CHAPTER 16 parts 2 & 3
“I suppose this is the reason these were the only two costumes left?” Nigel said, stepping into the foyer and looking around. Yesterday had been his first time in one of these palaces—there was no other way for him to describe it—and he smiled, reminding him of the opulent hotel lobbies in Paris where the Generals headquartered. They always occupied the largest of the suites, perhaps thinking rank had its privileges?
With money comes opulence.
He looked at Sonia and she did a Charlie Chaplin impression that made him laugh. She twirled her cane about and did the Chaplin walk, following a Footman with a tray of canapés. Several of the people about laughed at her antics and Nigel suddenly felt uneasy. He didn’t know anything about Peter Pan.
“Hang on,” he called after her, and she turned to look at him.
“I need to know something about this Pan character.”
“He’s not Pan, he’s Peter Pan.”
“What’s the difference?”
“One’s a mythological being from Greece, and the other’s the boy who never grows up.”
“Yes, you keep saying that.”
They made their way from the foyer into the salon. Nigel saw the table and looked at Sonia who was mid-bite when she noticed. She looked at Nigel and smiled.
“Are you still hungry?”
iii
“I’ll want to be leaving early so I can get to the hospital and see Anatoly,” Chernetsov was saying to the Baron.
“I totally understand. You’re lucky to still have him,” the Baron pointed out. There wasn’t a day that went by when he wasn’t reminded of Andrew in some way; seeing his old friend Spencer’s son earlier today had been the worst. They were of a similar height, and coming down the stairs as he did, with the sun behind him while wearing Andrew’s old suit, well, it had caught him off guard.
They were seated at the large dinner table. There were forty-three guests eating the huge feast Chernetsov’s kitchen staff had prepared. The Baron remembered how stressful the days leading up to the Balls they hosted could be, but having your son sustain such an injury just hours before, well, once again, that pretty well topped it as far as he could see.
“Amazing meat pie,” the Baron said, sitting back and taking a sip of his wine. “And an excellent red, as well. What is it? Merlot?”
“Expensive.”
The Baron laughed, slapping the table with his hand and drawing stares from those around him. The Baroness, sitting between Lord and Lady Ainsworthy of Mandalay Manor, and Chernetsov’s wife Bubbi across from her, locked eyes with him and narrowed her brows to a tight vee. The Baron saw her and leaned forward; he looked at Chernetsov who leaned in to meet him half way.
“I heard they found a body out by The Lightninged Tree.”
“A body?”
“So my Stable-Master tells me. A Russian.”
“What’s he doing on your land?” Chernetsov asked.
“It’s all the flooding we’ve had. Obviously killed somewhere else. We had two Constables come in this afternoon—we were having lunch—and they were there investigating last night’s theft. They’re the ones that found the body.”
“And they came to ask you questions?”
“Not at all. They wanted to talk to my guest, and Jenny.”
“Jenny? What on Earth for? Why would they want to question her?” he asked, and the Baron looked down the length of the table where he could see Jenny sitting beside Spencer; Agatha was to his left. He tried remembering which ear the man said he was deaf in.
“You have a guest?” Chernetsov asked. “I trust you extended an invitation?”
“By all means. He came dressed as that Spanish thief.”
“Zorro.”
“Yes. That’s the man. But when he came in, it was only to discover there were at least three others dressed in the same costume. How embarrassing for him.”
“Why? Doesn’t that give him the freedom to move about and molest every woman in the house? Who’s going to know? He has a mask, and he can quite easily say it was one of the others!” Chernetsov laughed. “It’s a brilliant disguise. Which one is he?”
“He’s seated between Jenny and Agatha.”
“And these two Constable? Would I be wrong in assuming they’re here as well?”
“I would be remiss of me to think they gave up such an opportunity. In fact, I’m almost certain that’s them down near the end. Not a very good disguise, considering he’s not wearing a mask. And this is the man they sent to find our thief.”
“And the body?”
“They’ve sent someone out from Exeter for that. He, I can assure you, is not here tonight.”
“And you tell me this because I’m a supporter of the Whites.”
“They’re sure to want to ask you questions.”
“Them? Or do you mean the man from Exeter?”
“The man from Exeter would be my guess. I doubt if those two down there could get the clap in a brothel.”
About the Creator
ben woestenburg
A blue-collar writer, I write stories to entertain myself. I have varied interests, and have a variety of stories. From dragons and dragonslayers, to saints, sinners and everything in between. But for now, I'm trying to build an audience...
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