Where Shall I Murder? Upstairs and Downstairs

Where Shall I Murder? Upstairs and Downstairs
(based on “The Case of the Dead Man”, an improvisation by Duane Michael Gebo, Kain Thornn, and Joseph Thornburg)
©2023, Joseph L. Thornburg. All Rights Reserved.

(contains violence and language)

DRAMATIS PERSONAE
The Coffee Detectives
Caesar Campbell	barista at BaxCam Coffees
Innocenzio James	driver for NPS
East Kingsley Police Department
Lt. Simon Tennant	Homicide Division
Sgt. Tieng	officer at scene of crime
The Edelstein Household
Wyatt Edelstein	wealthy patriarch
Beauregard Edelstein	his son
Steward McDrudge	the butler
Meakie D’ormatte	the housekeeper
Joy Stikke	Beauregard’s fiancee
And the rest …
Olive Swizzler	bartender at The Watery Hole
Patricia	barista at BaxCam Coffees
Elijah	barista at BaxCam Coffees
Dainty Busch	citizen-at-large
Nissanthea	patron at BaxCam Coffees
Unnamed bar patrons, police officers, and a surprise appearance by …?

“Trust me, detective work in real life is nothing like what you see on TV.”

“But,” said Dainty, her nacho paused halfway to her mouth, a wayward strand of cheese languidly making its way down towards the table, like a spider lowering a thread, “these boys have already solved, what, like ten murders? How many people see ten murders in their lifetime?”

“Yes, but what’s the probability? Besides, in real life, private detectives aren’t hired to solve murders. That’s always a police matter.”

Dainty remained unconvinced and deftly twirled the nacho to wrap the dangling cheese around it, then brought it to her mouth.

Lt. Tennant continued. “Detectives do things like serving papers, surveillance, and so on. Detective work isn’t just chasing after killers.”

“But these boys are famous now!” Dainty looked around. “Say, Julius, where is Innocenzio? He was supposed to meet us here at 9:30.” She looked at a neon lit clock behind the bar, which read 9:55.

“He said he might be late. There was a party or something where he works. But he said he’d definitely be here.”

Dainty gnashed on another nacho. “Anyway, I bet if they started their own detective agency they’d get plenty of clients. And the economy is good right now,” She fanned himself with a drinks menu. “There’s a new antiques store on Merchant Road, just a few doors down from BaxCam. Trader Antiques.”

“Tradem,” corrected Caesar. “and that noisy tavern right next to us. And someone else is moving in, just across from them.” He reached for a nacho but Dainty had eaten them all. “Don’t know what’s going in there yet.”

“See? Plenty of business to be had,” said Dainty.

“I’m not doubting that,” said Tennant. “But they still need licenses to be private detectives, they need insurance, they need training …”

Dainty ignored him. “Yes, and I was going to pay for all that. You boys do want to start an agency, right?”

Before Caesar could answer, Tennant said, “Listen, Dainty, I’d like nothing better than to see these boys become professional detectives. They’re smart and resourceful, and they’ve solved some cases and acquired a little celebrity. But you can’t just go be a detective. It’s a little easier if you start off as a policeman, but it still takes years of …”

“Couldn’t they just start the agency and learn as they go?”

“No. If they make one mistake which interferes in a police investigation, it could jinx the whole case in court. Or if they make a wrong accusation, they could get sued. Or if they …”

“Okay, okay, I get the idea.” Dainty looked defeated. “Sorry, Julius. I thought it was a good idea.”

Innocenzio burst through the door of the bar, nearly knocking over a couple on their way out. He looked around excitedly, then rushed over to the group.

“Caesar! You will never believe this!” He was obviously hiding something behind his back.

“Don’t I even get a hello?”

“Oh, sorry!” He gave Caesar a quick kiss. Dainty took advantage of Innocenzio’s distraction to reach behind him and snatch whatever he was holding.

“Hey, give that back!”

Dainty studied the paper. “Oooh, what’s this, then?” She squinted and brought the paper right up to her face. “This entitles the bearer to three days and two nights in a deluxe room at the Ham and Hammock. All meals included.”

“Dainty, you ruined my surprise!”

“Sorry, luv, couldn’t resist.” She handed the certificate back to him.

A server came by to get Innocenzio’s drink order. “Just a beer, please.”

“What kind?”

“Uhh … oh, I don’t know! Anything!” The server shrugged and left. “Anyway, we had a raffle at work and this was first prize.” He hugged Caesar. “Let’s go soon, okay?”

“Wow, congratulations, guys!” said Tennant.

“Geez, it’s hot enough.” Innocenzio fanned himself with the certificate. “How is everyone?”

“Dainty here seems to think you two could become professional detectives,” said Tennant, “but I was explaining to her it’s not that easy. It’s not about solving murders like on TV. More like collecting information, spying on cheating spouses, that kind of thing.”

“Well,” said Caesar. “It was fun doing surveillance for Persephone. Kinda. I don’t think I’d want to do that every night though.”

“Well, if we’re not going to become detectives, what do we want to do?” said Innocenzio. “I don’t want to be a delivery driver my whole life, but uh, frankly, I hadn’t given it much thought.”

“Neither have I. I mean, I always wanted to be a teacher. It didn’t pay much, but you know, ‘inspire young minds’, all that stuff.”

“You sound like Benjy.”

Caesar sighed. “I’ve been sending out a few applications, but I’m not too hopeful.”

“Don’t get too down, boys,” said Tennant. “I mean, nothing says you can’t try to solve mysteries, as long as you’re not interfering with the legal process. And I always welcome your help.” Tennant traced his finger through the water circle left by his beer mug. “It’s too bad we can’t parlay all this into something you can do without years of foundation work and that would be interesting to you.”

