Chapter
2
I got up very early the next morning just so I
would give myself ample time to get ready for my meeting with Jasper. At 8:15,
I watched the front gate with an open book in my hand and an eye out for my
employer. At 8:30 sharp, he appeared in the same coat and hat, but wearing a
cleaner suit than yesterday. Yesterday he wore a brown suit with matching tie
that had seen better days. Today he wore another brown suit that was a shade
darker and a tie the colour of cornflowers. I could not tell if the suit looked
darker because it was clean or if that was its actual colour.
“Good morning,” I greeted as I approached the
gate.
“Good morning, shall we?” As he opened the gate
for me, I saw a smile on his lips. He must be having a good morning so far.
“I hope I am dressed as a secretary should,” I
waved over my green and black checked woolen skirt and jacket. It was the most
professional looking set I had in my possession.
Jasper nodded. “It will do.”
We caught a hansom cab to our office. Once we entered
the office, Jasper immediately put me to work starting with a list of things
that needed to be done – mostly cleaning and tidying.
“I have to run an errand, so I will leave this
place to you. Take any messages.” With that he left before I had a chance to
ask him a few questions of my own, one of them just happened to be: Where do you
keep your cleaning supplies?
I looked around the office, then at the list
and back at my surroundings again. The office was not entirely messy, but it
appeared to have been neglected for some time. The floor had streaks of dirt,
the glass surfaces clouded with finger marks and dust, the office kitchenette
with its small gas burner covered in layers of grime and stains, and that was
not even half of the list. A box stuffed to the seams with files needed to be
sorted and organized, letters and messages nearly spilling over the “out box” begging
to be sent to post, plants withered brown from dehydration (but I think those
plants were beyond rescue), tin cans for tealeaves and ground coffee became a home for little critters (had to toss those upon discovery), and more. I sighed.
“Well, I guess I have to start somewhere,” I
decided to go with what my mother had once advised me: start with the filthiest
place and work your way around.
“Lucky you, you get first priority!” I muttered
as I entered the kitchenette. I grabbed a brown and crusty tea towel there and
turned on the water tap to begin with the dishes.
Five minutes into dishwashing, I realized I
needed soap, sponges, mops, rags, and other cleaning supplies badly.
Immediately I turned off the running water and decided to pay a visit to one of
the shops. Where should I ask first?
I quietly sent a prayer. I need to ask
someone who is willing to help me and I can immediately and effectively get my
job done by the time Jasper comes back. Whom can I go? I turned to my left
and went into the teashop.
“Hi, there! What can I do for you?” a rilud
with mixed curls of grey and brown greeted me.
“Hi, I work with Mr. Blake upstairs. Could I
trouble you for some cleaning supplies?”
Within a few minutes, I returned to the office
with a mop and broom in one hand and a pail containing every cleaning item I
could borrow from the shop owner. I leaned the mop and broom to one corner and
went back to the kitchenette with the pail in hand. For the next couple of
hours, and some elbow grease, I cleaned the place moving from the now sparkling
kitchenette to the dusty office area. Another two hours later, windows were
opened, glass and polished surfaces glistened and glowed, swept and mopped the
floors brought life to the office along with a fresh scent of soap, lemon and
vinegar. I plopped myself on the now shiny leather chair releasing a sigh. I
closed my eyes as I leaned my head back.
“Thank you,” I whispered to Ishual.
“Wow!” I immediately stood up upon Jasper’s
arrival.
“Hi! Sorry, I was just taking a quick break. I
still have some filing to do – ” I began explaining myself. Jasper held up his
hand. I stopped.
“You don’t have to apologize. You did really
well! I was just amazed at how the place looks.” He held up a paper bag. “Have
you eaten?”
My stomach growled at the reminder.
Jasper laughed, “Glad I asked. Let’s have
lunch. You relax while I bring you the food.”
I sat down again watching him go into the
kitchenette. Few minutes later he returned bearing a tea trolley carrying a tea
set and some sandwiches on the top surface.
