Awful auntie, p.8
Awful Auntie, page 8
The little girl looked on in silence, as the detective lifted the crumpled bonnet of the Rolls Royce and inspected the engine, tapping various parts with his pen. Next he kicked all the tyres with his foot, and knelt down and looked at the undercarriage. Stella wasn’t sure what was being achieved by all this, but assumed as Strauss was a detective he must know best. Finally he rose to his feet and announced, “Well, miss, after a thorough inspection of the motor vehicle I can conclude that this was nothing more than a tragic accident. If you will excuse me I will be on my way back to Scotland Yard.”
“It wasn’t an accident!” pleaded the girl.
“Why ever not?” The detective rolled his eyes.
“Because I believe my papa was poisoned.”
This stopped Strauss in his tracks. “Poisoned you say?”
“Y-y-yes,” spluttered the girl. Stella was certain of it, but still felt nervous saying it.
The detective pulled his glasses down, and peered over them deep into Stella’s eyes. It was clear she had really caught his attention. “Miss, you and I need to sit down so you can tell me absolutely everything you know.”
XXII
Shadow of a Doubt
A few moments later the pair were sat opposite each other in the vast library of Saxby Hall. Strauss’s legs dangled off the sofa, they were too short for his feet to reach the carpet. Stella tiptoed back over to the door and closed it as gently as she could. She didn’t want to wake her aunt, who was still sleeping upstairs.
“What you have to remember, miss,” the detective told Stella, “is that there was huge public interest in this case. The lord and lady of a great house losing their lives in a motor-car accident. It was front page of all the newspapers.”
Stella hadn’t thought about this. It must have been quite a story. “Of course, as with any fatal accident, there followed a thorough police investigation by a team of the very best detectives from Scotland Yard.”
“There did?” asked Stella.
“Of course, miss. And after sifting through all the evidence, and interviewing all the witnesses, a team of this country’s finest police detectives concluded there were absolutely no signs of foul play.”
“They said it was just an accident?” asked Stella. The detective was incredibly compelling, and she was slowly coming round to his way of thinking.
“Yes! Yes they did, miss. Without any shadow of a doubt. Not even a shadow of a shadow of a doubt. Or indeed a shadow of a shadow of a shadow of a doubt. And do you know the one person who came out of this whole sorry story as the hero of the hour?”
“No?”
“Your beautiful aunt Alberta.”
The little girl was shocked. Not least at her aunt being described as ‘beautiful’.
“She was the first on the scene of the crime, I mean accident.”
The girl had no idea. “Really?”
Just then the door of the library slowly opened. Stella jumped up out of her seat. Could it be Aunt Alberta?
As the door swung open it revealed Gibbon. The ancient butler entered the room. He was holding his silver tray. A pair of burning slippers was arranged on it. “Your toasted crumpets, Your Royal Highness!” he announced with a flourish. “Let me just put them down on the table for you, sir.” With that Gibbon dropped his tray to the floor, sending hot-buttered slippers flying up into the air. One of the slippers landed in the detective’s lap. It was clearly roasting as he winced in pain.
“Ow!”
As quickly as he could the detective brushed it off his lap and on to the floor.
But Gibbon wasn’t finished yet. “If you require anything else, sir, just ring this bell,” he said, producing an egg timer from the pocket of his dusty frock coat. He balanced the egg timer carefully on the detective’s head. “I will be in the library.”
Then the butler bowed and left the library, closing the door behind him.
An irritated Strauss took the egg timer off his head, and threw it to the floor.
“Don’t mind him, Detective,” said the girl. “That’s just the butler, Gibbon.”
“The man’s an imbecile! He should be taken out and flogged!*”
Stella knew Gibbon was by no means the best butler in the world. In fact he might very well be the worst. Still what Strauss had just said was incredibly harsh.
“Now where were we?” continued the detective, clearly irritated by the interruption.
“Erm, you were telling me that my aunt was first on the scene,” prompted the girl.
“Oh yes, yes, miss. And the wonderful woman tried desperately to revive your father and mother.”
“She did?” The girl was gobsmacked.
“Yes, miss. Sadly there was nothing she could do. They were both killed instantly.”
Stella shuddered at the thought.
“Alberta did manage to save you though. She risked her own life pulling you from the wreckage of the burning car.”
The little girl took this in. “Sorry,” she mumbled. “So sorry, I had absolutely no idea.” The detective seemed to know a lot more about what had happened than she did. Of course the accident had sent Stella into a coma, so it was hardly surprising. But now she was beginning to feel guilty about accusing her aunt.
“Miss, you are very lucky to have an aunt like Alberta. Such a kind and caring lady. Beautiful. Talented. The best auntie in the world. Of course you were in hospital at the time of the funeral, but you should know your aunt spoke with great affection in the church. She clearly loved her poor brother and his wife with all her heart. Ms Alberta even sang a wonderful piece of German opera for all the mourners as the two coffins filed out. She has a truly remarkable singing voice.”
What?! thought the girl. Stella had had the misfortune of hearing her aunt singing many times over the years. It was like the sound of a cat being throttled.
