A Merry Little Murder by Villani F. C

Author:Villani, F. C.
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Francesca Villani
Published: 2023-12-13T00:00:00+00:00

THIRTEEN

Upon entering the drawing room, Baget noticed an arm flaring out from a chair in front of the fireplace and a pair of legs dangling off the side. The odd scene made Baget take a second glance. He tensed. I don’t like what this looks like. He approached the fireplace with caution and found that the legs were those of George Wilkins. The doctor was slouching in the chair, mumbling to himself and occasionally giggling. He rejoiced on Baget’s arrival.

“Mr. Baget! Won’t you sit down?” he asked, pointing a hand to the chair beside him.

Baget acknowledged the offer politely and took a seat. He followed George’s bloodshot stare to the portrait of Arthur J. Vincent above the mantelpiece.

“I’ve just been admiring this painting,” George remarked. “You share the artist’s name, did you know? It was painted by William Orpen. Funny fellow from Ireland. I’ve always been a fan. Painted Nina’s father in London some months ago, specially made to hang here.” He nodded to the portrait, then clapped his hands together and pointed them. “Look at the eyes, Mr. Baget. He captured my future father-in-law just brilliantly.”

Baget studied the oil painted eyes for himself. They were creased in the corners due to a confident, toothless grin. But the eyes themselves were quite plain and superficial.

“What do you see in them, Mr. Wilkins?” Baget asked.

George’s leg slipped off the arm of his chair as he pushed himself up and adjusted his posture. He leaned over the arm as close as he could reach to Baget.

“The absence of life, Mr. Baget. Orden is a fantastic artist. If he was unable to capture the soul in Arthur J. Vincent’s eyes it is because there was none to capture. No heart. No life. An empty vessel at best.”

Baget sat back, stumped by the openness of his companion. He eyed George curiously while he began to mumble and giggle to himself again. The doctor hiccuped and put a fist to his chest until a burp bubbled from his lips.

“Is there any particular reason you believe your fiancée’s father was a heartless man?” Baget asked.

“Surely it was obvious in his character, Mr. Baget!” George scoffed. “Those who found themselves caught in the web of Arthur J. Vincent’s world were simply a means to an end for his selfish ambitions.”

“I see,” Baget acknowledged. “Have you found yourself caught in this web?”

“I was snatched into it as soon as Nina introduced me to the man,” he confessed bitterly. “The old man liked to be in control of those in his life. He says crawl and we ask how far—that sort of thing.”

“Control...” Baget reflected. “Are you fond of cigars, Mr. Wilkins?”

“Not particularly.” George shrugged. “Though I believe my future father-in-law had quite the collection.”

George nestled into his chair, wiggling into the seat cushion like a mole digging underground. His eyelids were drooping.

“And could you tell me what you were doing in the cellars by yourself earlier?” Baget asked.

George grinned with closed eyes and brought a finger to his lips.

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