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The Waiting Room

~ Chapter Ninety-Seven


Michael Who?


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Look, Inspector”

Abberline heard the words.

“Inspector? Inspector?”

A sharp pain struck his shoulder bringing him out of the brilliant white light and into the darkness of the Room. The pain was Wilmot’s cane stabbing at him.

“You have slept half the day away, my good man. Bad enough you fell asleep before night fall yesterday. But already it is near to noon and you have done nothing but snore.”

Wilmot went to poke Abberline again, but the Inspector brushed the cane away.

“Do not be sticking me with that cane m’Lord,” Abberline warned as he pulled himself upright and out of the chair. “I am flesh and blood and not a sack of grain on the floor waiting for your inspection.”

Wilmot huffed at Abberline, his cane now down, tapping the hard wood floor.

“I say...quite impertinent. You were handed the reins by Crane, yet you totally ignore your duties. Tis a shame there are no other officers of the law to continue this investigation. You have done nothing but make a shambles of things…and….”

“Quiet!” Abberline held up his hand as he tried to get his bearings on the Room.

Another huff from Rochester. “How dare you sir! I am Lord Rochester and I will not tolerate such behavior.”

Abberline’s eyes became slits as he looked in Wilmot’s direction. “You’ll be tolerating it because I am telling you too. As far as making a shambles, may I remind you that this situation,” Abberline waved his hand, “was not of my doing nor do I have immediate access to those that could enlighten us. Though I must admit I was close…she was there…in my dreams…about to show me…I saw…” Fred’s words drifted off.

“A girl? A girl? We fear for ourselves and you sit there dreaming of a girl? And what did you see, pray tell, sir? How can one manage to solve this mystery by mere dreams?”

Wilmot turned hard on his heel and strutted away, his cane coming down hard with every other step.

Abberline lowered himself into his chair, trying to recall the dream. But all he could recall was a color…no colors…lots of them…rainbow upon rainbow of color. He put his head into his hands, rubbing his face, trying to pull out bits and pieces of his memory.

If only he could remember, he thought. Perhaps it would help.

But then his thoughts turned as Wilmot’s words came back to him.

Wilmot had accused him of sleeping half the day away. That meant another day had passed.

That meant that others would be gone.

He looked over his fingers, getting a feel of the Room, trying to recognize faces, trying to see who was not among those he knew.

The yellow boa caught his eye. Its' feathery, billowing texture contrasted against the red velvet of Cesar’s chair. The inspector stood and made his way to it, picking up BonBon’s accessory. Next to it was an older piece of evidence, Pvt. Lerner’s leather cuff.

As if they would break, Abberline gently picked each item up. With curiosity, he lifted the boa to his nose and soaked in the essence of the vanished lady, then returned back to his table and placed them both in the evidence box.

“A thousand pardons, Inspector.”

Abberline turned at the voice and found himself facing James Barrie. He stared for a second at the clean shaven, angelic-like face of the man. He seemed to exude innocence. His gentleness and mild manners made him recall Sam…they shared the same mannerisms.
“Inspector?” Barrie attempted to get his attention again.

“Oh, sorry, Mr. Barrie. Just thinking of past victims. Go on, you were saying?”

“Over there, Inspector. I left it alone. Abhor weapons of any kind, you know. You will find a revolver. I believe it belonged to Lt. Victor.” Barrie leaned closer to Abberline's ear to whisper. “I felt you should get to it before Mr. Jung. Don’t think it would be proper for a man of his caliber to have another weapon, would we?”

Abberline nodded as he brushed past the Scotsman. “No, no, Mr. Barrie, quite right you are. I shall fetch it immediately. Thank you for your concern.”

“That is not all I found Inspector.”

Abberline had taken a few steps away from the writer and found himself turning about to face him again.

It was then his eyes caught the musical instrument in his hand, hanging down at his side, like a small child waiting to be introduced.

Barrie lifted it into his arms. Abberline found himself admiring the fine workmanship of the guitar.

“I am afraid this belonged to Michael,” Barrie explained.

Abberline shook his head, not recalling anyone by the name of Michael.

Barrie’s face filled with a sadness as he realized no one else in the Room had taken the time to learn the Irishman‘s first name.

“Roux, Inspector. You knew him as Roux.”



 

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