“So that’s it, then?” said Dainty. She dabbed at her forehead with her napkin. “Bloody peasy in here. Doesn’t that dick work?”

Innocenzio’s eyes widened. “Dick?”

“Rhyming slang, me old china. Dick Tracy … A/C.”

“China?”

Caesar cut in before Dainty could confuse him any further. “It’s trying to keep up with the heat wave,” said Caesar.

“We’ve already had two power outages at our distribution center,” said Innocenzio.

“And one at BaxCam. And as if that wasn’t bad enough, there’s that big fire that started in Ardeo Park.”

“That might be arson,” said Tennant. “Or at least not purely an accident. Say, maybe you could become paralegals.”

“FUCK YOU!”

They all turned to look. A woman was standing a few feet away from them, snarling at the world in general. She grabbed a wine bottle from a table where a couple was sitting.

“Hey!” cried the man who had been holding it. The woman tried to smash it against the table, but it wouldn’t break. She hit it a few more times to no avail. Meanwhile, the wine was sloshing all over the floor.

“Miss? Excuse me! That’s expensive!”

“Honey, why don’t you settle down?” The bartender had come out from behind the bar and grabbed the woman’s wrist. She wrenched herself free and tossed the bottle at the bartender, who ducked. The bottle finally obliged and smashed on the floor behind her.

The woman grabbed a beer bottle from another customer and banged it against a table. It shattered into shards too small to make a useable weapon. The woman tossed the neck of the bottle aside. Blood ran down her fingers. She glared at everyone around her. “What the fuck you lookin’ at?!” she screamed at a man who promptly ran for the door. She looked around for something else to throw. The men around her stood uncertainly: they felt like they should try to restrain her, but were also unwilling to manhandle a woman, no matter how strong she seemed.

“Come on, honey, let’s call you a cab,” said the bartender. The woman took a swing at her but missed, spun round, and fell to a heap on the floor.

Tennant ran over putting away his phone. “Ma’am, why don’t you just do what the nice bartender suggested and just settle down? Show me your hand.”

The woman showed him her middle finger instead. “And who the fuck are you?” Tennant pulled out his badge. “Oh, great. Okay, pig, put the cuffs on me.”

“Just cool it, okay?” He turned to the bartender. “You okay? What’s your name?”

“Olive Swizzler.” She smirked. “I’m fine. It comes with the territory. Especially when it’s hot. People are already a little cranky, then they drink too many beers.” She thought for a moment. “Except she ordered whiskey shots. Several.”

“Are you the owner?”

“No, just the bartender, but I sent a text to the owner to come over.”

“Do you have a first aid kit?” Olive disappeared through a door behind the bar and reappeared almost immediately, holding a box. On her way over she grabbed a towel and ran some water over it, then handed everything to Tennant.

“Are you going to behave while I clean you up?” The woman only belched loudly and moved her head in a sort of figure eight.

Dainty pushed her way to the front of the watching crowd. “I’ll help her.” She took the wet cloth and began dabbing the blood.

“Be careful, Dainty,” said Innocenzio.

“I think you need a few stitches, love.” The woman retched and the crowd reared back, but nothing was forthcoming aside from a fog of whiskey breath and the scent of partially digested barbecue flavored potato chips.

“A squad car and an ambulance are on the way,” said Tennant, just as a pair of police officers and a para-paramedics came in through the door. “Oh, they’re here now. Okay, everyone, show’s over.” The crowd slowly returned to their respective seats and the murmur of conversation began again. Tennant turned back to Olive. “Any idea when she arrived?”

“I dunno. An hour or so ago I guess.”

Caesar, Innocenzio, and Lt. Tennant also returned to their table—Dainty spoke briefly to the paramedic, who examined her hands and pointed to the ladies’ room. Dainty nodded and left to wash her hands. “Lieutenant, what’ll happen to her?” asked Caesar.

“She’ll be arrested for disorderly conduct and assault. Then she’ll probably dry out in a cell until someone posts bail.” He shrugged then echoed the bartender. “It comes with the territory.”

Dainty returned. “Shame you boys can’t start your agency. You do want to, don’t you?”

The two men exchanged looks. Innocenzio said, “Well, I think I would, but maybe Lt. Tennant is right.”

“I don’t know, Dainty,” said Caesar. “Benjy has been very understanding about this … ‘vocation’. And the more uhh … ‘famous’ we get, the more business we get. Benjy had to hire another barista.”

“Patricia,” said Dainty.

Caesar continued. “I mean, it’s kinda fun solving murders, I guess, but really, how often are murders going to keep falling into our laps?”

There was a chirping sound. Lt. Tennant pulled out his cellphone. “Tennant here.” He listened intently for several seconds. “Okay, I’m on my way.” He put his phone away. “Well, a murder just fell into my lap. I’ve got to go. How would you boys like to tag along?”

“Oh yeah!” said Innocenzio. “Wanna come?” he said to Dainty.

Tennant cringed at the thought of Dainty on a police homicide investigation, but fortune smiled upon him. “I need to get home,” she said. She got up and slung her magenta faux snakeskin purse over her shoulder. “Besides,” she said, suddenly speaking in a posh British accent, “I wouldn’t want to get in the way of the lieutenant serving some papers.”

“Oh, come on, Dainty,” said Innocenzio. “Don’t be like that.”

Dainty just cackled and winked. “Not to worry, me luv. I know the lieutenant’s right about detective work, just don’t tell him that.” She winked again, this time at Tennant. “Have fun, boys.”

