Flyvy

Flynn thought for a moment that the Radcliffe’s maid wasn’t going to let him in but then she stepped aside and waved him in.

“I’m afraid Master Radcliffe is doing worse than ever,” she said quietly. “It’s good that you came now. I don’t think he’ll be conscious enough to talk for long.”

Flynn had kept his promise to Benedict and come to see him. The maid led him up to the bedroom, knocking softly.

“Come in,” ordered a muffled voice.

“Mr. Dawson is here to see Master Radcliffe,” the maid said, opening the door. Cordelia and Violetta were sitting beside Benedict’s bed. Cordelia rose stiffly, not even acknowledging Flynn as she walked out. The maid hurriedly backed out of her way. Violetta hesitated before standing.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, eyeing him. She was clearly trying to maintain her usual haughty expression but her eyes were red.

“I came to see Benedict. He asked me to come by.“

“Don’t keep him awake too long. He needs rest.” She held her head up and brushed past him. Flynn sighed and sat down in her vacated chair.

“Benedict?” he called. His eyes were closed, his breathing shallow. Flynn was about to leave and come back later when Benedict coughed himself awake. He smiled when he saw Flynn.

“Ah, you came. I’m glad. My time is very near, I think.”

“I’m sorry.”

Benedict tried to wave a dismissive hand but the effort seemed to exhaust him. “I’ve lived a good life. I wasn’t as good as I should have been, but it was a good life. That’s what I wanted to talk to you about, Flynn. I owe you an apology. You and your mother.”

“We made it through all right,” Flynn said, feeling awkward.

“Yes, Laura was always a good mother. Fine woman.”

“She is,” Flynn agreed.

“I know including you in my will doesn’t make up for not being a father to you, but I hope it will be of use to you.”

“You really didn’t have to leave me anything.”

“Oh, I think I did.” Benedict chuckled weakly.

“I should let you get back to your rest,” Flynn said. Benedict leaned back against his pillows, looking spent.

“I’ll be getting plenty of rest soon enough. Good luck, Flynn. If I don’t see you again, take care of yourself, and your mother.”

“Yes, sir.” Benedict was already drifting off again and Flynn let himself out. He ran into Sheldon on the stairs.

“Oh, Flynn. Nice to see you. It was good of you to visit Father.”

“I’m never sure what to say to him,” Flynn admitted. “I hardly know the man.”

Sheldon nodded sympathetically, adjusting his glasses. “We never really know anyone, do we?”

“I suppose not,” Flynn said slowly, not sure what Sheldon was getting at.

“There’s no authenticity anymore, Flynn. It would be a rare and beautiful thing to find just one person who would be genuinely themselves all the time, never striving for perfection.”

“Uh...yeah.” Flynn frowned slightly as Sheldon stood there looking off into the distance like he’d forgotten Flynn was even there. “Are you all right, Sheldon?”

“Hmm? Oh, yes. I’m fine. Just have a lot on my mind these days. You understand.”

“Sure. Well, I’ll be seeing you, Sheldon.”

“Goodbye, Flynn.”

Flynn continued on but paused at the bottom of the stairs, something nagging at him. He glanced over his shoulder to see Sheldon disappear into his room. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong but he couldn’t figure out what was bothering him. He had just reached the front door and reached for the handle when it struck him what had been off about their conversation.

“Rare and beautiful thing,” he repeated to himself. He heard a door close upstairs and he tucked himself into an alcove, peeking out to see Sheldon head back down the entry stairs and walk past his hiding spot into the kitchen. It sounded like he was making some tea. Once he was out of sight Flynn scurried up the stairs and tiptoed into Sheldon’s room. He eased the door closed very quietly and looked around. The room was neat, and fairly minimalist aside from expensive sheets on the bed and a stack of books on the nightstand. Flynn crept through the room, though he had no idea what he was looking for.

He rifled through a few drawers, trying not to disturb the neatly folded clothes too much. He found nothing amiss and was about to give up his search, then decided to check the nightstand. He picked up the top book and realized with a start that it wasn’t a book at all, it was a trinket box designed to look like one. It was locked.

Flynn went to the desk and picked up a letter opener that was sitting on top. After he got a little aggressive with it, he managed to break the lock. Inside he first noticed a small golden locket. He picked it up and saw the initials S.T. carved into in delicate cursive letters.

Samantha Tovert. Rare and beautiful. And dead.

Flynn’s heart began to pound as he looked through the contents of the box. There was something wrapped in a cloth and when he pulled it out he nearly retched. A pair of eyeballs stared at him from inside a small jar.

Don’t look.

