Fic: "Grit in a sensitive instrument", part 2
It appears Captain Doumeki is quite firm regarding certain expectations. And I passionately hate this narrative voice.
Anyway, so structure-wise, this universe chose to introduce itself in media res, because it's so much less work than starting at the beginning. And this particular story is really just one episode in a potential series. I don't see it going more than four or five chapters, but don't hold me to that because I also have yet to locate the engine room on this thing. Lord knows what will happen if I do find it, and start throwing levers and tinkering with motor belts and regulators and things.
Regardless, if the plot of this experiment works, then all the subsequent series plots should fall into line directly, because what I'm also test-driving here is the spine of this universe.
2.
They were met at the doorway by Mrs. Tringham, a resolute looking woman in her mid-thirties, buttoned into a functional, sturdy-seamed dress of dark green worsted. Rather than take any pains to greet them, she looked on the visitors implacably, until Captain Doumeki's crisp introduction: "Miss Kunogi and Captain Doumeki to see Professor Brixton."
There was a brief but significant hesitation, before Mrs. Tringham stepped aside to let them enter. "Come along to the library. I'll inform the Professor he has callers."
The Captain removed his hat and gloves along the way down the entry hall, exchanging a swift speaking glance with Miss Kunogi, keeping pace with him behind the housekeeper. No sooner had the woman shown them the library door, than she was off without a word.
Together they took in the dim room with its unlit fireplace, the drawn drapes, and the Captain's hat and gloves still in hand when they ought to have been taken at the door.
"I did send my card over this morning," Captain Doumeki mentioned.
Miss Kunogi, inspecting the mantlepiece, nodded. "The grate hasn't been cleaned, and there's still wax on the candlesticks. Mrs. Tringham must be run ragged."
Captain Doumeki answered with a skeptical-sounding sniff.
Several minutes later, Mrs. Tringham returned bearing a tea tray, with a demeanor somewhat less chilly than the room. "You'll have to forgive the Professor, he goes into his developing laboratory and loses all idea of the time. Do sit down, he'll be along shortly." She set the tray on the table near the sofa, and promptly strode off to draw back the drapes from the tall leaded-glass windows, relieving some of the room's gloomy aspect.
With a murmur of polite thanks, Miss Kunogi settled on the sofa, while Captain Doumeki lowered himself to an adjacent chair, setting his gloves and hat on a smaller occasional table close by. When Mrs. Tringham returned to pour the tea, Miss Kunogi offered her a grateful smile.
"You must be such a great help to the Professor. How fortunate he is, having those nearby whom he can trust with his welfare."
For a flickering instant, Mrs. Tringham's eyes cut cold and sharp to Miss Kunogi. But the sincerity of the young lady's smile was unassailable, sweet and uncomplicated as a wildflower bending to a breeze, and with a sigh, Mrs. Tringham softened somewhat.
"He's a man devoted to his work, and one day, his discoveries will make him great. He deserves those as will look after his best interests, difficult as that may be." She passed a teacup to Miss Kunogi, who nodded sympathetically.
"It is seldom easy, supporting the practical needs of those who achieve greatness. But without such help, that greatness might never be achieved."
"Quite right," agreed Mrs. Tringham, offering tea to Captain Doumeki, who took the cup and saucer in perfect silence. "Now if I might beg your pardon, I should see what's keeping the Professor."
The room resorted to a shadowy, close stillness after she left, during which Captain Doumeki stared into his tea, as if it contained the source of his vexation. "Not quite what I'd expected," he eventually remarked.
"Come now, you are surely aware that not all households run to military standards of efficiency," Miss Kunogi answered dryly.
"Has she realized this is not actually a boarding-house?" he muttered. And then with a quick glance toward the door, he shifted in his chair and lowered his voice further. "You saw her hands?"
"Friction blisters over the proximal phalanx of the right fingers, and thumb. A few days old."
"Taking up the housework?" the Captain wondered.
"Her left hand is already calloused. The blisters were induced by a different sort of work. Something she hasn't repeated. And did you see the--." At the sound of a step in the hall, she broke off, setting aside her teacup and rising along with Captain Doumeki to greet the man approaching the doorway.
