The Secret of Kolney Hatch (29 page)

She followed John and the constable at a comfortable distance. Occasionally, the constable or John would turn around to make sure no one was following them, and Petunia made sure to stay far enough behind, so they would not see her.

They headed up the grand staircase, and Petunia thought all hope was lost. Too many servants were nearby for her to follow them up the stairs.

She would have to follow them if she was going to find out what the constable needed to say, and her intuition told her that it was important.

When the hall was clear, she hurried up the stairs and listened for voices. Hearing nothing, she decided to go to her right. She headed through a tall archway, and stopped when she heard the voices from the room.

 “Your brother, Roger.”

“What about him?”

“Agatha Bates was found alive.”

“Well, that’s wonderful news,” Petunia heard John say.

Petunia heard the constable release a heavy sigh.

“She claims your brother owns a rare German Wheel-Lock Belt Pistol from the sixteenth century—the pistol involved in the murders of Louisa...and...”

“And what?”

“And Wendy Watson.”

            “You’re joking?” John Loxley said, with a laugh.

            “I’m afraid not.”

            “I don’t understand what you’re trying to say,” John said.  “Roger couldn’t have been involved. He wouldn’t hurt anyone.”

“Agatha’s disclosed everything, John. She claims Roger
is
 the one who murdered Louisa.”

“But what Agatha says is only her word against Roger’s,” John defended.

“Unless the police acquire the gun, John.”

“But what about Wendy Watson?”

“You may want to meet with Richard Baker and Roger, have them get their stories straight. I could lose my job for telling you this, but it appears Richard shot the gun first that killed Wendy. It doesn’t matter that it was an accident, done under inebriation: it was Roger’s gun. And the woman is dead.”

“But still, Richard was the one who shot the gun.”

“Listen to me, John. Agatha says Wendy was only shot once by Richard, but her post-mortem report showed two gun shot wounds, one to the right abdomen and one to the head. After the gun went off it was your brother who told Richard, Louisa, and Agatha to leave. He told them he would take care of Wendy. They thought he would take her to the hospital, but soon realized he killed her. They were all there, the four of them. Louisa, though, had suffered mentally from it over the years. Agatha says she was overcome by guilt. She was going to tell the police what had happened.”

“You’re saying Roger killed Louisa to keep her quiet?”

“I’m afraid so, John. But don’t worry. Agatha only told
me
 that story. She was able to tell the police about the gun though, and they’re looking to make an arrest. If they find your brother is the owner of that gun,” the constable said.  “John, you must do something, or he’ll go away forever.”

“I’ll take care of it, Wyatt. Thank you.”

John was quiet for a moment before speaking again.

“We can’t mention this to Edgar. He’d do the right thing. He’d turn on his own brother. Can you ensure no one will ever find out the story?”

“Yes. I’m sure you and I can work out an arrangement.”

“Here. For your trouble,” Petunia heard John say. She wondered what John gave the constable. “And what will you do about Agatha?”

“She’s unstable, and she would get better care in an asylum. I have a way of ensuring she stays there.”

Petunia heard all she needed to. Her throat felt tight; she wanted to burst into the room and scream at the top of her lungs. Roger and Richard were involved in the murder of Wendy Watson, and the constable and countless others were paid so well by the Loxleys that even a murder could go unpunished. It wasn’t fair! She wondered if Oscar knew; no, he couldn’t. He loved Wendy; he wanted nothing but happiness for her, even if it meant she refused to marry him. And poor Paul, all this time he had no idea that his friends had been his mother’s murderers. Petunia no longer wanted to be at the party. She no longer wanted to see any of the Loxleys or Richard Baker again. Roger, Louisa, Agatha, Richard, now John, Constable Wyatt, they all knew what really happened, and they went through such lengths to keep it secret. But, Petunia thought as a wry smile crossed her face, none of them would have anticipated that someone might be listening behind the walls.

forty nine

A DISTURBING DISCOVERY

A peaceful snow fell from the sky; the tiny crystallized-flakes landed gently onto Paul’s black coat and hat as he walked down Peddler Street back to his home. The Loxley masquerade was nice, but he was glad he left early.

He pulled his key from his pocket but stopped suddenly before putting it into his front door keyhole. The door was already open. He slowly pushed on it, and it creaked open the rest of the way.

Strange
, he thought to himself. Surely, Eda would not have left the front door open like this.

“Eda?” he called as he stepped through the door.

He waited a moment for her to answer, but he heard nothing. Only a small light was on in the hall, but the rest of the house was completely dark.

“Eda?” Paul called again into the hallway.

He heard no reply. Paul planned to call the police-–it was obvious someone had broken into his home, but before he took another step, someone bludgeoned him with a large object.

Immediately, Paul fell to the floor. He felt the blood dripping down the side of his face, and his vision went blurry for a moment. He felt another blow to his ribs and was sure something had broken. He tried to shield himself as the hard object bashed his arms. He winced in pain, and when he regained his vision he was able to twist himself over and see a hooded cloaked figure looming over him.  

Paul tried to move, but his body was too weak, and the hooded figure lunged in for another blow, bludgeoning Paul in the mouth.

Paul spit up blood onto his wooden floors, and tried to crawl down the hallway. He reached the hall table, and tried to grab the lit lamp to use as a weapon. He couldn’t reach it, and when he turned, only his attacker’s face under the hooded black cloak came into view.

