Murder investigations shouldn’t go like this. Pascal Hunter is possessing the lovely body of Simza Gray. She hopes to solve the case before the woman’s thoughts and feelings completely overwhelm her. Some of those feelings are towards her new fiance. The rest of the family, and their staff, resent her presence. She is hoping her partner, the eternal ten-year-old Brynn, has better luck than she has had.

PART THREE

NUVYE PARK

A massive thunderclap rattled the pots overhead. To Brynn’s delight the cook jumped at the loud noise.

Her fear and discomfort was the only joy he had while scrubbing away at the pots and pans from lunch. Grimly certain that Pascal was taking delight in his misery, he comforted himself by imagining his partner in dresses, heels, and makeup. He took it as a given that misery was better shared. It was better still when it belonged to someone else, of course.

He had not seen Pascal since the coach ride. He’d spent an entire day cleaning and scrubbing and not making any progress. Cleaning dishes was dull. Dull as– well, dull as dishwater.

“New boy,” the cook snapped at him, “do you call this clean?”

He looked at the large copper pan and thought about it. As far as he could tell it was spotless, but he suspected she wouldn’t have asked if that was the answer. “I have a name, you know,” he answered instead.

“Cheeky boy,” she answered with a slap from the back of her hand. Another peal of thunder rumbled when she slapped him. Brynn was disappointed. He had the timing right, but had hoped for a more dramatic clap.

It was enough of a coincidence to startle the cook, Raisa Irinova Nesterov, and she backed away from further punishment. The woman was only a little taller than Brynn, but no one would ever call her small. Her girth made her look bigger than she was, and her command of the kitchens effectively made her a giant. No one crossed her in her domain.

Brynn amused himself by thinking of ways to embarrass the petty tyrant.

If I’d ever seen her sit down I’d do the old pin on the chair routine. I wonder how fast she’d jump, or even if she could. Spitballs would be a riot. Bet I could get her to turn around at least three times before she caught me. I wonder if I could swap the salt and sugar bowl without her noticing. It would be worth ruining my dinner just to see her go all red.

On the other hand, any time he took pulling or being punished for pranks was less time on the job with Pascal. And that, in turn, would mean more time scrubbing dishes. So despite her desperate need to be taken down a peg or two, the cook might yet escape his righteous wrath.

“Do it again, and clean it right this time,” she commanded, putting the pan back in the pile for him to clean.

“Yes’m,” he grumbled, imagining all the ways he could humiliate her if only it wouldn’t impede the investigation.

Two whole days in the kitchens and he hadn’t made any progress. It was galling. Pascal might solve the whole thing without his indispensable aid. And that would mean his aid wasn’t indispensable. And it was. Indispensable.

So he had to do something. He thought while he scrubbed.

“Who killed Lord Pankov?” he asked the cook suddenly.

“What? Get back to work, boy,” she said with a quick slap to the back of his head.

That was just dumb enough to work. It should have worked. Back to the drawing board.

She left the kitchen while Brynn was still toiling away. He’d be at it another hour, at least. More if he kept stopping to complain to himself.

With Mrs. Nesterov away from the kitchen, the rest of the staff relaxed slightly. Three kitchen maids and an assistant cook were busy at their tasks, but Brynn could see they all breathed easier when the head cook left.

The kitchen was a large, if plain, room. Bare stone walls rose above the numerous stoves and ovens. A large fire pit dominated the far end. There was a large cupboard near the fire pit, and a pantry on the opposite side of the room.

The room smelled of smoke despite a clever vent to get the worst of it outdoors. A small door leading outside stood open to help air the place out even when it was raining. It added to Brynn’s work, since mopping the floors was one of his jobs.

“You’re Brynn, right?” one of the kitchen maids asked him as she peeled carrots nearby. At 13, she was the youngest of the maids and had been the newest member of the staff until Brynn came along. She was a pretty girl, with light blue eyes and dirty blond hair reaching down to her shoulders. She even looked good in the unflattering kitchen uniform.

“That’s right,” he answered. “I’m Brynn. You’re Tamara, right?”

