Intoxication by RedKite (early readers .txt) 📖

window, amazed. He had proably never laid his eyes on a more melancholy sight than Blackhurst manor.
In the past few days the weather had changed considerably, as is often the custom of British weather, becoming a lot more typical of November. The leaves had just left the trees, and the place looked dead. How perfectly it matched the events.
The carriage drew to a halt outside the entrance. Katriona opened the door, jumped out, and ran into the house, closely followed by Arthur Strand. She ran up the stairs to Emmilene's nursery, calling for Ellen Court.
"Ellen, Ellen!" she cried, flying through the door. Ellen turned, her eyes wide. She caught Katriona's arms just before she flew into her. Katriona lifted her head at Ellen, panting heaily, her hair unruly. She calmed.
"Ellen Court! I have a very important question for you, one worth travelling for a couple of days up from London to ask you in person. It will determine the direction of this case, so please try to answer in as much detail as possible."
"Fire away, Katriona," she answered, sounding worried.
"What are the names of Emmilene Davis' parents?" ased Katriona. She stared at Ellen intently the way she so often did, the room quiet.
"Peter and Natalie Davis." answered Ellen carefully. "Why?"
Katriona sank down onto a chair. This was beginning to get too much. Natalie Deanswood was Emmilene Davis' mother.
"Emmilene's mother, Natalie, was found dead in her hotel room after her party, with no apparent cause attached, just like her daughter. She died at the exact same instant."
"Good Lord!" cried Ellen, her hand flying to her mouth. It was only then when Katriona had fully recovered that she decided to ask where Emmilene's body was.
"Where is the child's body now?" she asked.
"It's been sent to Leeds mortuary, Katriona. It's the nearest major mortuary. That was yesterday. The body was beginning to smell. Iv'e arranged for one of the pathologists there to wire you when they have any results."
"That was thoughtful. Thank you."
At that moment footsteps approached, and Arthur Stand arrived at the door.
"There you are, Miss DeLeon, I've been looking everywhere for you! I lost you on the stairs you ran so fast. What is going on?"
"And who is this?" enquired Ellen Court.
"Ellen Court, Arthur Stand. Arthur Strand, Ellen Court. Can we press on?" said Katriona tiredly.
"Who is he?" ased Ellen suspiciously.
"Arthur Strand was a friend of Natalie Davis, Ellen. Mr Strand, Ellen was the nurserymaid of the late Emmilene Davis, the murdered girl. Natalie's child."
"Ah, that explains a lot. Delighted to meet you", he said, flashing Ellen a dashing smile. She flushed.
"Is there still no sign of Peter Davis?" said Katriona.
"No", replied Ellen. "His buisness trip is not due back untill... Dear God! It's today!"
"Hang on... Everyone, quiet for a minute!" said Arthur Strand. "Listen! That sounds like horses!" They all rushed to the window.
"Yes, that's the master's carriage all right, said Ellen. Arthur grinned at Katriona.
"What a coincedence," he smiled. Katriona glared back at him. Ellen began to panic.
"What shall I say?!" she siad, worried.
"Leave it to me," said Katriona. "I've delt with situations like this before. Although not exactly on this scale," she murmered mor quietly to herself. They could hear the carriage drawing up to the open door. Tension grew as the footsteps advanced up the stairs. At last,a figure appeared in the doorway. A young man, with blond hair and a matching moustache. Peter Davis.
"What the hell is going on?" he askedf. "Ellen, I expect better! The door wide open, and... Who are these people, and where are Emmilene and Natalie?"
"Sir," Katriona stepped forward. "I am Detective Katriona DeLeon, and I regret to inform you that your wife and daughter have been murdered."
"What?!" cried Davis. "No! It can't be! Natalie! My poor Emmilene!" He turned deathly pale. Seeing he was about to faint, Katriona guided him to a chair. Peter Davis stared at Arthur Strand.
"And who are you?" he asked.
"I am Arthur Strand. I was a friend of your wife's."
"Oh, were you?" he answered. "How come she's never mentioned you?"
"Please, Gentleman, now is not the time!" pleaded Ellen.
"How is it they died?" asked Peter Davis.
"We're still trying to figure that out," replied Katriona. "Look, I have to go home. I have a lot playing on my mind, riddles begging to be solved. I need to shut them up. Besides, I think you need some time to let this tragic infomation sink in, Mr Davis. Good evening to you."
"Wait!" said Arthur Strand. "Where am I to sleep?! I can't go back to London tonight, even if I wanted to!" Katriona rolled her eyes.
"I suppose you can stay with me for a night," she said.
Bidding them all goodnight, Katriona turned, with Arthur Strand on her heels, and stalked out the door.


