Death at The Davenport Mansion

“I’m afraid he’s dead.” Miss Clavene peered over the corpse.

“Dead! But he can’t be! Charles can’t be!” A young woman in her twenties cried. Her dark hair covered her face as she clung to her husband’s body. “He can’t be.” She took in a heavy breath, her voice shaking as she exhaled. “We were only just married.”

Sympathy was not easily found in this foul mansion. Everyone had reasons to hate each other, reasons even to kill.

Mrs. Davenport tapped the young lady on the shoulder. “Petunia dearest, stop clutching him so tightly. If he wasn’t dead before, he definitely is now.” Then Mrs. Davenport returned back to her husband’s side like that of a pompous poodle on a tight leash.

Mr. Davenport was just as much a snob as the rest of the Davenports. “I dare say he is dead.” The way he spoke about the dead young man lying at his feet, was as though this event was to be expected. He glanced an eye about the people in the room. “But, how?¨ He paused as if considering a thought that wouldn’t leave his mind. ¨Charles was in excellent health. And dreadfully young.”

Miss Clavene lowered her head, her gray curls untucking from her purple cap. “Death is a peculiar thing. You never know what person it might pluck.” She brought a leather hand to the pearls lining her neck. “I just wish that death had picked me instead.”

“Don’t say that Miss Clave-” Petunia started.

“But it’s true. I know you’re all thinking it.” She prowled over to Mrs. Davenport who heaved a sigh as she felt the old woman´s presence beside her. “I loved Charles like a son. More than you ever did. And I-”

“I do wish you’d died instead of Charles. I truly do.” Mrs. Davenport lowered her eyes to the short and slim, Miss Clavene. She was nearly five foot and was the most ancient thing in the entire mansion.

“I think we all would have taken the place of Charles.” Petunia stepped between the two women fighting like cats. When no answer followed, Petunia continued. “I know I would have.”

“William, what on earth are you doing?” Mr. Davenport rushed over towards me.

“Just examining the body.” I glanced at him and then back at the corpse. “I thought you might like to know, that he didn’t die of any natural causes.”

“What do you mean?” Petunia took a seat beside me.

“Well, if you look closely around his lips you can see that they´re red.”

Mrs. Davenport hovered above me. “So? What about it?”

“Shouldn’t they be more blue?” I leaned closer to the man´s face and smelled his partly open mouth, praying that it wouldn´t smell as horrible as I predicted. “And if you smell his breath-”

“His breath? What are you playing at William?” Mr. Davenport asked.

“His breath smells like chemicals.” I raised an eyebrow at the huddled bunch. ¨Poisoning.¨

“Poisoning! But who would-” Petunia went silent as her frightened eyes went about the room.

“Are sure we can trust this boy, Graham?” Mrs. Davenport whispered into her husband’s ear.

“I’m professionally trained madam, you’ve no need to worry.” I saw through Mrs. Davenport’s attempt to conceal her embarrassment behind a grin. Though, the only professional training I’d received was reading Agatha Christie at the library.

“I do hope you are.” She wandered to the opposite side of the corpse. Her arms folded beneath her rather large chest.

“Charles was murdered.” The words rolled across my tongue so calmly.

“But, what ab-”

I interrupted Miss Clavene. “Suicide? Yes, I know and I did consider it for a while. But only for a while since Charles is the last person I would expect to do such a dreadful thing especially when he had just recently been married.”

“But why?” She asked.

“There are millions of explanations for why.” Not really. He’s a Davenport, and Davenport’s don’t do suicide. The only other explanation would be the poison. Why would he choose such a slow and painful death?

“Why would anyone want to kill Charles?” Petunia sobbed into her hands.

“Did he have any enemies that you know of Mr. Davenport?”

He furrowed his brows. “Only the natural ones that come with being a Davenport.”

“Which are?”

“Well, um. There’s the Livingstones and um maybe the Peytons.”

“Who are the Livingstones?” I hadn’t heard their name before.

Mr. Davenport glanced at his wife before starting. “We’ve dealt with them since our company started.”

“What does your company sell?”

“Wood. All kinds of it.” He exhaled.

“Have the Livingstones ever done anyth-”

Mr. Davenport raised his voice. “Have they ever! They nearly destroyed my company!” His face had turned red. “Until I ended theirs first.”

“You what?”

Mr. Davenport rephrased. “Put ’em out of business.”

I felt Petunia shaking beside me. “Did they do this?”

“I don’t know yet.” I stood to my feet. “Does the nurse make rounds about the mansion?”

“Yes.” Mrs. Davenport replied.

“Where can I find her?” I stuck my hands into the pockets of my suit.

“Down that hall.” She pointed to a corridor behind the master staircase.

“Thank you, madam. I’ll be back shortly, but can you ring for a doctor?”

“I will.” Petunia raised herself and scurried to find the phone.

I took the opposite direction, wandering the corridors until I encountered the nurse. The nurse wore an entirely black dress, and a frail white apron tied around her waist.

“Hello.” She twisted back to see whoever was speaking.

Her voice was very pleasant. “Why, hello. Have you come for the dinner party?”

“Indeed I have. And I was curious as to if anyone has entered the main rooms besides for the guests.” The main rooms were the bathroom, dining hall, and living room.

“Well, the cook served his dishes.” She twirled a lock of her blonde hair.

“Alright, and did you see anyone leaving the rooms?”

“No, except for the cook, I don’t think anyone left the main rooms at all.”

I bowed. “Thank you for your time.” As I made my way back to the dining hall, a loud knock sounded at the doors. When the door swung open on it’s broken hinge, a tall man was standing in the rain with just an umbrella. How did he manage to get here so quickly?

