“All things die good doctor. To me a bird in a cage is a sad bird; they fail to hold their splendor . Their colors are never as brilliant. Their songs never as lively as when they are in their natural element. Being in that cage does bad things to them.”
“Surely people are different. More resilient than a bird.”
“Are they? What about Mrs. Tarter’s brother? How resilient was he?”
“As Holmes would say, we have insufficient data to make any assumptions.”
“Indeed.” She sighed.
Inspector Hopkins returned. He had scheduled his meeting with Mr. Parker and was half an hour earlier than he. He looked at Lizzie with the greatest of concern, “are you sure you are ready for this?”
“Of course,” She smiled.
Lizzie was hiding in Holmes’ room when the elderly gentleman appeared. “Mr. Parker,” I smiled. “Do come in.”
Holmes was staring out the window. “I believe you have met Inspector Hopkins?” I stated.
“Yes, we have met.”
The inspector moved a chair from the table close to the couch. I sat on the couch with Mr. Parker, Holmes remained in the window.
Inspector Hopkins spoke, “Mr. Parker, I have here a document for you to sign.”
The old man lowered his head, “death certificate.”
“Sorry. No sir, it would be a confidential statement.”
Mr. Parker was in shock, “what is the meaning of this?” He stared at Holmes.
It was the inspector that answered, “Mr. Parker, we are going to talk about things in this room today of which cannot under any circumstances leave this room.”
“I am sure I do not understand.”
“We will explain everything; however, in order to do that, we insist you sign this document.”
He read over it with the greatest of care. It must have taken him ten minutes or more to study it. He then added his signature to the page; followed by myself, Holmes, and the inspector.
“Why did you all sign the thing?” He huffed.
Lizzie stepped into the room. “Because no one can know that I am here.”
No one in the room said a word for a moment. All eyes were on Lizzie except her father’s.
Finally he roared, “What kind of trick is this, too fool an old man? I know you hate me Holmes but I do declare.” He stood “look”, turned and looked to see his daughter standing there smiling.
“Hello dad, it is no trick. I am alive by the grace of God, fine medicine, and caring friends.” She walked to him. He walked toward her, studying every inch of her. They embraced. He must have squeezed her because she said, “not too hard. I am still sore.”
We talked way into the night. We deduced that Mr. Merryweather and the governess was poisoning her with animal urine. The times when her father was by her side, they were unable to get to her; therefore, she would start to get better. My head was spinning at the pure madness of it.
“I will kill him.” The old man shook his fist in the air.
Lizzie held his arm and smile, “no dad. He will get his comeuppance.”
He stroked her face, “my little girl, always believing that life will correct itself.”
“I have not been proven otherwise yet.”
At the end of our visit, they embraced. He kissed his daughter on the cheek and told her how much he loved her. How sorry he was that all this mess had happened to her. He thanked me for saving his daughter. When he turned to Holmes, he just stood there for a long time. “I have wronged you Mr. Holmes and you were right about,” he shrugged. “In a manner of speaking, I am America’s biggest nincompoop. You may never find it in yourself, though, I beg your forgiveness. I am truly sorry. Thank you so much.” He kissed Lizzie again before leaving.
Lizzie was standing on one side of the window and Holmes on the other.
“He will kill Cooper.”
Inspector Hopkins cleared his throat. “Do you think so?”
“Yes.” Her answer was straight forward and with no show of emotion.
I have a secret pleasure. A dirty little pleasure. It’s oh so shameful. Once a year, since I graduated from college. That’s been a long time ago. I’m telling my age.
When the hint of fall is in the air. The weather is getting a little cooler. We start dreaming of scarves and sweaters. I indulge my pleasure. During covid, when it was open, I would go through the drive thru of the coffee shop and get a Pumpkin Spice Latte. They are so sinfully delicious. But just one. Once a year. My treat to ring in the season of fall. Chico always gets a treat when he goes with me. Girl and her dog getting treats.
This year I decided to go in. I hadn’t been in the coffee shop for 6 whole years. I know what you’re thinking, the pandemic wasn’t that long. True. I don’t always have time to get out and go inside.
This day, I was in no hurry. The weather was fantastic. Why not enjoy the experience. And I do mean experience. After picking up my drink from the counter, I took an empty lung inhale over the pumpkin cinnamon goodness. Then meandered outside to a beautiful autumn day. The sun was shining. A nice breeze was blowing. Perfection!
I picked the table at the farthest corner of the patio. Propped up my feet before taking another breath of my latte. The breeze picked up random leaves. Making this a perfect scene. I wouldn’t allow the littered white napkin that blew across the parking lot to spoil my perfect day. Nor the fact that they spelt my name wrong.
Earbuds in, it was time to catch up on some reading. Maybe do a little writing. Perfect day. Perfect drink. Just PERFECT!