Katriona walked along the South Penine moors back to her house. The sun was just setting, the sky blood red over the barren yet beautiful landscape. Arthur Strand walked next to her, seeming intent on being involved in her case.
"So, have you worked out how the Davises died?"
"I have a good idea." replied Katriona.
"Really?! You sound a lot like Sherlock Holmes! Surely you have read Dr. Watson and Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's memoirs in the Strand magazine?" enquired Arthur.
"Oh yes, I have." Katriona smiled. "I think we're quite alike, atually, I just don't brag or mention my deductions so much. I'm quieter, in that sense."
"I see. I am sure that the day you meet Sherlock Holmes will be the day the Great Detective meets his match."
"You flatter me too much." They walked for a bit in silence. Eventurely Arthur Strand spoke, trying to fill the gap in the conversation.
"So... Are you from Yorkshire?"
"Yes", Katriona replied. "Born and bred. Are you a Londoner then?"
"I am indeed," said Arthur Strand. "I would love to live in Yorkshire though. It's a beautiful county."
"That is true." Katriona smiled. Arthur Strand took a deep breath.
"Miss DeLeon... I... When this case is over,I don't want to go back to London." Katriona turned to face him. "You have introduced me to the world of crime solving, and I don't want to go back to everyday life."
"What is everday life, exactly?" asked Katriona.
"I'm an accountant," he replied. Katriona smiled to herself. Of course, you could hardly get more everyday than having that as a job.
"Listen, Miss DeLeon, I could get a place nearby, and I'm sure I could find an extra job in some town like Haworth and Keighly."
Katriona turned to him, puzzled. "Mr Strand, what exactly are you tring to say?" Arthur Strand took another deep breath, looking embarrassed.
"Would you consider... Taking me on as your assistant? An apprentice, if you like. I'll try and assit you as much as I can."
Katriona frowned at him. Gradually her glare disappeared, and her face was lit up by a smile.
"Well, if we are to be collegues, we need to go by our first names." She held out her hand towards Strand. "Arthur, call me Katriona."


The next day, Katriona DeLeon sat in her armchair, reading the Strand magazine. The previous night's conversation had wetted her appetite once again for the detective stories which reminded her so much of her own life. She glanced across the room, over to the sofa where Arthur Strand slept. He had not yet awoke, and he lay there, snoring away to his heart's content. Katriona smiled. What an idiot he looked! There was a knock at the door. She opened it.
"Telegram for you ma'am," said the boy.
"Thank you kindly," said Katriona, pressing the shilling into the boy's palm. With a delighted snile on his face, the boy scampered off. Katriona unfoled the telegram. It read,

HAVE RESULTS FROM POST MORTEM TESTS OF EMMILENE AN NATALIE DAVIS. I AM TRAVELLING UP FROM THE LEEDS MORTUARY TO TELL YOU.
TOMAS CONNELLY
PATHOLOGIST
SCOTLAND YARD


Katriona smiled. She and Tomas Connelly went back a long way, in man more was than one. The were old aquaintances, if you like, but he always acted so formal towards her. She sat down again in her chair, and waited for him.
An hour and a half later, the Pathologist arrived. Stepping through the door, Tomas Connelly ran a hand through his white-blonde hair, and unsuccessfully tried to straighten his shirt after the wild wind he has enountered on his way to the cottage.
"Good afternoon, Miss Deleon," he said. "I have the results of the Post Mortem tests."
"Do tell, Tomas," Katriona replied.
"Well, I pierced Natalie Davis' skin, and- Miss DeLeon, what is that man doing on your couch?!" Katriona turned. Arthur Strand had just stirred from where he lay, and he sat there gazing at her, puzzled.
"Em, Katriona, what's going on?"
"Nothing, Arthur," she replied. "You overslept, and Tomas here was just about to tell me the ruaults of your friend Natalie Davis' Post Mortem tests."
She put extra emphasis on the "friend", just in case Tomas Connelly had got the wrong idea. Unfortunately, he had. He stood there, eyeing her suspiciously.
"Who is he?" Tomas asked. Not that he was any of his buisness anyway. Katriona sighed inwardly.
"This is Arthur Strand, my assistant. He has come up from London, and needed a place to stay, so I loaned him the use of my couch."
"Miss DeLeon, do you think this is wise?" asked Tomas with a slight smirk. "I mean, so many people could take it the wrong way, if you see what I mean."
"Look, you leave her alone!" said Arthur Strand, angered. "This is her house, and as far as I am aware she can, within reason, do what she wants in it. You're a pathologist. Stick to your job."
"Anyway!" cried Katriona. "Why don't you both sit down on the sofas, and Tomas can continue with his narrative." They did as she said.
"As I was saying," said Tomas, "I pierced Natalie Davis' skin, to check for any abnormalties, and a strange black liquid trickled out. I tried the same with little Emmilene Davis, and the exact same thing happened. We have come to the conclusion that some chemical invaded the bloodstream and converted the blood cells to more of itself."
"Like a cancer," Arthur chimed in.
"Similar," said Katriona, "Only instead of multiplying, it coverts. A poison. I thought as much."
"Indeed," replied Tomas Connelly. Katriona turned to him.
"Thank you, Tomas, that's all I need to know. Good day to you."
Tomas walked