Over Night - Julie Steimle (philippa perry book .TXT) 📗

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Mr. Felap’s face drew placid. He lifted his chin. “You are drunk boy. Seeing things.”

Backing up, feeling his head swim, Teris continued to retreat. “Oh, no I’m not. I may be drunk, but I know what I saw. You killed somebody.”

Sighing as if tired, Mr. Felap said in an infuriatingly calm voice, “Nonsense. I merely found a victim of Night Stalkers.”

“You had a weapon in your hand!” Teris shouted. He tripped over a stone, falling on his rear.

Keeping his distance, Mr. Felap shrugged. “You are drunk, boy. Go home. Sleep it off.”

Teris scrambled to his feet, running back down the path he had come from. He reeled into the open garden near the house collapsing right into the hollyhocks. Laughter echoed around him, but Teris dusted himself off, staggering up onto his feet again to the nearest butler. He grasped his coat, peering back into the darkness once more.

“You have got to help me. Get your master, Mr. Grae.” He looked back once more, but Mr. Felap had not followed.

The butler moved at once to obey.

The laughter around him continued. Teris noticed his friend Dendi get up from the hidden bench behind the hollyhocks with his lady. She looked puzzled, adjusting her mussed up hair. Her lipstick was smeared all over his face and neck—and hers.

Panting, Teris stumbled over to the drinks table, grabbing the nearest bottle of schnapps. He pried of the top, taking a swig and staring about as the servants rushed into the house suddenly looking alarmed. The butler came out again, this time with a policeman, but the policeman did not go to Teris. He walked to the center of the back garden and announced in a loud voice, “The party is over. Your host Mr. Grae, has been murdered.”

Teris stumbled against the table. “No.”

Dendi rushed over to him. “What did he say?”

“A Night Stalker is in the area,” the police continued. “So please leave together in an orderly manner.”

Shaking his head, Teris dropped his bottle. It thumped into the grass, dumping the rest of the drink out as a puddle at his feet. Staggering, he stepped into it, soaking his suede boot as he stumbled over to the police officer.

“A Night Stalker?” Teris asked, staring at him. “It can’t be. I saw it happen. It was Mr. Felap.”
The policeman’s eyes grew wide. “Mr. Felap? No, he was the one that reported it.”

Feeling like retching again, Teris shook his head. “No. No. No. I saw Mr. Felap kill someone with a weapon out near the bridge. I saw him! It was all bloody!”

“That was where Mr. Grae was found. Why were you near the bridge?” The policeman looked menacing, ready to take him in.

Moaning, Teris felt his insides twist in an ache. “I always go to the bridge when I have had too much to drink.”

The policeman relaxed, nodding. He, like many others, knew that brook as the Retching River. Most young fops went to vomit there after parties.

“I see. Very well, if you will come with me to the station, you can make your statement.” The policeman turned, heading back into the house.

Teris followed him, glancing only once at the other police who were clearing out the disturbed party guests. Dendi followed after him only a few steps before retreated to his lady, but she too had gone. At the mention of Night Stalkers, she had fled to her cluster of girls to escape together.

The police and Teris cut through the house and headed down the walk to the car on the street. They had to help him somewhat as his balance was off. Teris stumbled on the last step and had to be lifted to the car.
*

The police went over once more with Teris about what he saw at the bridge in the garden as soon as they reached the police station. The clerk took notes, seriously jotting down every detail in the witness report with his nib pen.

“And you say that you saw him holding a knife?” the clerk asked.

Teris shook his head. “I didn’t exactly see what he was holding—only that it was shiny and covered in red drippy…in blood.”

His head was starting to ache. Clenching it, Teris felt his body aching. His fingers were sore—throbbing. His heart seemed to struggle to beat.

“And you saw Mr. Grae lying there in the bushes?” the clerk asked, scribbling down the rest of what Teris had said.

Shaking his head again, Teris rubbed his stomach. “No. I didn’t even know it was Mr. Grae he had killed. I only saw Mr. Felap with that bloody thing in his hand.”

The clerk jotted that down and sighed. He looked up at Teris’ bloodshot eyes. “I am sorry, Mr. Lamarc, but this is not much to go on. Mr. Felap is Mr. Grae’s business partner. His witness was that he went to meet his partner by the bridge and found him dead with his throat ripped out. It is a Night Stalker sighting.”

All of this felt wrong. Inside the depths of his gut, Teris knew this had to be a lie. What was that bloody thing in Mr. Felap’s hands then? Why wasn’t Mr. Felap more upset at the death of his business partner?”
Teris blinked, lifting his chin. “Mr. Felap killed his partner. This was no Night Stalker.”

“It was,” a sergeant said, walking into the room and passing on another written report. “This just came in. Two more deaths happened tonight. Both victims drained of blood. Both aristocrats.”

