Her senses on edge, she heard the footfalls coming down the hall before the door moved. When the older man came through the door, whom she assumed to be Missy Whitaker’s father, she was surprised her tactic worked. The man her eyes fell upon stood in no better shape than the Butler. Something horrible tormented this house.
“Mistress Brandywine, it is a pleasure to finally meet you. I must apologize for the lack of a warm welcome, but your visit has struck us at a painful time.”
“I’m sorry to intrude, has there been a death in the family?” Helena offered her right-hand wrist slightly bent, which Mister Whitaker took and shook instead of kissing.
“Yes, we just found out last week, and I haven’t had the heart to tell anyone my daughter Missy has died, we are still in mourning.”
“Oh, my word, I’m so sorry for your loss. I didn’t realize Missy had been sick. I read nothing in the paper, when will the services be,” Helena, flabbergasted and genuinely shocked that her friend Minnie had walked her into such an uncomfortable situation. I am going to strangle Minnie, she thought.
“We are still working on the details; the family will make an announcement as soon as the information becomes available. So, I hope you understand we are not currently in the position to be accepting company from a visitor as auspicious as yourself.”
“No, I completely understand. Please accept my deepest condolences. You won’t see me again until the funeral services.”
“Thank you, you are as understanding as your mother was. You know in many ways you resemble her so much.”
“Thank you for your kind words and compliments on what I’m sure is such a trying time. Again, please accept my apologies and my condolences. I can see my own way out,”
Helena survived mortification. A team of Bessie’s couldn’t have kept her in that house another second. When she got her hands on Minnie’s neck, she wouldn’t be held responsible for the outcome. The parasol gripped in both of her hand’s, white knuckles hidden by her pink lace gloves as she marched back to the two men waiting alongside Bessie. The fact that Lane had somehow found a pear and stood slicing great chunks of it off with a stiletto and plopped them into his mouth didn’t make her feel any better. She never noticed the gap in the drapes watching her leave.
Sigmund opened the door for her when she arrived offering her a hand into the back of the cab. Helena refuse the hand preferring to get herself and her skirt into the backseat.
“Didn’t go as planned?” Sigmund asked.
“Did the both of you know that Missy died last week?” Helena hissed through clenched teeth.
Sigmund said, “That’s impossible. I’ve read nothing of it in the papers. I’m sure it would’ve been news of the highest order.”
Lane shook his head, a slice of pear hung out of his mouth.
“Her father just told me she died last week.”
“When did your friend say she saw her last?” Sigmund asked.
“A few days ago, why?”
“And when did Mister Whitaker say that Missy passed on?”
“Someone’s coming,” Lane interrupted the pair, speaking around a mouthful of pear, before swallowing, “A few moments after that fella stopped watching us from the window, that woman came out the side gate.”
The three of them watched as a young Chinese woman made her way through neighboring yards up the hill and peered around a huge oak tree. Her hand motioning for them to join her.
Helena looked at Sigmund, before he said, “It is your investigation, go speak with her.”
Helena glanced back at the house which now she truthfully understood why Minnie said it felt like a mausoleum. There was something off, going on in that building, she felt it in her stomach. Sigmund’s line of questioning made her realize the error in the timeline. Someone had to be mistaken: either Mister Whitaker concerning the death of his daughter, if that even was Mister Whitaker, she’d never met him before or the scatterbrained Minnie and when she spoke to Missy last. She finished her line of thinking as she slowly approached the ancient oak tree.
She leaned around the massive trunk and said with a timid, “Hello?” addressing the shadow of a Chinese woman standing there.
“Mistress, please, don’t be angry but I overheard that man tell you. He a liar. I don’t think my lady is dead.”
“That man I spoke to wasn’t Missy’s father?” Helena moved closer to hear the woman’s soft voice.
The woman shook her head no before glancing over her shoulder to make sure no one watched them, then continued, “No, ma’am. I don’t know who that is, but it is not my Mistresses father. I not seen him in three days. Please take me with you, I do not feel safe in house.”
Helena did a few calculations in her head. She knew something was wrong, felt something bad taking place in that house. If this young woman, who looked only slightly younger than herself, remained in that house, she would not be long in this world. She made the decision in an instant, the best thing was to bring her only lead home with her. Stepping out from behind the tree and waving at the ever-watchful Lane and Sigmund to come pick them up with Bessie, before nodding in agreement with the young woman.
Bessie once fired up was always ready to move. Lane used the stored steam energy in the receiver and added a little kerosene drip to the boiler fire to replace the used steam. It took longer for Sigmund to climb into the back seat than it did for Lane to get Bessie moving. With a sharp U-turn in a few blasts of the steam whistle, Lane had the automobile reversed and alongside Helena and her new friend.
Helena said, “She is coming with us!”