Stepping inside, he laughed to himself. “Why you’re certainly not the young lady I spoke to on the phone.”

“Oh, that was me!” Petunia hurried over. “William, this is Doctor Rodney.”

“Nice to meet you.” Doctor Rodney took the white fedora off of his head.

“Likewise.” After shaking hands with the doctor, my hands were soaked with sweat. We brought our guest to the dining room, where the others greeted him as well.

“So how did the young m-”

“It’s Charles.” Mrs. Davenport corrected him, giving the doctor a stern look.

“What happened before Charles died?”

Mrs. Davenport spoke before anyone had the chance. “We were sitting at the dinner table eating when in the silence Charles looked like he was choking. Then he fell out of his chair and onto the floor dead.”

I stepped forward, kneeling beside the doctor who was examining the corpse. “I believe Charles was murdered.” Doctor Rodney wasn’t shocked by the statement. “That he was poisoned.”

The doctor paused as though not wanting to agree but then said: “Yes, this man died of poisoning.” I felt a sense of pride as Doctor Rodney explained to them the exact reasons that I had pointed out earlier.

“Mr. Rodney do you think it’s possible poison was implanted in his food?” Petunia asked.

“Extremely.” Doctor Rodney walked about the dining table observing each plate’s appearance and smell. Suddenly he picked up a fork and brought it up to his nose.

“Doctor?” Miss Clavene crept up behind him.

“There was no poison in the food, but on the fork!” He placed the fork back onto the table. Something still felt off. The possibility of the cook being the murderer seemed highly unlikely. The cook would have just put the poison in the food because he would see Charles when he served it. But placing poison on the silverware beforehand, he wouldn’t know where anyone would sit.

“William are you alright?” Petunia tapped my shoulder. “You seem worried.”

“Just thinking, that’s all.” At the moment, it was all I could do. Charles had been in my sight since he had arrived and yet he still managed to wind up dead only five minutes after we had begun eating.

As Rodney brought the chef and servers out to question, I tried to imagine who would benefit the most from this situation.

I asked: “Hey Rodney, what type of poison did Charles die from?”

Without turning back to face me, he said: “Cyanide.”

I looked over the plates of food at the table. Multiple of them were halfway through a meal while one plate remained with untouched food. I grabbed the fork Rodney had believed to be poisoned but upon smelling it realized it had no smell different from any other fork. No smell of cyanide. Why had he lied?

As I placed the fork back down onto Charles’ half-eaten plate, Rodney looked over his shoulder to see what caused the sound. As I stepped by each chair. I paused upon Petunia’s untouched food and her crumpled napkin. Rodney took a few steps toward me, curious at my intentions. I unfolded the napkin to see a large red splotch possibly from Petunia’s lipstick.

Raising it to my nose, Petunia stepped forward and snatched it from my hand. “What are you doing William? This isn’t some kind of game for you to snoop around!” She gripped the napkin tightly by her side. “Charles is dead.”

To be honest, I hadn’t expected it. Although I’d known Petunia to be a light eater, I knew she would never not eat entirely just for manners’ sake.

“And I’m sure you feel relieved.” I tilted my head at her.

Petunia stepped back a bit as I walked towards her. “What are you talking about?”

“Why don’t you give Charles one more kiss, Petunia? I’m sure he’d die for another one.”

Her eyebrows lowered and she looked me straight in the eyes. “This isn’t funny William.”

Doctor Rodney grabbed my shoulder as I attempted to take one more step forward. “May I see the napkin?” I passed it to him and he proceeded to bring it to his nose. He quickly turned his head to face me. “Cyanide.”

I nodded, looking directly at Petunia’s dry lips.

Petunia continually shook her head. “It wasn’t me.” She took a step backwards. “I swear it wasn’t me.” She took another step back tripping over the corpse.

“Petunia dearest, what on earth is the matter?” Mrs. Davenport helped the young woman back on her feet.

Petunia shook her head once more. “It wasn’t me.” She paused looking at the ground as she licked her lips and then rose a finger pointing towards the man standing behind me. “It was him.”

I felt Rodney begin to shake nervously as her finger pointed at him like a knife.

Mr. Davenport stepped forward looking his daughter-in-law in the face. “Petunia, have you gone mad? He’s never even met Charles.”

Petunia grinned an evil grin. “He’s met Charles.” She looked at him with an expression so cruel I knew I would never forget it. “Haven’t you?”

“Miss, I have no idea what you’re-”

Petunia laughed. “You have no idea?” She took a few quick steps toward him, grabbing his shoulders with both of her arms. “Rodney, this isn’t how this game works.” She grinned once more. “We both survive or we both die together.”

And then she kissed him with one of the most passionate kisses I’ve ever seen. When she finally pulled away, Rodney’s mouth was completely covered with the red color of Petunia’s lipstick.

We all stood completely shocked at what had occurred. And then she collapsed, Petunia that is, choking as Charles had done only minutes ago. No one dared run to her. Everyone merely stood watching as the poor girl coughed up her final breaths. And the same happened to dear old Rodney who fell on the opposite side of Charles, living his last moments staring at the corpse of the man he had conspired to kill.

No one cried for them, only Miss Clavene who continued to weep over Charles’ cold corpse. If we were to believe what Rodney had told us before the cyanide had begun a number of tortures onto his body, then Petunia Livingstone had never been in love with Charles. All this time, not a single feeling for him. Though, I believed that she had loved Charles but not in the way she should have. She had loved him for his money. But most of all, she loved him for the way she could use him for revenge on the Davenport family.