He must have noticed something in my eyes for he backed away slowly, his face puzzled. Perhaps my eyes had taken a different shade and my face had changed despite my intentions.
‘Mr. Porter,’ I whispered. ‘Please view the journals, all will be revealed in time.’ Of course I had omitted certain…details in the journals yet the information within them was sufficient to paint an accurate picture of Silverwood’s twisted past and present.
‘Miss Cane,’ he said hiding whatever had startled him before. ‘My ability to trust has become my weakness lately. You’ve brought me here, you…’
‘Trust me!’ I insisted vulnerably. ‘Trust me, I beg you! The rest will follow.’
He avoided my gaze and took a few more steps back. ‘The last person who urged me to trust her…’ He was referring to his last case, the woman who had been his lover and turned out to be the murderer. Of course, how could he trust me when he had been surrounded by lies?
He took the journals and headed the exit.
I followed him.
‘I’ll find my way back, Miss Cane,’ he shouted without looking at me. ‘Ah,’ he stopped in the doorway. ‘Yes, of course, one of the rules. I may not roam freely!’ he added bitterly.
I came to his side and gave him a warm smile. ‘We’ll take a shortcut this time.’
‘How did the tour go?’ I asked after the silence had settled longer than I could have tolerated it.
The detective looked grim and sank in thoughts yet he did manage to answer. ‘Victor, your cousin seems…’ The dimly lit hallway held an unusual echo. Perhaps I wasn’t used to hearing a voice in these lonely corridors.
‘Extravagant?’ I asked assuming the detective sought his words.
‘Disturbed,’ added the detective with a dark tone.
I wasn’t sure what Victor had done during the tour but it was certainly not the time to talk about it. The detective’s eyes were less welcoming than the dark. ‘Then it’s up to me to offer you a proper tour,’ I forced a smile though he didn’t see it.
‘I don’t need a tour!’ he said. ‘I’d like to inspect everything that is related to your mother and uncle’s death. The murder scenes, their rooms, their whereabouts…anything!’
‘Yes, of course,’ I responded.
‘Though I must say your cousin and uncle considered their deaths accidental.’
‘My cousin and uncle couldn’t care less about my mother and uncle, Mr. Po…Morgan,’ I said realizing I should watch the way I address him when we weren’t alone within safe walls. ‘No one cares…’
‘His son seemed quite upset,’ added the detective. There was something in his voice…was he thinking about the growl he’d heard in the brunch room? Or did he believe he’d imagined it?
‘Benjamin’s reaction startled me too,’ I added, ‘I am not sure what triggered it. He wasn’t that close to my uncle.’
We stopped as we came close to the secret door leading to the guest room.
I reached for the key and paused.
‘Yes, well…’ continued the detective. He noticed I wasn’t moving. ‘What is it?’ he whispered.
‘Why not? I heard a muffled voice. They must have been on the other side of the guest room, in the hallway. I couldn’t quite make out whose voice it was but it was a man’s. ‘We can’t! And that’s that!’ responded a woman’s voice. Lidia? ‘I’ll handle it! Don’t worry about it!’ said the man. ‘Oh, if…’ said the woman, ‘if only we..’ They stopped talking, their footsteps fading away in the hallway. Something must have startled them.
I quickly opened the door and hurried through the chamber to the hallway. By the time I got there they’d already left.
‘What is it?’ the detective had followed me, his eyes filled with concern.
I watched the end of the hallway. ‘I thought I heard two people conversing, one of them sounded like Lidia,’ I said. The detective said nothing. Of course he hadn’t heard them, how could he? But, the walls were thinner than he assumed, thinner…for certain ears.
We reached the detective’s chamber in awkward silence.
‘I’d like to know who was around when your mother and uncle…’
‘You’ll find it all in the journals,’ I whispered. ‘I’ll see you at dinner, Mr. Morgan,’ I said my attention still on the conversation I heard earlier. Was it Lidia? Who was the man? Certainly not her husband.
Dinner, what a cacophony! The children were present of course and we all sat at a long sparkling table, food served and wine pouring constantly. Someone had turned on the gramophone though the music was damped by the excruciating chatting and laugher.
Robert and Cora were boasting with their three sturdy boys. Fred sat quietly with his wife Anna, though their son and daughter chatted noisily with Lidia and Oliver’s two girls. Oliver smiled and drank, clueless as ever. It was certainly not his voice I’d heard in the hallway. The voice belonged to a young man and Oliver, well, he was well over fifty. There was a twenty years age difference between him and Lidia who, surprisingly was missing.