---

Caesar and Innocenzio followed Tennant’s car, which led them to a large house in Lower Larch, an upscale part of East Kingsley. At the front was an open iron gate, ornately decorated. There was a police officer standing guard, who waved them in. A high wall surrounded the entire grounds.

“Nice digs,” said Innocenzio.

They pulled up to the front, on a circular driveway surrounding a fountain. There was another officer at the door. “Hi, Lieutenant,” he said. He cast an eye at Caesar and Innocenzio.

“It’s okay, they’re with me.” The officer stood aside and let them pass. “Okay, you two. Be sure to keep out of the way, don’t touch anything. If you have something you want to say, whisper it to me.”

The door opened into a vestibule, then into a large foyer with white marbled floors. Twin circular staircases led to a landing. Above the foyer was a painted ceiling of blue, decorated with clouds and stars. An elaborate chandelier in the Art Nouveau style hung down, all filigrees and fleurs-de-lis, in gold and white. The stairs encircled a sitting area, with two couches that looked like something from the Palace of Versailles, with high quilted backs and ornate armrests. Beyond that was a bay window, with settees. The walls were papered in beige with a pattern of pale blue periwinkles and bellflowers. On either side of the staircases were white, unobtrusive doors. The entire space was dominated by a body, lying near the foot of the left staircase. It was that of an elderly man, in a bathrobe and pajamas. Next to him was a marble column lying on its side in the middle of many colorful shards, obviously once a large vase.

Off to one side was a third officer, speaking to a tall, cadaverous man in a traditional butler’s uniform. The man must’ve been at least one hundred, with elongated hands ribboned with arthritis and decorated with age spots. The officer excused himself and came up to Tennant. “Hi, Lieutenant. I’m Sergeant Tieng. The victim is Wyatt Edelstein, fifty two years old. Looks like he was strangled. The butler found him here just after ten.”

“Fifty two?” said Tennant, looking at the bruises around the man’s neck. “He looks a lot older.”

“Sin is a thing that writes itself across a man’s face,” said Caesar. “Oscar Wilde.” Tennant shushed him.

“Okay, Sergeant, let’s talk to the butler. What’s his name?”

“Steward McDrudge. He doesn’t seem to hear very well.”

The group walked over to the butler, who was hovering uncertainly. “Hello, I’m Lt. Simon Tennant with the East Kingsley Police Department. I understand you found the body?”

“Oh!” croaked the butler, startled by the voice and turning suddenly. “Oh yes. I found Mr. Edelstein. Terrible, terrible.”

“Can you tell me what happened?”

“May I sit down? It’s late and my bones aren’t what they used to be.”

“Of course.” They walked to the couches.

“So what happened?” asked Tennant.

“I finished my duties for the night, and went upstairs to retire. I read a spell and was just falling asleep when I heard a brouhaha downstairs.”

“What kind of err, brouhaha?”

“Glass breaking, and somebody crying out. I made my way down and nearly tripped over Mr. Edelstein. He was lying at the bottom of the stairs, just like you see him. I listened but couldn’t hear a heartbeat or breathing, but I say, my hearing isn’t what it used to be. I then went to find young Master Edelstein.”

“Would that be the deceased’s son?”

“Yes, Beauregard Edelstein.”

“What time did you turn in?”

“At precisely nine, like every night. My last duty each day is bringing the young master his nightcap.”

“And where was Beauregard? I mean, when you found the body.”

“Upstairs in his bedroom. I knocked on his door. He listens to that ‘rock or roll’ music on his headphones. He never answered, so finally I had to go inside his room.”

“And then what happened?”

“I called his name a couple of times but he obviously couldn’t hear me, so I shook him awake. I told him what happened. He followed me downstairs, then said to call ninety-one one, but I couldn’t find my portable telephone so he said to use the kitchen phone.”

“Sir, that call came at ten oh five,” said Sergeant Tieng.

“Where is Beauregard now?” replied Tennant.

“He’s upstairs in his bedroom again, sir. He said he’s too upset to come back down while the body is here.”

Tennant nodded, then turned his attention back to the butler. “Can you think why someone would want to kill Mr. Edelstein?”

“If you’ll forgive my saying, sir, and putting it mildly, Mr. Edelstein was not the friendliest man.”

Tennant turned to Tieng. “Any sign of breaking in? Anything missing?”

“Yes sir, to the first point. Well, kinda.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“The window in the victim’s bedroom is broken, but it’s broken out. And there’s glass on the ground outside his window.”

“That’s weird,” whispered Innocenzio to Caesar. “Why would someone break out of the house?”

“Mr. McDrudge, did you hear any glass breaking?”

“I heard the vase here.”

“But not the window?”

“The vase is at the bottom of the stairs, and my room is right at the top.” He raised a gnarled finger to point at a door at the top of the left staircase. “I don’t think I would’ve heard the window breaking in Mr. Edelstein’s room.” He pointed again, at a door all the way to the right of the landing. “I’m sure I didn’t. But my hearing isn’t what it used to be.”

“Is there any other staff on the premises?”

“Only the housekeeper, sir, a Miss Meakie D’Ormatte.” A middle-aged woman in a nightgown of beige with a pattern of pale blue periwinkles and bellflowers stepped forward. She held a scarf, which she wrung mercilessly.

“Oh, dear!”

“I’m Lieutenant Tennant. Don’t be nervous.”

“What a terrible thing to have happened! How shall I ever get back to sleep?”

“We just want to ask you a few questions. Can you describe what happened tonight?”

She cleared her throat. “I served dinner at six. Then at about seven Mr. Edelstein and Master Edelstein said they were going to the reading room. I started doing the dishes. Master Edelstein …”

“I’m sorry, Ms. D’Ormatte, this mister and master business is confusing me. Would you mind referring to the son as Beauregard?”