She giggled and put her hand on his arm, “Oh, just call me Tomo, why don’t you? I wouldn’t go bringing up the old Lord’s murder with Mrs. Nesterov if I were you.”

“Thanks Tomo, but why not? Seems a lot more interesting than, well, this,” he said while holding up the plate he was cleaning.

“Lord Pankov’s valet was a good friend of hers. That’s the man they arrested for it. She’s not gonna want to talk about it.” With her hand still resting lightly on his arm, she smiled broadly and her eyes lit up, “How would you like to help me out a little bit? I could use a big strong man on this one.”

Since she’d already given him more than he’d found out since arriving, he figured he could help the cute girl. No ulterior motives there, no. He was as pure as the driven snow. He figured she just wanted help carrying things.

“Great. Thanks so much,” she gushed. “I’m going to take Brynn down to help with the feeding,” she called.

Feeding? He was no longer so sure what he’d gotten into.

On the other hand, anything is better than scrubbing dishes.

“So do you agree with her? With Mrs. Nesterov?” he asked as the girl opened the door to the cellars.

“Oh, I don’t know. I barely knew Mr. Laskutin, but he was a nice enough man from what I did see. Everyone except Mrs. Nesterov seems to believe it, so I wouldn’t go asking too many questions.” They descended down the steep stone steps. The cold cellar was used to store food for the kitchen. Ham hocks hung from hooks in the ceiling while barrels of fruits and vegetables lined the walls. They walked between narrow shelves laden with grains, sausages, and preserves. There was enough food to feed a small army for a year, he thought.

“If she doesn’t think it was the valet,” Brynn pressed, “surely she has a suspect of her own, doesn’t she?”

Tomo grinned at him, “You’re really into this, aren’t you? Yeah, she does. She blames Lady Pankov’s maid, Miss Schuykov. She’d been stepping out with Mr. Laskutin but keeping it quiet. So Mrs. Nesterov figures the maid was using the valet. She thinks Miss Schuykov went and, well, you know… And then with Lord Pankov– well, Mr. Laskutin would be brave and take the fall to cover for Miss Schuykov, even if he knew she did it. Ah, here we are.”

He was looking at the girl rather than the cellar, so he heard it before he saw it. Slithering. Sliding past each other, softly rustling. There were cages of animals. He saw rats, turtles, frogs and lizards. And a large cage of–

“Snakes?” he croaked.

With a queasy smile, she answered, “One of Lord Pankov’s favorite dishes. He got a taste for it in some foreign land. Insisted we keep them alive so they could be cooked fresh. To keep them alive, we gotta feed them.” She pointed to the cage of brown and gray rats. “Be careful. The snakes are poisonous.”

This was the time to impress the pretty girl. He just had to say something witty and clever, to show off his relaxed attitude towards danger. He’d win her heart despite looking like he’s a few years younger than her.

“Poisonous?”

Or maybe not. He’d come up with plan B later.

“Very,” she answered while gripping his arm supportively. “But you don’t need to get close to them to feed them. Just grab one of the rats and throw it in there. Do that a few times so they all get one. The rats aren’t poisonous, don’t worry.”

Brynn didn’t worry about rats. Rats were fine, he had no problems with them at all. Anyone who lived on the streets in Fall of Night for long got to know them well. They were practically his pets. There was a big white one in the Freezer that could feed a family of four if anyone ever managed to kill it. No one had. Yet.

Ah, well. What have they ever done for me?

He grabbed a rat by its tail, opened the top of the snake cage and tossed it right in. The snakes stirred into motion, and the rat was dead in seconds.

While he reached for a second rat, he ordered, “Tell me more about Lady Pankov’s maid, keep my mind off this.”

“She’s the one with the long nose. You’ll see her at dinner. She’s good with horses and Lady Pankov lets her take one out whenever she wants. Been here a long time, and all the family likes her, so Mrs. Nesterov keeps her suspicions here in the kitchen.”

