Chapter 28 – The Mourning

Emerson:

The sweet taste of freedom was short lived. Though it was no surprise. His late employer did have a way of boasting his work to his colleagues in the underground world. Someone had been listening to Mr. Aquitaine’s words and then seized the opportunity. It’d be a shame to see such fine craftsmanship, as his, go to waste.

Our dear Emerson had a decision to make… Either take the position and sign his services to the next highest bidder or leave all this behind. But leaving this behind meant leaving Duncan behind. It also meant leaving all the travesties that have plagued him for so long. 

He indeed had a choice to make and the night was drawing to a close. What was the harm to sleep on the proposition? Emerson carried the letter and his belongings to the bedroom. Theodore was sure to follow, after all a feline has no true master but to those who provide sustenance.

Avery Aquitaine:

Though it was late, there was one still who remained unrested. Avery Aquitaine. She had taken her nightcap and yet filled with so many questions. It’s been days and her protector hasn’t made an appearance or any form of contact. Who was he, how did he know about the list? Why did he reveal himself to her and kill her father in such a swift blow? How was she connected to the others on the list? 

Her cousin, Ms. Caroline, herself, Mr. Crawford and two others. How have these individuals found themselves on such a list? How many degrees of separation stood between each of them?

Duncan:

Still restless from today’s events, he reached for his phone and began to scroll. Something had been keeping him awake. Perhaps it was their interaction at the funeral. With few words exchanged, there was very little room for any heart-felt conversation and that was for the best. He withdrew. Though Duncan wanted to be there for Emerson, he couldn’t because he was never one to handle death well. The usually giddy person had been replaced with a more distant and cold shell of a man. 

Mrs. Aquitaine:

While they all had their own grievances, there was one who was feeling it the most. Mrs. Aquitaine. Her husband had been left for dead in their own home. The facts still were not clear and the police were still investigating Mr. Aquitaine’s death. 

She tried so hard to fall asleep in the bed made for two. The cold chills of an empty house were beginning to wear on her. Mrs. Aquitaine had declined her daughter’s offer to stay in the city. In such a large estate, there was still more that needed to be done. She had only completed two of the ten items on this week’s schedule. Though keeping herself busy was a source of deference to the issue, she didn’t know how else to cope. 

Perchance all the pressure she’d put on herself had finally caught up to her. With tears forming over her eyes, Mrs. Aquitaine sighed and opened her eyes. Though she was never one to rely on others during difficult situations, she did rely heavily on the comfort of alcohol. Her nightcap had yet to fulfill its duty, so she made her way out of bed and into the kitchen.

As she slowly inhaled, a cold sensation ran up her checks and produced more tears. This time, instead of wiping the wet byproduct of lost, she embraced it. Though she wasn’t particularly religious, she began to raise her eyes towards the ceiling as if looking for a sign. 

In her time of grievance, she was unaware of the person lurking in the shadows. It was the very same that had taken the life of Mr. Aquitaine and back to retrieve some information.

She poured herself a light glass of whiskey, shot it back quickly, in hopes it would keep her body warm for the remainder of that evening’s consciousness. With the glass empty, she placed it in the bottom of the sink. Mrs. Aquitaine was now feeling less anxious and ready for a good night’s rest. With her life in disarray, she cozied up to her pillow and wondered, “What now?”