“Oh, yes, sir. As I was saying, Master … I mean Beauregard came in to the kitchen while I was doing dishes to get a cookie.”

“What time was that?”

“I’m not sure, sir. Maybe a half hour after dinner ended?”

“Okay.”

“I finished my work; I had to make a shopping list for tomorrow. And then I headed for bed. Oh, no, that’s wrong. First I went to the reading room to see if they needed anything before I turned in. Mr. Edelstein wasn’t there—Beauregard said he had gone to bed. I let McDrudge know I was turning in. And I went to bed.”

“And what time was that?”

“About eight forty-five.”

“And then?”

“I read the Good Book for a while, said my prayers, and went to sleep. And then later, I thought I heard … well, I don’t know.”

“Just do your best.”

“I … I thought I heard some noise, and then someone running on the stairs.” She looked at the vase. “That must’ve been what I heard.”

“Did you hear anyone cry out?”

She thought. “Why, yes, I did.”

“Could you say whose voice?”

“No. It was just a short cry, like …” She blushed, then made a single bark, like a seal startled by an orca. “Hnarnck!”

“Did you get up to investigate?”

“Oh no. I thought I was dreaming. I have trouble sleeping so I take sleeping pills but I don’t like them. They give me strange dreams.” She shifted in her seat.

“Then what happened?”

“I tried to go back to sleep, but then I heard more noises.”

“Like?”

“I don’t know. It was like …” This time she sounded like a seal trying to dislodge a fish bone from its throat. “Pwan! Pwan! Pwan!”

“Any idea what that was?”

“I don’t know. There were about five of them, then glass breaking again.

“So you heard two instances of glass breaking.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Go on.”

“Then I heard someone knocking on a door nearby. And a few minutes later I heard more footsteps going down the stairs again. I still thought I was dreaming, sir! I went back to sleep, or tried to. The next thing I knew I could hear sirens outside and lots of hubbub downstairs, so I came down to see.”

“We’re of the opinion someone broke in to steal something. I suppose it’s too soon for you to notice if anything is missing?”

Meakie shrugged but looked around anyway. “Oh!” She pointed to a set of shelves built into one of the circular staircases. “There’s a figurine missing!”

“Are you sure?”

“Oh, yes. Mr. Edelstein was very particular about things like that. He once fired a maid for putting that poodle figurine back an inch from where he liked it.”

“Do you know which figurine is missing?”

“Why yes. It’s a Sunfordshire dog.” She lumbered over to the shelf and pointed. “It’s usually there.”

“Sunfordshire? Is that a breed?”

“Oh no, sir,” said Meakie. “It’s a type, a brand if you will, of figurine. Very collectible.”

“If I may interject,” said McDrudge. “Yesterday, Mr. Edelstein asked me to bring that figurine up to his office. I imagine it’s still there.”

“Why did Mr. Edelstein want it?”

“A gentleman came to visit. I think perhaps he wished to purchase it. But I believe he left without it.”

“Yes, that’s right,” said Meakie. “Later that day I brought it down and put it back on the shelf. Or at least I think I did.”

“You’re not sure?”

“I spend all my time going up and down the stairs, sir. Fetching this, carrying that, retrieving this, bringing that …”

“Okay, I get the idea.” Tennant didn’t want to make the old butler climb the stairs. “Ms. D’ormatte, would you mind looking in the office for it?” She scurried up the right staircase.

“Mr. McDrudge, what’s in there?” He pointed to the two unobtrusive doors.

“Just coat closets, sir.” He wrinkled his brow. “How strange. I just remembered. One of them was locked earlier.”

“Locked? Who locks a coat closet?”

“Exactly, sir. I was looking for my portable telephone and one was locked.”

“Which one?”

“The one by the left staircase.”

“Is there a key?”

“It’s usually in the kitchen. I can go get it.”

Tennant walked over to that closet and opened it. “It’s unlocked now.” He stepped inside and felt something against his foot. He knelt down to pick it up. “Is this your missing phone, Mr. McDrudge?”

McDrudge peered at it. “Why, yes. What happened to it? It’s crushed. Oh, now let’s see. I was doing something in the foyer earlier and I thought I heard something fall. Perhaps my telephone fell out of my pocket. It must have broken.”

“It looks more like someone stepped on it. It’s crushed.”

Meakie cheeped from the top of the stairs. “Detective Tennant! It’s not there!”

“Did you check the whole office?”

“Yes, sir, and it’s not there.”

“Okay, come back down.” He turned to Tieng. “After she comes down, go double check, okay?”

Tieng began to climb the stairs. “I’ll show you, sir,” said McDrudge.

“Mercy!” said Meakie, having returned. “What kind of world is it where someone can just wander onto the premises and break in and steal things?”

“Do you know who might’ve had a grudge against Mr. Edelstein?”

“You mean murder? Well, sir, I don’t like to say, but … his mission in life was certainly not to make friends.”

“Meaning?”

She blushed and looked at her scarf. “He wasn’t an easy person to get along with, sir. Very hard on the staff. We had a difficult time getting people in. If they were lucky enough not to be fired, they usually just quit out of frustration.”

“And you?”

She sighed. “Well, I just make sure to always do my job and try to stay out of his way.”

“What about Beauregard?”

She hesitated. “Well, sir, I’m afraid he … well, let’s just say he’s not the brightest bulb in the box. Oh, please don’t tell him I said that! But I finally had to speak to Mr. Edelstein to keep the young master out of my kitchen.” Her voice began to assert itself, rising in volume and irritation. “Imagine, microwaving a can of soup w hile it’s still in the can! Why, you should’ve been there when he was digging in the toaster with a fork! And then …”

“I mean, did Beauregard perhaps have a motive for killing his father?”