“I hope you like luncheon meat. There was this
great butcher shop I found along the way that made delicious deli meats.” He
handed me a plate with six-inch sandwiches cut in half, each half speared with
an olive on a toothpick.
After saying a brief word of grace, we bit into
our sandwiches. I closed my eyes and held my cheek. It was heavenly – the meat
with crispy greens held together by two pieces of bread that was crusty on the
outside and moist on the inside.
“Mmmmm!” I exclaimed.
“Good, eh?” Jasper took another bite of his
sandwich.
“Where did you get the tea?” I asked.
“There was a can in the far back of a
cupboard.”
I neatly placed my untouched tea back on my
saucer.
“Don’t worry. It’s still drinkable.”
With the sandwiches eaten and tea drank up (I
had water instead), we returned to business.
“There were no messages while you were gone,
which allowed me to finish cleaning today. Other than my visit to Mr. Digger
Leavesden downstairs for cleaning supplies nothing eventful.”
Jasper sipped his tea. “Well, that’s fine. It
means we still need to wait for the results. In the mean time, I want you to
come with me.”
“But I have some filing.”
“That can wait. A female presence is requested
where we are going. Our appointment is in,” Jasper looked at his pocket watch,
“half an hour, which means we’ll need to lock the place up.”
In the next half hour, Jasper locked up the
office while I went to return the borrowed cleaning supplies to Mr. Leavesden.
By the time I came out of the teashop, Jasper had a hansom waiting for me. Once
we got on, the driver took us on a drive across the Glacier River Valley to Hilda
Estates, a residential area for the middle class. The driver brought us to a
quaint looking home with chestnut roof tiles and sidings the colour of pale
butter. The house looked aged, but well tended as with its yard.
“Whose place is this?” I inquired.
“The home of Mr. Gavin Tiller,” Jasper hopped
off the hansom excitedly.
“Our victim?” I stood, Jasper held his hand out
for me. With his assistance I stepped down from the hansom. He told the driver
to wait for us as we approached the house.
“We need to interview his sister. However, she
is not too comfortable with private visits from men, which is where you come
in.” He knocked on the door frame.
The wooden door opened revealing a wiry looking
woman with dark earth coloured hair, streaked with ash grey and white across
the front half of her head, bundled into tight bun at the back of her head. She
wore a conservative black dress that appeared to restrain her already petite
form.
“What do you want?” she demanded through the
screen door.
Jasper held up something that looked like a
circular wallet for the woman to see. “Miss. Peony Tiller? I’m Jasper Blake, a
consulting detective. This is Ms. Fullerton, my assistant. We work with the
Nordican rangers and would like have a few questions regarding your brother.”
The woman’s eyes studied Jasper’s hand, and
then her eyes met mine as I happened to be standing close to him. She opened
the door.
Within minutes, we sat in her den. Before us
were cups of tea. Miss. Tiller sat across from us in a small cushioned chair.
“I apologize for the untidy place,” she said to
me.
The den was spotless and neat. Every furniture
and item arranged as if they were assigned there. Oddly there were no
photographs or pictures. Not even a hall mirror.
“Our sincere condolences for your loss, Miss.
Tiller,” I consoled.
“Please call me ‘Peony’.”
“Well then, Peony, may we ask you some
questions regarding your brother?”
Upon receiving a nod, Jasper and I shared a
look. He handed me a page torn from his notebook containing a list of
questions.
“When was the last time you have seen your
brother?” I began.
“Gavin left home about a week ago saying he had
something to do.”
“Did he say what it was?”
Peony shook her head. “He said that it was
urgent and may not be back until two days. He works as a gardener and yard
keeper for a number of places in the city. It is not uncommon for him to be
away from home for days in a row.”
“You say he was a gardener and a yard keeper.
Could you tell us who his employers are?”
Rilud gardeners offer their services as
gardeners and yard keepers by contract; first they hire themselves to one
place, such as an upper class family, from there they would branch off and work
two or three other locations through their first employers. Because labour was
cheap, it explains why these labourers work away from home sometimes with three
to five different worksites just to put food on the table.
