathroom I used last night.  It was a large room with a claw foot tub and
shower.  I picked up last night’s clothing.  I withdrew my ruined loafer from
the back pocket of my jeans and examined it.  A nice cut had severed the toe
from the rest of the shoe.  I shuddered at the thought of what the tiller could
have done to Angie.  I dropped it and its mate into the trashcan. Now that was
sad.  I paid eighty-nine dollars for those shoes.

I took off my raincoat and gave my body a once over.  A nice
bruise was forming on my chin.  My lower left arm was a bit swollen.  I flexed
my hand.  I would need some ibuprofen, but otherwise I would survive. 

I pulled my hair back and washed my face.  It felt nice to
use the fancy little French-milled soap.  At home it was reserved for guests,
but here I was the guest.  Drying my face I looked at my reflection.  My brown
eyes were a bit red and the dark patches under my eyes might just be from
fatigue.  Yeah right, more like the whisky.  What possessed me to drink so
much?  Was I an alcoholic?  The thought had occurred to me before.  I would
have to do some soul searching on the subject, but today wasn’t the day.

I pulled on my clothes and was a bit surprised the jeans
were loose in the legs.  Hey, that is a nice surprise.  My pear shaped body
usually needed a paring of inches around that area.  I finished dressing and
worked my fingers through the long tangle of auburn curls that was par for the
course considering I went to bed with it wet.  I sectioned it and loosely
braided it and held onto the end as I walked down the hall to my room.  There I
found the contents of my travel tote bag all over the floor.  I didn’t remember
dumping it, but it did make it easier to find a rubber band so I pushed it from
my mind.  With my braid secured I went back to the bath and cleaned up my mess,
and with my soiled clothes under my arm I went in search of a washing machine.

Being in someone else’s house is only unnerving when they
are at home.  Otherwise, I loved the discoveries I made with each door and
cupboard I opened.  When I reached the kitchen I found it bathed in sunlight.  I
was surprised by the lack of mess I had made last evening.  I had left the
bread out but my plate and pint jar were clean and dry on the drain board.  The
last set of louvered doors I opened held a small washer and dryer.  I put my
things in the washer and started it.  My stomach growled.  Food.  Breakfast.

Angie Bathgate had a well-stocked kitchen.  The pantry was
filled and the side-by-side yielded all the staples that you would need if you
were feeding an army.  The ancient aga scared me away from attempting a cooked
breakfast, so I opted for a cold breakfast of bread and jam.  The electric
teakettle and I got along famously. I had just sat down when I heard the phone
in the living room ring.

I got up to answer it, and as I was reaching to remove the
handset from the cradle I stopped.  It wasn’t my phone.  I was a guest here. 
Letting the answering machine pick it up was the better course of action I
thought.  After four rings it did.  Angie’s message played and the beep was
greeted with Angie herself telling me to pick up.

“How are you feeling?” I asked while licking some jam off my
fingers.

“Aside from the bumps, bruises and a new part in my hair,
I’m doing well.  If it wasn’t for my age they would have let me loose this
morning,” griped Angie.

“Where are you?  I know in the hospital, but I haven’t a
clue where in Cornwall you might be.”

“Poor dear, this wasn’t what you had expected was it?  I’m
in Truro presently, and at about four pm they are going to release me.”

“Do you want me to pick you up?”

“Billy is coming to spring me.”

“Is there anything I can do that doesn’t have to do with a
tractor?”

I heard her laughing through the hand she had placed over
the mouthpiece.  “Sorry dear, Billy told me you single-handedly destroyed the
asparagus!  Good for you.  I never could understand why she needed so much of
the stuff.  Anyway, Billy will bring back the tractor and besides making up the
girls’ beds on the third floor, you’re free.  As for the farm, Mother Nature
primarily runs the place.  Oh, before I forget, the linens are in the closet between
your room and the bath.”

“Angie, hold on. Did the Superintendent talk to you yet?”

“He was here. I expect he will be along to see you.  I
couldn’t really help with the investigation.  All I remember is that something
hit the dirt in front of me.  The next thing I remember is being here and
hearing about what a fine tractor-ess you are.”

“One of my many talents.”

“Seriously, thank you Cin.  We’ll sort all of this out when
I get back.  Oh, the keys to the truck are just inside the back door.  Feel
free to drive it.  Remember we drive on the opposite side of the road than you
Americans do.”  Angie broke off the conversation.  I could just hear someone
else in the room.  “Have to ring off, the blood suckers are here for my blood. 
Leave the side door open if you are going to be gone this evening.  Give my
apologies to your daughter and her friend.  I had intended to bake scones this
morning.”

“Don’t worry about a thing.  Remember we’re here to do work
not be waited on.  Feel better.  Bye.”

“Ta ta, Cin.”

I hung up the phone and returned to the kitchen.  My tea was
a perfect temperature, and the jam had oozed itself deep into the homemade
bread.  I decided to take my meal outside and eat on the porch. I was careful
opening the door.  Memories of when I visited my cousin’s farm where I always
seemed to let in a cat or a dog whenever I opened the door to the house, taught
me to ease open the door with a foot poised to block any feline entry. 
Bathgate had no cats to worry about, I found out, as the porch was empty.  And
there wasn’t even a dog.  No animals at all.  I know I spotted sheep and cattle
on our drive in from Penzance.  Maybe being a woman alone Angie chose not to
raise animals, but it really would have been nice to have a dog.  I mentally
jotted down the question and brushed off the top step and sat down.

