The Doll Garden

Nine

It'd been a week since our so-called family dinner, and since I'd chosen my first victim to prey on for answers. I could see him hunched over the sink, scrubbing away in the kitchen. No one else was around—the opening was too perfect to miss out on.

"There you are, Henry! I've been looking for you everywhere," I called out to him, acting as if I hadn't been eavesdropping on him for the last five minutes, eagerly awaiting the moment I could make my entrance.

"Oh? Is something the matter, little miss Jenna?" Henry dropped the ceramic plate he'd been washing back into the kitchen sink, his eyes watching me like a hawk. He then wrung out the dishrag he'd been using to clean the dishes with until it was as dry as he could squeeze it.

"Can I talk to you about something?"

There was immediate concern on his face. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, yeah. Everything's fine. I promise. I just need to ask you something," I answered.

"Okay. Well, you have my full attention." He ran his hands under the lukewarm water flowing from the faucet to rinse the dish soap off of his skin. "What seems to be the problem?"

"How long have you been working here?" I shot out.

Slowly, he drifted into a frozen statue-like pose. "Hmm, I don't know. I'd say for quite some time now. Why do you ask?" I kept my eyes on him as he switched the knob on the sink off.

"Nothing serious. I was just wondering." I shrugged, attempting to play it off. "Is quite some time really long for you?"

"Hmm. I guess you could say that"—he scrubbed at the stubble growing on his chin—"seeing as I wasn't very far along in my twenties yet."

"You've been working here since you were in your early twenties?" I blurted in surprise.

I knew Henry to be somewhere in his mid-forties. He wasn't the oldest butler in the mansion, but he was older than most. However, I hadn't known he'd been an employee of my father's for that long. I might've been a toddler at the start of his career. Maybe I didn't even exist yet.

Henry was frozen stiff again, as if he had just realized the kind of information he'd given away. But this time, he didn't move a muscle or speak for what felt like an entire minute. Finally, he swallowed a sharp intake of breath but tried to cover it up with a cough.

"Oh, uh, yes ... I have. But that was so long ago. I can barely remember a thing."

I'd have been oblivious not to realize he was trying to steer clear of the direction our conversation was headed. Isaiah might've been onto something, after all. He knew something I didn't, as I assumed most of the staff did. And I was going to find out what it was.

"Jenna," Henry started again several seconds later, "it almost sounds like you're trying to play detective... I remember when you used to always ask us to be your witnesses. Mira was in charge of the bodies, and Manny was your fellow detective. Do you remember that?"

I chose not to comment on his sudden topic change, instead playing along. "Ha, yeah. Just some bits and pieces. Refresh my memory, why don't you? How old was I?" I asked.

"Just at the start of your double digits. Around nine or ten, give or take. You were a very creative child." I didn't miss the relief clouding his face when he grinned.

I laughed under my breath and nodded in agreement. "I had one favorite case I liked to solve, didn't I? What was it, again?"

"It was the..." Henry's grin faltered slightly. A strange feeling of apprehension hung over us as the awkward silence settled in. There was something to be said about the distant gaze in his eyes. A moment of realization, dare I say. As quick as it was there, it was gone.