Two people sat down at the table to my left. What made them choose this spot, I’ll never know but I’m glad they did. I didn’t turn to look at them. Just sipped at my drink.
When they started talking I assumed they were women.
Woman one, slightly out of breath, “it is so good to see you.”
“You too.”
“How long has it really been?”
“High school graduation.”
“Huh, really.”
“Pretty sure.”
“That’s too long.” Moment of silence. “You know we just had a high school reunion. You missed it.”
“How many showed up?”
“‘Bout 30. Nothing exciting happened.”
“Tell me what’s goin’ on in your world?”
“My oldest just graduated from college and moved to Alaska, of all places.” I could feel the eye roll. “Jimmy just started middle school.” Long sigh.
“What brings you to my small corner of the world?”
“Ben has a training. Jimmy is staying with my mom while we have a little get away. We are staying at that hotel there.” A phone rings. “Oh hi honey. Just sitting at the coffee shop across from the hotel talking to Ava. Remember me telling you all about my high school friend? See, here she is.”
“Hi.”
“Okay honey. Have fun.” Deep sigh, “he’s so thoughtful. He was on break and was just checking on me. What about you? Did you ever get married?”
Scoff, “uh no. Was engaged once. That was close enough.”
“You know; in school, Bo had a crush on you.”
“Me? Get out.”
“Really. Head over heels.”
“I never knew.”
“It’s never too late.”
“I’m too old to be havin’ babies. No thanks. I’ll stick with my dog.”
That thought made me smile. ‘Stick with your dog’ girlfriend.
“Ben and I have had our moments but overall it’s been a good marriage.”
“I’m happy for you.”
“Oh you should get married.” She sighed, sounding almost dreamy. “Every girl needs to get married once.”
“Don’t get mad at me. I sincerely want to know – why? Sell me marriage.”
“Why?!” From the tone of her voice, she was both shocked and appalled.
Silence. Kessa thought Brum and Akka left. She heard retreating footsteps and the click of the door. Kol dropped the book in the chair he had been setting in.
There is one piece of the puzzle that I can’t make fit. Two women were fighting over a baby who’s little bundle was full of an explosive substance.”
She laughed. “That whore duke was having an affair with both women. That situation scared him clean.” Her voice turned dark, “yet again I failed to get you.”
“Was it fun trying to implicate the grand duke? Calling him a whore is extraordinary coming from you.”
“THERE WAS ONLY EVER EDWARD!” She screamed.
“What’s the difference? Only one makes it any less of a sin?” Silence. “I know more than you give me credit for.” Kol motioned. Kessa knew the footsteps she heard were Max’s. There was rustling and a crown of red hair was at Kol’s feet.
Kessa about fell off her stool. ‘Was this the red head from their youth?’
“Meet Klin.” He pointed at the man. “Oh wait,” he smirked, “you know Klin.”
“Since when do we beat people. You have compassion for the people at the wall. But you beat prisoners?”
“Sadly,” Klin coughed. “No, I got into a fight in the Blue Chicken.” Kol sat back down in the chair, holding the book. “This big man pulled me out of the fight.” He nodded at Max.
“A fight that still might kill you. Rajaf says you have injuries he can’t heal. Add to that; you declined his services. Once you woke; you know, you have a birds song?” Max handed him a scroll, “would you like me to read your song?”
“Not really.”
Kol handed the scroll back to Max, “let’s entertain Evelyn.”
Frego put his hand on Kessa’s knee and mouthed, ‘God no.’
Max started reading. Kessa saw the fright in Frego’s eyes. She used her wedding ring and what little light there was to get Kol’s attention behind his mother. “Frego, prince of Mecca and Rajaf, healer to the noble family and Mecca; Klin did speak starting from youth. At the age of 12 was approached by a clad figure and offered anything he wanted to hurt or kill the then prince of Mecca, Kol. Klin admitted to sneaking a rock into a wrestling match when he was in training and his opponent was Kol. He was able to knock his opponent out but was unable to do anymore harm. His military training was ended by then General Marcus. This started his dealings with the queen mother. Klin admits to”,
Kessa was able to get Kol’s attention. “Thank you Max. Kol reached for the scroll. “Have we heard enough?” Kol finished reading the scroll while he waited for an answer. Any answer. “You’ve been busy.”
“Tried to be, your mother has an appetite.” He smirked.
Kol knelt in Klin’s face. “We exile prisoners. You are no longer a citizen of Mecca. You have no rights. Do you understand me? Nothing! If you are ever caught in Mecca again, I,” he pointed at himself. “Will push you over the city wall and make a public example out of you. Do you understand me?” Kol stood and Klin was drug away. “Oh, so this is what makes you cry?”