It was Doctor Reid.

“You took everything from me,” Doctor Reid screamed. “Everything!”

He had a large black club, and he was going to hit Paul again in the head, when suddenly he stumbled back a few feet. Then Doctor Reid fell to the ground.

Though blood dripped down Paul’s face and into his eyes, he was able to turn his head slightly to see Doctor Reid gasping for breath as he lay on the ground.

That’s when Paul noticed another figure standing over Doctor Reid’s bloody body.

It was the girl from the tunnels. She looked frail and weak.

Doctor Reid was dead; the girl had killed him. She stood there motionless with a dagger in her hand.

Paul was in excruciating pain. He began to feel weak, as though he was going to pass out, but he forced himself to look into the girl’s eyes.

Paul watched as tears streamed down the girl’s cheeks. He did not take his eyes away from hers. She had saved his life again; he knew he was indebted to the sorrowful girl for that. That familiar, yet frightened, look in her eyes made Paul feel an even deeper pain for her. He looked from the girl to the body. Doctor Reid lay still now in a pool of his own blood. When Paul looked up at the girl again, he noticed she had something in her other hand. She gently placed the item on the corner of the end table.

Paul shifted his body away from the table and hoisted himself up onto his feet. He held onto the staircase, and because of his wounds, slowly turned around. The girl had vanished.

“Wait!” Paul yelled to her in a breathless, fatigued voice. He yelped in pain and grabbed onto his broken rib as he hobbled through the front door. After limping down his front step into the dark night, Paul stood in the street under the faint light of the lamppost for many long moments looking to his left and right for the girl.

“Come back!” he said breathlessly, but the girl was gone.

After a moment, he slowly made his way back into the house.

Paul felt sick. He took one more glance at the crimson liquid oozing from Doctor Reid’s lifeless body. He was about to telephone for help when his eyes caught the shiny object covered in blood that the girl had left by the corner of his front entrance table.

He slowly crept toward the object that had kept his attention.
It couldn’t be
, he thought. But there, on the table was a charcoaled golden locket. Crystals were missing from the cattails that once were intact, and as he slowly opened it, he gasped, for there, on the right-hand side, was the picture of that young girl just as he remembered her in his grandmother’s garden. And underneath, her full name was inscribed: Amy Rose Reid.

The end, for now.

Turn the page for a sneak peek of the sequel,

Kolney Hatch: Buried Secrets.

Thank you very much for purchasing and reading this book. You can connect with me personally at
[email protected]
.

You can also find me on Facebook here:
https://www.facebook.com/StefaniMilanauthor

On Twitter as: StefaniMilan

On Instagram as: stefanimilanauthor

Much love and light to you always.

KOLNEY HATCH: BURIED SECRETS

     AVAILABLE March 8, 2016.

ONE

“She’s being held under strict surveillance in the isolation ward. We’ve been instructed she receive no visitors, Mrs...”

Hoping to remain anonymous, Petunia Pennyworth scanned the hospital office searching for a new surname. On the far wall hung a large print of the London Bridge.

“Bridge. My name is Petunia Bridge.”

“Well, Mrs. Bridge...”

“Are you certain I cannot see her?”

“Yes, I am quite certain.”

Petunia heaved a deep sigh. No visitation rights seemed awfully mysterious. Just two weeks prior, Petunia had eavesdropped on a shocking revelation about Roger Loxley and Richard Baker’s involvement in Wendy Watson’s murder. The only person who knew the whole truth was Agatha Bates, and Petunia knew that unless she could get the truth from Agatha, her secret was hers alone, for not a soul would believe a murder revelation obtained from eavesdropping behind a wall.

Agatha Bates was Petunia’s only hope, and so, on that gloomy winter morning, Petunia traveled for over an hour in the snow, by train and car, to Hollybrook Hospital. Now she stood in front of a dull blonde haired receptionist who had an equally dull personality. With one last attempt to see Agatha, Petunia asked again:

“There’s
no
possibility of me seeing her?”

“As I’ve said numerous times before, Mrs...Bridge, I am sure there’s not,” the receptionist maintained, suspiciously surveying Petunia from the corner of her flat blue eyes.  “The police specified that she receive no visitors of
any
kind.”

Petunia tucked one of her unruly black hairs back into its bun.

“But I’m afraid it’s of the utmost importance that I speak with her.”

The receptionist shrugged as if to say she cared nothing for Petunia’s needs. But Petunia refused to give up and was about to give the receptionist an inflated reason for going to the psychiatric ward, when she suddenly felt faint. Petunia took deep breaths and steadied herself against a nearby wall.

“Are you all right Miss?”

Slowly, Petunia nodded her head. She knew she was not alright, not in the least, for she hadn’t slept or eaten much since the night of the ball.

“Move out of the way!” A penetrating voice growled suddenly.

Petunia jumped and clutched her heart. She turned to see a tall, muscular guard pushing through a throng of lobby visitors. He disappeared behind a set of double doors.

The receptionist stood abruptly. Apprehension filled her eyes.

“Amelia, what is this all about?” She called to one of the nurses who hurried after the guard.

“Something’s happened,” Amelia, began to say, but seeing Petunia, she stopped. “Just...follow me, will you?”

“But the lobby...”