“Oh my god. Oh this is bad.” Flynn slammed the box shut, his mind reeling. “Sheldon. Sheldon is the secret admirer. Sheldon is the killer. Sheldon is...Ivy.” If Sheldon was the murderer, that meant he was the one who had tried to drown Ivy in her fountain. Flynn jumped when he heard the front door of the house shut. Box and letter opener both still in hand, he threw open the door and ran from the room. The kitchen was empty; Sheldon had left. Flynn bolted outside, feeling panicked. The Radcliffe property was expansive; a patch of forest shielded the mansion from prying eyes.

Flynn caught sight of a dark figure walking quickly into the trees far off to the right and he began to run. He lost sight of Sheldon by the time he reached the tree line and paused, straining his ears for any hint of sound.

“The old groundskeeper’s house,” he remembered just before he panicked completely. The last time he’d been to Lomallard Hall, the groundskeeper’s house had recently burned down and Sheldon had taken it upon himself to fix it back up again. Said he wanted a nice quiet place to read and sketch birds. He’d taken Flynn there, to show off the still half-burnt ruins of the place. It took him a while to remember where the damn thing he was but he finally stumbled across a small house in the middle of the thick trees. The perfect place for afternoon reading. Or committing murder.

Flynn crept inside, halfway expecting Sheldon to leap out from a shadowy corner and stab him. Instead he heard a faint commotion from somewhere below him. A brief survey of the main room revealed a trap door, the rug thrown back. Sheldon must be down there. Flynn eased it open, two angry voices greeting him as he climbed down.

“You are remarkably annoying, and I thought Samantha was bad. All she did was cry.”

“Get away from me!”

Flynn hurried down faster, recognizing Ivy’s voice. There was a scraping sound followed by a thud, and Ivy continued hollering at Sheldon who kept snapping at her to shut up. When Flynn reaches them, Ivy was sprawled across the floor, kicking her feet. She was tied awkwardly to a chair and Sheldon was standing over her with a particularly wicked looking knife, appearing very put out.

“Some highborn lady you turned out to be,” he groused. “More like a rabid raccoon.”

“Go to hell!”

“Sheldon,” Flynn said, marveling at how calm he sounded. He felt like he was having an out of body experience; maybe this was some kind of bizarre dream. The absurdity of it all was hard to swallow. Sheldon looked both stunned and annoyed to see him.

“Flynn!” Ivy cried, relieved.

“Back away from her, Sheldon.”

“How did you find me?” Sheldon demanded.

“I followed you.”

“Why?”

“I found this.” Flynn held up the fake book, and Sheldon’s gaze turned livid.

“You snooped in my room? How dare you! I was the only person in our whole family who ever showed you any decency, and you repay me by invading my privacy?”

“You’re a fucking murderer and you want to give me a lecture about morals and decency?” Flynn scoffed. “You have a man’s eyes in a jar beside your bed.”

“He was a bad man! He pretended to be everyone’s friend but he didn’t care about anyone. He wasn’t their friend. He was a leech. A filthy, slimy leech who hid behind saccharine charm.”

“And Samantha? You killed an innocent young woman.”

“Do you know she ruined a girl’s engagement in her old town? She was caught kissing the girl’s fiancé. It was a scandal. That’s why they left. And then she came here, and she didn’t even hesitate when a strange man asked her to meet him, alone. She pretended to be sweet but she had no sense of shame. They’re all pretenders, don’t you see? They’re liars. Everyone loves them for their lies and they don’t deserve it.”

Ivy had slowly begun to scoot away as Sheldon rambled, trying to get out of range of his knife. Flynn tried to keep him distracted until he felt he had a clear shot to disarm him.

“And you feel no one loves you, is that it?” he asked.

“You should understand,” Sheldon insisted. “They cast you out too. Treated you like dirt. You think a Brownwell girl would have looked twice at you on the street? You had to lie just to get her attention.”

“I didn’t mean to lie.”

“Of course you did. I thought you’d be better but you’re like the rest of them. Putting on a show to get people to like you.” Sheldon’s gaze hardened. “We cannot suffer liars. It’s an infection, and I have to cut it out.”

“Sheldon, let Ivy go. She’s not a liar. Listen, I’ll stay if you want. I’ll stay here and we can have a nice long talk and then you can do whatever you need to do but let Ivy go.”

“You think she cares about you?” Sheldon laughed.

“It doesn’t matter, Sheldon. I’m not going to let you hurt her. You wanted authenticity, and I’m not lying when I say that I will gut you where you stand if you lay another hand on her.”

