Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned! - Milk? Sugar? Or just a plain slap on the face?
Where we are introduced to the Evil Mastermind - Ms Moira Tarty - Now Lady Mountbatten - Chapter 8
Lord Harold Der- Ärzte – Gentleman Detective
Chapter 8
Milk? Sugar? Or just a plain slap on the face?
Banks stood with two overly large coppers at the base of the grey stairs of 321 Scaramouch Lane as his Lordship and the Lieutenant stood waiting for the excessively large red front door to be answered.
“The other night…” clean-shaven Constable Blusher enquired.
“Yes…” Banks continued looking at his master.
“Who was the old bloke in the back of his Lordship’s carriage? It’s just I ask, ‘cause his Lordship referred to him as, and I quote, “My manservant Banks”.
Slowly, the white-haired walnut man turned his crystal green eyes to the young constable and replied dryly. “That was my Poppy.”
“Your Poppy?”
“Yes, my great grandad, whom I only affectionately call Poppy.”
The young constable’s shining black leather boots squeaked as he shifted his weight. “You look remarkable like your …Poppy. Same eyes, same chin, same…”
Banks smiled a deep, primordial smile, which stopped wild men in their tracks when given in the right circumstances.
The young constable swallowed nervously but relied on his training to hold him instead as Banks growled his response.
“That, young man, is because… He. Is. My. Poppy!”
“Right, you are.” Constable Blusher quickly returned his gaze to his Lieutenant, hoping that Banks would do the same.
Unfortunately, Banks continued to smile at the young constable, watching with satisfaction a trickle of sweat run down the side of his forehead.
Through a gap in the ajar front door, a quick, short, sharp instruction was given. “The servant's entrance is around the back; ensure you wipe your feet before entering the backyard. Don’t steal any of the fruit from her Ladyship’s garden.”
“My name is Lieutenant…”
A round-faced and mottled jowled butler stuck his face further out of the gap. “I, Madam, do not care what your name is; servants go to the back entrance, not to the main door.”
“Yes, I'm sure they do, but I am not a servant. I am an officer of the law. And so, because of that, the police will always come to the front door.” The Lieutenant’s eyes darkened to pre-storm green.
“Oh, I do beg your pardon, but you’re Wilkinson, aren't you? You used to work for Lord Batten until his, how do I put it, untimely demise.” Lord Der Ärzte tapped his cane on the front door stoop three times. “Terribly sad to hear about his incident with the pigeons; they can be ferocious little beggars when cornered. I didn't realise that Miss Tarty worked at this residence.”
The butler cleared his throat as he looked down at his Lordship’s cane, which now blocked the door-jam quite efficiently. “Lady Batten was once known as Miss Tarty, but before she married his Lordship, she was known as Mrs Montague and before that, Mrs Browning and before that, Mrs Tate.”
His lordship's eyebrows had risen halfway up his forehead, a sure sign that his cogs were spinning quite fast. “My goodness, Miss Tarty seems to be quite unlucky in love. Either that or she's a terrible murderer working her way through Bone Valley’s richest 100 list.” His lordship laughed loudly as the Lieutenant stared at Wilkinson without blinking as often as she could.
The butler's brow furrowed as he surreptitiously took a quick look over his shoulder, then stared back at his Lordship as if he were the most boring man he had ever seen standing in front of him. “And your name, Sir?” The last word being drawn out as if the butler truly wanted to say, ‘What’s your name, scum?’
“Oh yes, how rude of me. I am Lord Harold Erstgeborener Der Ärzten, and this is Lieutenant L. Jagerin Ehrlich.” The lieutenant smiled coldly. “The white-haired gentleman at the base of the stairs is my manservant, and he goes by the name of Banks. The other two overly large individuals standing next door to him dressed in blue with helmets, truncheons and rough hands, even though they say they used the creams I've sent them, are two of the Lieutenant's most trusted men. The police have been requested to meet with her ladyship to discuss the death of her father. And in my case, I have been summoned just to solve the murder mystery of the century!”
The Butler gave no indication that he was still alive other than a look of disdain that was so pure in its essence it could have been bottled as an essential oil. “I'll get you to wait in the library; thank you, your Lordship. And Lieutenant, make sure your officers don't steal anything!”
Lieutenant Ehrlich smiled the kind of smile a shark gives before it decides to sink its teeth into its victim.
“Certainly, Mr Thomas Wilkinson of 72 Aardvarks Lane, aged 71, married to Mrs Mary Wilkinson, also of 72 Aardvark Lane, age 63. Trained at Mr Smith and Son’s school for Butlers in the Year of the Purple Flower. And who has taken a very deep interest in DIY, particularly bathroom renovation, including adding an extra unregistered toilet. You do seem to be lucky enough to find a lot of building material just lying about or having just fallen off the back of a cart. We must talk at some time about your suppliers.” The Lieutenant smiled again like a shark, but this time, one who’d managed to find a yummy snack. “And my coppers Mr. Wilkinson, buy their fruit; they don't steal it off the back of carts!”