“She brought every single person in the church to tears,” continued the detective. “Probably because her singing was so terrible!” replied the girl.
“That is a wicked thing to say!” barked the detective. “HOW DARE YOU?!”
His anger frightened the little girl and she immediately apologised. “I shouldn’t have said that.”
“You should be ashamed of yourself, miss,” he shouted. “SHE IS A WORLD-CLASS OPERA SINGER!”
Stella felt like bursting into tears. This was turning into quite a telling-off.
“Sorry,” she mumbled.
“You should be! And whatever you do, don’t blub. I cannot abide blubbering nippers. Now where was I…? Oh yes. Two months after the funeral Ms Alberta discharged you herself from the hospital. She knew no one could care for you better than your favourite auntie.”
Despite the power of his words, somehow Stella still wasn’t entirely convinced by the detective. “Then why did she lock me in the coal cellar?”
Strauss looked ruffled for a moment. “Well, I er, I imagine if she did indeed place you there,” he was choosing his words very carefully now, “it must have been for your own good. No doubt you were in shock after finding out your parents had been killed in an accident. Shock can lead people to do very strange things. Perhaps, miss, you were trying to run away from home. Am I right?”
There was no doubt that Strauss was a brilliant detective. He seemed to be able to deduce anything. The man knew the answers to questions he hadn’t asked yet.
“Y-y-yes,” admitted Stella. “I was trying to run away.”
“I thought as much. And in this awful weather you could have caught your death of cold. And we can’t have that now can we, miss?”
“No,” replied the girl.
“Not just yet,” murmured the detective under his breath.
“What did you say?” demanded Stella.
“Nothing, miss,” replied Strauss innocently.
XXIII
Foul Play
“I am sorry, detective,” said Stella as she looked across at him in the library, “but try as I might I can’t quite believe it was just an accident. I think it might be…” she hesitated at first, before saying the word, “murder!”
“Murder indeed?” Strauss tutted. “And what makes you, young miss, so convinced it was foul play?”
Stella took a deep breath and gathered her thoughts. “Listen, Detective Strauss. My aunt made us all a pot of tea on the morning of the accident.”
“What a very kind and caring thing to do,” mused the detective.
“Yes! And completely out of character for her!” snapped the girl.
The detective stroked his luxuriant moustache. “I would be very interested in how you can say Aunt Alberta murdered your parents with a pot of tea? Ha ha ha!” The man laughed uproariously at the thought.
The little girl hesitated for a moment before she replied, “Because I think she laced the tea with poison.”
The detective fell silent for a moment. He gave the girl a cold, hard stare which sent shivers down her spine. “You think or you know?” he demanded.
“I know. I think. I think I know…” Stella was going to pieces now. It was as if it was she who was being interrogated.
“Miss, I hardly need remind you that it is an extremely grave allegation to make.”
Again the girl began to doubt herself. Her version of events started unravelling in her mind like a falling ball of string. However, Stella was sure of one very important thing. “I have read lots of murder mysteries—” she began.
“Oh so this is where all this nonsense is coming from?!” snorted the detective.
“I learned that with most murders the killer has a motive. That’s often how the crime is solved. And my aunt had a very strong motive.”
“A motive, miss?” chuckled Strauss. “You’ll be putting me out of a job! What then could possibly be your aunt’s motive?”
The girl took a deep breath before answering, “She wants this whole house all to herself. She always has. Ever since she was a girl.”
“Oh, is that so, miss?” The detective’s tone was now bitterly sarcastic.
“Yes!” Stella was sure of it. “She keeps on saying I have to sign the deeds to Saxby Hall over to her. Luckily she can’t find them anywhere.”
Strauss shook his head. “Most likely your aunt just wants to take care of everything for you, miss.” The detective had an answer for everything. He hesitated for a moment, before asking Stella, “Of course the deeds would be very useful evidence in this case. You don’t happen to know where they are hidden, do you?”
“No.” Without thinking the girl’s eyes darted over to the shelf of the library where she knew The Tiddlywinks Rulebook was. Stella couldn’t help herself. She was unused to lying, and now was sure she had given away where Papa had hidden the deeds. The girl didn’t trust Detective Strauss. If he knew where the deeds were, he may very well give them to Aunt Alberta. Strangely the man seemed to come crashing down on the woman’s side on everything.
The detective smiled to himself. “Then why did you look over there to the shelf when you said ‘no’, miss?”
“I didn’t!” protested the girl, unable to stop herself glancing back to the book again.
The detective knew a lie when he heard one. He jumped down from the sofa and waddled over to the bookshelves.
“What are you doing?” asked Stella.
“Just browsing through all the books you have here in Saxby Hall,” replied the detective.
“Perhaps I should take you to Papa’s study,” said Stella, gently trying to guide the man out of the library.
“I don’t think so, miss. You run along to the kitchen and bring me back a glass of your best sherry.”
“Now?” gulped Stella.
“Yes. Now!” replied Strauss firmly.
With that he took the girl by her arm and bustled her out of the library, shutting the door behind him with a…
SLAM!