“Big words,” Sheldon spat. He whirled abruptly, knife raised. Ivy screamed and Flynn threw himself across the room. Thankfully Ivy was still lying on the floor; it gave Flynn enough time to collide with Sheldon before he could actually sink the knife into her. He dropped the disturbing trophy box in the scuffle. For someone so timid and lanky, Sheldon was surprisingly strong when he was hellbent on murder and he didn’t drop the knife when Flynn shoved him against the wall.

Ivy cried out in alarm as the knife flashed. He managed to twist, the knife grazing his shoulder instead of piercing his heart. He balled a fist and punched Sheldon in the face. Blood gushed from his nose but he barely seemed to notice. He head butted Flynn in the face and it was jarring enough to knock him back a step. Sheldon lunged for him but Ivy had twisted herself around on the floor and kicked Sheldon hard in the knee.

He stumbled, the knife just missing Flynn. He lashed out and cut Ivy’s leg; she shrieked and kicked him in the face, the heel of her boot crunching his nose. He made a sound that sounded like a wounded, very agitated animal and Flynn seized the moment to grab him by the collar and drag him away from Ivy. He knocked the knife out of Sheldon’s hand and kicked it across the room. Sheldon lunged, pulling free of his grip and rounding on him.

“You couldn’t have left well enough alone, could you?” He looked manic; eyes wild and blood all over his face.

“If by well enough you mean you butchering people, then no.”

“I had to do it. I didn’t plan on killing Ivy, you know. She got in my way. You both got in my way. You should have minded your own business.”

“Flynn, look out!” Ivy screamed. She had gotten hold of Sheldon’s knife and had almost freed herself from the chair, but Sheldon had been standing in front of a long table and now he sprang forward, swinging a hammer at Flynn’s face. Flynn barely managed to duck and avoid being clobbered, but Sheldon rammed the handle of the hammer down and against the back of his head. The world went gray for a moment and he felt vaguely sick but Sheldon was turning his attention on Ivy, who was now untied and charging him with his own knife.

Flynn forced himself to stay standing and felt something in his pocket jab him. The letter opener. Ivy swing her knife as Sheldon swung his hammer and she managed to stab him through the wrist, forcing him to drop it. He struck her hard in the face with his uninjured arm, making that rabid animal noose again. Ivy stumbled back and almost fell, and Sheldon seizes her by the thrust before she could swing the knife again. Flynn pushed down a wave of dizzy nausea and gripped the letter opener.

There was a wet sound and then Sheldon’s grip on Ivy went slack. She pushed away from him, gasping in air. Flynn stood behind him, the letter opener buried in his side. The blade twisted as Sheldon turned to look him, his expression almost comically incredulous.

“You...stabbed me,” he gasped.

“You wanted authenticity,” Flynn repeated. “Is this real enough for you? Is it rare and beautiful, Sheldon?” He yanked the letter opener free and Sheldon just stared at the blood oozing from his side like he couldn’t believe it really existed. He sagged against the wall, looking pale beneath all the blood on his face. His gaze fell on Ivy, hovering a ways behind Flynn. His face twisted angrily, like he still wanted to break her neck.

Then he groaned and slid to the floor in a heap as Flynn punched him again, jarring his already shattered nose. Sheldon shuddered and then fell still on the floor. Flynn backed away, the letter opener still in his hand.

“Come on, Ivy. We have to go.”

“Your head-“

“We have to go.”

She limped with him to the ladder under the trap door, blood trailing down her leg from where Sheldon had cut her. Flynn helped her up and when they were up the ladder he slammed the trap door closed and pushed the couch on top of it even though the effort made him woozy. Sheldon was not escaping, assuming he was still alive.

“We have to get help,” Flynn said, his words sounding ever so slightly slurred.

“Flynn you need to sit, you might have a concussion.”

“We’re not staying here. And I’m sorry, I’m about to get blood all over you.”

“What do you-eek!” Ivy yelped as Flynn picked her up. “Flynn, what are you doing?”

“Your leg is hurt, it’ll be faster if I carry you.”

“You might pass out if you do that.”

“That’s ridiculous.” He stumbled against the door frame but righted himself and soldiered stubbornly on. He wanted them away from this place as quickly as possible. He staggered up to the main house with Ivy in his arms and banged on the door. The maid screamed when she saw them.

“Send for the police,” Flynn said.

“And a doctor,” Ivy added. Cordelia and Violetta came running down the stairs, drawing to a stunned halt when they saw them.

“What on earth-“ Cordelia exclaimed.

“Sheldon,” Flynn said, leaning on the wall for support. “Sheldon tried to kill us.”

“Flynn you have to put me down,” Ivy said, squirming. “You can’t pass out, you have to stay awake.”

