The Adventure of the Deceased Scholar by Liese Sherwood-Fabre

The Adventure of the Deceased Scholar by Liese Sherwood-Fabre

Author:Liese Sherwood-Fabre [Sherwood-Fabre, Liese]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Little Elm Press


Father surprised us by joining us for tea.

“How was the museum?” he asked.

“Crowded,” Mother said without missing a beat. “We didn’t stay long because of it. Always a problem during the holidays. And your day?”

“I met with an old school chum Jonathan Sires. Wanted to talk to me about investing in silver mines in South America.”

Mother’s cup paused halfway up to her lips. “Silver mines? I had no idea you were interested in such prospects.”

“Hadn’t thought much about it until he approached me. Always seemed to have a good head for business. Been very prosperous at it. Should have seen his offices.”

Mother simply smiled and gave a quiet hmm.

For me, the small, noncommittal sound was as obvious as if she’d waved a red flag and shouted, “Beware!” A small knot formed in the pit of my stomach. I’d read more than one newspaper report of a group of investors losing their funds to fraud or simply bad luck, like a ship and cargo lost at sea. Dickens had described debtors’ prison in great detail. I had no desire to observe such accommodations first-hand.

Father must have caught the implication in Mother’s response as well.

“I didn’t commit to anything. But it did sound interesting. I asked him to share a bit more with me. In fact, he’s invited us to dinner.”

“Tonight?” she asked.

“Of course tonight.” He paused and studied her. “Did you have other plans?”

“No, no,” she said. “How lovely. We’ll leave about seven?”

When my father turned to study the small pile of sandwiches on a plate in the center of the table, the three of us held a silent discussion. Should there be additional investigation this evening related to trips Crandall made from his club, it would be up to my brother and me. While she might regret not accompanying us, I suspected she would be more concerned if my father went to dinner alone with Sires.

We had only a few hours for word to come about Crandall’s movements, if any, before she would have to leave for the evening. As if in answer to our concerns, Constance entered with a note on a silver tray.

“This just came for you, ma’am.”

Mother took the note, read it, and said, “From Mrs. Simms, thanking us for tea the other day.”

This time, Father made the noncommittal hmm, and Mother slipped the note up her sleeve. I was certain she didn’t want him to accidentally read whatever was written there. My desire to learn what she now knew dried my mouth, making it difficult to swallow the bite of sandwich there. I forced myself to choke it down and concentrate on the conversation my mother and father held regarding whether to accept an offer from the owner of land adjacent to ours. He had some acreage he was seeking to sell.

“Apparently, he’s in dire straits,” Father said and gave a little tut-tut. “An addition to his house cost him more than he had anticipated. The soil, you know. Not stable enough to hold the weight. They had to dig the foundation deeper than planned.



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