XXIV
Stuffed Owls
Upstairs in Aunt Alberta’s bedroom, Soot was crouched in the corner. The ghost had come into the room down the chimney because the woman always kept her bedroom door locked at night. Soot’s mission was to keep watch over Alberta as she slept, and tell Stella the moment she stirred. If she woke up and caught her niece talking to a detective, there would be hell to pay.
A huge oil painting of Stella’s aunt and Wagner dominated the bedroom in a huge gold frame. On tables and plinths all around her four-poster bed were glass tanks with stuffed owls in them. Owls of every colour and size known to man:
– The miniature Japanese Owl.
– The One-eyed Owl of the Himalayan Mountains or ‘Cyclops Owl’, thought only to exist in legend.
– The Longbilled Amphibious Owl of Antarctica, which can dive to depths of hundreds of feet in search of fish.
– The Prickly Owl, or ‘Owlos Hedgehogius’ to give it its proper Latin name.
– The half pig/half owl ‘Pigowl’.
– The flightless Small-winged Owl of Fiji, ‘Owlus Smallwingius’.
– The Conjoined Twin Owl, or ‘Two-headed Owl’.
– The featherless Welsh Owl, ‘Owlus Baldius’.
– The three-footed ‘Tripod Owl’.
– The Furry Arctic Owl, not to be confused with an Arctic roll.*
It was a deeply sinister sight, even for a ghost, all these magnificent creatures suspended forever in death. The tanks also depicted various woodland scenes, and the birds were all arranged in dramatic poses. One was perched on a branch stretching its wings to fly. Another had a stuffed mouse in its talons. Others were increasingly bizarre:
– An owl playing the xylophone.
– Two owls enjoying a game of badminton.
– One in ice skates.
– Owls fencing.
– Two owls riding a tiny tandem.
– Another in lederhosen performing a traditional Bavarian beer-festival dance.
– A miniature owl astride a pony in a full jockey’s outfit.
– An owl dressed as the World War One German flying ace, the Red Baron.
– A pair of owls ballroom dancing.
– An owl breakdancing. This was especially peculiar as breakdancing wasn’t invented until the late 1970s.
It would have been clear to anyone who visited Aunt Alberta’s bedroom that this woman was completely loopy. In fact not just ‘loopy’, more ‘loopy-loo’. Perhaps even ‘loopy-loo-loo’*.
From the far side of the room, Soot could see a figure tucked up under the covers of Alberta’s gigantic four-poster bed. Poking out from under the blankets was a head, still sporting the woman’s distinctive deer-stalker hat. The sound of snoring was so loud it made the furniture shudder.
After Soot’s eyes had roamed around the room they returned to where the figure was sleeping. Just then, he noticed something very strange. Where the woman’s foot should have been poking out from under the covers, was a set of talons.
Soot tiptoed over to the bed. Slowly and gently he lifted the blanket, to reveal a huge feathered beast.
It wasn’t Aunt Alberta lying there.
It was Wagner!
XXV
Biting the Air
Soot shrieked, waking up the huge bird.
If there is one thing you must know about the Great Bavarian Mountain Owl, it’s that the species is not good in the mornings. Oh no. They are by nature nocturnal creatures, so once they go to sleep, they prefer to doze until the afternoon, potter around a bit, have a very late breakfast or brunch, preen their feathers for a while, catch up with the latest owl news, all before they really do anything.
Wake up a Great Bavarian Mountain Owl before noon at your peril.
That’s exactly what the unfortunate boy did.
The bird squawked violently at Soot, and hopped up from the bed. He bounced up and down for a short while, trying to peck peck peck at the little ghost. Next the bird flapped his huge wings and took to the air. He chased the boy all around Alberta’s bedroom squawking and trying to grab him with his sharp talons.
“AAAAAAAAAHH!” screamed Soot, as he tried desperately to fend the bird off. He rushed to the door. It was locked.
The owl was pecking at Soot even more ferociously now with his razor-sharp bill.
Like a mouse trapped in a house the boy scuttled around the edges of the room. This was no use, the bird simply dive-bombed him from above. Desperately Soot started trying to hide behind the glass cabinets, but the owl tossed them aside with his powerful wings. Stuffed owls crashed through the glass and on to the floor. It was a macabre sight. Soon Aunt Alberta’s bedroom was a mess of broken cabinets, smashed glass and stuffed owls – in strange outfits.
Frantically Soot reached for the nearest object he could find. This happened to be a tiddlywinks set. He lifted it high above his head and crashed it into Wagner’s face, sending multicoloured discs flying through the air.
But the great owl kept coming.
Soot had to escape. The only way out was the way he came in. The boy dashed towards the fireplace, and started trying to scrabble up the chimney.
“Aaargh!” he screamed.
The owl had grabbed hold of Soot’s foot with his bill and was tugging him back down. With his other foot Soot landed a sharp blow on the bird’s head and his bill snapped open to squawk.
Soot then scrambled up the chimney. With the fireplace well below him he felt safe for a moment. That oversized bird was giving him the screamin’ abdabs*! But surely he couldn’t follow him up here?