“Just a moment please,” Peony left us.
I looked at Jasper. He was sitting beside me on
the loveseat with his hands cupped and resting against his chin. His eyes were
unreadable.
“Here it is,” Peony brought a slim ledger; it
was small enough to fit in one’s pocket.
“May I?” I accepted the ledger from her and
opened it. On it were dates, times, locations, and the duties that accompany
for each location.
“May we borrow this?” I asked.
“Keep it. I have no use for it.”
“One last question,” Jasper interceded. Peony
jumped as if he had just appeared out of thin air.
“Y-yes?” her eyes darted from Jasper, then to
me.
“Did he have any friends or close
acquaintances?”
At the question, I thought I saw her eyes grow
slightly. She looked right at me and said, “Not really. He was a busy man.”
“She’s hiding something,” Jasper told me as we
made our way back.
“Funny I was just thinking the same thing.”
“Tell me what you saw.”
“The den was tidy and organized. I did not see
any photographs or family photos, no mirrors. I found that odd because I kind
of expected something of a sort.”
Jasper nodded. “I agree. Though, what bothered
me was the setting of the place.”
“The setting?”
“Gavin and Peony are supposed to be brother and
sister, yet like you said I see no photographs of them together. I didn’t even
see signs of his presence there.”
“She could still be grieving over her brother
that she put her brother’s things away.”
“Possibly, but from what I have experienced,
most of those who have lost their loved ones are reluctant to touch their
possessions.”
“I also noticed Gavin’s ledger had a page torn
from it and I think it is recent.”
“What makes you say that?”
“The pages show signs of yellowing and wear
from touch and exposure, yet the page torn shows freshness at the tear.”
“Good eye.”
“Also,” I frowned, “I noticed that Peony
addressed mainly to me – perhaps, only to me. Could she be afraid of men?”
Jasper rested his hand on his chin in thought.
“Usually as the hostess, women would take note
of their guest’s presence would make some acknowledgement towards them, but I
felt she completely ignored –”
I heard a snore and realized Jasper had fallen
asleep during the conversation. I sighed, telling myself that Jasper probably did
not get enough sleep last night.
Our next stop was the city morgue.
“You go ahead without me.” Jasper said, handing
me his notebook. “And take notes if you see anything I have missed in this.”
With that he turned to leave.
“You’re just going to leave me here?” I had to
ask grabbing his sleeve. I knew I sounded rather childish, but for being in a
place like this surely there was something required, like a document or a
presence of authority.
Jasper looked up at the morgue entrance and
appeared to turn a shade green.
“You’ll be fine,” he said turning away, “The
dead won’t hurt you.”
Watching him walk briskly away, I sighed and
entered the building.
The morgue entrance was clean which suggested
sanitary procedures were followed as expected. As I walked further in there was
a hall way, on the wall were two signs each with arrows: one that said
“coroner’s office” pointing to my left, the other said “DEAD PEOPLE THIS WAY!”
in capital red letters on a white sheet of paper pasted over another official
sign that I could not make out.
“Cassisa?” I turned at a familiar voice. A
blond haired rilud in a white lab coat greeted me.
“You are…” I tried to place the name with the
face.
“Merl Fourleaf,” he said with a grin.
“Yes. You work here?”
“Indeed I do!” He held his arms wide, “Welcome
to the Oxen Basin City Morgue!”
I smiled unsure of what to make of this kind of
welcome.
“Don’t mind him. He’s always like this when he
sees dead people,” said a gloomy voice.
I looked at the owner and saw a petite girl
with large sad looking eyes the colour of treacle. She wore gold rimmed
spectacles which she pushed up her small nose with her finger. Her hair was
braided into a thick braid that hung over her left shoulder. She also wore a
white lab coat.
“Dr. Vanessa Whyte,” she said holding out her
hand, “Assistant for Dr. Merl Fourleaf.”
“You’re a doctor?” I asked Merl after shaking
Vanessa’s hand.
“Former military doctor, now a certified
coroner. So what brings you here?” Merl sounded very excited.
