Page 37 of Breathe Me: Smith & Belle

Smith

“Detective Longborn called,” Humphrey informed me as I stepped into the mudroom. The first time I tracked mud into the foyer I’d learned the hard way that this was Mrs. Winters’ house—I only happened to live here.

“What did he want?” I loosened the twin straps at the top of my boot, giving me enough room to yank it off. I left the pair of them on a berber rug by the back door. Shucking off my jacket, I ran a hand under the collar of my wool sweater to soothe the goddamn constant itching it caused.

“Apparently, there’s been some development regarding the situation in the wine cellar,” he said meaningfully.

“The bones?” I asked. I had barely thought about them in weeks. I’d been too distracted with everything else going on at Thornham to worry about someone else’s tragedy.

“He’d like to meet with you.”

I heaved a sigh. The trouble with living in the countryside was that people were constantly inventing drama out of sheer boredom. No wonder half the country’s television programs were about little old ladies solving murders in idyllic country towns. “I’ll phone him.”

I’d only gotten a few steps inside the kitchen when Mrs. Winters confronted me, a long wooden spoon resting ominously in her palm. If Belle thought the old housekeeper—who doubled as our cook, per her own request—disliked her, she hated me and did little to hide it. Part of me wondered what she had against me. At first I’d thought it might have to do with being Scottish, but she’d been warm enough to Rowan, who took pride in his heritage to a concerning level. I suspected she simply disliked working in a less than traditional household.

“Mrs. Winters, how are you?” I asked, doing my best to be polite as my patience wore thin. I’d had very little sleep last night. Belle had taken to sleeping through Penny’s cries until I shook her awake. At least, she was acting more like herself during the day.

“Well, that depends, Mr. Price,” she said in a stern voice, and I braced myself, “on whether my services are actually needed in this house?”

I frowned. There was no way we could keep on top of all this space, especially with a newborn demanding most of our attention. “Of course. You’re essential.”

“Then, you don’t like my cooking?” she demanded.

I blinked. “Your cooking is fine.”

“Then what time would you like dinner served every night?” she asked through gritted teeth.

I’d guessed it was about something as simple as this. Belle and I weren’t likely to start living a traditional country lifestyle anytime soon, not while her business was growing so swiftly or I was starting my own practice, but if we didn’t make some changes, we were going to have a mutiny on our hands. Rowan wanted to be left to do his work in peace. Humphrey never seemed to have anything to do, given our lack of visitors. Half of me thought he only existed in the pockets of time in which we needed him. I never saw him save for when he appeared to deliver a message. And Mrs. Winters took our liberal schedule as a personal insult.

“Seven,” I answered her. “I’ll be certain Belle knows, and if we’re caught at work, you can save us plates.”

“Save you plates?” she echoed.

I adopted my best lawyer voice, the one I saved for dealing with particularly difficult clients. “I’m afraid it will take us some time to adjust from our lives in London to Thornham.”

The stern angles of her face softened slightly.

“And the baby,” I added, certain this would be the lynchpin to my argument. She couldn’t possibly disagree with the struggles of new parents.

“Perhaps, if the missus was more focused on her babe, she wouldn’t be running around looking for happiness.”

“Belle prefers Ms.,” I informed her, dropping all pretense of formality. “Belle is a wonderful mother.”

“Of course, she is, Mr. Price,” she said with a cold smile that chilled me to my bones. “But, word to the wise, a woman can be a wonderful mother and unhappy.”

Her words were still ringingin my ears when I stepped into my study to phone Detective Longborn. Other than a few important documents regarding our purchase of Thornham, I hadn’t gotten around to unpacking, so I was surprised to discover half the boxes there’d been the last time I’d been in here. On my desk, Belle’s elegant script was dashed across a notepad.

I took a few minutes while Nora was here to unpack a bit. Hope you don’t mind.

I smiled, feeling vindicated in pushing for the nanny to finally start. There was no way I was going to admit it to Belle, but I’d been feeling restless myself. On one hand, I could lose myself for hours watching Penny sleep. The rest of the time, I found myself...bored. I’d been warned when we purchased this house that I’d need at least a skeleton staff to be certain things would run smoothly. I’d taken the advice, not wanting to worry about running a house and having a new baby. The trouble was that I was completely redundant now. Belle had Penny to look after, as well as Bless. Penny had Belle and Nora now. Rowan worried about the grounds. Mrs. Winters ran the household. And Humphrey took care of everything else. I was still stewing on this when Longborn answered his phone.

“Detective? Smith Price,” I said in a clipped tone.

“Ah, Price. Thank you for returning my call.”

“I assume there's been an update on the finding at Thornham. “ He’d told me he would call with any news. I hadn’t expected there to be any.

“Perhaps I could come by and speak to you in person?” he suggested.

“If you like,” I said slowly. It was never a good sign when the police wanted to chat, but that had been my experience in the city—where things actually happened. I reminded myself that this was just a symptom of living in the middle of the countryside.

“I’ll stop by in a few days.” I heard papers rustle on his desk.

“Should I be concerned?” I asked. I’d finally stopped dreaming of the pile of bones they’d found in my basement. I suspected they’d be making another appearance tonight.

Longhorn didn’t respond immediately. His hesitation said more than our entire call. “It’s likely nothing, but I’d rather tie this up.”

“Of course.” I hung up with him, my feet already carrying me to the lift. I rode it down to the quiet lower level. The swimming pool pump hummed in the background. If I turned that direction, I would find myself in it’s muggy surroundings. Instead, I walked the opposite direction to the wine cellar and it's almost preternaturally cool space. It’s why I’d chosen it for the wine cellar, but as I ran a finger over its stone walls, I found myself wondering what secrets these walls kept—and whether we’d unearth them.