Chapter 2:
The Dinner
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An hour passed before the meal was served, much to the chagrin of Dervy. Conversation had proceeded politely, if somewhat stiffly between the other guests. They were each spaced rather far apart around the long table they had been seated at, and being heard clearly required a loud voice on the part of a speaker. So far the last few minutes had been occupied by Captain Commander Igglethorpe Bosney giving his retelling of a particular vicious arrest.
“We had found this bloke poking around one of the farms late at night, 'making a disturbance' as we like to say. Crownley told him to freeze, which I don't know why, they never do. So he bolts towards the city, where there's only more of us to catch him! So he's running towards us and I raise my crossbow and tell him to drop the knife, which he does. Crownley catches up and starts to place him in the wagon, when the bastard pulls another knife and stabs Crownley right in the stomach! He tried to get away in the chaos. Fortunately one of the constables winged him pretty good with a bolt. Too good really, he bled out within the hour. Crownley's off patrol though, it's a miracle he survived. Don't know what the git was thinking, stabbing an officer in front of twenty others.”
The rest of the group nodded in mock interest, clearly not as enraptured by the tale as Bosney. However, one piped up to inquire more.
“Did he have a name? Did you learn who he was?”
The woman who had spoke was Isabelle Molatto, an old flame of the Captain. Her fiery red hair had been somewhat tamed by years of lighter color, and now silver began to overtake it. What fire she had lost from her hair must have gone straight to her head, and Bosney suspected as much as she stared him down. That one he regretted walking away from. He was surprised he had made it this far in life without finding a dagger in his back, and her cordial attitude towards him only served to put him more on his toes. He cleared his throat, picking his way carefully through the dialogue.
“Well, no. No one has come forth to identify him and we haven't seen him before. Probably wandered over from Carver's Way or Lochlan. We'll get to the bottom of it though. Nothing can hide from the Watch for long.”
She nodded, looking away as she mulled the answer over. “See that you do, Captain” she said.
Silence. That awkward silence that threatens to overtake a room when the conversation whimpers and dies was now descending upon them. It was oppressive. It ground upon their minds until the lull was broken as the great doors swung open. The butler Alabaster crossed through the doorway, pushing a great cart filled with the food of tonight's feast.
“My most sincerest apologies for this travesty of a late dinner.” he said, stopping and beginning to lay the individual plates of food in front each of the guests. Lady Scrimshaw clucked at him in disappointment.
“What happened Alabaster? You assured me that the food would be ready on time.”
Alabaster bowed, incredibly humbled by his negligence to his guests.
“A thousand pardons, madam. I thought I had already selected the wine for tonight's courses from the cellar, but could not find the bottle I had chosen. I had to go to the wine cellar to find a replacement that would pair wonderfully, and upon my return I discovered that I had only misplaced the original choice. I am most apologetic for this transgression against tonight's event, and plead your forgiveness.”
“Be more attentive next time, Alabaster.”
Right, thought Dervy,
Her attitude is as warm as the food.
There was a collective improvement to the attitude as the spread was placed in front of them. As Alabaster began placing a dish of thick cuts of ham in front of the Lady Scrimshaw, he quickly retrieved it. “My apologies, Lady Scrimshaw. I have nearly forgot!” With a bow he set the spread of food in front of Lord Treylbach, giving him a warm smile. Treylbach eyed it for a moment but gave it no more consideration, as any food would be worth it at this point. With a flutter he placed the corrected meal of a much leaner dish in front of Lady Scrimshaw, giving her a nearly imperceptible nod as he did so. With that he left for the kitchen, wheeling his tray with him.
“My guests,” said Lady Scrimshaw, “You may...begin.”
Conversation fell as they ate, with only the occasional word exchanged. It was about halfway through when Lord Treylbach cleared his throat, addressing the rest of the group.
“I hate to spoil a decent meal with political talk, but I would like to address the proposed regulations for business entities of Finch's Hollow.”
Dervy dropped the fork from his left hand, letting it clatter on to the plate. “Alright you, that's no right talk for a good dinner like this, aye?”
Treylbach frowned, putting a hand to his chest. “I merely wish to have a civil discussion about the possibility of businesses not allowed to run rampant. If they are allowed to become so large that they may hold the economy and people hostage, then they...they...”
Tavish stood up, throwing his hands down on the table. “Speak up you old tosser! What are you trying to accuse me of?”
Treylbach looked upwards, and then he slumped on to the table.