Remembering Jasper’s notebook I held it up. “It
appears Jasper wants me to take notes on something.”
Merl clucked his tongue. “He decided to give
you the dirty work, eh? Well, no worries. He always has trouble coming in
here.”
“He does?”
“Usually he would have me come to the door and ask
me take notes for him or give him copies of my reports and findings.”
I was a bit surprised when I heard this. This
was the man who had done a snappy job in examining a corpse at a murder scene
and he could not set foot in a morgue. Merl led me to what appeared to be an
operating room that was brightly lit. On the table was a body covered with a
white sheet revealing only a pair of hairy feet and a tag tied to its right big
toe.
“Is that–?”
“Our vicky? No, he would be in the ice room.”
“Vicky?”
“He means ‘victim’,” Vanessa explained. “You’ll
learn other interesting names from him.”
We watched Merl stride excitedly to a latched
room, where he opened it with a flourish and entered. “So, how did you find you
accommodations, Tilly?” he greeted in there.
“Tilly?”
“A bit on the chilly side? We’ll soon fix that.
You have a visitor!” Humming a cheerful tune he wheeled the covered body out to
the examining room. As on cue Vanessa closed and securely latched the door to
keep warm air out.
“Mr. Gavin Tiller,” Merl introduced as he begin
to pull back the sheet, Vanessa pushed it back towards the victim’s face before
I had a chance to see.
“What are you doing?” Merl asked.
“I was about to ask you the same thing.”
Vanessa said grimly.
“She needs to see him.”
“No, she doesn’t.”
“There’s always a first time, Vanessa.”
“That’s what you said with Jasper and look what
happened to him.”
“What happened to Jasper?” I asked. Both looked
at me.
“She still needs to see.” Merl argued with her.
“There are ways of doing this, doctor. Making this into a freak show is
not one of them.” Vanessa argued in
return.
Merl gave her a dirty look. “All right,” he
pulled back the sheet to show the face. “Gavin Tiller, aged 62, death by –”
I did not hear the rest of it because I felt
the room swim and felt a pair of thin, but sturdy arms catch me as I fell.
Something strong and awful invaded my nostrils that
it made me cough. I opened my eyes to found Merl and Vanessa peering into my
face.
“Are you all right? Are you hurt anywhere?”
Vanessa looked down at me.
“What the heck was that?”
“Smelling salts. How do you feel?” Merl asked.
“Still dizzy.” I tried to get up.
“Relax and get your bearings first.” Vanessa
suggested.
“Now that you have made your virgin viewing,
here you go.” A thick envelope was handed to me.
“What’s this?” I asked, accepting the envelope.
“Congratulations! You just received a
certificate in I Just Survived Looking at a – Ow!”
Vanessa gave him a swift kick in the leg. “Aren’t
you supposed to say something else?” she reminded him.
“Have a nice day?” Merl asked.
“Stop fooling around and apologize!”
Like a child who just got scolded, Merl
sheepishly turned to me. “I’m sorry, Cassisa, that was not nice of me
presenting you a dead body that way.”
“Ummm, it’s okay,” I said, “I still needed to
see him.”
A young man in a white lab coat poked his head
into the room. “Dr. Fourleaf, there is a gentleman asking about a Cassisa
Fullerton?”
“I guess that’s Jasper.” I got up from the cot
I was lying on.
“Don’t forget this.” Merl handed me Jasper’s
notebook, “Tell him, he’ll find all the details in there.”
“Thank you, doctor,” I smiled.
“Merl will do.” He smiled in return.
Within minutes, I was out of the morgue. The
air was so fresh I stretched as I took a deep breath.
“Was the visit that refreshing?” I turned to
see Jasper leaning against the nearby lamppost as if he was waiting for his
date.
“Very funny!” I deadpanned. I handed him the
envelope and his notebook. “He says that everything is in there.”
He put the envelope into the inner pocket of
his coat as we began walking.
“Can I ask you something?” I began after the
curiosity got to me.
“What is it?”
“Merl said you have trouble coming into the
morgue. Are you afraid of dead people?”