She watched him throw another rat in the cage, looked around to make sure no one was listening, and leaned in towards him. “OK, here’s what Mrs. Nesterov told me. Miss Schuykov took Mr. Laskutin out for a ride a week before Old Lord Pankov was killed. She’s not supposed to do that. She’s allowed to take out the horses, but she doesn’t have permission to bring anyone else with her. But they went out at night so no one would see. Yeah, well, that didn’t work. Mrs. Nesterov sees everything. So she figures that’s when Miss Schuykov spun her sob story for the valet, so he didn’t say what he knows even though he’s getting blamed for it.”

She thought about it for a bit.

“Pretty romantic, isn’t it?”

“Sure. I guess,” he mumbled the proper manly response to romanticism. Even for a ten year old, there’s only one permissible answer.

Pretty weak theory, but it’s the best I’ve got. I wonder if she could have done it. Does a lady’s maid have access to the Lord’s room? I guess she’d have to for when the Lord and Lady do it, wouldn’t she? And if she could get into the room, she could cut the bed sheet as easily as Yakim. And if she was screwing Laskutin, she’d have access to his room to hide the evidence. Hey, this isn’t as bad as I thought.

Brynn had a lead to follow, and hoped he was ahead of Pascal. He also got to spend time with a cute blond. And all he had to do was kill a bunch of rats.

- ♇ -

The rain stopped well before sunset and brought with it blessed coolness. While Brynn pretended to ignore the weather, hot or cold, in truth he wasn’t made for heat. He’d take ice and snow any day of the week. He lived in the Freezer for the strange people he could meet, but the weather was a pleasant bonus.

He’d finished his work until after supper was served. That wouldn’t stop Mrs. Nesterov from finding work for her ‘new boy’ if he was in her sight. So he went elsewhere.

Tamara had gotten him to help feed the snakes, so he figured he could get her to help him in turn by providing a cover. The little blond was cute and Brynn was always hungry for female attention. The women who might be interested in a boy like him were too creepy, so even a chance to win Tomo was welcome. Getting her to do him a small favor would get he to like him more. It’s strange but it works. That it helped with the case was a bonus.

“Hey Tomo, if her nibs asks, tell her I’m running an errand for–” he paused briefly and grinned, “Who should I be running an errand for?”

That should get her mischief-circuits working overtime. “Mr. Menschikov is the safest, she’d never question him,” she said, naming the butler, “but it’s a bit risky. She sees him around. Go with Mr. Zefirov, the stable master.”

“Beautiful,” he responded cheerfully. “I was planning to– or, that is, my errands will take me out there anyway.”

That brought a smile in return. She actually enjoyed helping him avoid work in the kitchens. He was ahead all around - avoiding tedium, working on the case, and getting a pretty girl to like him. He’d have to get her involved again when he could. If he could manage to upstage Pascal too, the day would be perfect.

He broke into a run as soon as he was outside, stripping off his shoes and enjoying the feel of grass on his bare feet. The grounds of Nuvye Park were huge and he could easily forget that this was a single family’s home. There was no way a single family needed that much room. He did well with a one room apartment in Fall of Night.

That’s hardly fair. I have the whole city to run around in. It’s not like my apartment building is small. The Pankovs have all of their servants living with them too, just like there are other people in my building. Nope, can’t convince myself. It’s still too big.

The stables were bigger than most carriage houses in the city. There were at least 50 stalls, with yards to hold more if needed. They had equipment to handle riding horses and draft horses, including some specialized pieces he didn’t recognize. It smelled of sweat and straw. They were good clean smells he liked.

“Hi there. I’m Brynn, I’m new here. Can I see the horses?” he said without a pause for breath. Acting like an excited boy was second nature to him.

A man with sun darkened skin regarded him indulgently. “Well hello there, Brynn. I’m Roman Ivanov. Have you worked with horses before?”

He was in.

I’m going to beat you Pascal. I’m going to beat you.

He let himself do a little little sing song while teasing Pascal in his head. He could tell Roman liked kids, and he was prepared to exploit that shamelessly.

“I’ve seen them, and always wanted to pet one. Can I feed him?”