“What? Oh!” Her excitement faded instantly. “I don’t think so. He just lay around the house most of the day, watching TV, playing video games.” She shrugged.

“Pardon me for saying,” said Tennant. “but isn’t McDrudge a little old to be working?”

“Oh yes. I think he’s even older than he looks.” How much older could he be? thought everyone. “But he has no family that we know of. He’s an old retainer. I think he’s worked for Mr. Edelstein for, well, since before Beauregard was born. Mr. Edelstein offered him a nice retirement, but McDrudge wanted to keep working. I guess he had nothing else to do, nowhere to go. So he stays on, but it’s mostly for appearances. He can hardly see, too!” She imitated McDrudge’s voice. “‘My eyes aren’t what they used to be!’ he was always saying. The maids and I do all of the work around here. McDrudge just answers the door and putters around. Oh, but please don’t tell him I said that. He’s terribly proud.”

“Besides the man who wanted to buy the figurine, was there anyone else here in the last few days?” Meakie shook her head.

“I thought someone was here tonight,” said McDrudge, returning with Sgt. Tieng. Tennant pointed at the shelf, and Tieng shook his head no.

“When was that?” continued Tennant.

“Not long after dinner. I was folding napkins in the dining room and thought I heard voices out here.”

“Did you hear anything?” asked Tennant, turning to Meakie.

“I don’t think so, sir. But I was washing the dishes and it’s noisy.”

“No idea whose voices?” said Tennant, turning back to McDrudge, who shook his head.

Tennant looked through his notes. “What was the name of the maid who was just fired? For stealing, I mean.”

“That would be Molly O. Pear,” said Meakie.

“I can get her contact information for you,” said Steward.

“I think that’s all the questions I have for now. If you think of anything that might help, please give me a call.” Tennant handed a card to each of them. “Sergeant, which way to Beauregard’s room?”

“Right in the center of the landing.” He pointed up the stairs and began to climb. Tennant nodded at Caesar and Innocenzio, and the three of them followed the sergeant.

“I had a thought,” said Tennant. “Instead of detectives, you two could become fish and game wardens.”

Innocenzio frowned. “And just what do they do?”

“They’re sort of like wildlife security officers. You keep an eye out for poachers, assist visitors in parks …” But Tennant could see he had already lost them. “Okay, never mind.”

Tieng pointed to a door which was slightly ajar. “Hang on, Sergeant. Let’s look at the victim’s room first,” said Tennant. Tieng nodded and led them further along the landing to a door at the end. Inside was a large suite. The walls were adorned with a series of sunburst mirrors. On one wall, above the fireplace, hung a large portrait of the man whose body was found downstairs. Despite the fact the date in the lower corner indicated the painting was done only two years earlier, the subject looked about twenty years younger, built like an offensive tackle with a full mane of glorious jet black hair. An elaborate chandelier, all golden curlicued with crystals hanging all around like news copters covering a hostage situation. Matching sconces lined the walls. The bed was on a raised platform behind a line of cream balusters and ebony piers capped with what looked like golden artichokes. A bearskin rug guarded the bed from intruders. There was a jagged hole in the window, vaguely resembling Oahu, in a spiderweb sea. A fireplace poker lay on the floor just below it.

“Lieutenant,” said Caesar. “This is all very strange.”

“How so?”

“Besides the fact the window is broken out, the bed is completely made. I thought the victim had gone to bed.”

“Well, we only know he wasn’t in the reading room when the butler took the son his nightcap,” said Innocenzio.

“And why would a burglar break out of the house? He could just walk through any door downstairs.”

“Maybe he heard someone downstairs and ran up here in a panic.”

“Let’s look.” The men went to the window and looked out. Below, in the yard, two officers were hunched over, searching through the shrubbery. There was a drop of about twenty feet to the ground. There was no convenient trellis or chimney for someone to climb down.

“Find anything?” called out Tennant.

One man stood up and shook his head, but the other said, “Wait a minute!” He reached down and picked up something. “It’s some kind of ceramic, sir. There’s a lot of pieces here.”

“Could it be a dog?”

The officer reached down again. “Well, this piece could be a little dog face. I don’t know.”

“Show it to the housekeeper.” Tennant turned back to Caesar and Innocenzio. “Well, boys, unless the burglar had a ladder or a rope then took it with him, the only way down from here is to jump.”

“So, putting aside the fact the bed wasn’t slept in,” said Innocenzio, “let’s say the Mr. Edelstein hears a noise, goes downstairs, confronts the burglar who then kills him, and …”

“… and then the burglar comes upstairs to break a window?” said Caesar. “Then comes back down to make his escape? It just sounds improbable.”

“And he was stealing the figurine, but dropped it when he escaped,” said Tennant.

“Must be some figurine, if someone was willing to kill for it,” said Innocenzio.

Tennant looked at the painting. Wyatt Edelstein stared back at him defiantly. “I don’t get it. Something is fishy here. Let’s go talk to the son.” They headed back to Beauregard’s room, and knocked on the door. “Mr. Edelstein?”

“Yes, come in.”

Beauregard Edelstein was propped up against several pillows in a canopy bed. He had a thick mop of ruffled black hair, blue pajamas under a velour robe, and a pencil moustache. Each of his wrists were in casts, but he was still able to hold a tumbler of bourbon in one hand, an unlit cigarette in the other.

“Mr. Edelstein, I’m Lieutenant Tennant of the East Kingsley Police Department. I know this is a very upsetting time for you, but I’d like to ask you a few questions if I may.” Beauregard sighed deeply, nodded, and took a sip from his drink. “Can you tell me what happened?”

