Love Potion No. 9 (Dead Reckoning series - Part 19)

Continued from Episode 18 (My Girl and Me)

The story so far:   Josiah, having rekindled a romance with an old flame, Jeanette DeVille, has apparently disappeared since his supper with her at Evanley Hall last Saturday.  Samantha and Archibald have failed to interest the police in the case, so Samantha has persuaded Archibald (much against his will) to travel up to Evanley Hall and see if he can find out what happened:

 

Archibald folded his arms over the top of the steering wheel and rested his chin on the result.  There wasn’t really much else to do, given the stationary nature of the traffic.  He sighed and watched a bit of sweet wrapper, caught by the wind, spiralling and dancing across the carriageways.

In some ways, he wasn’t too concerned about being stuck in a traffic jam.  At least it put off the awful moment when he would, eventually, arrive at Evanley Hall and have to decide what the heck it was that he was going to do.  On the other hand, he could think of better things to do than be stuck in a black limousine that was getting steadily warmer as the day progressed.

Bored, he pressed the button on the radio, something he would never have dared to do if Josiah Oakshott had been present.

“Ok” said a cheerful radio voice, “well you’ve got thirty seconds to say your ‘hello’s’, starting from…now…”

“Oh, for…” He remembered where he was and modified his language, “…pete’s sake!”  He stabbed at the button and the radio fell silent.  ‘Why do they have to do that?  It’s so ruddy boring!’ He grumbled.  He remembered that Mr. O. had said that, people like to hear their names read out on the radio, but he wasn’t convinced.  ‘If he’d have said ‘Archibald Thurble’ amongst all that lot, I’m not sure I’d have noticed’ He reflected.  He calculated that thirty seconds must have elapsed, so he tried the radio again:

“particiipantsmustbe18oroverfulltsandcsapplyandcanbefoundonourwebsitewww.conartists.com…”

A voice gabbled.  He stabbed the button again. ‘How come, whenever you turn on a commercial radio station, it’s always during an advert?’ He moaned, ‘and where do they get these people who can talk that fast?  Or do they just say it normally and then speed it up?’  The verbal equivalent of small print and just as understandable, he thought.  He decided to give it one more go:

“and make sure you answer within five rings and, don’t forget, you must say ‘Give Me The Dosh’ and we will transfer £250,000 straight to your bank account…”

“Flamin’ hell!” He chuntered, and switched off the radio, once more.  ‘I reckon it’s cruel’ He thought, ‘I mean, what if you heard it ringing and just didn’t make it in time, eh?  What would you feel like?  Or you did pick it up and then just said ‘Hello’ out of habit!  You’d never be able to live with yourself, would you?  I mean, they picked your ruddy phone number out of the hat, so you’ve won the ruddy raffle when all’s said and done, so why should you have to jump through all these hoops to claim the prize that should be yours in the first place?’  He suspected that Mr. O. would have an answer, although he knew the answer he’d get if he ever found out he’d been listening to the radio, in work’s time, in a company vehicle.

“About flamin’ time!” He announced, as the cars in front started moving, again.  Soon, he was speeding along, once more and, although he looked everywhere, there was no evidence of any reason for the hold-up.

Half an hour later, he was negotiating the narrow streets of Evanley village, again.  Everything looked quite bright and cheerful, in stark contrast to his mood.  He even thought, it must be nice to live in a neat and tidy place like this.  Not that his Nan would be too chuffed, given that the pub seemed to have shut down.  Easing out of Evanley itself, he came to the turn off, down the narrow and overgrown country lane, that led to Evanley Hall.

His mood, already pretty dark, took a dramatic turn for the worse as he spied the hand painted notice:

“IF YOU KILL MY KITTENS, I’LL KILL YOU!”

In bright red, amidst the gloom of the overhanging trees.

‘I wonder if anyone has?’ He thought, grimly.