“Well,” the man said carefully, “I don’t see any harm in that. Don’t want this one to get spoiled, mind you, but she won’t come to no harm for another carrot.” He gestured Brynn forward and handed him a carrot. Brynn listened to the instructions, keep your hand flat, etc. He knew it already, probably a lot better than the stable master, but it wouldn’t do to show any impatience.

Brynn fed the horse and made sure to act excited. He laughed when the horse rubbed against his hand. Roman smiled, and Brynn knew he had a catch. There are men who take great pride in helping young boys and showing them the ropes. It was an admirable trait and Brynn always felt guilty when he took advantage of it. He already had plenty of guilt and could always manage to squeeze in a tiny bit more.

“That’s sooo neat,” he gushed. “Can we, I mean, well, in the house…” He screwed up his face and took a deep breath, “Can I ride one?”

Roman laughed slowly but kindly, put his hand on Brynn’s shoulder, and knelt down to look the child in the face. “Sorry lad, but these horses aren’t for us to ride. You work in the kitchens with Raisa Irinova, right?”

Brynn nodded soulfully, his eyes wide and serious.

“Oh, don’t you worry none. I won’t tell her you’re sneaking out here,” he smiled kindly to reassure Brynn he could keep a secret. “You do your work well for her, might be you get promoted up the ladder. Might be you can work out here in the stables even. Officially we don’t ride. Unofficially, there’s a lot we got to do with the horses that can only be done while riding. If it’s part of the job, not for fun, well, that makes it all right with them all.”

With some feigned confusion, Brynn said, “But I thought I was supposed to try to work up to footman–”

Roman took pity on him, just as Brynn intended, “Well, if you go that way, you might still learn to ride, but it’ll take longer. The Pankovs like to take their favorite staff with them when they ride. Lady Pankov even lets her maid ride whenever she wants, long as it doesn’t intrude on her duties. So even if you stay in the house, it’s possible. Of course, that’s only if you come back to us next time we reach Fall of Night.”

Paz said something about them phasing in regularly, and Brynn almost asked more about it.

No. I want to get a lead before Pascal. That’s all. Just this once.

“Whenever she wants. Wow. I’d be out here every day,” he said while gazing wide at the towering horse.

“Good for me she ain’t you then,” he said while ruffling Brynn’s hair. “She hasn’t been out here since the old Lord died. You know, son, you might be able to help me out with something. Just a small favor, and then maybe I can arrange for you to do some work out here with the horses.”

Did I misjudge him? He’s trying to pull a fast one, figures a kid won’t catch on.

Making sure his surprise didn’t show, he answered, “Sure Mr. Roman, whatever you need.” He could make promises easily enough. He didn’t have to keep them. Besides, if he didn’t promise to help, he’d never learn what the stable master wanted.

“You’re gonna have to learn your manners if you want to work here, boy,” the man said with humorous sternness. “You can call me Roman Ivanov when you’re sneaking out here ‘cause I like you. If you’re ever out here officially, make it Mr. Zefirov. And you better remember, because that Mr. Menschikov is a bleeding pussy cat compared to your Raisa Irinova.”

“Yes, sir,” Brynn said earnestly, nodding his head.

“Now as I was saying,” Roman continued, “the last time Larisa Grigorina, that’s Lady Pankov’s maid, was out here, she brought the killer, Yakim Sergeyin, with her. They came out here straight from the house and Yakim had a book with him. He went and left it in the saddle bags. We weren’t supposed to let him take a horse, but we did. Kind of a favor to her, I guess. Anyway, since we weren’t supposed to, I haven’t really said anything, especially since that was the night Lord Pankov got killed. Now with you working in the house and as we’re good friends, I figure you can bring this back to the library. Then maybe tomorrow I can show you how to brush down a horse after a ride.”

Wow. This is big. She took Yakim riding on the night of the murder. And Yakim brought along a book of poetry. He thought it was a date. Either this guy is as cold blooded as Crazy Doc Gupta, or Sofiya might be right about him. I’ve got to find out when Yakim and Larisa got back from their date. If I play this right, we can wrap this up by morning. Be a shame if I lose the chance to make out with the cute maid, but maybe I can guilt Paz into putting his sweet body to good use.

