Murder, She Barked

“An antique. The sheath bears sterling silver thistles.”

Probably hand carved, the sheath appeared to be ebony. I didn’t have to be an antiques expert to see that it bore the hallmarks of age.

He grasped the handle. A silver crown on the top held a large amber stone. Horace withdrew the handle to reveal a gleaming knife. “I like to imagine that it was really used, and not just worn for ceremonies.”

Luis whistled his admiration and took the knife from Horace. “It’s sharp! And heavier than I expected. You could do some damage with this thing.” He danced backward and extended his arm as though it were a sword.

“They made things to last in the old days, didn’t they?” Horace beamed. “Let’s find Babineaux. He wanted to see it, too.” He locked the drawer again and tucked the key back into the book.

They scuttled out of Horace’s office with the enthusiasm of little boys who had found a shiny object. I followed them out, and moseyed toward the buffet to check on the food. Guests couldn’t seem to get enough of the oysters on the half shell and rolls of salmon on pumpernickel with pink peppercorns and crème fraîche. The baked Brie with toasted pecans and fig glaze was always a hit. I couldn’t resist a taste of the melting cheese with a hint of salt and a smidge of sweet fig. Heavenly! And I had to try the seared foie gras with caramelized pears. The caterer had outdone himself.

Everyone appeared to be having fun. I checked my watch, grabbed my pashmina, and slipped out the front door in search of the carolers I’d hired, shivering at the chill. Mother Nature had cooperated beautifully, sending us sparkling snowflakes. Not enough to have to shovel, but the right amount for perfect ambiance. I had worn a red velvet dress in the spirit of the season, but it lacked sleeves. No matter. The pashmina would cover my bare arms. Besides, I didn’t plan to be outdoors long.

The carolers hurried along the street toward me. Dressed in traditional Victorian garb, with white faux fur trim on their clothes, they fit in perfectly on Old Town’s colonial streets.

They gathered in front of the door, and at the signal, I opened the door and stepped aside on the sidewalk to watch them.

They began with “Deck the Halls.” The doors to the upstairs balcony opened, and Horace led a small group out to watch. From below I couldn’t help but notice the blanched color of his normally rosy face. He still smiled, though, and listened to the voices blend.

But then I saw him grasp the railing with both hands and appear to sway. None of the people behind him seemed to realize that he wasn’t well.

He leaned forward, his upper body draped against the railing, and they finally clustered around him in concern. With an enormous snap, the railing split, and Horace plunged headlong onto the sidewalk.