‘Sir is not in the best of the behaviours. Beware,’ Beatrice lifts a little and mutters in my ear. This means that he must be angry, with us or our performance or simply our mistake.
‘We will be Miss McNaughton.’ I whisper in her ears and we pass at the front door. Bailey has grabbed my hand so tight, blood could hardly be seen.
She sighs, ‘Moment of truth,’ She is perhaps happier than I am.
She opens the door, and there he is.
Mister Cooper is sat on the lounging chair; Priscilla is just behind him stroking his hair. Moore is smoking a cigar by the casement just behind Cooper’s head-of-the-house chair.
‘First of all…who killed Schubert?’
His question is direct, as always.
‘It was I; he perhaps as I thought, might have known too much regarding the murder. He doubted us.’ For once his face lightens, his contours reflect as he smiles.
‘Well done Bailey, you are truly an asset to Priscilla. But not that the work of Ignatius’s death was not brilliant enough.’ He then scans my face, ‘Well done Ascendant.’ He tilts his head.
‘What now?’ Moore asks, without turning his head from the window.
‘Nothing till the police intervene Schubert’s death. If we manage to hold our silence, we’ll succeed to deceive them. Hold your silence, for now, hold your silence.’
Moore is trembling a little. Winter has arrived. And he should get out of the view.
‘But before that cremate the body of Sean, will you Ascendant?’
‘And dear Bailey,’ He struggles to get up, his sickness is getting worst, ‘Do you not know if what you must now do?’
‘I am well aware, Sir.’ She strokes his cheeks. Such a happy family.
It would be so wrong to say but it is the truth, each one of these people has murdered at least once. Such a murderous family.
Moore turns his head, eyes no one in particular. He is older than me and Bailey, by two years. He has a face the same colour as his skin, except it flushes with red blood at times. He turns his head at Bailey. His steps are rapid. He bends by one knee in front of her. Mister Cooper face him with a little disgust as he places a small box of exotic chocolates in her hands that seem so tiny to her comparison.
I am, by the present time, well aware of the fact that Mister Cooper wants to enter them in a diplomatic relation by their marriage. Bailey seems to know that too but she – I think – might or might not be happy by that fact.
He adores her. She adores him. And that’s just that. No villain in their story, and by far the opposite. I seem to like these circumstances too. He leaves out unnoticed.
Priscilla bends a little towards him. Mister Cooper utters a few words to her. Then he – too – leaves. His foots wobbly and pitiful, almost that of a dumb meagre. He does not turn towards us.
We close the doors behind. Bailey stands opposite to her. I am a little distanced on Priscilla’s right.
‘Thank you for killing Schubert.’ She tells her and glares at me with her hazel eyes.
‘It seemed the right thing to do.’ She almost doesn’t hear that. Then she takes the chocolate from her hands. ‘Maybe it is poisoned.’ She says and throws it out of the same window.
‘The concierge will take care of it.’ And she moves out.
Bailey turns kindly towards me. ‘They were not poisoned. Do you think they were?’
‘No.’
‘Let’s feed these to the birds.’
‘But they can’t eat chocolates.’
‘Then throw them?’
‘No. Feed them to Candice.’
She becomes anxious, ‘Will they allow us?’
‘Not that they would know.’
I am smiling from the inside. Yes, feed them to Candice.