While thinking about the case, he was also marveling at Roman’s offer. The stable master was getting Brynn to cover up his involvement in Lord Pankov’s murder and in return he’d get Brynn to do extra work for him. To be fair, he was being friendly and giving a promising lad a chance to work with his beloved horses. Brynn just had to look around the stable to see the horses were well tended and cared for. So, “Oh boy, really? You bet. Thanks Mr.– Thank you Roman Ivanov.”

With a smile, the man handed him the book and watched as Brynn ran back to the house.

- ♇ -

At the staff dinner that night Brynn tried to identify Lady Pankov’s maid. Not that he got to eat with them, no. Kitchen staff had their own supper apart from those who tended the family. It wasn’t enough that they were servants, they had to make their own rank structure beneath it. He never got over the ways people came up with to act crazy.

He guessed which was Larisa and got Tamara to confirm by pointing. She was a nice looking woman, average height, with brown hair down to her shoulders. She had thick legs, but was otherwise trim. Her hair had a slight curl and she had an unfortunately large nose. If she put some effort into it, she’d be very pretty. Brynn figured she tried to look plain since she was Lady Pankov’s maid. Anything to make the fat old broad look better by comparison.

The poor woman was isolated even when surrounded by the staff. No one was rude, but they didn’t speak to her either. The only exception was the man sitting next to her, a tall blond man with dark, prominent eyebrows.

Her friendly neighbor was Gennady Pavelov, Lord Boris’s valet. He stuck by Larisa out of a sense of solidarity. As personal servants, he and Larisa were dressed in black; not just wearing a black armband like everyone else. Gennady’s brown valet’s kit stood out against his otherwise mournful color, always prepared for any sewing emergencies.

When the house staff finished eating, the kitchen staff would clear the table and set up their own supper. After they ate, Brynn would be busy cleaning the pots and pans until he went to sleep. The brief interval between dinners was his only free time and the only chance he’d have to corner Larisa.

If she’s the killer, I should be careful. But if not, maybe she can clear or convict the valet. I don’t want to be a target– well, not without Paz playing backup. Probably best to do the oblivious little kid routine and hope I don’t get Roman in too much trouble.

“Psst, Brynn,” Tamara whispered as she passed by.

He nodded to her.

“See that footman over there, Sergey?” He looked over at the young man and nodded, his stomach sinking to the ground.

“Don’t let him talk to me after service, OK?” She put her hand gently on his arm, friendly and even a little flirty. “Get in his way or something when I carry off the plates.”

“OK, sure,” he said with a friendly nod.

Damn, she’s playing hard to get with tall and blond there. Face it, she wasn’t really interested in me anyway. She might still help on the case even if there’s no chance of… Damn it, he thought with as little bitterness as he could manage.

He had two people to deal with and only a few moments time. The challenge made it fun and almost made up for having to help Tamara with her romantic games. He saw the answer in a flash and he knew it would work.

When the butler indicated supper was over, everyone stood. He joined the rest of the kitchen staff and started picking up the plates. As soon as the footman moved to corner Tomo, Brynn scooted over to grab his mug.

“Hey, kid,” the footman grumped with a minor push, “I’m not done with that.”

Yeah, the steam rising off the coffee didn’t give that away already. “I thought we were supposed to clear everything now,” he complained back.

“Leave the coffee alone until we’re done,” the footman snapped. He spoke just a little too loudly. Brynn counted on it, with the boy overeager to spend more time with the cute kitchen maid. Sadly for him he spoke loudly enough to earn the attention of the formidable Mrs. Nesterov, who burst out of the kitchen to confront him.

“Sergei,” she yelled at him, “did you get promoted to cook and no one told me? Footmen do not instruct kitchen staff. Footmen don’t instruct anyone. You are a footman, so you do not instruct anyone. If you have a problem, you come to me, do you understand?”