“Not really.”
“Then why?”
Jasper stopped and looked at me. “Why do you
want to know?”
“I just find it strange, from what I understand
you seemed to be in this business for years and you have worked in crime scenes
that involve dead people, and yet you can’t go into a morgue to see one.”
“I’ll tell you later.”
I was tempted to press further, but there was
something about his last reply that told me to let it go. We caught a hansom
and made our way back to the office. During our ride, Jasper opened the
envelope, inside was a folded written report and a creamy white chess piece.
The piece was a bishop.
When Jasper saw the chess piece, I thought I
saw his eyes grow briefly. He peered into the envelope.
“Did Merl say anything when he handed you
this?” he asked, his tone suddenly grave.
“Nothing. Why?”
He studied the bishop. “Nothing to worry
about,” he said as he pocketed the piece, but I could hear anxiety masked under
the carefree tone.
For the rest of the day, we have forgotten about
the bishop.
Chapter
3
As we finished our work at the office, I got
permission from Jasper to replace the cleaning supplies I borrowed from Digger
Leavesden. After my errand in purchasing and dropping off the supplies, we
closed shop and took the same hansom home (it appears Jasper used that hansom
regularly).
When we got home, our supper of vegetable
quiche and stewed chicken was already waiting for us. We ate hardly conversing with
each other; even Merl was quiet during the meal. As for Jasper, I assumed he
was preoccupied with the case. After my visit to the morgue, I was both too
tired to talk and could not enjoy the chicken stew. Skipping dessert, I made
myself a cup of tea and took it to my room.
I set my tea on my desk and sat down to begin
writing notes for myself regarding our visits and finds were still fresh in my
mind. I opened my own personal ledger to the page that contained yesterday’s
findings:
Date:
Tuesday, October 10th, 1841 Case
File: 01
Victim:
Gavin Tiller (half-rilud?)
Description: Victim’s body found inside St. Eleanor’s Chapel (chapel
located at the edge of Oxen Basin) near the front of the sanctuary close to the
stone table at the top rising steps; body posed as if crawling with right arm
extended forward above head and the left arm lowered near the left thigh; a
large gash extended from right shoulder down to the left hip; in his hand was a
quartz-like stone (that Jasper removed upon discovery)
I turned to a new page and began a new entry.
Date: Wednesday,
October 11th, 1841 Case File:
01 (continuation of Gavin Tiller Case)
Description: Visited Peony Tiller (victim’s closest kin, sister); wiry
looking petite woman with dark brown hair, across the front half of her hair
were grey and white. Our visit was rather short for an investigative interview,
with both Jasper and myself present I was the only one acknowledged (could she
be afraid of men?). The Tiller house was tidy and spotless, not sign of family
photographs or portraits, not even a hall mirror was at that home. Perhaps the
sister kept her photos in a more private location (such as her own room).
I put down my pen and thought over our visit.
Remembering another detail, I added to my entry: House was neat and organized outside, however there was a sense of
sterility on the inside.
I paused in thought and added the
following after leaving a line blank:
Later
in the day, visited the morgue to see Gavin’s body and passed out before I saw
anything. Received report from Dr. Merl Fourleaf (coroner).
As I wrote another thought came across my mind,
so I added:
Jasper
would not set foot into the morgue to receive his reports or take his own notes.
(Why?)
Setting my pen down, I rubbing the bridge of my
nose, closed my ledger, and turned out my lamp. Tomorrow will be another busy
day.
The next morning, Jasper and I left early and
had breakfast at the office. We had a room separated by a glass window; there
we brainstormed our finds by sticking printed and written documents on the
glass using tiny balls of glue. In the secluded room was also a desk that gave
us a place to put our notes and our breakfast of tea and frosted pastries.
“Gavin Tiller, aged 62,” Jasper read the
coroner’s report, “death by a puncture wound to the heart.”
“I thought he died of a huge cut on his back,”
I pointed out.
