JACK OF DIAMONDS, REDUX

CHAPTER 17 edits complete

Photo by Rachel Penney on Unsplash

Sonia patiently followed Nigel directions, finally approaching the circular driveway and looking up at the ornate facade of the front entrance of Mandalay. The masonry was trimmed with light cream coloured brickwork, the building itself, a darker brown. There were long hedgerows and garden-beds running the entire length of the foundation, as well as manicured walking paths that would have done any groundskeeper proud.

It had been a quick drive out, and she paid careful attention to Nigel as he pointed out the potholes and larger puddles on the road, showing the ease and comfort of a practiced rider. It was obvious that he was more than capable, because she avoided the bigger holes—but could still feel the jarring jolts of the smaller potholes she was unable to avoid. Most of the potholes were hidden under puddles spanning the entire width of the lane in places. The spray sent up by the Bentley coated the sides of the automobile—almost as if someone had thrown a can of paint at it.

I’ll wash it on the weekend, she told herself, turning the key and shutting off the engine. She sat back and looked at the size and grandeur of the place as Nigel stepped out of the Bentley and smiled.

“Looks a lot better in the fucking daylight—oh, sorry. I didn’t mean to say that.”

“Say what?”

“I’ll try to speak posh,” he grinned.

“Don’t feel you have to on my account.”

“Right then, I won’t,” he laughed.

She’d seen Manor houses in the distance before, driving through the countryside, but she’d never seen one up close before. It was an impressive sight, she had to admit to herself. Her father would’ve appreciated the grandeur of it all; the gables and columns; the sharp edges and angles—what was the proper name for that, she wondered? She knew there had to be a proper name for it, but for the life of her, she couldn’t remember what it was called. There were large masonry bricks with even faces and square edges leading to oversized windows and balconies.

There must be a hundred rooms here.

The door opened and a Butler appeared on the stairs; he quickly ran out to meet them.

“Detective,” he said, looking at Sonia briefly as he crossed the driveway, approaching Nigel. “I was not expecting you today. It’s not a good time,” he added gently.

“Mr. Berry,” Nigel said, stepping forward to meet the man. “I told you, I’m not a detective.”

“Constable,” he corrected himself. “You said nothing about coming back. We’re in the process of preparing for tonight’s costume Ball.”

“We’ll try not to get in the way,” Nigel said, giving the man a slap on the back and walking toward the front door. “But I wanted to take a look at the evidence before it all gets washed away with another rainfall,” he added. “Thought I’d take advantage of this break in the weather. I trust it’s not too inconvenient? This is an investigation, all the same.”

“Evidence? What evidence could there possibly be?”

“Physical evidence, Berry. Something other than just footprints, perhaps?  I was hoping to see the stables, or wherever the horse was taken from? We might find evidence as to the identity of the thief.”

“Footprints?”

“Well, hoof prints, obviously. Perhaps find tracks—evidence—that might lead us in the general direction as to which way he may have gone.”

“Tracks? From the horse?”

“It’s not unlikely with the ground being as it is,” Sonia said.

Berry looked at her, and then looked at Nigel.

“I’m sorry,” Nigel said quickly. “This is Sonia. She’ll be working with me.”

“Sonia?” Berry said. It was obvious to her he was confused by the introduction—or the lack of it. She wondered why men didn’t feel it was necessary to introduce her properly.

“Special Constable, Sonia Nazar. I’m in from Okehampton and I’m here to assist in whatever capacity I might.”