Chapter 3
Under The Bed With A Naked Detective?
"I'll make us tea, if you'd like." I offer, rising from the couch without waiting for a reply.
This is the second day I've been here, and so far all he's done is leave without telling me where he's going and look through old cases. As if he's making sure he didn't miss anything.
I enter the kitchen for the third time since I've been here. He has no servants, and he's been living alone all this time.
I reach above the sink, searching for the tea-kettle. No, coffee mugs. Next, plates. Then, wineglasses.
Wait... Something about these glasses seems very... Familiar. And yet, off at the same time. The cupboard is full of them, the matching wineglasses. All of them are exactly alike the other, and it's completely full of them... Except for one space on the top, the second last one. It's missing. Missing... Missing...
The word spins through my head. Mr. Burns had one exactly like these, and there were obviously (At least obvious to me.) that there were two glasses. One, however, disappeared. Could it be one of these? The other one, the missing one, was the one he was holding. I'm sure of it. I reach into the hidden pocket on inside of my dress, taking out a notepad and pen. I jolt down the new evidence, then hide it away again.
The next cupboard contains the tea set, and I quickly set to work.
Once I return to the den, I set it down gently on the coffee table. "Oh..." I blink. "I forgot the sugar, I'll be-" As I turn to walk back to the kitchen, I trip over something and fall to the floor. I land hard on my hands and knees, crying out softly.
Len quickly jumps up from the couch, kneeling by my side and attempting to help me up. "Are you alright?" He asks, and I wink in pain as I rise.
"Of course, it was just a trip." I glance down at the floor to see what I fell over. It's just a loose floorboard, that's all. How silly of me not to see it earlier.
"Are you sure-" He stops, frowning. "You're bleeding. Come with me." He commands, and I follow him into the bathroom.
He sits me down on the side of the bathtub, and opens the cabinet under the sink.
He takes out a cloth and bandage, wetting the cloth slightly from the sink.
He begins dabbing the small cut on my knee, and I pretend to find it amusing. "Don't be silly, I can do that myself." I reach to take the cloth from him, and he pulls it away.
"I don't mind."
I stare at him, wide-eyed before remembering to keep my face still. But I'm still surprised. That's very kind of him to do, I suppose... I should thank him.
He puts the cloth away and wraps my knee in the bandage. "Does it hurt to walk?" He asks, pulling me to my feet.
I smile quickly before returning my face to normal. "I'm fine. Thank you, you didn't have to do that."
"It was no trouble. Come, let's have the tea."
Later that night, after having changed into pajamas (Me a long black nightgown, him simple black-fabric pants and a black-button-up shirt.), he's showing me around his home some.
He leads me into a music room, and instantly goes to the violin. "I used to play for people privately." He states, smiling.
I watch and listen as he begins to play. The melody is slow, sweet, and somewhat...
Familiar. I know I've heard this before... But where? I know it's something I've heard, a long time ago. It's so sweet, and yet sad... It's beautiful... Images appear in my mind, memories.
My mother, so sweet and kind, and me, very young at the time. I hear the melody playing, but where am I?
Suddenly, it stops, and he puts the violin down, snapping me from my daze. "Are you alright?" He asks, touching my arm. "You look troubled."
I do? I let my expression drop back to neutral. "I'm fine, that song... It sounded familiar is all. It's late, I think I need to retreat."
"Go ahead, you can find your way, yes?" He asks, and I nod.
"Of course." I turn away, leaving him to return to that hauntingly beautiful song.
Once there, I slide into my bed, under the covers.
Something has to be wrong with me, being so comfortable around him that I lose my face... And I never, I mean never lose my face...
It's probably just that I've been spending so much time around him, when I'm used to being alone. I'm not used to the company, I tell myself.
I blow out the candle next to my bed, and lay back.
After laying still for about two hours, I get back out of bed and push my door open quietly and slowly.
I creep out into the hallway, satisfied that he's not upstairs when I hear music drifting up from down there.
I quickly make my way down the hallway, checking room after room after room, until I come to his.
I pause here. Is this taking it too far? I mean, yes, I'm investigating him, but is it too far to search his bedroom? What am I thinking? He's a suspect, this is a case.
I push the door open the rest of the way and enter, moving to the dresser first.
I search all the drawers, not finding anything interesting. I move to the bed, dropping to my knees and searching under it quickly. Again, nothing. Now, the closet. I pull it open and kneel on the floor, finding nothing but shoes and a coat.
Wait... The coat, it's rolled up, like it's hiding something. I carefully unwrap it, noting how it was before so I can return it. Inside is a vial. I open it, and a strong smell overcomes me quickly. It's spicy, and so, so familiar. Where have I smelled this before? It's sort of a sweet, spicy... I know it from somewhere, and I have the feeling it's important. But what? What is it?
I wrap the jacket back up, but grasp the vial in my hand.
After tucking away the jacket again, I close the closet doors and leave his bedroom.
Stepping into the hallway, I realize the music has stopped.
Then, I realize something terrifying. He's coming up the stairs...
Panicking, I do the stupidest thing possible. I run back into his room, and drop to the floor, rolling underneath his bed and trying hard to silence my breathing as he enters the bedroom.
He walks over to the dresser, and I stifle a gasp as I realize he's stripping.
I close my eyes and turn my head to the floor, looking up only after realizing he's still in his boxers.
I can see him, all of him. He's toned, surprisingly. He's always wearing loose clothing, it's just surprising what's underneath.
I shake my head, turning my eyes to the floor. It's bad enough that I'm in his bedroom, but it's even worse that I'm in a nightgown and he's nearly naked.
Suddenly, he drops to his hands and knees onto the floor and looks under the bed, smiling at me.
I gasp, forgetting where I am as I try and jump up.
I hit my head, then roll out from under the bed.
I hide the vial behind my back as he stands and stares at me, the same smile on his face. "Why were you under my bed?" He asks, making no effort to cover himself, even though he's in underwear.
I blush, averting my eyes. "I'm sorry, it's a force of habit. I..." I think as quickly as I can, still blushing. "I was looking for the bathroom, but couldn't remember where the one up here was. When I heard you coming up the stairs, it was just a force of habit to hide, because I thought if you saw me you'd be angry that I had looked in your room." I lie, turning back to him and meeting his eyes.
Eye contact is a sign of truth, and I need him to believe me.
"Well, it's three doors down on the other wall." He states, smiling still, as if nothing happened.
"Th- Thank you! And I'm sorry I was in here, I may need to make a map of this place, haha!" I force a laugh, and reach my other hand behind me to grasp the doorknob.
"Sure." He replies, his smile contorting into a smirk. "And if you wanted to see me naked, you could have asked." He says, then laughs, his smirk fading.
It takes me a second to realize it's a joke, and I laugh. A real laugh, not forced...
I pull open the door and step out. "Goodnight, and sorry again." I say, shutting the door.
I let out a quiet sigh of relief.
He bought it.
I turn and run back to my room, pulling the door shut and jumping into my bed.
I take my notepad out from under my pillow and jolt down the peculiar-smelling vial before hiding both the notepad and glass container underneath it.
Then, I lay down and close my eyes.
This was a close, close call.
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