There were collective screams as his glassy stare caught the Lady Scrimshaw. With speed Bosney rose from his seat, making his way around the table to Treylbach's side. With fingers to the man's temple, he checked for a pulse that he could no longer detect. Shaking his head, he gave them the news.
“He's dead. Lord Treylbach has died.”
A collective gasp rose up from the guests. Lady Scrimshaw withdrew from her seat and approached Bosney. “What do you mean, dead? He was just speaking.”
“Oh aye,” said Bosney, malice in his voice.“And now he's dead. A man with enemies sitting down to dinner with them and winds up dead halfway in to a meal. That's suspicious. That's...”
He leaned down and sniffed at Treylbach's plate of food, investigating a liquid pooling from the slabs of meat. He ran a finger through it and brought it up to his nose, sniffing at it. Everyone else watched.
“Laudanum” he said, “Painkiller. But this is a rather large amount. The inside of the meat has been slathered with it. Ladies and gentlemen, Treylbach is not only dead...he was murdered!”
The hall froze as one, heads collectively swiveling back to the corpse of Treylbach. Isabelle was the first to speak.
“Now now Bosney, Treylbach was old. You find some painkiller mixed in his meal, that he probably put there himself, and automatically assume that he was murdered? You're jumping to conclusions.”
“Bugger that!” Dervy said, pointing at Treylbach. “Poor sod's been murdered. I never saw him take medicine for anything. Did you? Or maybe, just maybe, there's someone here who would have some on hand eh? Give the old man a wee bit too much eh? Pin it on himself?”
There was silence as everyone contemplated the situation. Lady Scrimshaw cleared her throat, speaking in a carefully measured tone.
“In the interests of being transparent, I would like to inform you that my butler Alabaster does take Laudanum for his heart. However, I highly doubt it was-”
Igglethorpe shook his head, cutting her off with his booming words.
“No, you send for him now! I am getting to the bottom of this. More than one person here wanted Treylbach out of the picture and I'm going to find out who snuffed him!”
“Very well,” Lady Scrimshaw replied. She raised her voice, its shrill treble echoing down the hall. “Alabaster, assistance please!”
There were several minutes before the double doors opened. Alabaster appeared, looking wearied and pained.
“My apologies fair Lady, but I seem to have misplaced my heart medication. However, I am ready to assist you.”
Alabaster was immediately cornered by Igglethorpe, who withdrew his cudgel (his only weapon on his person, more for work than ceremony), and began to threaten Alabaster.
“Right, you. Treylbach is dead and it looks like he was given a high dose of the same stuff you take. I think it's time we had a talk.”
Lady Scrimshaw protested, rushing to the side of Alabaster. “Do not threaten my butler!” she said, putting herself protectively between him and Igglethorpe. “He has no reason to murder anyone here!”
“Is that right?” replied Igglethorpe, turning to look at the rest of the group.
“But everyone else does, I think. Let's get to it. No one leaves until this is solved! Are we clear?”
The assembled group nodded their heads somberly, grim faces looking back at Igglethorpe as he cornered the butler. “Right. Alabaster was it? I'm going to start with you. And then, I'm going to see to the rest of you having a little talk. No one breaks the law on my watch.”
Isabelle spoke up, anger apparent in her words. “Bosney, you're quick to jump. For all we know, it could have been you!”
Igglethorpe rounded on her, raising a finger to her face.
“Don't even start, Molatto. I am the law here!”
She shrugged, crossing her arms. “Exactly” she said, “What better way to cover it up?”
Igglethorpe grimaced, visibly enraged. “I would never! Someone poisoned him, and I'm going to find out who it was.”
Isabelle rolled her eyes. Everyone had a bottle of Laudanum, it was used for a multitude of things. It would be rather hard to prove anything, even if some were found on someone. Dervy appeared to be thinking the same thing.
“Oy, Bosney” he said, standing up and emptying his pockets, pulling out a half full bottle of the opiate. “Look, I've got some, just picked it up in town the other day. Been having a spot of, er, to say in polite company, 'issues of the stomach'. And I bet I'm not the only one. With the medicine, I mean. What about you?”
There was some murmuring of agreement, as Isabelle produced a nearly empty bottle herself. Igglethorpe looked back and forth at the multiple bottles, and was surprised to see even Lady Scrimshaw attempt to demurely place a bottle in front of her. He cleared his throat and began his rage again. After a while he sighed, producing a small flask from inside his trousers and tossing it down the table.
“Alright, fine. I know it because I take it too. We all take it. But one of us didn't and now he's dead from it. So we're going to go around the table now, and I plan to find out who did it...and why.”
And thus, the first round of interrogation began.