As it says in the title, this is the fourth part of Thorfinn Grimm’s Holiday. Here’s a link to the index so you can catch up on previous parts and older stories, and don’t forget to subscribe!
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Chapter 4
The Story So Far:
Pippin invited Thorfinn to his family estate for Christmas. Then, on Christmas Day, someone set fire to the house and murdered Pippin’s grandfather. A week later, Pippin’s mother disappeared, and Thorfinn tracked her to Thailand. Now separated, each of our heroes continues the investigation in their own way, discovering shocking new secrets.
Thorfinn
I did my homework, of course, but I didn’t expect a Muay Thai stadium to have such a strong scent of lemongrass. A fight was in full swing as I was ushered to my seat. In the ring were two female Thai boxers, testing each other with measured kicks and shoves. The one in the blue corner was a foot shorter, but she seemed to have a real fire in her. Red pushed her advantage, catching Blue in the eye with an elbow. The blue fighter stumbled, then pushed back harder.
Suddenly, it was all over. One blindingly-fast punch and the red fighter was on her back, grasping her liver and groaning in pain. The referee counted to ten and called a technical knock-out — a victory for Blue.
A jubilant group of friends and fans clambered onto the ring to congratulate the winner, and in the crowd, I spotted a familiar face. Mrs Alice Morstan.
It took me a second to recognise her, and not because of the new clothes and haircut. It was everything else. Until that very moment, Mrs Morstan was my roommate’s quiet, broken-down, and practically ghostly mother. All of a sudden, she looked — dare I say it? — cool.
I caught up to her as she was stepping out of the ring.
“Mr Grimm, it’s so nice to see you,” said Mrs Morstan. “That’s my friend, Jane,” she added, gesturing towards Blue.
“Isn’t she so good!” Mrs Morstan beamed. “She says I should train with her, but I think my knees might disagree.”
She laughed. I’d only met her the one time, but that was the first I’d seen her do that.
“You look well,” I told her. “Pippin sends his love. Why didn’t you tell him you were coming here?”
“I left a note,” she said, a little confused. “On Notes. You know, the app. Isn’t that what it’s for?”
“I don’t think anyone knows what it’s for, Mrs M,” I said. “But it doesn’t matter now.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted two men watching us from the distance.
They’re here, I thought. Again.
I needed to get her out of there; take her somewhere safe.
“Where is Pippin?” Mrs Morstan asked. “Is he here?”
“No, he’s not here,” I said. “He’s taking care of some things for me. Let’s get a bite and I’ll tell you all about it.”
Pippin
I don’t know how Finn talked me into staying here instead of going to Thailand with him. For somebody who seems so passive, he’s surprisingly good at getting his way. He did say he wanted me to snoop around and find out some more information about what happened to Grandpa Walter, but that just sounds like busy work. I think he just wants to smoke weed without me.
Either way, I suppose making these notes would be useful (and I suppose it would help with the book). So, here’s everything I know so far:
Since the house burned down, everyone’s been living at the guesthouse nearby. It’s a quaint, cosy place; or at least, it would be if Frank Jr. and Elizabeth would stop screaming at each other. She hasn’t asked for a divorce yet but she’s quite close. Frank Jr. insists he wasn’t doing anything with Abigail the maid.
“I just got up to get a glass of water and ran into her,” he says. When I asked him why he was in his underwear coming out of the house, he said that’s just how he sleeps and if I’d excuse him, he really needed the loo. I didn’t press the matter any further.
Meanwhile, Aunt Cora and Uncle Frank have never seemed more in love with each other. It’s creepy, actually. Growing up, Uncle Frank was always wandering in the woods and playing around with his guns in the old stable, while Aunt Cora went about town arranging charities and benefits for the needy. I don’t think I’ve ever seen them so much as hold hands but now, they’re constantly in each other’s arms, or taking long walks in the grass together.
Father Moore still seems quite shaken by the ordeal. He’s staying here too, spending long hours locked in his room and coming out only for meals. Mrs Bunting tells me that late at night, she can hear him crying sometimes.
She seems pretty normal, Mrs Bunting I mean. She’s a bit of a true crime nut, and she’s so excited about being part of a real murder investigation.
“Unfortunately, the constable’s in the hospital,” she informed me. “Spot on his liver. I hear they might send someone down from the city, but don’t you think all the clues will be gone by then?”
“Might be,” I said. “But I have seen Thorfinn deduce solutions from the tiniest scrap of evidence, so there’s always hope.”
“Right. Good,” She said. “Everybody gets what’s comin’ to ‘em, that’s what I always say. Personally, I think it’s your aunt. She hated your grandfather. Fought tooth and nail they did, all the time. Even the night he died, I heard them yelling.”
Oh, Mrs Bunting has a tendency to listen at keyholes. She pretends it’s all by accident, but the woman knows everything that happens in the house. As expected, she said she didn’t hear anything at first, but she did catch “a little something.”
“I heard Mr Darby tell her, ‘I pay for all your fetes and charities. I’m the reason people look up to you. Let’s see what good you are to them without me.’”
“What did she say to that?” I asked
“I’m not sure,” said Mrs Bunting. “But I think she said, ‘I’ll show you, you sick old man.’ I could be wrong though. My ears aren’t what they used to be.”
Thorfinn
We got some tea at the food court and Mrs Morstan insisted I should try the mango sticky rice. It was quite delicious. I noticed the men from before hovering around a few tables over but decided not to pay them any mind for the moment.
“I can’t believe he’s dead, you know,” Mrs Morstan said. “I mean, I’m not surprised someone killed him, and honestly, it’s so… liberating not to have him around. But he was my father.”