“It looks like it, but according to what Merl
had found there were two major wounds: the large laceration (or cut) across his
back, and a puncture wound that was within that laceration. So in other words,
Tiller first got the large cut across his back. By blood stains on the chapel
floor, it appears he had crawled his way into the sanctuary, and received a
finishing blow in the back.”
I winced at the news as I imagined the crime
scene take place.
“Also,” Jasper flipped the page and continued,
“there were traces of soil in the large wound. As for the puncture wound, the
weapon used appears to be about an inch wide and slightly curved.”
“A sword?” I suggested.
“The rangers didn’t find anything of the sort.
Though Merl’s findings do kind of bother me some.” He picked a sugary roll from
our breakfast plate and took a bite in thought.
“I was studying Gavin’s ledger last night,” I
said, as I sipped my milk tea. “In one of his schedules, there were some slots
involving Oronean and Zenian restaurants which I find rather odd. I thought
rilud workers faithfully serve their employers and have limited work
connections.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, from what I usually know about riluds,”
I opened Gavin’s ledger, “when it comes to employment they would stick to one
and branch out through their connections to about a few others, no more than
three. From what is written in this ledger, Gavin’s employers were elven. If he
were to have other employment connections they would also be elven (since elves
usually do not interact with other races). However, he has three names: one
Oronean and two Zenian.”
“Hmmm… That is a good point.”
“The torn page,” I added, “is the other thing
that bothered me. I made a pencil rubbing on the page after it and found a name
and address.” I opened to the page for
Jasper to see.
“Lavinia? That address is in an upscale
neighbourhood.”
“And in a location that is out of the way from
his employers’ addresses.”
“Perhaps we should first pay these employers a
visit,” he said finishing his pastry.
After our breakfast meeting, Jasper and I got a
hansom and made our way to Gavin’s employers.
Our first place was the Everwood residence, a
middle class elven family of five including the family matriarch. The place was
neatly maintained with a symmetrical yard and garden, and a tall black iron
fence that surrounded the home giving the passerby a lovely view of their brown
and biscuit coloured mansion.
“Gavin was a good gardener,” Mrs. Evie Everwood,
the family matriarch, said as she served us tea. She was an elegant woman who
was ancient, but aged nicely with her silver and white hair, ivory skin with
laugh lines, and large jade coloured eyes. I thought to myself that if I was to
grow old I wished to look like her.
“He took pride in his work. He would find ways
to bring dying plants to life.”
I glanced at Jasper remembering the poor plants
we had to dispose of the other day when I cleaned the office.
“He made sure that nothing was wasted. Once we
had a lilac bush that grew wild. He would trim it down, then gather the blooms
and give them to us saying that it would brighten our entrance way or our
dining room. He was always thoughtful and polite, never missed a day, and
always on time.” Mrs. Everwood looked down sadly, she sniffed. “Excuse me,” her
smile wobbled as she turned away.
“May I ask you a few more questions, Mrs.
Everwood?” I asked.
Blinking her tears, the lady nodded.
“Did you make other employment arrangements for
Mr. Tiller?”
“I was the one who introduced him to Mr. and
Mrs. Sunnydale and Mr. Pinegrove.”
“Anyone outside the elven community?”
“Well, no. I don’t know of anyone outside the
elven society.”
“Oh, Gavin was a very good gardener,” said Mrs.
Heather Sunnydale. She was a slender elven woman with hair the colour of corn
silk, creamy skin and laughing sapphire eyes.
“In fact, I don’t think we would ever find anyone
else like him,” Mr. Ernest Sunnydale agreed. He was a rather plump and short
man for one of the elves, but he was long limbed giving him the illusionary
height; his dark blond hair was thin at the top.
The Sunnydales were the next elven family on
the list. Their mansion residence was a charcoal rooftop and a milky white
sidings; the garden was a flowery garden with blooming bushes and shrubs
trimmed into conical and round shapes. Most of the bushes were roses of various
shades and colour, even the hedges surrounding it were white and yellow rose
bushes maintained with great care.
“Our family loves roses,” Mrs. Sunnydale
sighed.