"I do beg your pardon, Captain, Miss Kunogi. So very sorry to keep you waiting." Professor Brixton was a tall, lean man, with mild blue eyes under wiry gray eyebrows. His hair was steely gray as well, with only a few remaining strands of the original brown. As he approached, he was still settling his shoulders into his recently donned morning coat, fresh from the valet's brush no doubt.
"Not at all, Professor," said Captain Doumeki, stepping forward to shake the man's hand. "Thank you for seeing us on short notice. I don't imagine the last few days have been easy."
"That is sadly true, sir, though of course it is I who ought to be thanking you. I had not imagined Mr. Watanuki could be so quick to bring about support on my behalf."
"I know he has valued your acquaintance for many years," answered the Captain. "Since he is unable to assist you directly, please assume that Miss Kunogi and I are entirely at your disposal, in his stead."
"Indeed, I--." The Professor's gaze shifted off toward the rug, abstracted, the upheaval of a previously well-ordered life straining his composure. But then with some effort he rallied, drew himself up and met his visitors' eyes straight-on.
"I am most grateful. And I apologize for interrupting your tea. Please," gesturing for them to sit and then taking the chair opposite Captain Doumeki's, near Miss Kunogi.
"It behooves me to explain that--ah, no." Brixton shook his head and sat firmly back in his chair. "No, logically we should begin with what you know of the incident, to avoid omission or unnecessary repetition. May I prevail upon you, Captain?"
"Yesterday evening at eight, I received Watanuki's telegram," began the Captain. In flat, precise tones he went on to describe what he'd learned from Stamford; the disposition of the household, the timeline of Miss Garrett's death, the coroner's findings, and the absence of any immediate evidence pointing to murder, in the initial investigation.
"First thing this morning," the Captain concluded, "I received this photograph of Miss Garrett." From his inner pocket he withdrew the trifold card and presented it to Brixton. However the man merely nodded, indicating with a wave of the hand that he should keep it.
"Yes, quite right, Mr. Watanuki recommended I send on any photographs of Eliza as soon as possible. I had--it was my intention to include a note. But circumstances, well, the household has been quite disordered, you understand."
Captain Doumeki's expression was the very epitome of blandness as he answered, "Of course," prompting Miss Kunogi to put herself forward.
"Professor Brixton? Would it be permissible to ask, given the evidence found by the police, what prompted you to contact your friend, Mr. Watanuki?"
Initially, Brixton turned a benign forbearing sort of look on her, and then blinked and caught a breath. "My gracious, Kunogi. Why I hadn't--I knew a Hisoka Kunogi up at Edinburg, we took in a Hodgkins lecture together. Extraordinary memory for detail, I recall him taking down the entire lecture word-for-word, after."
"How kind of you to remember my father," Miss Kunogi answered, politely gratified.
"I have found Miss Kunogi's own apprehension of detail to be well above average," Captain Doumeki informed Brixton stiffly. "Watanuki himself has professed his respect for her observations throughout their acquaintance, and I have every confidence that she will prove indispensable to the resolution of your difficulty, as well."
"What I believe my cousin means to say," Miss Kunogi offered the frankly startled Professor Brixton, "is that you may rely upon us equally. Granted my attendance in the matter is unconventional, but we do promise that if you share your concerns with us, we shall each put forth the utmost effort, to see them put to rest."
"Well I--." The Professor cast a somewhat guarded look toward Captain Doumeki, who managed to appear both inscrutable and expectant. "Yes, yes of course. As I said, I am....most grateful for any assistance. And as for my concerns....I have found, since the incident two nights ago, that. Well, perhaps a man of different temperament would let the matter rest as a mere accident. There were no signs of coercion or struggle. And however I wrack my memory, I can recall no indication that Eliza meant to take her life in such a manner. Nor anything which would have impelled her."
"And yet you remain unconvinced it was an accident?" asked Miss Kunogi.
The man shook his head, an air of weary frustration bidding to overtake him. "Try as I might, I cannot accept it. The matter weighs too heavily on my conscience, and the evidence, I am near certain there is something amiss, something in plain sight, if only I could put my finger on it."
"That's why you contacted Watanuki." said Captain Doumeki. "You believed he would see what was amiss."
"Yes, yes that is precisely correct."