“Yes, I understand,” I said. “No chance he’s still alive, is there?”
Her face darkened. “Why would you say such a thing?” she gasped. “But no, I don’t think so. Not unless he used the secret passages.”
“Wait, secret passages?”
“Oh, they’re not really a secret,” Mrs Morstan laughed. “Father had them put in as a joke. They were all over the house, but we didn’t really use them so they were mostly just stuffed with old junk.”
“That’s fascinating,” I said. There were two more men. I smelled a confrontation coming. “Would you excuse me, Mrs Morstan? I need to use the restroom.”
“Of course,” she said, returning to the mango sticky rice. “And call me Alice, Finn. Don’t be so formal.”
I nodded awkwardly and walked out of the food court. The men followed close behind as I made my way back to the stadium. The fights were done for the night and there was nobody around as I climbed into the ring. Nobody, except the people I’d come here to see.
They walked in slowly and stayed outside the ring, two behind me and two in front.
“I saw you here earlier,” I said. “And at the train station. And at the airport.”
I took a joint out of my pocket and lit it. I’d been planning on saving it for later, but I figured it would make me look more intimidating.
“I see two of you are from Singapore,” I continued. “One of you is French, and you, sir, are Irish, aren’t you?” I took a long drag and coughed a little. “An international organisation then, *cough*, with significant resources, considering you knew I was on that plane.”
I stepped forward, took another drag, and blew the smoke defiantly in their faces.
“So this is how we meet,” I said. “Lux Viridis, I presume.”
“Actually, sir,” one of the men said, coughing and waving the smoke out of his face. “We’re from Interpol.”
“Oh.”
Pippin
After I spoke to Mrs Bunting, I went looking for Aunt Cora. I found her alone in her room with a pile of books and old papers. I recognized them from Grandpa Walter’s strongbox.
“Hello, Pip,” she said as I entered. “Would you mind giving me a hand?”
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“Looking for the will, of course. The old kook must have had it here somewhere. I just hope he didn’t get a chance to change it like he said he would.”
“About that,” I hesitated. Aunt Cora was like a mother to me. An overbearing, slightly melodramatic mother, but I still couldn’t just accuse her of murder. “I heard you had a row with Grandpa,” I said. “What was that about?”
Aunt Cora rolled her eyes. “Mrs Bunting’s been listening by doors again, hasn’t she?” she groaned. “Well, if you must know, we did have an argument. He said some hurtful things and I was absolutely fed up with him. So, I decided to take matters into my own hands.”
“What does that mean?” I asked, a little alarmed.
“I got a job, Pip,” she laughed. “You didn’t think I killed him, did you? They need someone at the school to handle the paperwork. I’ve been thinking about it for a while and that conversation really convinced me to go for it. You know he wouldn’t let your mother or your uncle work, don’t you? He made sure they had to depend on him, then turned around and accused us all of being parasites. The nerve!”
“Well, I guess it doesn’t matter now,” I shrugged. “Seeing as he’s dead and all that.”
“I suppose not, but I’d still rest easier once we find that will,” she said. “And… I’d still like to do the job. I know I’m a bit old for a new career, but I think I would enjoy it.”
“That sounds good, Auntie,” I smiled. “Come on, I’ll give you a hand.”
Thorfinn
So, not a confrontation, but more a misunderstanding. The Interpol agents filled me in on their side of the story. A little while later, I returned to the food court, found Alice and told her everything.
It turns out there was more to Walter Darby than we imagined. He always said the war made his fortune, but he never specified what he sold.
He was an intelligence broker. He sold information during the Second World War; helped the Allies out a bit, charged them a lot more. Then, right after the war, he got his hands on something, a document so devastating that the government basically paid him off to destroy it. They were never quite sure if he actually did what they’d asked so they kept an eye on him, made sure he and his were always taken care of. As a result, his death triggered red flags in intelligence agencies across the world.
“What was the document?” she asked. “What could possibly be so important?”
“That’s the best part,” I said. “They don’t know. It’s so long ago that the files were never digitized, and they have no idea where the originals are. All they know is that it’s something that could change our whole understanding of history. I don’t know what that means, I’m quoting them. But I think we need to get you home right now.”
Pippin
I found something. Aunt Cora gave up and went downstairs but I think I found something. It was in the books, three long black volumes with dusty yellow pages. I was halfway through the second when I suddenly realized who had killed Grandpa Walter and why. It seemed so obvious!
Before I could tell anyone about my discovery, I was interrupted by a knock on the door. It was Abigail, and she looked scared. Terrified, actually.
“I need help,” she said. “I did something bad, and it turned out to be something so much worse.”
I told her I would do anything I could to help her, and asked if it was about Frank Jr. She said it wasn’t.
“Nothing happened,” she snapped. “Why does no one believe me? Aunt Gilda thinks he tried to rape me. I’m pretty sure she’s been slipping him laxatives.”
Gilda was Mrs Bunting’s name. I didn’t know Abigail was Mrs Bunting’s niece.
“Anyway,” she said. “I did it. I didn’t mean to, but I did.”
“What?” I asked. “What did you do?”
With tears in her eyes, Abigail said, “I killed Mr Darby.”
To Be Continued…
Enjoying the story so far? If you’d like to read more of our eccentric detective’s adventures, you can now buy Thorfinn Grimm: Year One in paperback and e-book formats on Amazon. Here’s the link:
I laughed so hard I coughed (which admittedly is pretty easy at the moment). Some zingers in this one!