“Yes, there is even a rose on our family
crest,” Mr. Sunnydale put in.
“Roses are one of the difficult flowers to
grow, but Gavin always does wonders and makes them bloom beautifully, even
during seasons that are difficult.”
“Remember that year he made that pink rose
bloom? The one we planted when our daughter was born?”
“How could I forget!” Mrs. Sunnydale began, “It
was a small bush, but a very finicky one. If you water it too much it dies, if
you don’t water it enough it dies, even with the amount of sun it would refuse
to bloom.”
“But Gavin brought it to life –”
“Indeed, he did! It was a sight to see!” Mrs.
Sunnydale suddenly fell quiet.
Mr. Sunnydale reached over and squeezed his
wife’s hand.
“Now who will take care of our rose garden?”
Mrs. Sunnydale sniffed as she covered her mouth with her laced handkerchief.
“Do you know if Gavin had done other work outside
the community?” Jasper asked.
“Why would he?” Mr. Sunnydale asked, “He seemed
happy working with us.”
“Oh, that one,” said Mr. Francoise Pinegrove
with disinterest as he looked down at us from his upturned nose. He was tall
with iron grey hair and jade green eyes. His dark suit made him look more like
a butler than the master of the house.
Mr. Pinegrove lived in a rather secluded
mansion located near the edge of the neighbourhood and over looked the river
valley. The Pinegrove mansion was a large sprawling place the colour of ashen
grey with columns of matching grey stone, roof edges with a laurel design in
matching grey, and tall narrow windows that allowed limited view out to the
front as well as limiting the light into the home. The mansion yard was sparse
and neat, with a lawn that was meticulously raked and trimmed; a maple tree in
one corner was the only thing that gave the place some colour. The whole
property was surrounded by a high stone fence with black iron spearheads
standing guard along the top edges warning intruders to keep out and mind their
own business.
“We don’t have any problems with him. Comes on
time, does his work, leaves as expected, minds his own business. Can’t
complain,” Mr. Pinegrove sniffed with disdain. “Stays in the yard as expected,
unlike some lot who think they have the right to enter through the back for a
glass of water.”
I raised an eyebrow as Jasper and I stood at
the door and listened.
“Pity really, he was the cheapest labour we had
on our property. Well, there are plenty of others who would do the job.”
“Do you know if he had other commitments?” I
asked.
“Is that why he was killed? Good heavens!” Mr.
Pinegrove said as he looked up. “Well, serves him right. You never know with
people like him these days.”
“Well, I guess we could generally say that he
was well liked,” I said as we got on a hansom. “Although that last interview
kind of left an unpleasant taste in my mouth.” I muttered under my breath.
“You’re not jumping into conclusions already
are you?” Jasper said after giving the driver another address.
“About Tiller? Not yet. What about you?”
“I think we should visit some restaurants while
we are at it.”
As we drive I glanced at Jasper. He was
watching the scenery. I could not help wondering what he was thinking. Did he see things that I cannot see during
our investigation? Am I doing my job right? Am I meeting his expectations?
“You know it’s rude to stare.” He looked at me
with small smile curling in the corner of his mouth.
“I’m sorry,” I forced myself to turn away as I
felt my face burn.
Jasper chuckled.
“What’s so funny?”
“I am just excited.” His tone was light.
I forgot to ask what he meant because we arrived
to our first non-elven destination for questioning. The place was Pearl Soup
House. It was a small Zenian noodle shop that had strong scent of spices
ranging from anise to ginger to green onions to the greasy frying oils greeting
us as we entered.
A short plump Zenian waitress met us. “For
two?” she asked with an accent.
“Actually we are here on an investigation.”
Jasper held up his circular wallet.
A look of panic crossed the woman’s face.
“No-no! I don’t know anything! Don’t know Common Western!”
“Madam,” I said quietly in Zenian, “We are not
here to arrest anyone. We are looking for someone who could help us with a
mysterious death.”
The waitress looked at Jasper, then at me.
“I don’t know Common Western! I want no
trouble!” Her tone was pleading.
