Three Word Wednesday-Third Eye- Part 3

Three Word Wednesday -Third Eye Part 3

This is from a WIP,  I am working on and is the last installment for now.

Prompts:

Brutal; adjective: Savagely violent; punishingly hard or uncomfortable; direct and lacking any attempt to disguise unpleasantness.

Grope; verb: [No object] feel about or search blindly or uncertainly with the hands; [with object] (informal) feel or fondle (someone) for sexual pleasure, esp. against their will; noun: An act of fondling someone for sexual pleasure.

Transfer; verb: Move from one place to another; move to another group, occupation, or service; change to another place, route, or means of transportation during a journey; make over the possession of (property, a right, or a responsibility) to someone else; noun: An act of moving something or someone to another place.

If you missed Part 1 see http://sheilaghlee.blogspot.ca/2013/02/three-word-wednesday-wake.html

If you missed Part 2 see http://sheilaghlee.blogspot.ca/2013/02/three-word-wednesday-third-eye-part-2.html

To visit talented writers posts that post for three word Wednesday- http://www.threewordwednesday.com/

                                                         

                                                          Third Eye-Part 3

    The day started off badly, and not just because the detective was downstairs, though that certainly added to it. My legs would not cooperate today. They felt rubber-like and I struggled to even stand. Then to really make my day worse I could feel a haint trying to materialize itself to me. I turned my head and could see the outline of Agatha.

   “Not now,” I said under my breath.

  “Yes now. The detective awaits, miss. I’ll get you dressed and help you put on your leg braces,” Annie assured me as she transferred me to a chair.

   I didn’t want the detective to see me looking frail again. But why, did I worry so much about him? Grandmother’s wrath would be worse; she must know where I went yesterday, thanks to the detective. Why couldn’t she have remained in ignorance? Now Agatha was here and I’d be locked up if Grandmother knew I could see her. I suddenly felt guilty here I was focused on me, and Mr. Cooke had been murdered.

   Why the detective sought me out to speak about his death I wasn’t sure. I had no knowledge of the man, other than what his wife Agatha had told me and I certainly wouldn’t discuss that.

  “Here’s your medicine,” Annie commented offering me a glass.

  “I told you I’m not taking that anymore. It makes my mouth dry, making me thirsty all the time and I don’t want to feel like I’m not quite there. Besides I need all my wits about me.”

  “Your Grandmother bade me to make you, take it,” Annie insisted.

  “What she doesn’t know, won’t hurt her or me,” I countered.

  “Are you sure you can withstand the pain?” Annie asked looking worried.

  “Fine, let me have a few sips.”

  I drank a little and then set down the glass. It tasted so bitter. Even the cinnamon and sugar, added to the laudanum, couldn’t take away the after taste. I leaned on my cane and Annie until we reached the drawing room doors. They were closed as I suspected. I could let go of Annie’s arm and glide across the room, appearing normal. It was only a few steps to the settee.

  I opened the doors and saw him, Thomas Cooke standing talking to my grandmother. She couldn’t hear, or see him, of course, but I did, and it unnerved me. I had to compose my face, so they didn’t see how scared he made me. The detective spoke to Grandmother. Hearing my approach he turned, and a look of male appreciation. He then tried to hide it.

  “He fancies you,” Thomas Cooke commented looking straight at me.

  I tried not to appear I heard him. Maybe if I ignored him he’d go away.

   “Miss Kendall, did your maid tell you why I ‘m here? Mr. Cooke has been murdered.”

   “Of course, she did you idiot. Now find out who killed me, instead of ogling the woman,” Thomas Cooke shouted in the detective’s ear.

   Oddly enough, Detective Bristol startled as if he heard Mr. Cooke. Detective Bristol’s features than became composed and showed no sign he’d seen a shade. Obviously I was being fanciful, wishing someone else would hear Thomas Cooke, instead of me.

   “Yes, Detective Bristol,” I answered seating myself on the settee.

   “You had an encounter with the deceased yesterday?”

   “You know I did. You rescued me.”

   “You can see me. Agatha said you could tell him. Tell him I was poisoned!” Thomas Cooke insisted brutally grabbing my arm.

