Murder on the Poet's Walk by Ellery Adams

Author:Ellery Adams [Adams, Ellery]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2022-06-23T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 11

Fitz and Hem met Jane and Edwin in front of Storyton Mews. They both spoke at once, but Jane couldn’t hear anything over Merry and Pippin’s frenzied barking.

The dogs tugged on their leads, desperate to reach the aviary cages. Inside the cages, a motley collection of hawks, falcons, and owls flapped their wings and screeched with agitation.

Edwin took charge of the dogs. He commanded them to heel and led them to the Gator. The barking ceased.

“Now,” Jane spoke into the blessed quiet, “say that again. One at a time.”

“Mr. Butterworth wants you to meet him by the construction fence at the folly,” said Hem.

Fitz said, “Is Uncle Aloysius okay?”

Jane wanted to put an arm around each of her sons and pull them close. She wanted to hold them and stroke their hair like she used to when they were small. Now she’d have to make do with words.

“He’s stable. He’s getting fluids and will stay in the hospital overnight. He’ll get good rest there, and Aunt Octavia is with him. Because of you two, Uncle Aloysius is going to be okay. You found him and got him to our house. I’m so proud of you.” She smiled tenderly at her sons. “Take Merry and Pippin home now. You all need a rest. But give me a hug first.”

The boys smelled of cut grass and sweat. Their shirts clung to their torsos, and their sun-warmed hands pressed against Jane’s back as they each gave her a quick, but fierce hug.

As Edwin passed the dog leads to Fitz and Hem, he said, “Well done, gentlemen.”

The boys were glowing as they turned toward home.

Jane slid into the Gator’s driver’s seat and waited for Edwin to climb in. When he sat down, she leaned over, cupped his bristled cheek in her palm, and kissed him. She tried to infuse the kiss with all the love and gratitude she could.

After they broke apart, she faced forward and meta-morphosized. She no longer looked like a mother or a lover. She looked like the Guardian of Storyton Hall. Her eyes were as hard as flint as she pushed the Gator to its top speed.

She brought the vehicle to an abrupt halt within inches of the orange safety fence and hopped out. Butterworth stood inside the fence, his face set in an inscrutable mask.

But Jane, who’d known him her whole life, saw beyond the mask. Two tiny lines had sprouted between his brows, and his fingers curled inward like talons. Butterworth was upset.

“This way,” he said, beckoning Jane and Edwin past a mound of debris to the area earmarked for the new folly. The foundation hole had been dug two weeks ago, and the footings had gone in on Monday. Since then, there’d been two heavy rains.

Starting on Monday night, the remnants of a tropical storm had soaked the valley for a solid twenty-four hours. Because the folly was at the bottom of a hill, water had sluiced into the foundation hole the whole time. Last night’s downpour had filled the hole with more water.

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