Murdersdale 13

Gregory agreed to help them for the sake of his safety. If he could get such a clean deal on the good side of the law, then he was certainly going to take it. Riding the carriage back to the Sheriff's house, he parked and rang for the man.

"Status?" The sheriff asked, coming out.

"See it for yourself," he said, tossing Jedidiah's jacket and a fragment of his clothing to the Sheriff. They were both bloody.

"Bodies?"

"At the bottom of the ravine, where they'll never be found."

The Sheriff smiled. "Greg, you've done well. I'm happy about that. Keep this up and I'll forget you ever robbed that jeweller."

Greg kept the act up, his eyes widening in mock happiness. "Really?"

The Sheriff laughed mockingly. "Sure. Just keep being, eh... Available, when I have such business to take care of. Go now, dispose of the rags."

Smiling to himself, Greg left. You just played into their hands, old fool.

*****

It was 8:00 PM.

Martha opened the door to see a face she wasn't hoping to see soon. The Detective. She stood at the doorway, unwilling to accept that he might want to enter.

By his side was a beautiful lady in some starbge clothing. She appeared to be wearing a gown, but most of her chest was covered by a thick wooly shawl.

"What can I do you for today, Detective?"

"Well, in the long run, I'll be doing more for you than you can imagine, but for now I need your help. I'm in need of a place for a while, perhaps one week from the way I see things."

Martha wanted to reject this development instantly, but she was curious about the sudden occurrence.

"By 'in need', you certainly couldn't possibly be saying that my not helping you might affect my fate in this case of yours, could you?"

Miranda shot Jedidiah a look as though to say, "You're that much of a monster?!"

Jedidiah was on the defense immediately. "No, no! This has nothing to do with your involvement in the case, and that's not even much at all. You're not going to be incriminated in any way, and actually I could probably use your help in solving this case, or at least my..."

Miranda jumped in to save him from saying too much. "...partner. I'm his partner, working on he same investigation more or less. You could be of some assistance though."

Martha looked between two of them, frowning before stating quietly. "I'll be going inside now. When you both are ready to tell me exactly what's going on, you can knock and I'll..."

"Fine!" Jedidiah said exasperatedly. "I'm here because the Sheriff thinks I'm dead."

Martha shot him an incredulous look. "And why would he think that?"

"Because he wants us both dead. He's tried to kill us twice today."

The maid looked between the duo and sighed. "You've got my attention. Come on in, 30 minutes, a full debriefing on everything concerning this case, and then I'll see if I'll accommodate you lot. Deal?"

Jedidiah frowned slightly. "You drive a difficult bargain."

Miranda nudged him in the side before turning to smile warmly at Martha. "We'll take it."

*****

At the end of the explanation, there were five people at the table. Jedidiah hadn't seen all the maidservants since the day the body was found.

"You've both been to hell and back, haven't you? You're saying they'll be back here in two days, at 1 AM? Why?"

Miranda broke in. "Because, just like me, they believe that the diadem is right here, in this very house. And I even think that all three of you might know where it is..."

"Are you implying that we're hiding something from you?!" Martha flared up, the other two - Emma and Jane - echoing this sentiment.

"Not at all. Miranda's saying that there's a good chance you all might have unknowingly been given the woman a piece of the puzzle," Jedidiah chipped in.

"The puzzle being?"

"The location of the diadem." Miranda finished.

Jedidiah looked around the room. There were paintings all over the room. Human portraits and then some landscape paintings. All had a certain Color scheme.

The canvas on each painting was divided into four quarters, and each quarter had a certain colour scheme.

Red and white.

Green and black.

Blue and ash.

Yellow and orange.

It was a strange blend of bright and full colours that produced a pleasing aesthetic effect.

"Do you like the paintings?" Martha asked, noticing his keen observation.

"Yes, you could say that. Lady Cynster painted them herself, didn't she?"

"Yes, how did you know?"

"Just a hunch..."

He noticed Miranda was looking at him inquisitebly now, but he had his sights set on something else that was bothering him.

"The clothes you three are wearing, did she also give you them?"

They looked at him strangely. "Emma's a seamstress, so she helped us see them. But the material and the colours were..."

"Her idea, yeah?"

Now Martha was uncomfortable. "H-How do you know this? What are you driving at?"

"You all must have been so attached to her for you to maintain those colours till now. I'll assume the relationship between you was close."

It wasn't a question, it was a statement.

"Yes. We all came into this place about fifteen years ago. We were young, I was seven at the time actually. Lady Cynster's mother had died five years before then, when she was 60, so it wasn't nice that she should be alone..m"

"Mother?" Miranda asked.

"Yeah. She was a Spaniard, or at least she had the accent, according to my mother. Lady Cynster became very close to us from then, since we grew up in this household. Why all these specific questions?"

It was coming together. An older woman - a Spaniard who lived here too had died. She was the victim's mother. The victim had gotten three girls to stay with her...three girls.

Martha wore a yellow and orange gown.

Emma wore a blue and ash gown.

Jane wore a red and white gown.

It remained green and black. Where had he...

BINGO.

He turned back to Martha. "I'm going to ask all of you a very strange question now, but I'll need a honest answer. Was there any lullaby or rhyme that Lady Cynster told you? Perhaps she told each of you a different line? Probably said it was from her..."

"Mother?" Miranda and the other three servants echoed.

"Yes."

Martha stood up, pale as a white sheet. "Y-You're insane. How the hell did you know that?!"

*****

I hope this one was extra long to count for my absence. I'm bringing the story to an end steadily now.

Xoxo, Ghostwriter 👻 from this hellhole of a school.