02 - Flight of Fancy Read Online Free

back.
    “Now, I’ve been rambling on, I
do apologise, I must get to the mystery at hand. You see, I was trying to paint
a picture of them for you. I know detectives lay a good deal of stock on a person’s
character and manner when making their case.”
    “Sometimes.” Clara answered
noncommittally, she was hoping the expectant crowd were not anticipating a
clear-cut solution from her.
    “So, let’s spin on a decade or
two. Last time I saw Uncle Goddard alive was in 1908. I was twenty-one and just
finished from university, having utterly failed my maths exams. I was on
somewhat of a retreat from life, not really knowing what I was going to do and
quite depressed with myself. Remarkably, old Goddard and Flo proved to be
sympathetic to my peril. I remember Goddard spending all his time talking with
me, trying to fix up my future. I felt quite rotten for messing up everybody’s
expectations, but Goddard wouldn’t let me feel sorry for myself. I’m afraid I
blew my top with him a few times, was determined to hate myself and didn’t like
being told to buck up. Regret it now of course, in fact, regretted it at the
time and always meant to apologise, just never got around to it. Then it was
October and I was back off to London to face my seemingly doomed future –
though not as bad as I thought in the end – and just over a week later we had
the news Goddard was dead.
    “Of course, they hid the fact
of the missing corpse. They even had a funeral with an empty casket. Quite incredible.
I probed auntie Flo for the details, I was pretty obnoxious about it really,
still was carrying around the guilt of not apologising to him before he died I
suppose. Anyway, she told me they had just finished dinner in the dining room
as usual, Colonel Brandt, here, was their guest.”
    “Indeed I was!” The colonel
gave a toast to the air with his glass in agreement.
    “And Goddard said he was just
going outside for a cigar, auntie Flo wouldn’t let him smoke in the house
because she said it stained the wallpaper.” O’Harris continued, “Out he
trotted, down the terrace steps, between the formal roses and barely a minute
passes and, thump ! They hear him fall and, well, actually the colonel
should tell this bit.”
    The colonel suddenly looked
flustered at being handed the reins of the story, but rose to the challenge
valiantly.
    “As Captain O’Harris said I was
sitting at the dining table having just finished a lovely lamb and onion pie
and feeling quite nicely full, I might add, cook in those days was extraordinary.
The lightest of pastry-makers, oh yes! In fact I remember that pie almost as
clearly as the events that followed it. I was just dabbing some gravy from my
coat jacket and listening to Florence remarking on the state of the military,
not quite up to the standards of when Goddard was an officer, when we heard
this thud. Sort of a clatter, then a thud. Like someone stumbling into
something and then falling. Well I look at Florence and she looks at me and
then we both jump up and run to the window, and there is old Goddard face down
on the path between the roses.
    “We ran down the steps towards
him and rolled him over. His eyes were popping out his skull and his mouth
gaped. There was no doubt he was dead, though I listened for a heartbeat
nonetheless. Florence was shaken, but she was always stoical. Most women would
have screamed seeing their dead husband lying on the ground, but she got to her
feet and said she would fetch a doctor. She was racing back towards the house
before I could tell her there was no point.
    “Oh, but the more I looked at
wretched Goddard, the more I felt it was all horribly wrong. I know the rumours
were that he was ill, perhaps his heart gave out, you might argue, but it was
the look on his face. I don’t know, there was something there that chilled me.
Like that old legend of seeing the face of a murderer reflected in his victim’s
eyes for a few moments after death. I just knew