"Perhaps it's time you showed us, then," concluded the Captain.
**
Anyway, so structure-wise, this universe chose to introduce itself in media res, because it's so much less work than starting at the beginning. And this particular story is really just one episode in a potential series. I don't see it going more than four or five chapters, but don't hold me to that because I also have yet to locate the engine room on this thing. Lord knows what will happen if I do find it, and start throwing levers and tinkering with motor belts and regulators and things.
Regardless, if the plot of this experiment works, then all the subsequent series plots should fall into line directly, because what I'm also test-driving here is the spine of this universe.
2.
They were met at the doorway by Mrs. Tringham, a resolute looking woman in her mid-thirties, buttoned into a functional, sturdy-seamed dress of dark green worsted. Rather than take any pains to greet them, she looked on the visitors implacably, until Captain Doumeki's crisp introduction: "Miss Kunogi and Captain Doumeki to see Professor Brixton."
There was a brief but significant hesitation, before Mrs. Tringham stepped aside to let them enter. "Come along to the library. I'll inform the Professor he has callers."
The Captain removed his hat and gloves along the way down the entry hall, exchanging a swift speaking glance with Miss Kunogi, keeping pace with him behind the housekeeper. No sooner had the woman shown them the library door, than she was off without a word.
Together they took in the dim room with its unlit fireplace, the drawn drapes, and the Captain's hat and gloves still in hand when they ought to have been taken at the door.
"I did send my card over this morning," Captain Doumeki mentioned.
Miss Kunogi, inspecting the mantlepiece, nodded. "The grate hasn't been cleaned, and there's still wax on the candlesticks. Mrs. Tringham must be run ragged."
Captain Doumeki answered with a skeptical-sounding sniff.
Several minutes later, Mrs. Tringham returned bearing a tea tray, with a demeanor somewhat less chilly than the room. "You'll have to forgive the Professor, he goes into his developing laboratory and loses all idea of the time. Do sit down, he'll be along shortly." She set the tray on the table near the sofa, and promptly strode off to draw back the drapes from the tall leaded-glass windows, relieving some of the room's gloomy aspect.
With a murmur of polite thanks, Miss Kunogi settled on the sofa, while Captain Doumeki lowered himself to an adjacent chair, setting his gloves and hat on a smaller occasional table close by. When Mrs. Tringham returned to pour the tea, Miss Kunogi offered her a grateful smile.
"You must be such a great help to the Professor. How fortunate he is, having those nearby whom he can trust with his welfare."
For a flickering instant, Mrs. Tringham's eyes cut cold and sharp to Miss Kunogi. But the sincerity of the young lady's smile was unassailable, sweet and uncomplicated as a wildflower bending to a breeze, and with a sigh, Mrs. Tringham softened somewhat.
"He's a man devoted to his work, and one day, his discoveries will make him great. He deserves those as will look after his best interests, difficult as that may be." She passed a teacup to Miss Kunogi, who nodded sympathetically.
"It is seldom easy, supporting the practical needs of those who achieve greatness. But without such help, that greatness might never be achieved."
"Quite right," agreed Mrs. Tringham, offering tea to Captain Doumeki, who took the cup and saucer in perfect silence. "Now if I might beg your pardon, I should see what's keeping the Professor."
The room resorted to a shadowy, close stillness after she left, during which Captain Doumeki stared into his tea, as if it contained the source of his vexation. "Not quite what I'd expected," he eventually remarked.
"Come now, you are surely aware that not all households run to military standards of efficiency," Miss Kunogi answered dryly.
"Has she realized this is not actually a boarding-house?" he muttered. And then with a quick glance toward the door, he shifted in his chair and lowered his voice further. "You saw her hands?"
"Friction blisters over the proximal phalanx of the right fingers, and thumb. A few days old."
"Taking up the housework?" the Captain wondered.
"Her left hand is already calloused. The blisters were induced by a different sort of work. Something she hasn't repeated. And did you see the--." At the sound of a step in the hall, she broke off, setting aside her teacup and rising along with Captain Doumeki to greet the man approaching the doorway.
