Tea's...Company

Tea’s a...Crowd

Susan Skylark

Copyright 2019 Susan Skylark

Smashwords Edition

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Table of Contents:

Should’ve Gotten a Dog

In Which He Gets a Dog

A Motley Crew

Fairytale Consultants, Limited

Of More Than Usual Peculiarity

A Minor Zombie Apocalypse and the Legal Ramifications Thereof

On Dwarvish Nomenclature

Propriety and Probate

On Second Thought

Another Uncle and an Inter-dimensional Walkabout

In Which Miss Anastasia Has a Trying Evening

Tale as Good as Tea

In Which No Novel Innovations of Social Discourse are Revealed

A Tad Too Much Pink

Other Books By This Author

‘The Last Shadow,’ Excerpt

The Pallid Knight (‘The Greylands: Volume V,’ Excerpt)

‘Once a Thief’ Excerpt

‘On Sleeping Beauties: A Foible’, Excerpt

Wisdom’s Children (a Story from ‘Over the Hills and Far Away’)

Should’ve Gotten a Dog

Professor Wiggins waited impatiently for his friend and companion to emerge from the uncouth warren of streets and alleys that abutted their rather stylish abode, it never took the fellow this long to return from his nightly errand of mercy, some starving scamp of a street urchin he had chosen to take pity upon, a waste of time and kindness if ever there was one, he would have been far better off getting a dog, or so thought the Professor, but each man would do what he would and there was nothing he could do about it, and a very good thing too, for that was what kept him in business! The cab was waiting, the theatre and their dinner reservation would not however, and Wiggins was certainly even less patient. Tapping his foot impatiently, glancing for the millionth time at his pocket watch, he sighed in disgust and did a very desperate thing indeed: he went after the fellow.

It was just as he had supposed it must be, there lay Rogan, unconscious and bleeding, certainly attacked by the very urchin he had hoped to succor! The man should have gotten the dog, what was he thinking? He left the body there, once he was certain it breathed still, another five minutes would change nothing. He popped into the house, called to the housekeeper and told of Rogan’s dilemma, before hopping into the cab and off to their appointment, for dinner would not wait!, leaving the servants to tend to his friend, but then that is what they were for, was it not?

Lord Colder entered his study, eager to begin what must be a most intriguing evening, one that would make him one of the most powerful men in the City, if not the world! He had returned from the theatre with his wife, bidden her a cold goodnight, and then hastened to his study, claiming some critical but tedious matter of business that wouldn’t wait until morning, and so it couldn’t, save it was in nowise tedious. In his absence, two workmen had come to the side door with a large trunk and a receipt signed by Lord Colder himself, they brought it into the study without a word and left just as silently, and there it awaited him. He locked all the doors and windows, pulled the blinds, thoroughly searched the room to make sure no one was hidden within, and pulling an exquisite, but wicked looking, knife from a certain locked desk drawer, he approached the waiting trunk.

When he had not yet emerged in the morning, his Lady calmly asked the servants to break into the room, for none but his Lordship had a key. But they found nothing, save a strange knife on the floor and a large trunk with the lid gaping open, with nothing inside. The Lady and servants exchanged a wondering look, but touched nothing, said she, we had best fetch Professor Wiggins!

Rogan, Rogan?! came the irksome cry at an obscene hour of the morning, along with a vigorous shake. Not daring to lay abed another moment, lest the contents of the washbasin be upset over his head, Rogan jumped out of bed, even if both his legs might be broken, he didn’t care, he daren’t lay there a moment longer! But happily that was not the case, the only injury seeming to be his left hand, which was tidily bandaged. Neither did he feel half so dreadful as he thought he must, but he had no more time to ascertain his own state of health, for the Professor was in dire need of his assistance, such as it was. We have another case, Rogan! said Wiggins happily, The fifth in as many days, come we must be off! Without another word, Wiggins strode from the room to make his own preparations. Rogan smiled grimly at his friend’s complete and utter lack of compassion before beginning his own preparations for the day.

Glad to see you up and about sir, said the housekeeper as Rogan came down for breakfast, you were in a sorry state when we found you. Here she paused, wondering if it was quite her place, but she had taken the two hopeless bachelors under her wing as if they were her own chicks so sometimes she meddled where least wanted but with the best intentions in the world. Continued she, while I know your heart is quite in the right place with your efforts to help this poor child, sir, after last night I am not so sure it is safe!

