No Pleasing the Lady of the Manor

"Oh, Mr. Shepard, it is just dreadful! How will I cope? Can I still wear the same frocks? I do not even own, one single black frock in my wardrobe! Never have I been in mourning before!" She winced. "Dear me, Mr. Shepard, what kind of lifestyle must I live by now? I have never been an orphan before!" She whimpered. Mr. Lester stood inside the entryway, rolling his eyes at Salome's silly over dramatics. "And you're not one now either, Miss Apostolos!" Mr. Lester moved rigidly across the floor. Salome reached out and attached herself to Mr. Lester's waistcoat. "You say I'm not an orphan, but, I might as well be! My mother died the day I was born, and now my father is gone! What's to become of me now that he's dead?"

"Your father has been dead nearly a week, Miss Apostolos! Don't you think it's time you returned to the living?" He inquired. Salome wiped the tears from her red eyes.

"Yes, the living, as my father once was!" She shrieked. It was a scream so shrill, that it shook Mr. Lester's eardrums. "There, there, Miss Apostolos, here is your tea." Mr. Shepard smiled. Salome tossed her head back and glared at Mr. Lester.

"Do you see how Mr. Shepard treats me? At least he knows how to treat a grief-stricken orphan, who has just lost her only parent!" Salome's chin quivered. Suddenly, she stopped; her attention was split between her emotions and the teacup positioned on her lap. Her silence caused Mr. Shepard to quiver in his boots, he recalled the last time she was struck silent by her tea. "Mr. Shepard," Salome sweetly began. He waited without taking a breath. "What did you say this was?" She asked.

"Tea, My Lady, just as you ordered!" He smiled. Salome looked at Mr. Shepard then back at the tea. "Yes, I know, but this is not the way I asked for it! Where are the cinnamon sticks, the lemon wedges and the honey? Without it, this is just a china cup full of hot water!" Salome held the teacup to the side, then threw the contents back in his face. "Now go, and make me some more!" She shouted. Humiliated by her spastic tantrum, Mr. Shepard slowly straightened his posture. After being bitten by hot water and wet tea leaves, he did not carry on a word. "Yes, My Lady, I will brew another batch straightaway." On his way out, Mr. Lester watched Mr. Shepard sluggishly maneuver through the sitting room. "And this time, do not forget to add the cinnamon, lemon and the honey!" She cried out. Left exasperated by the entire situation, Salome threw her body against the arm of the settee. "The nerve of that man! For fifteen years he has worked for me, and still he has not done it correctly!" She fumed.

"Perhaps if someone stopped changing the recipe . . . " Mr. Lester grumbled under his breath. "What was that you said, Mr. Lester?" Salome partially crooked her head to hear. "I said, perhaps it is time for you to dress, My Lady?" He replied.

"I cannot, and I will not, besides, I do not have the strength! For, I am far too weak with grief to bother!" Salome brushed her fingertips across her forehead. "I am so weak . . . I think I've caught the fever!" She wailed breathlessly. "Oh, Mr. Lester, it is dreadful, I was not even able to say goodbye! I pop in for a visit and I find out my father is dead, found in the back garden you tell me; I don't even know how he died!" Salome turned to face him. "Was he sleepwalking? You know how he was at times, he was absent minded now and then," She stopped mid-thought, her brown eyes widened, her fears overwhelmed her, Salome's intuition warned her of a far graver outcome. "Or worse, what if there was an intruder, and my father went to investigate, and some terrible sod clubbed him over his head, stole his money and left him for dead?" Salome shook her head in disgrace. "None of this makes sense! I ask you, Mr. Lester, what manner of a person would do something so heinously to a quiet, old man?"

"You have quite the imagination, Miss Apostolos, though grim, I must applaud your interesting scenario." He observed.

"What other reason is there to kill a wealthy, old man? My father had no enemies!" Mr. Lester sighed heavily in commentary. "If you are speaking of murder and money, and I believe that you are, it was probably some greedy opportunist waiting for the precise moment to score some extra funds . . . ," Mr. Lester stooped down to sop up some of the spilled tea. "Friends of yours I presume?" He murmured.

"What was that? Did you say something to me? You certainly haven't been speaking plainly this afternoon, Mr. Lester." She remarked. "It was nothing, My Lady." He groaned. "By your vocabulary, are you suggesting my father was purposely murdered?" She asked. "Of course not, My Lady! It is you, who is talking madness, and if I may speak plainly, you are also the one who optioned murder first."

"If he was murdered, I need to know for certain! I don't know how he died, and no one has said anything to me since I arrived. It was you who found him, Mr. Lester, is there nothing you can tell me about his death?"

"No, Miss Apostolos, I am just as much in the dark as you are, but I am positive, whatever the cause, it was not murder." He declared. "Yes, but, how do you know he wasn't?" Salome wailed. "I'm sorry, My Lady, but I cannot give you the answers you seek. I do regret saying this, but only your father knows for positive, and the dead cannot speak." Mr. Lester chuckled. "There, what you just said, Mr. Lester, that is a fabulous idea, the dead cannot speak! Why didn't I think of this before?"

"Forgive me, My Lady, but I do not follow?" He squinted in thought. "A séance, I will conduct a séance, and I will speak to my father from beyond the grave!" She proudly exclaimed.