A Fatal Journey (A Rose Beckingham Murder Mystery Book 5) by Blythe Baker

Author:Blythe Baker [Baker, Blythe]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-03-24T16:00:00+00:00

10

Mrs. Hutchins was lying down for an afternoon nap when I returned to the bungalow, and Mr. Hutchins was closed away in his study. I could not understand why either of them had bothered to leave Bombay. They rarely left the house, and aside from the guests they’d had over for lunch the first full day after our arrival, I hadn’t seen them welcome any visitors or leave for a single event since we’d arrived. Somehow, I’d found myself staying with two of the least social people in all of Simla, and as much as I didn’t want to talk to the Hutchins more than necessary, it made for a rather boring day. So, I went for a walk around the grounds.

The sky was a clear blue that looked more like a painting of the sky rather than the real thing. Birds sang in the trees and a soft breeze rolled down from higher up the mountain, bringing with it the fresh smell of clouds and pine trees. It was a lovely day, marred only by the dark nature of my thoughts.

Rashi had described the man she’d seen that day as a ghoul, a demon. She knew who Major McKinley was and what he looked like, so if he had been the one coming from the library, she would have known it. Though, she couldn’t even be sure the demon-like man had come from the library. He could have simply been walking down the hallway past the library. Wrong place at the wrong time.

However, another thought plagued me. The man condemned for the Beckingham bombing had described the true assailant as a skeleton devil. Two people had described a man as being demonic. Was that a coincidence? Perhaps, a flair for the dramatic in both witnesses? Or, did it mean something?

Though I could not recall the face of the man who threw the bomb that so altered my future, I could clearly see the rags he’d worn. They were thick, almost like blankets draped across his shoulders, hanging down in tatters. The garments could have been hiding any-sized frame beneath them. From a man the size of Major Mckinley, huddled beneath the clothing, to someone not much larger than myself stretching to their full height. My recollections did little to make the picture of the attacker any more clear, and unfortunately, the two sightings of a demon man did not help, either.

I heard footsteps on the path and looked up to see Mr. Barlow coming around a bend in the trees. He wore his usual black suit and oxfords and looked incredibly out of place in the middle of a forest path. Though, Mr. Barlow looked out of place in most settings. His hollowed cheekbones, large eye sockets, and pale skin gave him the appearance of raw dough stretched over an unbaked pie, the dough sinking into the hollow places.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Barlow.”

The man looked up without surprise, his eyes landing on me, sending a shiver down my spine despite the warm day.

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