“Steward, a light, if you would?” The butler pulled a box of matches from his bathrobe and lit the cigarette. “You don’t mind if I smoke, do you? Calms my nerves.” Beauregard took a drag, then blew a smoke ring.

“I went to bed around, oh, 9:30 I guess. I read a little bit, turned out the lights, and the next thing I know Steward is standing over my bed in a panic.”

“He said you couldn’t hear him knocking on the door because you had your headphones on?”

“Oh, yeah. I find listening to music helps me go to sleep.”

“What were you listening to?”

“Tin Dirigible.”

“Imagine someone your age digging Tin Dirigible,” said Caesar. “Oh, sorry, Lieutenant.”

“Okay. What happened next?”

“Ol’ Steward said the old man was dead. I threw on my robe and went downstairs. And there he was, my father. I listened for a heartbeat, but there wasn’t one.” I told Steward to call 911. He said he couldn’t find his phone so I said to go to the kitchen and call from there.”

“Did you hear anything between the time you went to bed and the butler came to get you?”

“Nothing at all. I mean, besides the music.”

“There’s a broken window in your father’s bedroom. Did you hear it get broken?” In response, Beauregard reached towards his nightstand, grabbed his headphones, and waved them at Tennant.

“What time did your father turn in?”

Drag, smoke ring. “Oh, let’s see. About half past eight, I think.”

“Can you think of anyone who would want to murder your father?”

“Well, the old man was pretty tough on everyone. He fired a maid last week because she didn’t have his newspaper opened to the financial page when she brought him his breakfast. And just two days ago, he fired another maid, although that was for stealing.”

“What did she steal?”

“Father wouldn’t say. He might’ve just imagined it. He always thought everyone was after his money or his stuff.”

“It’s not outside the realm of possibility, but it seems unlikely the maid would come back in the middle of the night just to strangle your father. Can you think of anyone else?” Beauregard made an iunno sound. Tennant looked at his casts. “Mind if I ask how you hurt your wrists?”

Beauregard rearranged himself against the pillows. “Accident.”

After a silence, Tennant pressed. “What kind of an accident?”

“Skiing.” Beauregard took another sip. “Joy and I went skiing last weekend. I wasn’t paying attention and I took a tumble.” He smiled at Tennant. “Surely you’re not suggesting I murdered my father? With my arms like this?”

“Of course not, sir. Just curious. Who is Joy?”

“My fiancée.”

“And does your fiancée have a last name?”

“Stikke.”

“How long have you been engaged?”

“About six months now.”

“And when did you meet her?”

“About six months now.” Beauregard saw Innocenzio raise his eyebrows. “It was love at first sight, like they say.”

“I see. Where does she live?”

“In East Kingsley, in the Valley Hill area.”

“And what does she do?”

“She’s a flying instructor. That’s how I met her. Father was taking flying lessons. He’d just bought a little private plane.”

“What did your father think of your engagement?”

“Oh, he objected. He thought she was a golddigger. And then …” He hesitated. “Well, there was an accident during one lesson. Father crashed the plane. Fortunately it was not too serious, and he and Joy escaped with only very minor injuries. But then it became a case of he said, she said.”

“How do you mean?”

“Well, accidents do happen, but Father was convinced it was because Joy is an alcoholic.”

“Is she an alcoholic? Or did your father only think she is?”

Beauregard managed to look offended. “My fiancée is not an alcoholic. I mean, she does enjoy a good drink, likes to party and all, but she’s not an alcoholic. But father says she was drunk when they had the accident, so she was unable to collect insurance on the crash. So she’s suing him.” Drag, smoke ring.

“Hmm. When was this accident?”

“About four months ago.”

“And you stayed engaged to her?”

“Well, yes, of course. We would’ve gotten married by now, but father threatened to cut me out of my inheritance if I did. So I kept seeing her on the sly.”

Tieng’s cellphone rang. He stepped out the door to answer it.

“No other girlfriends?”

Beauregard coughed on his cigarette. “No.”

“And do you have any feelings about the lawsuit one way or the other?”

“Well, other than wishing my father liked her better. Oh. I guess that’s not an issue any more.”

Tieng re-entered. “Excuse me, Lieutenant?” Tennant walked over to him. “You’re not going to believe this. HQ just processed a disorderly conduct arrest at The Watery Hole.”

“Yes, I was there. What about it?”

“Her name is Joy Stikke. She said she wanted to call Beau here to post bail. The booking officer thought you’d like to know.”

“Oh really?” He called to Beauregard. “Do you know where your fiancée is this evening?”

Beauregard shook his head. “No idea.”

“She was arrested earlier for disorderly conduct in a bar.”

“Oops. Oh, I guess that doesn’t look too good.”

“Anyway, McDrudge says he thought he heard voices earlier a couple of hours before the murder. Was anyone here?”

Beauregard leaned towards Tennant. “He thought he heard voices? That’s a surprise. That old coot is so deef.” He chuckled at his little quip.

“Nevertheless, was anyone here this evening? Besides you, your father, the housekeeper, and the butler.”

“Not that I know of, but I was in the reading room.”

“And where is that?”

He pointed downwards. “Right about below this room, I think.”

“And where was everyone else at the time?”

“Dad was with me until he went to bed. I don’t know about those two.”

“Meakie said she can’t be sure if she heard anything.” Beauregard shrugged. “So you and your father were in the reading room?”

“Yes. I was playing solitaire on my phone. Father was reading the paper or something.”

“How long were you there?”

