Read Online The Estate Murder: A Cozy Mystery (The Witch Mysteries) by Kristal Wales - Free Book Online
Book: The Estate Murder: A Cozy Mystery (The Witch Mysteries) by Kristal Wales
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Authors: Kristal Wales
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Chapter 1
Mr. Sherwood Martin finished dusting off the last relic in the old glass case. Among the artifacts was a chicken claw gnarled in an appearance reminiscent of arthritis, a book bound in soft brown leather, a half melted candle made with beeswax in its natural golden color, and last, a gown made of layer upon layer of the finest silk. The gown was the true centerpiece of the artifacts. It held pride of place on a dressmaker’s mannequin in the center of the case, while the other three artifacts were housed on separate shelves to the left of the gown.
The rest of the shelves in the encasements held similar artifacts, but these four were the only items left that the old Martin cared about. It was a job of pride for him, to be responsible for housing these antiques from the house of the old Fontaine Estate. When it came down to it, though, there was really no one else for the job. Martin was the only one who remembered what had happened so many years ago, when he was just a boy.
As he closed the glass with a soft click, he turned to the library behind him. He thought he saw a shadow out of the corner of his eye, just at the door leading to the west wing of the great manse.
“Hello,” He called out, his voice was rough with old age, and his hands curled with touches of arthritis. He walked, taking his time, toward the locked door that led to his quarters. He saw nothing out of the ordinary there.
The estate was a huge one, and only the great hall was occupied by the library and the family museum. The west wing had a small set of rooms which were kept warm by a fire he tirelessly kept stoked, and the rest was cordoned off. He heard nothing, but that wasn’t anything new. His hearing had been off for several years by now. As Martin made his way slowly to the front door to set the alarm, then slowly back to the door to his quarters, he wondered how much longer he’d be able to serve as acting caretaker. He had very little money stored up, himself. The trust that kept the estate running allowed for a meager salary and his rooms for free.
When Veronica Fontaine had set up the trust, before marrying and moving away, she had arranged for Martin to be able to stay in the house. She was quite fond of Martin, as she had been of his father before him. The two had known each other almost all of their lives, and Veronica felt it was the least she could do to keep him on as caretaker once the huge abode no longer housed the Fontaine family.
True, Veronica was loyal, but it was Claire Fontaine, Veronica’s older sister, that held Martin’s fancy. She had been beautiful, dark, and mysterious. She was no longer among the living, though, Martin sighed as he delved into the finer details of the trust budget, wondering how much longer his brain would keep up. Once more, he saw the shadow pass by, just in his periphery. This time the shadow came in conjunction with a loud bang.
Startled, blood pumping faster in his veins, he dropped his pen to the table and struggled to release the catch on the underside of the desk which held a loaded revolver. Before he was able to wrap his fingers around the trigger, the shadow rose before him. He felt a clenching in his chest, and with a gasp, he fell sideways out of his seat, metal revolver plopping to the ground, landing soundlessly on the rug beside him
------
The scarlet bird squawked loudly as Cassidy Farin walked the length of the living room once more. She had been pacing for the better part of the hour and Kairi, the bird, was uneasy.
“Oh, hush, Bird,” Cassidy said, though her voice was soft.
“Oh, hush, Bird,” The birdie voice repeated, in a hurried mumble. Then she said, “Step up, step up, Cassidy, step up.”
Cassidy
Mr. Sherwood Martin finished dusting off the last relic in the old glass case. Among the artifacts was a chicken claw gnarled in an appearance reminiscent of arthritis, a book bound in soft brown leather, a half melted candle made with beeswax in its natural golden color, and last, a gown made of layer upon layer of the finest silk. The gown was the true centerpiece of the artifacts. It held pride of place on a dressmaker’s mannequin in the center of the case, while the other three artifacts were housed on separate shelves to the left of the gown.
The rest of the shelves in the encasements held similar artifacts, but these four were the only items left that the old Martin cared about. It was a job of pride for him, to be responsible for housing these antiques from the house of the old Fontaine Estate. When it came down to it, though, there was really no one else for the job. Martin was the only one who remembered what had happened so many years ago, when he was just a boy.
As he closed the glass with a soft click, he turned to the library behind him. He thought he saw a shadow out of the corner of his eye, just at the door leading to the west wing of the great manse.
“Hello,” He called out, his voice was rough with old age, and his hands curled with touches of arthritis. He walked, taking his time, toward the locked door that led to his quarters. He saw nothing out of the ordinary there.
The estate was a huge one, and only the great hall was occupied by the library and the family museum. The west wing had a small set of rooms which were kept warm by a fire he tirelessly kept stoked, and the rest was cordoned off. He heard nothing, but that wasn’t anything new. His hearing had been off for several years by now. As Martin made his way slowly to the front door to set the alarm, then slowly back to the door to his quarters, he wondered how much longer he’d be able to serve as acting caretaker. He had very little money stored up, himself. The trust that kept the estate running allowed for a meager salary and his rooms for free.
When Veronica Fontaine had set up the trust, before marrying and moving away, she had arranged for Martin to be able to stay in the house. She was quite fond of Martin, as she had been of his father before him. The two had known each other almost all of their lives, and Veronica felt it was the least she could do to keep him on as caretaker once the huge abode no longer housed the Fontaine family.
True, Veronica was loyal, but it was Claire Fontaine, Veronica’s older sister, that held Martin’s fancy. She had been beautiful, dark, and mysterious. She was no longer among the living, though, Martin sighed as he delved into the finer details of the trust budget, wondering how much longer his brain would keep up. Once more, he saw the shadow pass by, just in his periphery. This time the shadow came in conjunction with a loud bang.
Startled, blood pumping faster in his veins, he dropped his pen to the table and struggled to release the catch on the underside of the desk which held a loaded revolver. Before he was able to wrap his fingers around the trigger, the shadow rose before him. He felt a clenching in his chest, and with a gasp, he fell sideways out of his seat, metal revolver plopping to the ground, landing soundlessly on the rug beside him
------
The scarlet bird squawked loudly as Cassidy Farin walked the length of the living room once more. She had been pacing for the better part of the hour and Kairi, the bird, was uneasy.
“Oh, hush, Bird,” Cassidy said, though her voice was soft.
“Oh, hush, Bird,” The birdie voice repeated, in a hurried mumble. Then she said, “Step up, step up, Cassidy, step up.”
Cassidy
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