"I do beg your pardon, Captain, Miss Kunogi. So very sorry to keep you waiting." Professor Brixton was a tall, lean man, with mild blue eyes under wiry gray eyebrows. His hair was steely gray as well, with only a few remaining strands of the original brown. As he approached, he was still settling his shoulders into his recently donned morning coat, fresh from the valet's brush no doubt.
"Not at all, Professor," said Captain Doumeki, stepping forward to shake the man's hand. "Thank you for seeing us on short notice. I don't imagine the last few days have been easy."
"That is sadly true, sir, though of course it is I who ought to be thanking you. I had not imagined Mr. Watanuki could be so quick to bring about support on my behalf."
"I know he has valued your acquaintance for many years," answered the Captain. "Since he is unable to assist you directly, please assume that Miss Kunogi and I are entirely at your disposal, in his stead."
"Indeed, I--." The Professor's gaze shifted off toward the rug, abstracted, the upheaval of a previously well-ordered life straining his composure. But then with some effort he rallied, drew himself up and met his visitors' eyes straight-on.
"I am most grateful. And I apologize for interrupting your tea. Please," gesturing for them to sit and then taking the chair opposite Captain Doumeki's, near Miss Kunogi.
"It behooves me to explain that--ah, no." Brixton shook his head and sat firmly back in his chair. "No, logically we should begin with what you know of the incident, to avoid omission or unnecessary repetition. May I prevail upon you, Captain?"
"Yesterday evening at eight, I received Watanuki's telegram," began the Captain. In flat, precise tones he went on to describe what he'd learned from Stamford; the disposition of the household, the timeline of Miss Garrett's death, the coroner's findings, and the absence of any immediate evidence pointing to murder, in the initial investigation.
"First thing this morning," the Captain concluded, "I received this photograph of Miss Garrett." From his inner pocket he withdrew the trifold card and presented it to Brixton. However the man merely nodded, indicating with a wave of the hand that he should keep it.
"Yes, quite right, Mr. Watanuki recommended I send on any photographs of Eliza as soon as possible. I had--it was my intention to include a note. But circumstances, well, the household has been quite disordered, you understand."
Captain Doumeki's expression was the very epitome of blandness as he answered, "Of course," prompting Miss Kunogi to put herself forward.
"Professor Brixton? Would it be permissible to ask, given the evidence found by the police, what prompted you to contact your friend, Mr. Watanuki?"
Initially, Brixton turned a benign forbearing sort of look on her, and then blinked and caught a breath. "My gracious, Kunogi. Why I hadn't--I knew a Hisoka Kunogi up at Edinburg, we took in a Hodgkins lecture together. Extraordinary memory for detail, I recall him taking down the entire lecture word-for-word, after."
"How kind of you to remember my father," Miss Kunogi answered, politely gratified.
"I have found Miss Kunogi's own apprehension of detail to be well above average," Captain Doumeki informed Brixton stiffly. "Watanuki himself has professed his respect for her observations throughout their acquaintance, and I have every confidence that she will prove indispensable to the resolution of your difficulty, as well."
"What I believe my cousin means to say," Miss Kunogi offered the frankly startled Professor Brixton, "is that you may rely upon us equally. Granted my attendance in the matter is unconventional, but we do promise that if you share your concerns with us, we shall each put forth the utmost effort, to see them put to rest."
"Well I--." The Professor cast a somewhat guarded look toward Captain Doumeki, who managed to appear both inscrutable and expectant. "Yes, yes of course. As I said, I am....most grateful for any assistance. And as for my concerns....I have found, since the incident two nights ago, that. Well, perhaps a man of different temperament would let the matter rest as a mere accident. There were no signs of coercion or struggle. And however I wrack my memory, I can recall no indication that Eliza meant to take her life in such a manner. Nor anything which would have impelled her."
"And yet you remain unconvinced it was an accident?" asked Miss Kunogi.
The man shook his head, an air of weary frustration bidding to overtake him. "Try as I might, I cannot accept it. The matter weighs too heavily on my conscience, and the evidence, I am near certain there is something amiss, something in plain sight, if only I could put my finger on it."
"That's why you contacted Watanuki." said Captain Doumeki. "You believed he would see what was amiss."
"Yes, yes that is precisely correct."
"Perhaps it's time you showed us, then," concluded the Captain.
**