In response to a knock at the front door in the rhythm of Beethoven's Fifth, we unlocked the boarding house and creaked the portal open. Miraculously, the rain had ceased. Even more amazingly, the sun still hung in the sky, orange amid shreds of defeated storm clouds.
The cowboy standing in the doorway tipped his Stetson to the cluster of guests. "Howdy, all. M'name's Gregory Jamison. Everybody all right in there?"
Ace snorted. "Tombstone, you tumbleweed, roll on in here. And, no, not everyone's all right. We've got a bullet hole and two cases of snake venom. I hope you brought an ambulance."
The lanky Westerner ambled past Mario and I to grip Ace's hand. As they pumped a handshake they pounded each other's shoulders. We Continental types could do nothing but stare. Why, he even wore cowboy boots and a bandana. The cowboy said, "Yep, a medic's on the way. Shore am glad to see you, Ace. Gosh, an' we thought we were so dang clever, hidin' you out here. Uh, did you say snake venom?"
"Yes, but I'll explain later. Tombstone, head in, turn left, go upstairs to room two, and pack my bags."
"Yes, ma'am."
Mariam whispered in my ear, "He's bowlegged! I can't believe my eyes."
Ace said, "That's Tombstone, everyone. Inspector? Are you near?"
"Right here," I said.
"Take me down the path a few meters. I want to show you something."
Mariam and I flanked the war heroine and guided her down the porch steps. The air smelled fresh.
"That's far enough," she said. "Now, look up."
Mariam and I gasped as one. Huge against blotchy purple skies floated a gleaming dirigible airship. Its ends tapered gracefully, and four engines ringed it middle. The sun turned it a fiery orange.
"Isn't she beautiful?" the blind flier murmured.
"Beautiful as a dream!" Mariam said.
"Amazing," I said.
"Ow!" I added, as a vice-like grip closed upon my uninjured arm.
The hand was Ace's, and I snapped my head down to behold a golden face full of confusion and lit full on by the sun. "What's that?" she said, her voice a-quaver.
I squinted over where she was looking. "What, the sun?"
She nearly crushed my arm to jelly. "The sun? The sun! I see the sun!"
The flyer danced away, spinning, arms wide. Her laughter echoed on the stone walls and set them laughing in return.
As Mariam and I watched the joyous display our hands met and clasped.
Constable Flip's familiar baritone rolled over the yard. "Inspector? What the— Where's your shirt?"
YOU ARE READING
The Boarding House Horror
Mystery / ThrillerA much-hated man is found dead, his face twisted into a rictus of horror. Young Inspector Visser can't stand the sight of blood or death, so this case was destined to be a struggle, even before a storm hits. The death occurred in an isolated boardin...