Lord Boris’s valet, Gennady, stood up and took a step towards the budding row, only to think better of it and sit back down. Brynn could see similarities; the two had the same chin and the same hair. He wondered if they were brothers or cousins, but his little distraction wouldn’t buy him enough time to look into that.

Brynn’s turn was coming. Mrs. Nesterov would chew him out for his “mistake” once she finished ripping apart the unfortunate footman. That gave Brynn a few minutes to slip away with a briefly muttered apology and talk to the lady’s maid.

“May I speak with you for a moment, Miss Schuykov,” he asked quietly and a little shyly.

The woman looked down at him with an indulgent smile. “You’re new here, aren’t you? I can spare you a few moments, young man.”

He stepped into the cupboard for a bit of privacy. Larisa shook her head but smiled and stepped in with him. “This isn’t–”

“I need your help,” Brynn interrupted, “returning this to the library.” He showed her the poetry book he’d gotten from the stables.

Her smile vanished in an instant. “Where did you get that?” she said in a fierce whisper.

“From the stables. Mr. Zefirov had it. He asked me to bring it back to the library and told me to keep it a secret. But I don’t know where the library is. Then I thought that you already know Mr. Laskutin borrowed this. It’s not telling a secret if you tell someone who already knows, right? You could get to the library and return it and I can tell Mr. Zefirov it’s done.”

That should cover him. A story like that from an adult would make her suspicious, but she bought it from Brynn. It paid off in spades as she started reminiscing, assuming a boy wouldn’t follow.

“It was a mistake,” she said quietly. “Lady Pankov lets me ride, but going out that late, and bringing Yakim, was wrong. I shouldn’t have… And when I think what he was planning while we were together…”

She was misty eyed, looking at her memories rather than the cupboard walls. Brynn questioned, “But if you were out late, then he couldn’t have done it, right?”

She snapped back from her reverie, which isn’t what he wanted. She also appeared hopeful, which wasn’t as good as misty but better than the alternatives. “Do you think? No, no, no. We got back a bit after midnight. He could have– done it any time before morning.” Her eyes tightened with tears or anger, and her voice rose above a whisper as she said, “He might have gone to the room right after we got back. He must have been planning it the whole time.”

“Was he tired that day? If he was out with you, and then had to– do that to Lord Pankov,” he purposely avoided specifying what Yakim did, “he couldn’t have gotten much sleep. He’d have been out of it the next day.”

That brought a smile to her face, a bit dreamy. “That would be nice to think, wouldn’t it? I don’t know though, we were all out of sorts that day, I don’t know if anyone would be able to tell if he was acting off. It wasn’t a normal day for any of us. No,” she turned suddenly, “he was just using me. He wanted cover or access or something. It wasn’t what I– It was just a way to get some cover.”

She could be lying, Brynn considered briefly. But if she’s not, her story helps Yakim more than it hurts him. She didn’t cover for him, after all, and going out on a date right before committing murder is a pretty dumb plan. Not that I haven’t seen plenty of dumb plans, but still…

“So you didn’t tell anyone? The police?”

“Hush, child,” she went back to a whisper. “Of course not, and you’d better not either. That’s not why Her Ladyship gave me permission to ride, and she would not thank me for casting doubt on the case. Yakim did it and he can suffer for it.” There was venom in her voice, and Brynn knew he was done for now.

“Right. Excuse me,” he said with a start while he pretended to remember his courtesies. “Thank you for your time, Miss Schuykov, and for your help returning the book.”

That brought her back to smiling. “You’re a good lad, Brynn. You’ll go far here, I think.” She gave him a pat on the head while she left.

I wonder if she’s lying. Did she do it and try to cast the blame on Yakim? Not the best theory there. She didn’t have to do anything to cast blame on him, so her efforts were pretty useless. Maybe a backup plan that wasn’t needed? Well, at least I’ve got some doubt on Yakim being the killer. Now, if I can just get to tell Paz before he finds out something. I’ll be winning.

With some dread, Brynn went back to have supper with the kitchen staff and to receive the telling off he was sure to receive from Mrs. Nesterov. She was waiting for him.