“I understand. We don’t want any for you
either. Could you help us please, madam?” I said slowly and gently.
Seeing that we mean no harm, she relaxed a bit.
“What do you want?” she asked nervously.
“Do you know of a rilud man named Gavin
Tiller?”
“Mr. Tiller? Yes-yes. I know! I know him.” Her
voice was calmer as she explained, “He came twice a week for wonton soup. Good
man.”
I translated what she had just told me to
Jasper.
“Ask her if he helped out around the
neighbourhood or community.” Jasper requested.
I relayed the question in Zenian.
“He once could not pay for his soup, so he
spoke to our boss and offered to clean our dishes. He even sharpened our
cooking knives,” the waitress explained, “Our boss impressed. Liked Mr. Tiller
because he was polite and did a good job.”
“Did he do anything else?” I repeated Jasper’s
question.
“It was only that for one time.”
“I didn’t know you spoke Zenian,” Jasper said
as he made our way to the next restaurant.
“Not as fluently as I like. I just picked up a
few phrases during my travels in the Eastern Kingdoms.”
“That didn’t sound like a few phrases to me.” He
sounded pleased.
“By the way, what was that you’ve been showing
to the waitress when you told her we were investigating?”
Jasper reached into his chest pocket and
brought out the circular wallet. “It’s a special permit provided by the
Nordican government.” He handed me the wallet.
Inside was a circular badge made of messrihl,
silver in colour the main body was a shield quartered with a tiny green
enameled knight chess piece on the top left; the top right were two yellow
seven-pointed stars one on top of the other; the bottom left was a purple
eternity symbol; the bottom right had a gold capital “D” in a red field with a
silver dwarven mallet. Five maple leaves in colours of ruby, gold, silver,
bronze, and emerald crowned the badge with the ruby maple leaf at the top
bearing a golden crown. Beneath all that was a banner that said, “Not by Force,
but by Virtue”.
“I’m impressed,” I said returning the badge.
He grinned at my compliment.
Our next restaurant was a large shop called the
Lotus Garden. The waitress who greeted us was a young slim and pretty girl.
“Mr. Tiller sometimes sees Baba (daddy),” she
explained, “Baba used to make herbal remedies when he was living in his
village. Mr. Tiller once had a stomach-ache and Baba gave him something for his
stomach. When Mr. Tiller comes he brings cooking herbs and rare ingredients for
Baba as a thank you. Some were hard to find because they were out of season, or
could only be found in the Eastern Kingdoms, but Mr. Tiller always finds something
unusual and fresh. Baba is always pleased.”
“What sort of ingredients does he find?” I
asked.
“Fiddle heads, pine mushrooms, ginger stalks,
wild onions, and other herbs to add to our dishes.”
“Did he do anything else?” Jasper asked, “Any
offer of help around your place or the neighbourhood?”
The girl paused in thought. “He once asked Baba
if he had heard anything about a rock crystal, or came across rumours involving
them.”
“When was this?”
“About a month ago.”
The last place we came to was an Oronean restaurant.
Because it was late, we decided to have our supper there. Jasper ordered a
“mother’s taste” dish. I ordered the same thing. What the dish contained were a
bowl of rice, a bowl of miso soup with chopped onions and tofu pieces, a plate
of mackerel stewed in miso and ginger sauce, and a small cabbage coleslaw.
“We get all sorts of customers here,” our
waiter was a young man with brown fluffy hair and pimply face.
“How about a rilud man?” Jasper asked.
“We get some riluds here too.”
“We are looking for a rather tall rilud. Did
you see him here?”
“If you are talking about a tall one, yes, he
did come here a few times. I remember because he was meeting a lady friend. She
was an elf, I could tell because I saw her pointy ears. Very pretty with yellow
hair and large green eyes, dressed fashionable-like; she seemed rather nervous
when she came here.”
“Anything else we should know about?”
“The man called her Lavinia and the lady called
him Gavin. All I could say is that they were meeting in secret – probably an
affair. The lady was wearing a gold ring with a ruby on her left hand.”