“As you wish”, sniffed Wilkinson as he led them through the front door and into the ‘First Parlour’, where four out of the five individuals stood uncomfortably, not wishing to sit nor stand.
Lord Der Ärzte, on the other hand, inspected a collection of little hot lands plants under glass domes that had been displayed artistically near the window and noted in his green leather-bound notebook a number of scientific names whilst he hummed and ah’d to himself.
The parlour doors slammed open as a beautifully stunning young blond ensconced in a yellow tight-fitting bodice flouncy dress that made parts of her anatomy quite pronounced sailed through the opening, her arms out wide in greeting.
“Oh, what a pleasure to see you all.” Her blue eyes twinkled in delight, “The unyielding Lieutenant Ehrlich and your devoted men.”
The Lieutenant nodded slowly as she watched the young woman appraisingly as she continued into the room in a flourish.
“Oh, how lucky!” The young woman eyed his Lordship. “You’re the famous bachelor Lord Der Ärzte, the richest man in Bone Valley and all the surrounding districts and newly minted Gentleman Detective.” The young woman’s eyes fell hungrily onto Banks, “And this would be the interminable Banks, how delicious.”
Lord Der Ärzte stepped forward and bowed stiffly from the hips, “Greetings, Lady Batten, delighted to meet you.”
The young woman’s eyes gleamed, “Oh please, your Lordship, call me Moriah!” A long, slender hand, as soft as butter, was held out for his Lordship to kiss, which he did expertly.
For some unknown reason, the Lieutenant took an instant dislike to the woman. Why, she couldn’t fathom, but the pampered and powdered beautiful young widow’s smile at Lord Der Ärzte’s bowed head grated upon her nerve.
Lieutenant cleared her throat and spoke formally, “Thank you for agreeing to be questioned about your father and his untimely death, Mrs Montague; oh, I am sorry, I mean Batten.”
Lady Batten turned an ice-cold glare at Lieutenant Ehrlich. “Oh yes, thank you so kind; it’s been such a dreadful morning learning the demise of my beloved Papa so soon after the untimely death of my darling husband, Lord Batten. Thank you for being so kind.” A tear ran down Lady Batten's soft cheek.
“Madam, please accept my handkerchief to dry your eyes with.” His Lordship handed over the finest silk handkerchief, specially imported from the Land of ‘Sneaky Tigers’.
“Oh Lord Der Ärzte, you are too kind,” simpered her Ladyship as she dabbed at her drying eyes.
Lieutenant Ehrlich watched on, reminding herself not to grind her teeth.
“It must have been dreadful to be informed of the death of your Pater!” Sir Harold stepped back to stand with the Lieutenant as her Ladyship placed herself elegantly upon a chase lounge.
“Yes, indeed it was. I know my father wasn’t in his right mind, accusing you only days before of killing him.” A delicate gasp of air was taken before her Ladyship battled to continue. “I must apologise on his behalf for his strange behaviours and actions before his death. My father was such a wonderfully honest man and never did anything wrong. He was so proud of me and all my accomplishments and would be truly horrified by his behaviours.”
“I totally understand your Ladyship, and I would recommend that you check up on your family line to ensure insanity isn’t an inherited scourge in your family line.”
Her Ladyship's blue eyes batted from flirting to being derailed by his Lordship’s blunt comments in under a second, just as the Lieutenants’ smile softened from a grimace to a smirk.
Recovering quickly, her Ladyship smiled, “How kind and considerate of you, Lord Der Ärzte. Wise words from a man of science. But I can assure you the Tarty-James family lines are clear of all melancholy.”
Her gaze seemed to be absorbed by both his Lordship and the Lieutenant’s hands and, in particular, the proximity of both. “Have you both worked together for long?” A sweet smile of enquiry was given. “You both seem very comfortable with each other.”
“No, we haven’t”, was barked out by Lieutenant Ehrlich a little too quickly and a little too loudly.
“No.” responded his Lordship quite calmly, “I have not had the pleasure to enjoy Lieutenant Ehrlich’s company for very long, but I am sure through our investigations, we will become bosom buddies!”
“Yes, she seems amply endowed in a rather solid manner. I must say, though, Lieutenant, you should see my designer and ask him to redesign your uniform to be more flattering to your muted femineity.” An invisible piece of detritus was picked from the lounge by her ladyship and flicked to the ground in front of the lieutenant’s black leather hobnailed boots.
A burning red blush crept up from under Ehrlich’s leather jerkin. This was not something Lucy was used to, and her mind seemed to have gone on the blink for a moment.