The air still held the chill from the evening before, and a
breeze brought a soft floral fragrance to the porch.  From my perch on the
porch I had a good view of the back of Bathgate.  The house and main barn were
level to the road.  Above the grade were three stone buildings connected by
covered walkways, cut into the small hill that rose behind the kitchen garden.  This
must be the music school.

It was very tempting to follow the flower-bordered stone
path up through the terraces to the school.  I stood up and remembered Angie
wanted to show all us girls the school herself.  Besides, I had beds to make,
not to mention a house all to myself to explore.  As I walked in I caught
myself humming a beautiful strain of music.  Funny, I couldn’t identify it.  I was
never good at naming all but a few pop artists, but the classical composers I
knew, although the titles I usually slaughtered. For example:  “Do we really
have to play this again?” march by Henry Fillmore.  Or: “I wasn’t born yet so
how the hell would I know the melody to this show music,” by Vincent Youman. 
Maybe my irreverence was part of the problem.

I washed up and headed upstairs.  The second floor held
Angie’s room - which I wouldn’t trespass in - my room and the bathroom.  I
figured out that Angie’s room took up the entire front of the house.  I found
the linen closet and a shelf identifying the third floor linen by a
hand-lettered sticker. Now that I had the bedding all I needed was to find a
way to the third floor.  I walked to the north end of the house and opened a
door to a small storage room.  Backtracking I walked the south end and this
identical door opened into the third floor stairs.  I noted where the light
switch was, but I didn’t need it as the morning light danced around the
stairwell from little cut-out windows every few yards or so.  Each window held
a knickknack or a crystal that colored the walls with prisms of color.  I
really hated to leave the beauty of the stairs but my domestic responsibility
nagged at me.

The top landing opened into the dorm room.  Eight single
beds set in two bed clusters furnished the room along with a small sofa and two
wing chairs that held court in the middle of the room.  Four windows on either
side of the room were draped in bright floral curtains.  I set my linens down
on the first bed and set off exploring the room.  I found a small bathroom
hidden at the end of the room.  I noticed the slope of the ceiling on the south
wall and surmised there was another set of stairs.  I retraced my steps and
found at the end of two large closets another door.  I opened it and found that
this stairway didn’t hold the same magic as the third floor stairs.  The light
illuminated a straight shot of worn steps leading to an attic.

I huffed my way up the stairs.  The attic ceiling was low,
and the light was dim at best.  I noticed cast-off furniture draped with sheets
and there were boxes everywhere.  The room was cluttered, dusty, and the grimy
windows small.  This room would be a great place to explore on a rainy day but not
one to enter after dark.

I returned to the dorm room.  I selected two beds near the
bathroom to put the fresh linens on.  Noelle would love the view from the
windows.  On the east side you could see rolling hills, and from the west there
was a good view of the school.  The rise of the hill put its first level
windows in line with the third story of the house.  I imagined that the attic
windows would let you see beyond the school.  I wanted to go back up and check
out the view, but another climb of the stairs wasn’t what my screaming muscles
wanted.

I headed down the stairs to my room and finished unpacking. 
I scooped up the contents of my travel tote and sorted it on the dresser.  I
don’t wear a great deal of makeup.  Mascara is a must because my lashes are
strawberry blond.  I like to stay clear of foundations, but I will use it if
I’m performing on stage.  I have auburn eyebrows with character and large brown
eyes.  My lips are large and full.  Freckles still dot my face and my pug
nose.  All-in-all things fit together surprisingly well.  I like my face or at
least after forty or so years I’m used to it.

After I made the bed - one must do this when one is a guest
- I went down the stairs and put my clothes in the dryer.  I had just sat down
with a cup of tea when I heard someone knocking on the side door.  I walked
over and waved in Constable Cayne and a very distinguished gentleman behind
him.

“Ms. Fin-Lathen, may I present Chief Superintendent
Browning.”

I reached over and shook the Chief Superintendent’s hand.  A
firm grip; I like that in a Chief Superintendent.  “Hello, would you like some
tea?”

“No thank you.  I wonder if you could show us where you
found Angie last evening,” he said brisk and to the point.

“It was dark, but I think I could find it.  Hold on while I
run and get some sturdier shoes.”  I pushed past the two of them and ran up the
stairs.  My thighs burned at the exertion, but I didn’t want either gentleman
to get the idea of how unfit I was.  I slid into my sneakers, laced them up,
grabbed my sunglasses and was downstairs in just minutes.

The constables were waiting outside when I joined them.  The
Chief Superintendent had a build very similar to a Lego man.  What he lacked in
height he made up in shoulders.  I had every confidence that he wouldn’t blow
over in a gale force wind.

“I followed the sound of the tractor across the road.”  I
led them on the path I followed.  “When I saw the predicament she was in I ran
in search of a way to get to her.”

“It was dark.”  He shook his head.  “How could you see the
tractor, let alone Angie?”

“Full moon was coming up.”

He stared a minute and nodded for me to go on.