“Father didn’t stay long. He read for half an hour or so. I wasn’t really paying attention. Steward brought my nightcap around nine like he always does, and then I turned in about a half hour later.” He took a drag. “Oh, and Meakie checked in on me before she went to bed.”

“And when was that?”

He shrugged. “A quarter to nine?”

“Did you see Steward or Meakie on your way to bed?”

Another smoke ring. “Nope.”

“Well, thank you for your time. We’ll be in touch if we have any more questions.”

“Steward, see them out, won’t you?”

Steward led them down the stairs. Caesar and Innocenzio had already stepped out the front door and Tennant was about to follow when Beauregard came down, his slippers slapping loudly on each step.

“Lieutenant, I just remembered something. Yesterday, a visitor came to see my father about that figurine. He was very keen on having it and offered a thousand.”

Tennant pretended not to know about the figurine. “Did your father sell it?”

“No. My father’s too attached to his collection to sell any of it, but the visitor’s offer was a bit high. The figurine is only worth about five hundred dollars.”

“How did this visitor react when Mr. Edelstein refused to sell?”

“He didn’t seem unduly upset, sir,” said McDrudge.

“Oh no?” said Beauregard. “You’re being far too diplomatic, Steward. I would say the visitor was very upset. Called my father all sorts of names, threatened him.”

“Threatened him? How?”

“Well, nothing specific, he just said something like, ‘You’d better sell me that figurine or else.’ And he sounded really pissed.”

“I see. Well, thank you.”

Tennant turned to leave. Innocenzio whispered to Caesar, and Caesar whispered to Tennant, who called out “Just a moment, Mr. Edelstein.” He turned back to Caesar and Innocenzio. “You boys should just go on home. I’ll be in touch.” They nodded and headed for Caesar’s car.

Tennant nodded at Tieng, and both men walked back inside and up to Beauregard. “Beauregard Edelstein, I’m arresting you for the murder of Wyatt Edelstein. You have the right to remain silent …”

---

The next day, Elijah and Caesar were at the counter at BaxCam Coffee, each dealing with customers. Patricia stood to Caesar’s side, armed with a pen and notepad. Caesar pointed to the register. “Make sure you hit this key if they’re getting a brunch special so the discount applies.” Patricia nodded, her bob style hair with exaggerated bangs obscuring the left side of her face. How do these kids see anything with hair like that? thought Caesar.

A young woman was next in Elijah’s line.

“Hello, welcome to BaxCam! What can I get started for you?”

“Hmm.” She looked at the menu. “Wow, you guys do everything.”

“And we can do custom drinks—whatever you like.”

“Oh!” the woman exclaimed, as something caught her eye. “A Café Con Miel!”

“Single shot okay?”

“Yes, please.”

“Great, can I have your name?”

“Nissanthea. Well, my friends just call me Niss.”

“Very pretty name! Okay, Niss, I’ll have that for you in just a couple of minutes.”

Caesar finished with his customer and turned his back to grab more napkins for the counter, just as the next customer, a woman, stepped up. “I’ll be right with you,” he said.

“I’m in a hurry, handsome, can I get a sixteen ounce drip to go? No room. Medium roast if you have it.”

“Patricia, why don’t you …” began Caesar, but there was no Patricia to be found. He shrugged and turned to study the somehow familiar and rather buxom woman for a moment, then cried out, “Cannons!” Then, suddenly much quieter, “Oh, gosh, I’m sorry, Dolly. I almost didn’t recognize you.”

The woman shook her head. “You mean with my clothes on?” She laughed. “How’s biz?”

Caesar raised his voice to be heard over the sound of the espresso machine. “It’s great, we’re busier than ever. And you?”

Dolly fished into her handbag and pulled out a lanyard with an ID badge on it. “Just call me Doctor McGeoch!”

“You finished your internship?”

“Yup! I’m at Crumpler Medical Center now.”

“That’s great!”

“How’s Innocenzio?”

“Oh, he’s fine. We’re fine.”

“I saw on Twipper that you two prevented some big scandal with the governor’s office?”

“Well … yeah.”

“Oh, don’t be shy about it. Listen honey, you’ve got to grab what you can get, right? You solved Valentine’s murder, too. That’s got to count for something.” She leaned in closer. “Enjoy it while you can. Let people appreciate you, eh?” Caesar handed Dolly her cup. She bid him a cheerful “Ta ta!” and sailed out the door.

“Hey, man,” said Elijah, as he stirred the honey into Niss’ order. “I heard you guys solved a murder last night?”

Caesar was about to shrug when he remembered what Dolly had just said. “Uhh, yes. That’s right. We did. Lieutenant Tennant is supposed to come over today to ask me how we did it.”

Patricia returned. “Something wrong?” asked Caesar.

“No, sorry. I suddenly had to pee.”

“No problem, just be sure you let someone know if you need to leave the floor.”

Tennant appeared at the counter. “Hey Caesar. Listen, I only have a few minutes. You guys were right. Once I arrested Beau, he folded and said he and Joy were in cahoots and had plotted to murder his dad. I kinda understand how it all happened, but I’d like to hear your explanation.”

“Well, the motive was pretty simple. Joy might not get an insurance pay out on her plane, and the old man was against her marrying Beauregard, so by killing the old man and marrying Beau, both her problems would be solved.”

“But she was at the bar last night. We were there.”

“Yeah, that was one big smoke screen. She had killed Wyatt earlier.”

“Ah, juggling the time to try to fool everyone. And Beau was her accomplice.”

“Niss!” sang out Elijah. “One very tasty Café Con Miel is waiting for you!” The young woman came up to the counter and took her drink from Elijah, letting her hand linger over his for a moment.