He didn’t put her down though until she jabbed him with her elbow. “Let me see your head,” she said worriedly.

“Where is Sheldon?” Violetta demanded.

“The house in the woods. He’s under the floor.”

“There’s a trap door,” Ivy explained. Flynn was nauseous again and feeling a little disoriented but even still he thought it odd that Violetta and Cordelia didn’t seem to disbelieve them about Sheldon. The panicked maid returned.

“The police and a doctor are on the way,” she said.

“What are we going to tell Daddy?” Violetta asked her mother. Cordelia shook her head.

“We tell him nothing,” she muttered. “He’s asleep. I’m not sure he’s ever going to wake up again and I’m not going to disturb his last hours on earth with news that his son is insane. You and I and Crispin will deal with this.”

“You believe us,” Flynn said. “I thought you’d have us thrown out of the house for saying a word against Sheldon.”

“Sheldon has moods,” Cordelia said shortly. “It was a problem when he was a boy but I thought we had...I thought it was over. A phase. He’s a grown man now. I thought he was better.”

“He’s definitely not,” Ivy said. Violetta and Cordelia retreated into the kitchen, no doubt to decide what they were going to do about Sheldon. Probably get him the best lawyer, if he wasn’t dead.

Flynn kept leaning against the wall and took deep breaths. The maid did her best to tend to their wounds and clean them up a bit before the doctor arrived.

“You saved my life, Flynn.” Ivy touched his hand gently. “If you hadn’t figured it out...how did you figure it out anyway?”

“He said something about rare and beauty and it sounded weird and I searched his room and found Samantha’s locket and Chester’s eyes. It was a pretty big clue.”

“He tried to tell me you were refusing to come see your father and wanted me to talk to you. When I refused he knocked me out, and I woke up in that horrible room. He really wanted to kill me.”

“I didn’t let that happen the last time he tried, I wasn’t going to let it happen now.”

“Flynn...back at the tree house, when you said that I should know why you kept seeing me...I’m not totally sure that I do know. Or at least, I think I know but I don’t want to go off of assumptions here.“

“Ivy you’re a smart girl. You don’t need assumptions. If you don’t mind...can I just sit here for a moment?” He slid down the wall and sat on the floor without waiting for a reply.

“Maybe not but I’d still like to hear it from you,” Ivy said, kneeling in front of him.

“Not that it matters, but I kept seeing you because I liked you. I thought you were different and interesting, and the more time we spent together the more I liked you.”

“So you do have feelings for me.”

“For both of you,” Flynn said, squinting. Ivy looked fuzzy around the edges and he was pretty sure he saw two of her but that didn’t seem right. He really wanted a nap. “But you have to find someone better. Cause I have nothing to offer you, unless you really like fish. And nothing ever happens in Seahollow, you know; you can’t be a big shot detective there. You have to find someone with something better than fish. And a brother that tries to kill you. No murderers in the family seems like good criteria don’t you think?”

“Where is that doctor?” Ivy complained, touching his head gently. “You’re getting loopy.”

The doctor in question arrived just then, with an army of policemen in tow. The doctor went to Ivy first but she insisted that Flynn needed to be dealt with.

“He hurt his head, I think he’s concussed.”

The doctor set to work tending to Flynn’s head, noting that his shoulder would probably need a few stitches too.

“Oh my gosh!” Ivy sat up with a gasp. “J.R. Bogues is really here!”

The man in question strode over to them. “You’re the ones who caught the murderer, then. I must say you’ve done the city a great service. Where is he now?”

“In the little house, in the woods,” Ivy said. “He’s under the trap door. Flynn put some furniture over it so he couldn’t get out.”

“Good thinking. I’ll be needing to take a statement from both of you.” He glanced at Flynn, sitting there staring off into space as the doctor forced some painkiller into him. “Ah, maybe we’d best start with you, Miss...?”

“Oh, Brownwell. Ivy Brownwell.”

“Miss Brownwell. If you’re feeling up to it.”

“Yes. Sure. Of course.”

Bogues escorted Ivy into the parlor area to take her statement and Flynn was feeling somewhat normal by the time the doctor stitched his arm.

“Uh, can you tell the inspector to come find me at the clockmaker’s shop to talk to me?” he asked, standing up. “I feel a little too out of it to talk to him.”

“Fine, fine. I need to tend to the girl’s leg anyway. But do not fall asleep. He shouldn’t be questioning you until I’ve done my work.” The doctor “hmph’ed” and gathered up his supplies. Flynn slipped out, heading down the path that led to the end of the Radcliffe property; watching as the swarm of policemen vanish into the woods with their flashlights to find Sheldon.