Inverhuron Mystery # 01 - Chapter # 01

Inverhuron Mystery # 01 - The Beach Murder
Chapter # 01 - The Birder’s Friend
By : James Bauman
© January 10, 2007
>In a small cottage community of 300 residents, a man lived who was quite fond of birds. He was an eccentric man that lived alone in a rambling old cottage at the end of the wooded lane that ran alongside the lake. He was often heard late at night walking throughout the woods and down the lane. His name was known but to a few around the village, but those who knew were not in any sort of a hurry to tell anyone else. -I was one of the privileged...haha...that knew his name was : Roger Fleetman.
>It was on the third of the new year, after a large dumping of snow that it was rumored that he had received a visitor.
>It was about the time that a man gives his first yawn and glances at the clock, when there was a rap on the door of the cottage in which Roger lived. He slowly rose from his winged high-backed armchair which was situated next to the large Victorian fireplace with a large mantle, and Boston fire screen. He was slightly disturbed for it was not often that he received visitors, in fact he could not remember the last time that he had a visitor.
> As he opened the solid oak door, a strangely familiar face was looking him in the eyes. “Do I know you, sir?” he was greatly perplexed, because the face was familiar but the person not.
> “Sorry for interrupting your evening sir... if you would allow me to introduce myself, Reginald Worthington the III. The name maybe unfamiliar but maybe this will be, I am the brother of Arthur Downin...” he was suddenly cut-off by the open arms welcoming him into the small and very modest cottage. The name must have struck a cord with Mr. Fleetman for he an eccentric and reclusive man was as open as an innkeeper in the middle of nowhere in th middle of winter.
> Roger took the long brown overcoat of his visitor and had taken his order for drink. Mr. Worthington being a true English gentleman had requested Ceylon. Roger drank coffee himself, black with two small light creams.
> Not long after he had fixed the drinks for himself and his unexpected visitor, they were comfortably seated in the two winged high-backed armchairs on adjacent sides of the fire which was now roaring in light of his guest. They sat there for several moments gazing at the fire and then at their cups of coffee and tea. Neither had spoke but their was an unmistakable presence of a understanding and compassionate air between them. It was like the feeling that you might get when seated with an elderly couple which had married young and have seen and been through a lot together.
> Roger finally broke the silence, and looked at his guest, “how ,a , is, umphh Arthur?”he had a very enquistive voice but it was as if there had been problems or some unfinished business between Roger and Mr. Worthington’s brother Arthur.
> “Arthur was out on a boat on the Greater lake when a rogue wave came and took a hold of his small yacht and he and his small crew were all lost, he may still be alive but that is only a very remote possibility.” He was very somber yet stern, it was apparent that he held on to two things, hope that his brother was alive and that he cared for him very deeply. Roger looked back across the fire at his visitor.
>He took him in slowly but the man appeared to be unconcerned for he continued his incessant gaze at the fire. He was a tall and very thin man, he was dressed as was typical to the average British servant which was immaculately clean, he was in his mid to late fifties. With salt and pepper hair, cleanly shaved, and had a very upright posture. His brother Arthur a one time had the same physical features and the same general build.
>Roger had not seen Arthur for nearly ten years, and had never seen his brother. In fact he had never heard Arthur mention of his brother Reginald. But Roger was inclined to believe his visitor, at least for the moment he was. Mr. Worthington seemed to have presented a plausible and feasible story.
>Roger rose from his chair and walked across the room, finally drawing the gaze of his visitor from the fire towards the large picture window which Roger was now standing in front of. The lake was vast and seemingly never ending. It was still snowing and probably still frigidly cold. It was not suitable outside for man nor’ beast. Roger moved towards the kitchen and poured himself another cup, motioning to see if Mr. Worthington was interested in another cup of tea.
> “Mr. Fleetman, I would like to ask you a few questions if you didn’t mind?” He was looking at Roger with an inquisitive face, and a glimmer of hope in his eyes. With his questions, Roger was certain that he expected certain answers.
> “Go ahead and ask Mr. Worthington, I hope that I can be of some help?” He retook across from Mr. Worthington with his cup refreshed.
> “Well Mr. Fleetman, I want to ask you my questions because they are regarding my brother’s past”, he shifted in his chair and faced Roger squarely. “I also believe that it may have something to do with his alledged death upon the Greater lake.” He took a small moment to collect himself because he was starting to choke up and was about to lose his emotional composure. The questions he was about to ask, seemed to be tearing him apart inside.
> “Mr. Worthington, this seems to be very difficult for you and I would hope that you would continue when you are sure your ready.”
>”Thank you Mr. Fleetman, I appreciate it.”
> Means New Paragraph