Shaking, the feeling in his arms wrenching sore, Teris closed his eyes. “Impossible. I know what I saw.”

“You are drunk,” the sergeant said to him. “Maybe you saw Mr. Felap discovering the body and imagined the rest.”

Shaking his head vigorously, Teris shouted, “No! I know what I saw! I may be drunk, but I did not imagine it.”

“I think we should take you home,” the sergeant said, looking sadly sympathetic.

“If Mr. Felap murdered, he should be punished by the law!” Teris did not lower his voice. He clenched his fists and glared up at the policeman.

“You don’t have enough proof,” the clerk said, shaking his head and filing Teris’s statement with the others.

“I will prosecute if you do not!” Teris pounded his fist on the table.

Both policemen stared at him.

The sergeant sighed and led out his hand to keep doing what he had suggested, to take the poor drunken fop safely back to his home. “Come on, then. Do as you must. But I should warn you that false accusation is prosecutable by law—as is slander.”

Teris glared at him. “I know what I saw.”

*

They took him home. Teris’s parents met him at the front door, ushering him inside to sleep off the alcohol. His father was also drunk, having been at a different party that evening with his mother. However, his look was sober and grim, staring at his son.

They took him up to bed, letting the servants undress him and pull down his covers. The young aristocrat fell into a fitful sleep, feeling his insides twist up, retaining the horror of what he had seen that night, rehashing it in his dreams.

*

Teris was insistent that his father take him to the courthouse the following day to prepare their lawsuit against Mr. Felap. His father was very supportive, standing with their lawyer to back them up. Unfortunately the preparation took longer than Teris wanted to wait.

“There are Night Stalker sightings every night now,” the lawyer said, shaking his head at Teris. “Are you sure you saw what you think you saw?”

Nodding firmly, Teris said, “Of course I am sure. Don’t you know anything about Stalkers? They always come after a real murder. And I’m telling you, Mr. Felap is the murderer.”

The lawyer groaned, leaning back in his chair. “But why would Mr. Felap kill his friend and business partner? It does not make any sense.”

Even Teris was stumped by that. He shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“I have a suggestion,” his father said.
Both men looked over at him. Up until then, Mr. Lamarc Senior had just been silently supportive of his son. He said, “Mr. Grae would not be a target for Night Stalkers. He is a kind and giving man, though rich. Such a man is not food for Stalkers.”

The lawyer stared. “What do you mean? Night Stalkers will kill anyone with money. They prey on the aristocracy. This is a well-known fact.”

“But a lesser-known fact is that Night Stalkers only drink the blood of the avaricious.” His father had a wise, knowing look on his face. He was also looking a little paler than normal, perhaps disturbed from hearing about so many Night Stalker killings. Teris knew that his father would be a target if he were greedy—but he did not care about his money any more than his son did, the party his main focus. “Mr. Grae was not that kind of man.”

“But Mr. Felap is,” Teris murmured.

His father nodded, smiling. “Yes, and Mr. Grae has no heirs, so who would benefit the most from his death?”

“Mr. Felap,” Teris said, nodding. “Of course. He killed to get the entire company.”

His father gave him a confirming nod. “Yes. And I suggest we go on that. That is Mr. Felap’s motive.”

The lawyer was nodding also, seeing it now. “Very good. We may have a case after all.”

Teris’s nerves and nauseated aches calmed. Justice would be served. He looked up. His eyes met his father’s. Yes, justice would be served.

*

They lost the court battle.

Teris sat in his seat with the prosecuting lawyer, staring at the mahogany table after having gone through a painful and humiliating Brein Amon-style trial. It took only a day.

Mr. Felap had prepared his defense very well. He hired the best lawyer to defend him. He had many witnesses declare that he was busy in his study up until the moment he found Mr. Grae dead in the garden. The man even had the police report that Mr. Grae’s body was obviously attacked by a Stalker—his throat the only part damaged.

No weapon had been found. No bloodstains were found on his clothes that night. All they had was Teris’s witness against his. And Mr. Felap himself said that he saw Teris stumble into the garden where Mr. Grae was found, clearly plastered and vomiting over the bridge into the river. His witness was written off as a delusional vision of a drunk.

Teris shook, feeling cold. His hands were growing white and his heart ached.

The judge dismissed the case. Everyone rose from their seats around him. Teris could not manage it. He stared at the desk before him, thinking over and over again; he knew what he saw. It had not been a hallucination.

His father placed a hand on his shoulder, giving him a commiserating glance. “I am sorry, son. I guess justice won’t prevail today. Maybe it will tomorrow.”

“How can you say that?” Teris looked up. His knuckles were white as he wrung them. “That man is getting away with murder, and my reputation is ruined.”

Sighing, his father just shrugged. “Maybe a