Arthur was also present with his wife, Gloria and their two boys and daughter. Arthur was uncle Hendrik’s oldest son and resembled his father the most. He was calm and calculated, his hair and moustache always trimmed perfectly and his clothing impeccably dashing. Victor sat with his two daughters. His wife, Charlotte, was not present. She was expecting soon and skipped dinner quite often to rest.
The detective sat between Erika and Lizzie. Lizzie kept staring at her glass of wine, her blond locks covering her face. She was a pretty girl, green eyes and oval face but so strange…extraordinarily strange. Erika’s features were quite masculine with a wide and thick jaw and thin lips though her eyes fixed the detective’s every move with quite an interest.
Eric was absent though he often hated these kind of gatherings. He was uncle Hendrik’s youngest child and unlike Arthur, seemed the opposite of his father. Quite a rebel, a lady’s man and though not as handsome as Victor he had beautiful dark eyes and high cheekbones.
Mr. Silverwood’s seat was empty as a sign that even though he was missing no one was allowed to sit in his chair at the head of the table. The two seats directly next to it were for his son, uncle Hendrik who was never present and for his sister, aunt Helena who gracefully occupied the seat, wearing a frothy low cut purple dress, her hair sparkling too, decorated with elegant hairpins. Tom’s seat was empty but surely he was somewhere around. Francis had just taken a sit, on the chair across from Tom’s, hanging her short sleeved fur coat over the chair. No sign of Benjamin or his mother, Vera.
‘To our guest!’ Robert stood up holding a glass of wine, looking condescending in his dark brown fancy suit. The rest of the table followed. The detective nodded raising his glass as well. ‘Let’s feast in your honor!’ added Robert. Chuckles and murmurs went across the table.
‘That’ll be enough, Robert,’ said aunt Helena who began eating meticulously. Robert gave his mother a surprised stare but sat silently in his chair.
Erika chatted with the detective while Lizzie played with her food. I sat on the other side, facing the detective, the seat next to me, at the end of the table, empty and the one next to me occupied by Fred who kept adjusting his glasses while eating.
Victor stood up, threw the detective a glance as if checking if he were still here and left the dining room.
Steak was served and I watched Lizzie eating her rare steak with her bare hands, her hands dripping warm blooded sauce. Aunt Helena gestured to one of the servers. He quickly came at Lizzie’s side grabbing the steak out of her hands and taking her plate away. She whimpered her eyes immediately on her mother. She quickly wiped her hands off, stood up and left. Whether the detective had witnessed the moment, he did not show it.
Victor came back in the dining room. His face looked…troubled? He whispered something to his mother, Francis. I couldn’t see her face but I noticed aunt Helena’s face. Both women stood up and hurried after Victor. The others didn’t seem to notice anything. I slowly stood up and followed.
I found them in the main entrance hall.
‘I don’t know, he was lying…’ Victor spat to aunt Helena. Francis held her hand over her mouth.
‘Just let him there!’ said Francis. ‘It’s none of our concern!’ she added anxiously.
‘You’re being ridiculous, Francis!’ added aunt Helena with a cold, steady voice.
‘What do we do?’ asked Francis.
‘Go back to dinner, Francis! I’ll handle it. Victor, fetch Robert!’ ordered aunt Helena.
I quickly hid behind a door as I watched Victor hurry back to the dining room. Francis followed him with small nervous steps. Aunt Helena remained in the hallway sighing.
Her husband, Tom appeared out of nowhere and she immediately hugged him.
‘What happened?’ he asked her studying her face. She was about to say something when Victor had returned with Robert at his side. They all went out and I followed them quickly.
It was dark outside and the wind blew cold and bitterly. They were heading the gazebo. I hurried too, my heart beating faster.
Someone screamed. Panicked, I ran towards the gazebo.
They all stood there looking down…I approached apprehensively, the scene all too familiar. I wanted to close my eyes and see nothing. I wanted to be out of this nightmare. Last time it was uncle Albert. This time it was…
He was lying in the middle of the gazebo in a pool of blood, his throat had been torn out, one of his hands missing.
It was Richard, our butler. Wh…why? Why?
‘Damn it, Vic!’ spat Victor, his face filled with panic. I couldn’t quite understand what he was talking about until I noticed they were all staring at someone over my shoulder. Mr. Porter, the detective was staring at the body.
‘Dear God, child, what have you done?’ barked aunt Helena.
Richard was dead but that wasn’t their biggest concern.
“Rule number one. Visitors may not leave the house after dark.”
Niguanta 
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