Free Peril at Somner House by Joanna Challis

Seven
    â€œ You. Paint?”
    Laughing uproariously, Angela ducked her head out of our bedroom door for the fifth time. “She’s still in there. Honestly, how long does it take to clean one’s teeth?”
    I was still piqued by her denouncing my painting before I even started.
    â€œI’m sorry, Daph,” she reneged. “Paint if you must but what you should really be doing is working on your novel. You’ll never be published otherwise. Books won’t write themselves.”
    She often liked to toss that jeer at me. She, the elder, the learned, the experienced sister.
    I read a little of her latest work. She had just composed a scene where two girls traverse through a creepy part of the woods together, guided by an owl. Upon encountering a wolf, the owl screeches a warning before flying off to leave the girls to face the wolf alone. There’s no knight to protect them and the odds look grim. “How does it end?” I asked, breathless, enthralled, and more than a little envious.
    â€œThey kill the wolf, but I haven’t worked out that part yet. This one’s a short. Did you finish your short?”
    â€œNot yet.” I hurried over to my notebook but she reached it first and began flicking through, spilling open to the page where Max’s name was circled with a question mark. “What’s this?”
    â€œRandom observations,” I replied, thrusting out my hand for the book’s prompt return.
    Ignoring me, she spun around, reading every scrap on the page from every angle. “Sir Marcus is a grown man but you ought to show a little restraint, you know. Yes, the murder concerns us all but there is a time when we must allow the proper authorities to conduct the case and leave it to their judgment. You two are heading into trouble.” The motherly scolding didn’t sound like Angela at all. “Mr. Fernald, I agree, is an underling, but we have no business poking our noses around. It might upset Kate. Have you or Sir Marcus thought of her amongst your random plans to pillage the place for the murderer?”
    No, I was loath to admit we hadn’t.
    â€œI know what you’re going to say next.” Angela waved her little finger. “You’re going to tell me Kate was having an affair with Josh Lissot at the time and is glad Max is dead. But that isn’t so. She loved Max, in her own bizarre way. It’s why she stayed with him all those years.”
    I shook my head.
    â€œWhat’s your assessment, then?” Flicking back to where my short story loomed, half finished, the words scribbled across the pages in splendid disarray, she chuckled. “My, my, you do have a penchant for melodramatic overtures, don’t you?” Snapping the book shut, she tossed it back to me.
    I felt my face grow hot. It may not be as good as your story,but one day I will write something that even you will admire. “I haven’t reached an assessment yet, but I do think Max was murdered by someone close to him.”
    â€œHere at Somner? In the house?”
    â€œOr someone close to it, on the grounds.”
    Angela nodded, yet her face remained blank as if her thoughts strayed elsewhere. She soon disappeared to the bathroom while I went outside to sit on the balcony. I took my notebook with me, still hurt by Angela’s comments on my work. What was wrong with a melodramatic story? Was not Romeo and Juliet a melodramatic success?
    â€œAhoy!”
    Blinking as a pebble whished past my head to hit the window beside me, I detected a grinning Sir Marcus below.
    â€œDo I do a good Romeo?”
    I leaned over the balcony. “You could have hit my head, you know.”
    He shrugged. “The occupation has its hazards. What do you think of my outfit?”
    He twirled around, clad in a full cape and painter’s cap.
    â€œVery nice. Where did you get those?” I pointed to the palette hooked under his arm.
    â€œKatie girl. She