Evelyn’s voice cracked, “Frego isn’t yours.”
“This is what you were waiting to use Frego for.”
“How’s that for cruelty? HE ISN’T YOURS!” She shouted.
“I know Sarah had an affair. An affair that you fed.”
“I fed?” She scoffed.
“You manipulated us! You used Kessa and Max. You used innocent people.” Kessa was furious. “I know now that I used Sarah. You planted her in my life just like you planted the idea in my head that Kessa was in a relationship with Max which wasn’t true. I know that now. You knew I have loved Kessa since I was 14. And Sarah was the complete opposite of Kessa. You practically pushed me into Sarah’s arms. Then when we were married, you used Kessa again to drive Sarah into hating me because YOU told her I was sleeping with Kessa! You…”
Evelyn hissed, “say it. Call me what you wish.”
“No. But know this, Frego is my son.”
Evelyn hissed, “you know this how?”
Kessa could hear a smile in his voice. “Sarah told me.”
A loud laugh escaped Evelyn. “She tried to kill you with a soap dish. She didn’t tell you anything.”
“You had her so full of hatred toward me. I can see where you would think she wouldn’t tell me the truth.”
“No. It can’t be. Frego isn’t yours.” She protested.
“You believed the lie.” He laughed. “That makes me happy.”
“Happy!”
“Yes, believing your own lie has saved his life.” She said nothing. “My only regret in all of this; I could have gone to my grave without Frego knowing any of this. I would have happily gone to my grave without him knowing that the two most important women in his life were, hmm.” He didn’t say what he wanted to say. “But that ship has sailed. If he chooses to have a relationship with you, he will have to reach out to you. As for me, I have no desire to see you ever again. From this moment forward, your title of Queen Mother is being removed. You will be allowed one permanent guard from the military as a courtesy. If you ever remarry, this guard will return to the ranks. You may live on the island until your death. If you remarry, you forfeit this gift.”
“Gift?” She bemoaned.
“I am finished with you. Mecca is finished with you. Unless it’s your personal property, nothing is to leave the island.” She scoffed. “I have people there right now doing a detailed inventory.”
“You have no right.” Kessa could hear her tears.
“You have killed someone. Paid to have someone killed. Tried to insight a war. Tried twice to attempt to have someone killed. You are fully aware that we do not kill, we exile. Count yourself lucky that you get to stay on the island.”
Through gritted teeth she raged, “I should have killed you. That’s the only thing I regret, I should have killed you.”
“If you are ever caught in Mecca proper again, you will join Klin on the wall.” Kol held out his hand, someone handed him something. “Thank you.”
Kessa could see that he was signing it; then handed it to her. “You can sign it or not. The results will be the same.”
“I can’t believe you would throw your own mother away?”
“You mean the mother that tried to starve me before I was born. Who handed me over to the temple when I was an inconvenience so she could go whoring. Started my military training early. Paid a child to try to kill me with a rock. That mother? Was my only sin that I didn’t belong to Brum? The wrong man fathered me?”
She said nothing.
He called to Max.
“My king.” Max’s voice filled the void.
“Evelyn,” he said her name with such destain it hurt Kessa’s heart. “Is to only collect her personal property. If she so much as takes a fork from the kitchen, strip search her on the beach.”
“My king.”
When the door was closed, Kessa finally stood with the help of the thrones. She went to Kol, waiting on him to speak. He didn’t speak, he melted to the floor sobbing. She hugged him up as best she could. His right arm escaped from the cocoon she was trying to wrap around him. Frego took his free hand which made him sob that much harder. All of his childhood pain, distress, disappointment, his suspicions that he hadn’t even voiced to God, everything was being spilt on the throne room floor.
The sun was setting in the sky before Kol was able to move. Kessa and Frego were still by his side. When Kol spoke, his voice was weak and dry. “I’m sorry my son. I never wanted you to bare witness to any of this.”
“When did you figure out I was in the room?”
Kol gave a desperate smile, “I could smell you. But by then, it was too late.”
Frego looked at Kessa, “you got to teach me how to do that.”
Several days later Inspector Hopkins came to visit. This time we were all present as we spoke with him. Hopkins had developed an amazing time line of events and an incredible narrative. It was difficult for Holmes to give complements but he gave them freely to Hopkins on this occasion. And with Lizzie’s improving health, she was able to fill in a lot of the gaps we had.
Inspector Hopkins first instinct was to arrest Lizzie for the murder of this Arawak woman. It was in self-defense. There was evidence of that all over the house. Even after a good cleaning, Holmes still found the missing pieces. Mr. Merryweather never did get the local constable involved at the time of her death. With all the digging that could be done, the only evidence of Arawak being in England was the ships manifest, which Holmes found. It was beyond belief for us all how one could have a complete family and there be no civil record of these events. We deduced that all the births happened at home with the aid of a well-paid nurse. Well-paid for her silence than her services. So with that being said, Inspector Hopkins let it go until someone higher than he made a move.
