Alive At Crepusculum ✓ [TPL Book One]

IV

"Wafflies!" Rose grinned, sniffing the air and letting out a long, satisfied sigh.

"Yes, and eggs and bacon," Penelope said, and Rose grinned ear to ear. Once her mother set the tray on her table with the highchair, Rose obediently waddled over and climbed up on the seat. On weekends, Penelope let the maids and the nanny off. She wanted to spend time with little Rose because on weekdays she worked and couldn't do it.

"Could you get her milk?" Penelope said to her husband who nodded and went away.

As he was pouring her milk in her special cup, there was a knock on the door.

"Coming!" he said and opened it to a man wearing a red and brown checked, double-breasted vest, a long black jacket, and black pants. At first, Mallord didn't recognize the man with the cleanly-shaven face but then the man gave his signature grin with the gap tooth.

"Albert!" Mallord gasped, surprised to see the police officer he once worked with appearing at his house. "How—what are you doing here?"

"Good morning," Albert said, "Mr. Millard Jason, how are you today?" He smiled. "Or should I say, Mallord Beagle?"

Mallord suddenly remembered Albert was married to a woman who made him mow his back hair with a shaver like a lawn mower all hitched up to electricity and all. Albert promised to shave his hairy back every day as part of their wedding vows. It was one of the oddest weddings Mallord had ever attended.

Albert's wife was known to be the kindest woman alive, even doing some well-respected philanthropic deeds. That was, until, the murder of their child, something Mallord only found out through the news. 

Since the incident, Albert withdrew to take care of his wife. Then Mallord retired and swiftly turned to Millard Jason, erasing all evidence of Mallord Beagle as best he could. It was a good thing he always kept his face hidden from the news during his detective years. No one recognized him without his signature cloak, hat, and gun.

Even if Albert remembered his face, it wouldn't have been enough for the search. Mallord was never close friends with Albert, who he had no reason to say where he'd gone. He only told the Baileys and the Robinsons—the two families were those he trusted with his secret.

Mallord looked up and down the quiet lane. "Quick, come in, why don't you. I have to bring milk up for Rose, my daughter." Mallord ushered Albert in. "Wait right here, I'll be right back." He would be lying to himself if he said he wasn't happy to see Albert. Someone from his detective past brought up fond and exciting memories. He could use them for writing fodder. Handing the bottle to Penelope, he quickly explained to her the arrival of Albert.

She instantly made a face.

* * * * *

Penelope could not believe Albert had the audacity to bother her peaceful life. Her husband had, at long last, settled into a normal lifestyle. There was absolutely no room for anything with police or detectives, no cases, no mysteries, and definitely no guns or pistols. She wouldn't even have it with political riots. No one needed him. They were fine on their own.

And she felt violated. Albert should have even known they were Jasons today.

"How did he find us? We're the Jasons on post, phone, addresses, all of them. Tell him off. Tell him not to bother us anymore." She turned to Rose who was reaching for a syrup-covered waffle with her fingers.

"Oh, he's not here for that, dear," Mallord said in a much defensive tone that irked her, "He's just here for a bit of catching-up, that's all. And he probably tracked me down how I would have. Through the Baileys or the Robinsons. They're the only ones who would know though I did specifically tell them not to—"

"Hmph," Penelope grunted. She didn't trust them to not drag her now family-man husband away from his family.

Rose giggled and grinned, licking maple syrup from her fingers.

"Sticky!" she declared. "Need to wipe."

"Here you are, sweetie." Penelope handed a napkin to Rose, glaring at Mallord. "It's a case. He's come with a case. Why else would he go through all this effort to find you?"

"He's not going to drag me into a case. Why would he?" Mallord stuffed his hands in his pockets. At the beginning of his career, for two decades, Mallord was a self-employed detective, making a name for himself to the U.A. police especially in Old Quarrie State. 

Penelope knew him a little before his detective days. She knew what she was getting herself into and she didn't mind. He was the love of her life. She would follow him to wherever country he needed to go to. She would make his favorite croissants wherever. 

Even in the jungle.

But ever since Penelope got pregnant with Michael, having a child meant more responsibilities. She and Mallord had a long talk about it, then he left the scene and settled down in this nice three-story house with five bedrooms and a nursery. Fifteen years had passed since.

Mallord rocked from foot to foot. Regretful. She could read him like a book. It was about the first case he wasn't a part of. The one where his friend and colleague Chief Constable Stephen Bailey died from a bullet to the head. That was why he was having a hard time turning Albert away. At this moment, he needed a friend, not a wife.

Penelope wiped Rose's fingers and stood. "Sweetie, I will be right back," she said, then grabbed her husband's arm and guided him out the door. She closed it softly behind her and lowered her voice. "Be honest. You still regret not being with Stephen that day."

Mallord shifted his weight from one foot to the other. She'd struck a chord. No matter how many years passed, he would always regret not being there for his friend who pleaded him to go. But Michael was a toddler and Penelope needed her husband's help. Yet, she gave him a choice and told him he could go if he thought he should.

He said, "no" and it haunted him ever since.

He always felt like he owed to Stephen, so he started writing books about his "adventures" where him, Stephen, Albert, and two cranky officers went on to solve cases together even if it was not fully how it happened.

Penelope caressed his cheek and he frowned. She knew his sad puppy-dog look meant he wanted to be back at the scene if there was a way. He was good at what he did. Good with the gun. Good with his brain. He wouldn't die out there. But it wasn't about that. She worried danger would come to her children. A legitimate worry for a mother of two. Who could blame her?

It happened all the time in crime news—ransom wanted for kidnapped children. Money traded over only to find children beaten, raped, or shot dead. She couldn't risk it, so Penelope shoved down her desire to help her best friend figure out a way to do the thing he wanted. With a sigh—for she didn't like doing this to him—she turned back into the strict wife. Hammer it into his skull, Penelope. She told him he wasn't young and spry, and they didn't need an old fifty-eight.

"And it's about Michael and Rose, too, you know." Penelope gave a tight-lipped smile. "We can't go off to be heroes and make headlines. You're not safe like that character of Edgar Allen Poe, who was it—"

"Auguste Dupin."

"—C., yes, C. Auguste Dupin, yes, that's right. That fictional character who can take risks because his author would revive him somehow or other. Besides, you have done your service, Mallard Duck. Stephen will understand. Turn down the case. Send Albert on his way. You understand?"

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Note:

Hi! Author here. Just a little note, Rose has Down's syndrome, but back in the day, 1855 U.A. (heavily inspired by 1855 U.S.), the syndrome didn't have a name yet (which is why the story doesn't mention it). Often children or adults with Down's syndrome were considered to be non-intelligent. Doesn't seem like they were allowed to go to school or believed to be capable of learning either. 

But Rose's parents believe she is quite smart and has a lot of potential.

My depiction of Rose is based off of watching many credible documentaries on children and adults with Down's syndrome and their own accounts of their childhood as well as interviews with their parents. However, if there's any misrepresentation, do let me know in comments or PM me :) I'm open to fixing anything that comes off wrong.