“Oh, no, madam. That will not do. The Lieutenant commands men. She is surrounded by the detritus of our grand city and so, therefore, must not appear feminine in the slightest. This would erode her authority with the lower classes, who are more than entrenched in accepting the leadership of men. She must remain as masculine as she possibly can.”
Lord Der Ärzte smiled at the Lieutenant, who was now struggling not only with her internal rising heat but a prickling sensation in her eyes. It didn’t help that Lady Batten was smiling like a cat who not only caught and ate a little mouse but dunked it into a big ol’ bowl of cream beforehand.
Banks sighed and looked up at the ornate ceiling; sometimes, Harold dug himself such a deep hole that his tongue resembled a shovel.
“I bow to your knowledge, Lord Der Ärzte, and agree it’s probably best that the Lieutenant not appear attractive in the slightest.”
A delicate and simpering grin was given directly at the now peacocking Lord, who suddenly stopped bouncing up and down on his heels and answered with heartfelt honesty. “Once again, it pains me to correct you, madam. The Lieutenant is one of the most attractive women I have ever seen. Not only in her features, which are very beguiling, but by the sharpness of her intellect. Having a discussion with her is like dancing with the most beautiful ballerina, who is also an excellent knife thrower and who knows exactly where your vulnerables are and isn’t afraid to stick the blade in. She is, as a whole, totally scintillating and completely absorbing in every way.”
The two policemen’s chests puffed out a little as Banks smiled at his feet. Sometimes, he could kiss his Lordship.
“So, with all this in mind, I feel quite confident in stating to you, Lady Batten; please be assured with my skill and the Lieutenant’s intellect, we will find the miscreant who chopped off your Pater’s head, put it in a hat box, sent it through the Congo as a discounted parcel. The assailant does not stand a chance!”
Her Ladyship lent back her blue eyes, no longer containing the sparkle they had but moments ago. “Oh… how wonderful. So glad to hear that.”
“Yes, your Ladyship, do you have any ideas as to why your dear pater was acting like a complete loon? Do you think he may have been poisoned, perchance?” His Lordship smiled and bounced on his heels once before continuing. “Do you think we could have a look at his shop, and by that, I don’t mean standing outside and saying, ‘Oh look, it’s a butcher’s shop’. By that, I mean we would like to go into the shop and his home above and ransack both for every piece of small of tat which later on might actually provide to be a clue.”
With cheeks blazing, the Lieutenant looked appraisingly at his Lordship, then quickly to the reclining woman. “Yeah, basically what he said.”
The reclining woman took a shallow breath, “Oh, but I don’t know if my heart could stand for anything of Daddy’s to be moved or taken. I want to remember him just the way he left his shop and house.” The young woman lent forwards and ‘accidentally’ dropped his Lordship’s handkerchief on the floor, where she then lent forwards from her lounging position and exposed pieces of her anatomy, which were covered very clearly in a well-fingered page three of Mother Harper's pamphlet titled, ‘The pamphlet for Young Men who don’t know anything about things they need to know about before they get’s themselves a wife.’
Banks and the two officers noticed because they chose to all tilt their heads in coordination with her dip. His Lordship, though looking quizzically at her actions whilst the Lieutenant busily rolled her eyes.
Upon her return to an upright position, her ladyship was quite miffed when she realised his Lordship had not been affected in the manner she intended and rather further miffed when the Lieutenant spoke.
“Madam, unfortunately, I’ve already requested from the Council of Five the rights to investigate your father’s property, and so in about an hour, my men and I will be going through your memories like a dose of salts.”
Lady Batten’s right eyebrow rose sharply upwards. “I see…” Her response held every bit of maritally inherited good breeding it possibly could acquire.
“Either that, or I can just bury your father's head in the cemetery and be done with it because, without any clues, I won't…”
His Lordship coughed politely into the back of his hand, which made the Lieutenant pause, sigh, drop her shoulder and continue on with, “We… won't be able to gather enough information to solve your father's murder.”
“Oh, you think my father has been murdered.”
“Well, he didn’t cut his head off shaving!” tittered his Lordship.
“Oh, I will succumb to your wise words, your Lordship; please find my father’s dastardly murders and ensure they suffer a fate worse than death.” Her ladyship wailed into the handkerchief.
“The assailant will be charged, trialled and then sent to serve time at Heaven’s Gate. This is the law, this is the way.” The two big coppers nodded with approval at their leader’s unwavering honesty and desire to follow the letter of the law regardless of societal standing.
***
As her ladyship watched through French lace curtains, the band of five strange individuals wandered down her front steps. She turned and called “Wilkinson.”
“Yes, mama?”
“Bog off to me Dad’s an’ make sure none of the distilling stuff is there when that damn nosey copper turns up.”
“Yes, Madam.”
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