Lord of The Mysterious Realms Chapter 670

"I'm heading somewhere I can't bring anything suspicious. I'll be back in two weeks. Gatherings are on hold. If you run into trouble in Ruen, the maids here can contact Stuart for you. Don't worry."

That was the entirety of the note left for Jenkins. He had no choice but to resign himself to solving the problems at the manor on his own, his mind now also burdened with worry for Alexia.

The blizzard had finally intensified to the point where leaving the manor was impossible. The butler, Joel Mangus, had no choice but to recall the search parties and let the servants rest. Consequently, everyone who hadn't gone missing was now confined to the building. To uncover any potential clues, Jenkins gathered them all in the dining hall.

He and Miss Lawrence were now the only travelers remaining, and there was a quality to his voice—an air of authority that compelled others to listen. As a result, everyone cooperated without protest.

"I need to know everyone's movements after five o'clock."

He instructed from his seat at the head of the long dining table. Before five, he, Quake, and Miss Lawrence had been together, leaving no opportunity for any of them to have committed the murder.

Gathering information proved simpler than Jenkins had anticipated. After eliminating the manservant who had been outdoors, the maid working in the kitchen, and several other staff members who had alibis confirmed by at least three witnesses, only three individuals remained who had the opportunity to act alone during the critical timeframe.

The three were the physician, Mr. Bray Deckert; the key keeper, Mr. Coe Audley; and the laundress, a Mrs. Jean Hydra.

Mr. Deckert was a thirty-seven-year-old bachelor, a distinguished graduate of the Bel Diran Medical College and a true intellectual. Having only begun his service at the manor a year ago, he was one of the newest members of the staff.

"I'm sorry, but could you tell me how you got that scar on your left cheek?"

It was a small cut, already healed, leaving only a faint line behind. It looked as though he had been scratched by something sharp, a detail no one but Jenkins seemed to have noticed.

"Oh, that? I nicked myself with my razor about a week ago while shaving."

He touched his cheek self-consciously. It was a lie.

Mr. Coe Audley was, without a doubt, the oldest person at the manor. In his youth, he had held various jobs until, at the age of forty-eight, a chance encounter with the manor's owner, Baron Mandela, changed his life. He had worked for the baron ever since, finally settling down at Mandela Manor.

Mr. Audley was deeply trusted by the baron, hence his appointment as the manor's custodian of keys. He held the master keys to every room in the building, making him the only person with unrestricted access. ᴛhis chapter is ᴜpdated by novel fire.net

However, Mr. Audley's advanced age left him with limited mobility; he needed a cane to walk, which would make any strenuous activity difficult. During the time in question, he claimed to have been resting alone in his room—a claim no one could corroborate. As Jenkins questioned him, he noted the old man's attire: a red, sleeveless woolen sweater worn over a black coat, much like one Papa Oliver owned, though decidedly uglier.

"Hmm... Mr. Audley, do you know any of the seven of us? And I don't just mean from seeing travelers like us at the manor each winter. Have you had any prior contact with any of this year's guests?"

It was a question he put to everyone, not just Mr. Audley.

"No. I've never had any dealings with any of you outside this manor."

He denied it. But it was a lie.

The women on staff were outnumbered by the men by a ratio of about two to three, and Mrs. Jean Hydra was one of the least conspicuous among them. In fact, until that evening, Jenkins hadn't even been aware of her existence.

She had a plain background and an equally plain history. Her brown hair did little to conceal her round, plump face, and she wore the standard manor uniform with a white apron. She appeared nervous and fidgety under questioning. The reason she worked at the manor was simple: her family had lived for generations in the small town below, and she had come here in response to a hiring notice.

During the unaccounted-for time, she wasn't performing her usual duties. Instead, she claimed to have been in the manor's cellar, searching for some curtain fabric that was stored there.

"But I asked you to fetch them this morning," the butler pointed out.

The man had indeed raised the question.

"Yes, but I was busy preparing fresh linens for the young masters and ladies all morning. That's why I didn't get down to the cellar until evening," Mrs. Hydra explained.

Her explanation sounded plausible enough, but it was, in fact, a lie.

Although all three had lied, only the laundress seemed to be actively concealing her movements. Jenkins decided to start his investigation with her. He asked the butler to have everyone else wait in the dining hall while he, accompanied by Mrs. Hydra and Miss Lawrence, went to inspect the woman's living quarters. After finding nothing suspicious there, the trio proceeded to the cellar.

He hadn't insisted on bringing Miss Lawrence along, but she was too terrified to be left alone with the others. She was not a brave woman by nature, and the events of the day had utterly shattered her perception of reality.

The manor's cellar was nowhere near as expansive as the one Jenkins had explored in the old castle; in fact, its total area was smaller than two of the grand bedrooms upstairs. Just inside the entrance, brick walls divided the space into three sections, each serving various functions, primarily as storage.

Mrs. Hydra's earlier statement had been a lie, but he had to admit, it was a well-crafted one. Everything in the cellar was just as she had described, and she even pointed out the exact spot from which she claimed to have retrieved the curtains.

Each of them held a candlestick, the flickering flames casting dancing shadows on a cabinet tucked into a corner. Jenkins stepped forward to open it, but paused as a familiar fragrance reached him.

The year-end gift he'd given Miss Mikhail was a bottle of his own custom-blended perfume, a scent so unique it was impossible to replicate. He threw open the cabinet doors. There, curled into a ball on the lowest shelf and covered with a wool blanket, was Briny Mikhail.

Her clothes were undisturbed. Jenkins reached down and pressed his fingers to her neck. Her pulse was steady and normal.

"Oh, dear God, it's Briny!"

Miss Lawrence, who had been right behind Jenkins, saw her companion in the cabinet and gasped. A wave of panic swept through the small group.

"No, there was no one here this afternoon! I have no idea how this young lady got in there!"

Mrs. Hydra cried out. It was, of course, another lie.