I remember a time when Holmes did something similar. A lovely young lady was being mistreated in an unhappy marriage. Holmes figured out who the true killer was but chose to remain silent. At present, as I reflect back on that case; by jove, I think I’m beginning to understand why he let them go. He saw something in that young couple that reminded him of Lizzie.
Even with the apparent disinterest Mr. Merryweather had, we were still reluctant to let him know that Lizzie was alive and well.
“What about Mr. Parker?” Hopkins asked.
We sat in silence for a moment, “I do believe we need to tell him.” Lizzie looked sad. “He is getting old. And the fact that he had a conversation with you Sherlock, in the absents of Cooper means that he does not share all with Mr. Merryweather.” We just looked at each other. “My father is getting old. I have no wish for him to die without knowing that I am alive.”
Holmes got up walking over to the fireplace, “what if it was a set up? What if that was a ruse to gain our trust?” He started pacing, “Ara, you hid from the man when he got close to you.”
“I did,” she sighed. “I was afraid. He did after all play the upper hand in my marrying Mr. Merryweather.” We remained in silence for a long time. She spoke, “it is the right thing to do.”
“The right thing to do,” Holmes fired off.
She walked over to him putting her hand over his heart, “I will die Sherlock but not by my father’s influence.”
Inspector Hopkins and I just looked at each other. She moved to the window.
“Then let me arrange it,” Inspector Hopkins spoke. “Here.”
“Indeed,” Holmes shook his head.
“Do you believe your father can keep such joy at bay?” I asked. “I would be inclined to scream it from the mountain tops.”
“I would enjoy nothing more than arresting Mr. Merryweather but I’m afraid I need more evidence.” He began to say more but Lizzie cut him off.
“I wish not to hear about these things. We shall keep building.”
“I will arrange our meeting.” The inspector got up to leave.
“Let us go for a walk gentlemen, I need fresh air.” Lizzie reported.
“Then open a window,” Holmes scolded.
“I will go without you.”
“This I know.”
We all left for an evening stroll around the neighborhood. A vendor was selling live rabbits. She made such a fuss over them. He even let her pet one. Holmes just rolled his eyes. “They are my favorite. When I was little father let me have a pet rabbit.” We stayed there for the longest time. I sat with her petting the rabbit. It curled up in her lap like it knew her. Much as a dog would sit in its master’s lap. I saw out of the corner of my eye, Holmes slipped the vender some money, which made him happy. On our way home, Lizzie bought a bouquet of flowers. Upon our return, she gave them to Mrs. Hudson. Mrs. Hudson giggled like a young girl, smiling from ear to ear.
Over the course of the next few weeks, the weather got warmer and our walks got longer. Summer was now in full swing. Lizzie was doing much better. One afternoon Holmes was out, she and I went for a walk. Like the true gentleman that I was, I let her hold on to my arm. I knew that if anything happened to her, Holmes would be outraged with me.
We walked in silence until she spoke, “ask your questions doctor?” She smiled.
“They are trivial at best.” I tried to brush it off.
She grinned, “ask.”
“Very well,” I blushed. “Why does Holmes call you Ara? I know it is a shortening of your first name. Even Mycroft calls you Lizzie. And the two of you seem to be quite close.”
“The answer is quiet simple doctor. I like the way it sounds coming from his lips. The way he says it, it almost sounds like a whispered breath. Pay attention the next time he says it.” She blushed this time.
“I am quite sure that he loves you.”
“I know he does doctor. Love was never the issue.”
I stopped, looking desperately at her. “If love was never the issue, then what?”
“You read my journal?”
“Yes, many times.”
“Then what did I say?”
“That if Holmes would have married you, he would have never reached his full potential.”
“This is true. You know him. You know when he is happy and when he is chasing the Black Dog. He is his happiest when confronted with a problem, a challenge. Holmes is a brilliant man. But how do you think it would reflect on his wife if she knew he was down at the morgue beating corpses?”
“Lots of the inspectors are married.”
“This is true. When given the chance, conduct and experiment; talk to married men, find out how many of them are happily married. Ask their wives too.” I just stood there in shock; I knew not what to say. “I love him with all my heart, Watson. I love him enough to know that marriage would have broken him. Much like Mrs. Tarter’s brother, not physically of course but spiritually; it would have crushed him.”
“I fail to see your point.”
She smiled, “let me put it to you this way. Birds are beautiful creatures to look upon. But what happens to a bird when you put it in a cage?”
I was unsure where she was going with her analogy. So after a long moment I said, “they die.”
Poetry & More 