“Yeah,” continued Caesar. “That was a big mistake on her part, trusting him to be an accomplice. Not the brightest bulb, like Meakie said. After Beau broke his wrists Joy probably thought that would be a great way to exonerate him so she cooked up this scheme—she’d kill Wyatt and Beau was supposed to make it look like robbery.”

“Beau and his dad had dinner then retired to the reading room around seven while Meakie and Steward did their nightly duties. Beau later went to the kitchen, probably to steal the closet key, pretending he was just there to get a cookie.”

As Niss was heading out the door, Dainty came storming in, bumping into her and threatening to knock the coffee from her hand. Niss let the momentum spin her around like a ballerina and managed to hold onto her cup without spilling a drop.

“Brava!” called out Elijah. Niss curtseyed.

“Julius! Have a butcher’s at this!” cried Dainty, thrusting a flyer at him. It read:

THE XOFFEE DETECTIVESTM As seen on Twipper!! PROFESSIONAL Investigators!! No Case Too Small!! Results Guaranteed!!!!

There was also a street address, a web address, a Twipper link, an email address, a phone number, and clip art of a steaming cup of coffee.

“What?” said Caesar. “Who is this? They can’t do this!”

Patricia looked at the flyer. “Apparently they can. They aren’t calling themselves The Coffee Detectives.”

“Hello, Dainty,” said Tennant. “Don’t mind me.” Dainty tore the flyer away from Caesar and shoved the flier in Tennant’s face.

“Can’t you do something about this?”

Tennant glanced at the flyer. “Oh? You boys decided to start your agency after all?”

“See? Even he can’t tell the difference!” she huffed.

“What the hell is …” Caesar tried to pronounce it. “Zoffee? Ks … ksoffee? What is that, anyway?”

“An intentional typo,” said Elijah, craning his neck to look. “Someone looking for you might type that by mistake and get the other guy instead.”

Dainty slapped the counter. “Want me to send Junnosuke over to pay them a visit? Break a few legs, maybe?”

“Dainty,” warned Tennant. “You know I am an officer of the law …”

“So go arrest them or something!”

Tennant finally tired of Dainty’s bossy attitude. “Do you mind? We were in the middle of a conversation!” He shoved the flyer into his pocket. “I’ll look at this later, Dainty, okay?”

Dainty rolled her eyes in resignation. “Luv,” she said to Elijah, pointing to a platter of puits d’amour. “I’ll take a couple of those puffy Frenchy things.” He put them on a plate for her, and she pushed it towards Tennant. “Sorry, guv. Have a bite.”

“It’s okay, thank you, Dainty. Just chill, all right?” He looked at Caesar. “Where were we?”

“You were saying Beau went to get a cookie,” said Dainty nonchalantly. She began licking the jam from the center of the pastry, while everyone marvelled at her remarkable hearing.

“Anyway,” said Caesar. “Around eight, Joy comes over and Beau sneaks her in, and they go to the reading room and Joy kills Wyatt. She drags his body to the foyer. Sometime earlier Steward must’ve dropped his phone without noticing, and one of our miscreants stepped on it and kicked it into the closet, then they locked Wyatt’s body inside. Joy leaves and eventually heads for the bar.”

“Meakie checks in on Beau and goes to bed. Steward brings him his nightcap and also turns in. Then Beau goes to bed around 9:30.”

“At ten o’clock, Beau sneaks downstairs, unlocks the closet door and drags out the body. His wrists are broken but he can still use the crooks of his arm. He deliberately knocks over the vase and then screams, pretending to be his dad. Then he runs upstairs to his room.”

“And at the same time,” said Tennant, “Joy is in the bar getting drunk and making a huge scene. What’s an arrest for disorderly conduct if you’re about to get a fortune?”

“Exactly. So, Steward comes down and finds the body, then goes to get Beau and brings him down. Beau tells him to call 911, but since Steward has misplaced his phone, Beau tells him to use the one in the kitchen.”

“Maybe they broke his phone on purpose?”

“Naah, I think that was just coincidence. But Beau suddenly remembers Joy told him to hide a figurine to make it look like robbery. He grabs the little dog statue and runs upstairs. Then he remembers he was also supposed to break a window. But Steward has come back to the foyer. So Beau stupidly runs to his father’s room, breaks a window, and tosses the figurine out of it, where your men found the pieces later.”

“Meakie heard him trying to break the window.”

“Right. He probably had a hard time holding that fireplace poker so it took him several tries until he could break it.”

“Okay, I see. But how did you guess all of this?”

“Between Steward’s hearing problems and Meakie thinking her sleeping pills were making her have weird dreams, it was hard to know what actually happened. But I wondered, what if Meakie hadn’t been dreaming? What explanation would fit all the noises she heard, or the sound of voices Steward heard, or the fact Wyatt’s bed hadn’t been slept in?”

“And while it’s true that the antiques dealer had tried to buy the figurine, Beau made up the part where he got very upset. It was just some clumsy attempt to frame the dealer.”

“And when we arrested Beauregard, he had the closet key in his bathrobe pocket. You two have done it again. Thanks, and thank Innocenzio for me too. I’ve got to go.” He headed out the door.

Caesar frowned as Dainty finished off the second puit d’amour.. “Geez, I feel bad for Meakie and Steward. They’re unemployed now! Even if the old man left them something, the murder will hold up the inheritence while a judge decides what happens to the estate. I doubt Beau will be able to get his hands on it.”

“Well, Julius, that’s another lost job opportunity,” said Dainty. “I keep telling you to start that agency …”

The lights went out and the whirring of the coffee machines ground to a halt. “Oh, great,” said Caesar. “Another power outage.”

The End