For reasons that he would have been hard pushed to articulate, he decided against driving right up to the Hall, as he and Mr. O. had done on their first visit, and decided instead to park up on the lane and walk up.  Locking the car, close to the ominous sign, he could hear a fearful banging and clattering coming from the small, decrepit cottage, partially hidden by the overgrown garden in front of it.  He scuttled up the lane, looking back over his shoulder from time to time, in the direction of the din.

Finally, across the cattle grid and onto the gravel drive, he breathed a sigh of relief.  The Hall was imposing and definitely daunting but was as nothing compared to that dark track he’d just come from.  That gave him the willies!

He looked at the grand front door but decided against that. 

Working his way around the house, hugging the wall as if trying to escape rather than enter, he made it, eventually, to the garden.  There, as he had hoped, he spied Precious, at work with some secateurs.

“Ha!  Take that you devil!” He heard her say, as a shoot fell to the ground.

He coughed, politely, and said, “Precious?”

She jumped and turned toward him, with a very startled look.

“Archie!” She gasped, eyes wide with astonishment, “What are you doing here?”

“I just thought I’d come and see you?” Archibald lied, and shrugged.

“You shouldn’t be here!” She looked panic-stricken and her eyes flitted from side to side.

“I thought you’d be pleased” Archibald said, in a hurt tone.

“I am, of course I am” Precious said, without much conviction, “but Mama does not approve of uninvited guests”

“Well, I don’t have to come in, or owt” Archibald flapped his arms, “I’m fine out here, honest!”

“Yes, but…NO!” She suddenly yelled, looking over his shoulder.

Archibald whirled around, but there was nothing and no-one behind him, although he had the impression that someone had slipped behind one of the bushes.

“Who was that?” Archibald asked.

“No-one!” Precious shook her head, “No-one at all.  Come with me, we must take tea”

“Where to you want to take it?” Archibald frowned.

“Oh, you are funny!” She tapped his shoulder with her secateurs, playfully, and led the way toward a pergola where there was small table with a teapot and two cups and saucers.

“You expecting someone?” Archibald nodded toward the table.

“Oh no, I…” She blushed a little, “I have little tea parties, you see.  Just me and my doll, Jeannie” She reached down, under the table, and produced a doll, about three foot in length, with wild hair and a crazed expression.  It looked like something that Archibald had only ever seen in nightmares and horror movies.  “You must think me foolish” She blushed again.

“No, no” Archibald shook his head, “like me Nan says, it wouldn’t do for us all to be the same”

“I’m sure that’s very wise” Precious sat down and indicated for Archibald to do the same.  “Shall I be ‘mother’” She enquired.

“Well, I dunno!” Archibald looked puzzled, “Depends what you’ve been up to, I suppose?”

“Oh, you are a one!” Precious giggled, “Do you take sugar?”

“Just a couple, please” Archibald nodded.

Precious reached into one of her voluminous sleeves and produced what looked very much like a test tube.  She uncorked it and poured a little of the white powder into Archibald’s cup.

“Looks like a test tube?” He noted.

“It does, doesn’t it?” Precious held it up, as If noticing for the first time, “Well, drink up!” She raised her cup and took a dainty sip.  Archibald took a swig from his.

“Have you seen owt of Mr. O.?” He asked, replacing the cup on the saucer.

“Mr. O.?” Precious frowned, “you mean, your employer?”

“Yeah, he came up here for dinner with your mam and we haven’t seen him since.”  Archibald was aware of a buzzing in his ears.

“How peculiar!” Precious sipped her tea.

“You don’t know where he went to, do you?” That buzzing was much louder, now, and Precious was looking decidedly fuzzy.

“Well, all I can say is that he’s not here, right now, is he?” Precious gave a nervous little laugh, “Are you feeling alright, Archie?”

“You’re looking a bit fuzzy!” Archibald slurred.

“Ah yes, that would be the powder” Precious nodded, “Night, night, Archie” Her sweet smile was the last thing he saw, as he slid from the chair onto the lawn, below.

Now read Part 20