Paint the Town Red (Fox & Oakby Murder Mysteries Book II)

Petra

"I don't remember the public pressing their nose to my window - just you, Dr. Nenadovich."

He surely had the velvet-est, laziest baritone Petra had had the pleasure of being insulted in.

"If I had my hands on your precious volumes, I'd surely made them publicly available. Heed our 'winter of discontent,' Mr. Oakby!" she announced and shook her fist in the air.

The man's eyes boggled.

"This way, please, Ms. Fox," Petra said in an immediately different tone.

She just hoped the poor man wasn't getting a whiplash. It would be a pity to injure such a dignified neck.

They'd reached the main part of the dig. The students lifted their heads; and Petra gave them a jolly wave.

"We're being inspected by the Town Hall, my darlings. Try to look respectable!" she shouted to them merrily.

"That would be a lost cause," the Titan grumbled under his breath, clearly making sure everyone heard.

"Don't mumble, Mr. Oakby. It's unbecoming. Don't make me ring up the Debrett's," Petra said in her best impersonation of the Dowager Countess. "Ms. Fox, you should visit me at the Abernathy University. That's where we keep the Diary."

"The Diary?" Imogen asked.

"Well, as you're surely are the Oakbies are 'dirty recusants,'" Dr. Nenadovich said with a giggle and a squinted look at the Titan. 

The noble line of his lips hardened. Judging by the widening eyes of Ms. Fox, the girl was either unaware, or didn't know what a 'recusant' was. Petra was having a criminal amount of fun this sunny Tuesday.

"They are Catholics, my dear. But considering your surprise, the Mayor in his professional and, hopefully, personal life is as Catholic as a bagel, as our American friends call it." Petra grinned. "But in 1897 the catholicism wasn't à la mode as you can imagine, with the flood of the Catholic Irish immigrants and the figurative monolithic Papal invasion to our blessed island. So, when the Oakby of the time had come in the possession of a mysterious object pertaining to none other than St. Tommy Becket, Father Oakby - and yes, indeed he was a priest - decided that his church shouldn't share with the Anglicans. So, Tommy Oakby, and as you know they are all Tommies unless they are Johns, hid the object in the family chapel. He wrote - in code - in his diary about this quest of his; and continued enjoying his secret triumph until his death in 1901. And then, after George Bell's efforts in 1920s, Father Oakby's diary became public," Petra intonated purposefully. The Titan didn't react, only the nostrils flared again. What a self-possession, Petra admired. 

"The diary is on the loan to the University at the moment," Petra continued, "and I've spent the last four years working on it. It is my opinion that the object Father Oakby hid had nothing to do with Becket, but is a reliquary, possibly having belonged to the second wife of Henry II, possibly something she'd acquired on her crusade. We don't know anything for sure, Father Oakby was no archeologist, as educated and as naughty as he was."

Petra rubbed her hands, feeling the familiar excitement at her favourite subject. "But isn't it marvellous, Ms. Fox? If not for the hidden rebellious streak in the Oakby blood, we could never embark on this amazing adventure!"

Ms. Fox nodded enthusiastically, and looked down the dig. Her eyes were shining. Petra simply loved when she was able to recruit yet another member into her 'naughty Oakby' cult! Considering how non-naughty the modern Oakbies were. The Mayor, as liberal and as lovely as he was, was surely somewhat dull... but something - perhaps simply her wishful thinking - told Petra a spark was hiding under the armour of the older Oakby. It had to!

Ms. Fox made some notes in a large notebook in her hand, probably to preserve the illusion of actually doing any sort of 'inspecting' - again, most likely for the Titans' sake; and then the girl gave Petra a polite smile.

"Do you have any concerns that the Town Hall could address, Dr. Nenadovich?" she asked; and the Titan made a quiet scoffing sound in the background.

"No, no, we're all set. Ta."

Dr. Nenadovich searched the table near her with her eyes, looking for an object most likely to bother the Titan. An apple was spotted; she picked it up and sank her teeth in it loudly. She crunched and hummed; while Ms. Fox continued her scribbling.

"Well, I say, that was a very productive meeting—" Ms. Fox started in a fake cheery tone.

"The point of this 'meeting' was to address my concerns," Mr. Oakby the Hopefully Naughtier rumbled; and Petra laughed loudly.

"Your concern is that you are bored," she said; and he whipped his head and glared at her. 

The blue eyes blazed. Did he really expect Petra to be intimidated? Somewhat impressed by the cerulean gaze and the stormy brow? Perhaps. But not intimidated.

"And perhaps you feel it's suddenly not about you. You just don't enjoy being anything but the centre of attention," Petra continued.

"Dr. Nenadovich—" the man snarled; and Petra stepped to him and patted his chest.

"There, there, you really shouldn't be that upset," she murmured and gave him a batting lashes look. "Not at your age."

And before he could open his mouth to emit yet another of his adorable growls, she said, "But don't you see, it is all about you. The whole point of this dig is to find out if there is any sort of warm blood in the veins of the Oakbies. I so hope there is! Just the sheer thought that the prim and proper Father Oakby indeed had nicked a relic and spent a night industriously digging a hole for it! The neckband open, the black sleeves rolled up, sweat on the tall forehead!" Petra theatrically sighed. "You should see the daguerreotypes, Ms. Fox! The Tommies of the Oakby clan are like the works of de Hory!" Petra waved her hands frantically. Her metaphor was wandering off again, it seemed. "What I mean to say, that they all have something in common, but they are variations! Each next one is just as delicious. Like Van Gogh's sunflowers!"

And then she noticed that both Ms. Fox and the Titan were staring at her flabbergasted, one of them also potentially scandalised beyond measure. Good, thought Petra.

"And now, I think Mr. Oakby should invite us for tea," Petra announced and grinned.

Poor Titan, he stood no chance. He had nothing to counteract the combination of her innuendos and her blunt lack of manners.