    It hurt and I feared bruising, but I ignored him. Mr. Cooke then turned to Agatha who told him, “Wait she’ll hear you out later. You can’t just grope and pull at her. She can’t help you if she’s locked up in an asylum.”

    “Fine, but I’ll be back and you better help me, or you’ll be sorry!” Mr. Cooke shouted at me.

    Then the two of them disappeared, but I knew they’d be back later.

    “Mary Katherine you told me you were going to Kingsmills, not this man’s home.” Grandmother admonished, then thinking better of bringing this up in front of the detective, she said, “We will discuss this later.”

   “You didn’t tell your grandmother where you were going?”

   “I remembered only that morning what his wife had told me on the boat. I felt he needed to know where she left their money,” I lied.

   “Thomas Cooke died about three hours after that.”

   “That has nothing to do with my granddaughter. Why are you here?” Grandmother interrupted.

   “Mr. Cooke had scratches on his arms. Scratches that you gave him,” Detective Bristol continued ignoring grandmother.

   “He grabbed me and held me fast. If I scratched him it was only to get free. How would scratches kill him?”

  “Our medical examiner has determined with the help of his chemist that Thomas Cooke was poisoned.”

  “As I said that has nothing to do with Mary Katherine, so you should be on your way young man.”

   “The chemist said poison and they say poison is a woman’s tool.”

  “How dare you?” I asked outraged.

   “Do you honestly think my granddaughter poisoned him with her fingernails? She didn’t even know the man,”

   “My daughter would never do such a thing. How dare you?” my mother spoke up.

   “I am a police detective it’s my job to discern the guilty.”

   “You aren’t very observant I was wearing gloves yesterday,” I countered, realizing I couldn't have scratched him.

     Detective Bristol looked surprised, then happy, as he stated, “So you were Miss Kendall. Thank you for reminding me.”

   “I didn’t know Mr. Cooke. Why would you think I killed him?”

   “So you never met him before yesterday?”

   “Not to my knowledge,” I answered truthfully.

   “Did you know he was on the Victoria, and he too survived?”

   “No, I didn’t.”

   “My granddaughter has been through enough. She’s been recovering from my injuries the last year. If you know about the Victoria, then you understand we have only the good lord to thank for my granddaughter’s survival, when so many perished. She finds the conversation about it painful, and so do I. So I think there will be no more questioning Detective Bristol. It must be obvious to you the man quarreled with someone else and they poisoned him. Now I’ll be happy to serve you another cup of tea, and then you can be on your way,” Grandmother announced.

   “Thank you, but no thank you, madam. As you’ve said I have a crime to solve. I’ll be on my way. Could you see me to the door, Miss Kendall?” Detective Bristol begged.

   “Certainly Detective Bristol.”

   “Annie, go with your mistress,” Grandmother commanded.

    The medicine had started to work and my legs felt almost normal, well as normal as my legs were now.So I was able to walk to the door, without showing my frailty.When we reached the front door, I was surprised to hear him ask, “Miss Kendall, would you go with me to the Grand Opera House? I have balcony seats.”

   “You acted like I was a suspect, and you want me to attend the opera with you?”

   “I had to eliminate you and I have done so. Please I’d be delighted to have you go with me.”

    I was thrilled he noticed me as a woman, not an invalid. For the first time in over a year, a man had noticed me. Granted his profession as a police detective made him far beneath my social sphere, but something about him attracted me and made me feel alive.
 I hesitated then asked, “I would have to bring my maid Annie. Wouldn’t that be prohibitive?”

  “Not at all. I can get the box for the evening.”

  “Thank you, I’d be delighted,” I answered, smiling.

  “Tomorrow evening then, I’ll arrive to pick you up at seven p.m.,” Detective Bristol stated going out the front door and to his carriage.

   “You shouldn't have encouraged him.Your grandmother won’t be happy,” Annie cautioned, shutting the door.

  “When is she ever?” I commented.

  “He is a handsome one but you better be careful, he's below you socially. Now brace yourself, you have to go face the music with your grandmother, miss.”

  “I know,” I admitted as I opened the doors into the drawing room once again; worried that not only did I have to face Grandmother, but later the two ghosts of the Cooke’s. 

© Sheilagh Lee March 6, 2013