Beatrice: An Alarming Tale of British Murder and Woe Tedd Hawks (adult books to read .txt) 📖

the gun. After so much blood andterror, it appeared to be an afterthought, a forgotten piece of rubbish.

            “Hello,Crockett,” he said, his voice soft as an adder slithering. He gleefully droppedthe malformed and problematic continental accent of his alter ego, RobertEdward Harrington.

            “Bixby,”Crockett said harshly.

            “Ah,dear boy, but which?” The old deceiver's teeth gleamed in the dark.

            Crockettproudly recounted the solution to the mystery he chased the previous week, “BixbyVon Bunson, fallen heir to Baron Von Bunson, American turncoat and traitor,murderer of Bixby Hawsfeffer, Lucinda Hawsfeffer, and Beatrice.”

            Thevillain Bixby laughed quietly, a hissing like gas leaking from a pipe. “Welldone, my boy. Petrarch was correct about you. He raved when we met just a fewweeks ago. Prodigy, I believe, is the word he used.” His soft laughtransformed into a witch-like cackle. “Despite his very austere upbringing…Ibelieve that’s the euphemism he used for your lack of class and education.”Bixby lowered the revolver and stroked the barrel. “I thought you may get atthe Dexter bit, but I didn’t think you’d follow the threads all the way back tome.”

            Crockett’scaterpillar eyebrows furrowed. “Martha pointed me to the portraits.”

            “Ah!”Bixby clicked his tongue. “Old Martha. She was very loyal for a long time. Evenafter we killed her dear Lucinda. We’d have killed her then if Dexter hadn’theld a consuming love for her. He never did win her heart, but he took her eye.I suppose all love turns sour when it’s not nurtured correctly.”

            Crockettshivered.

            “Oh,dear boy! The world is a harsh place!” Bixby was enjoying himself thoroughly;his theatrical narcissism being fed after years in the darkness, a literallifetime of secrets. “I learned that during my time in America. It’s a hardlesson to learn, but once it is imprinted on you, it makes things easier—well,it makes it easier to take what you want, I should say.” The older man smiled,his teeth cutting an ominous crescent in the shadows.

            Crockett’sbody shook with fear and loathing. “That’s what made it easy to kill them…Allof them…” Far from goat-fainting, he desired to leap forward, to have his handsfind the old man’s throat and squeeze. The gun, however, kept him at bay. WhileBixby still held it in his grip, Crockett had no chance to play a hero.

            “Moneyactually made it easy to kill them,” Bixby said. “My dear cousin, BixbyHawsfeffer, took my inheritance, so I took it all back. Imagine! You returnhome from the wilds of America, hoping to be embraced as a prodigal son, andyou discover that your cousin has killed your father, soaked up all yourinheritance, and picked offensive draperies to hang in your family’s sittingroom. It’s more than one man can bear.”

            Crockett,for the first time, was surprised by the old man’s revelations. “BixbyHawsfeffer killed your father?” He was impressed by the Von Bunson-Hawsfefferfamilies’ propensity for murder.[43]

            “Yes,”Bixby said, “that’s not why I killed Bixby Hawsfeffer, though. I never reallyliked my father, so I considered it a favor.”

            Evenfor a murderer, Crockett was shocked by the depths of Bixby Von Bunson’svillainy. “So…you killed him and Lucinda to get the money back?”

            “Well,it wasn’t enough to kill him. Killing still leaves a dead person as a remembrance;I wanted to erase him completely.”

            Crockettswallowed. Very faintly he thought he heard the sound of a commotion comingfrom the house. His heart leapt upward at the hope that someone may be comingout to find him. It was a small thread to cling to as he stared into the eyesof the maniacal Von Bunson.

            “So,I took my cousin’s place.” Bixby’s eyes narrowed, a look of pure, evil gleewrit on his features. “We killed Lucinda, which was very dramatic. Shenearly got away with her little plan with that adorable note Petrarch was sokind to bring with him.”

            “That…”Crockett said coming to a realization, “is what started all this.”

            “Correct!”Bixby spun the revolver on his finger. Crockett began to wonder if it was realor a stage prop from Dexter's collection in the vault. “Another top mark forCrockett! I went to Petrarch to update my will—I’d been a bit of a spendthrift,as you know—and it was then he told me about Lucinda’s little epistle. Allthose years ago she knew Dexter and I were up to something."

            “So,she went to Petrarch to deliver the note. Oh…” Crockett looked to the nefariousBixby in understanding. The elder gentleman watched him put the rest of thepieces together. “She said it should not be released until Bixby Hawsfeffer’sdeath because she thought that would mean you had taken the fortune.”

            “Shedidn’t think I’d make him disappear completely and assume his identity.” Bixbyagain cackled with glee. "With the shock of the revelation of the letter,I knew I had to put a plan into action to stop the note from being found. Iforgot about updating my will, which is why I had to use the services of thesecond solicitor in secret so that I could still get Petrarch here with thetomb key.”

            Anothersound, this one much more pronounced, came from the house. Crockett turnedhopefully toward the mansion. Von Bunson grew nervous. His gregarious moodebbed.

            “We'rewaiting for one more,” he said looking toward the house. "If he doesn'thurry, I may have to dispatch you myself."

            Sweattrickled down the young man’s brow. Had the stakes been lower, he may havereturned to his old reactions of cowardice, but something about hisconfrontation with the fake Pimento earlier, his piecing together of themystery, and the kiss with Brontë imbued him with new courage, a heat to hisblood which had never been there before.

            Hestood taller, his hands raised in surrender. He attempted to play to VonBunson’s ego. “Before you end it, though, I must know how it all played out—thepresent bit with Dexter, the family, and Beatrice.”

            VonBunson flushed with pride. “So, you didn’t piece it all together, then?”

            “Mostof it.” Crockett tried to speak slowly, giving time to whatever entity wasmaking the noises in the house to reach him. “As I said, Martha mentioned thepaintings. I knew there was familiarity to Pimento, but I couldn’t place it.Then I saw both the murals in the west