But think of that poor child alone in that alley all night, where you would hardly countenance a grown man spend a few minutes! protested he.

I know sir, I know, sighed the poor woman, and it is just a scratch at that, I suppose it was more shock than anything?

I doubt we’ll ever know, said he, but I am not forsaking the poor creature, even so!

Well, you’d best have your breakfast at least, said she, speaking of another forsaken creature, else the Professor will have you out the door the moment he’s ready with no thought of you!

I will at that, grinned Rogan at her exasperation with her impossible ‘son.’

By the time Wiggins emerged, he merely snatched a cup of tea and a stale biscuit on the run, declaring, make haste Rogan, make haste! Rogan abandoned his half finished plate, grabbed his hat, and did just that, the housekeeper grimly shaking her head in their wake.

The cab dumped them at the appropriate address, but the scene was exactly the same as the other four had been. The police stood impatiently waiting for them, unable to do their own duties until the Professor had had his say. But there wasn’t much for him to do, except exchange words with the Inspector, said the puzzled officer, I don’t understand it sir, not in the least! It’s becoming a pandemic, five great men in as many days, each scene exactly the same: doors and windows locked, the man just vanished, some sort of knife and an empty trunk.

If one such man vanished, mused Wiggins, it isn’t a crisis or even unexpected, they are always running off to exotic locales with a pretty girl or to avoid their debtors, usually both. One is normal, two is odd, five is downright peculiar and quite concerning! Worse, I have come to no conclusion in these strange cases. Proceed with your own duties sir, I’ll contact you the moment I know anything.

Thank you sir, said the man with a smart bow, before turning to his waiting men.

As they returned to their waiting cab, the Professor remarked to Rogan, I just don’t know what to make of it! It is almost uncanny!

Have you considered a cause outside the ken of mortal men? queried Rogan, once they were safely ensconced in their equipage.

Don’t be ridiculous! grated the irked Professor, There must be a rational explanation, there must! I am an expert in human behavior and therein must lie our answer! While I must admit that there are likely other races with quite interesting attributes and behaviors all their own, what has that to do with this? As long as Things remain safely in the Haunted Wood, minding their own business as we so thoroughly mind ours, ne’er the twain shall meet! Now I need a rational explanation, Rogan, not fairy tales, what are you, a girl of eight? He turned towards the window, though unseeing, lost in thought.

Rogan knew better than to say anything, especially in his own defense, rather he sighed heavily and settled back in his seat, equally lost in thought. The cab pulled up at their door, but Rogan thought better of hopping out and spending the day in the same house with Wiggins in such a fit, he was as cantankerous as a great lord with an acute flare up of his gout when he was in the middle of a case he couldn’t solve! The man abandoned the vehicle without even a glance in Rogan’s direction, once he was safely in the house, Rogan said to the cabbie, as if he might ask to be dropped at the theatre, wondering how he would respond, the Haunted Wood, please. Strangely enough, the man nodded, whipped up his horse, and off they trotted, as if they were merely headed to the theatre!

He didn’t want to go, no man could, but if Wiggins would not explore that aspect of the case, no one would! He couldn’t very well let five murders go unsolved, for he knew, somehow, that those men would never be seen again, at least on the mortal earth. He might not agree with Wiggins in his treatment of their fellow man or his disgust with all things outside the mortal ken and the sphere of logic and reason, but they shared a strong sense of justice, or so Rogan hoped, though sometimes he wondered if the Professor just used justice as an excuse to exercise his rather astounding skills in the areas of human behavior and psychology.

The vehicle stopped, interrupting his musings, and the inmate escaped, fumbling in his pocket for the correct change, what did one pay a cabbie for such a fare? But before the man could pay him, the cab dashed off as if intent on winning the Queen’s Prix! Marveling at the hasty retreat, let alone his indifference in entering such a place at the first, it took Rogan a moment to glance about himself. On one side stood an army of ancient and dour trees, their feet drowned in a perpetual sea of fog and any depth lost in an equally eternal gloom. Before him stood a wide valley with many snow-covered peaks behind it, and on the greatest peak perched a castle one could only find in a storybook, but how to reach it?