The Phantasm Camera Riddle; Chapter Five

 

(Picture credits; https://flashbak.com/ghosts-in-the-machine-the-beauty-of-decayed-daguerreotypes-422699/ )

(Recap; After the incident with post-mortem photos, Regina shows Stuart a collection of photos her father received through years. Each one of them show a vacant space of a crime-scene-to-be. To unravel the mystery, the two of them get employed as crime scenes photographers. Stuart receives photo of his nephew's home, so he visits his family, only to find out everything is normal.)

Regina walked around the studio. Stuart was trying to clean camera lenses, but her distress disrupted his concentration. "A serial killer", she repeated for a hundredth time, "you think it's a serial killer, but how could it be! There's no connection! And why would a serial killer bother himself to send my father and now us photos of the places where his crimes had been committed? It makes no sense."

"Do you have a better explanation?" He explained more than twice why he thought they were being harassed by a psycho. In his youth, when death first intrigued him, he read a lot about people whose deranged minds made them enjoy causing pain to other people. His opinion was that the sender of the mysterious photos was Regina's father's old adversary, someone whom he might've put into jail before resigning from the position of a police inspector. The idea of a psychopath stalking them was disturbing, but far better than Regina's ideas which suddenly changed from "rational" into ghost stories.

Regina crossed her arms and prepared for a verbal attack, but Stuart was saved by the bell when a new customer entered the studio. It was a farmer from the farthest suburbs, a man called Rudolph from whom Stuart used to order eggs and milk when he could've still afforded them. Rudolph was a tough man who never managed to get rid of the German accent he inherited from his immigrant forebears which made him undesirable among some people, but Stuart was never prejudicial and he respected Rudolph's work. The farmer was more old-fashioned than Stuart himself and he never had a need to be photographed. Stuart remembered offering him once a free photo in exchange for ten eggs. Rudolph gave him the eggs, but refused to be photographed. Because he knew that Rudolph wasn't prone to cameras, Stuart was surprised to see him. He hadn't visited his farm for more than a year. He had no money to buy his products.

It took him only one extra look to realize that Rudolph definitely didn't come to be photographed. Nervously clutching hat in his hands, as his eyes darted along the walls, he looked like he could pass out at any moment. Stuart urged Regina to help him sit on the sofa while he hurried to bring a glass of water. When he came back to the studio, Rudolph and Regina were sitting side by side. A torrent of words was coming out of the farmer. "... must come with me, she's been calling for him through the whole night, I'm so confused..." Then he noticed Stuart standing frozen in the corner. He got up and in two long strides came very close to him. "Mister Malcolm, I beg you to follow me back to my farm."

Stuart blinked in confusion. He wasn't used to being called Mister. "Do you want me to photograph your farm?", he realized how stupid the question was when it was already said.

"What? Gott, no!" He stepped away, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket to wipe his sweaty forehead with it. "It's my wife, Gertrude. She's been calling for you. I'm scared", his whole body shook, "the doctor doesn't know how to help her. He suggested putting her into an asylum, but I'm not gonna leave my wife with strangers."

"Gertrude?" Stuart couldn't even remember farmer's wife face."I don't think your wife knows me. You must've misunderstood her. Why'd she call for me?"

"I'm telling you, she's sick! I disregarded her pleas for days, but I lost all other possibilities."

"What's wrong with Gertrude?", Regina engaged in conversation in a professional manner of an investigator.

"The doctors can't tell. It started with tiredness. She failed to do any job I asked her to do on the farm. She seemed exhausted so I told her I'd take care of the kids and the property while she rests. But rest only made her feel worse. She started waking up in the night screaming, but later couldn't explain what scared her so. Then she began to mix objects and people around her and soon she fell into a state of complete distraught. She doesn't recognize me or our children." Rudolph looked at Stuart. "But she constantly calls out your name. Now I wonder why?"

"Slowly", Regina noticed how Rudolph's tone changed from worried to threatening. "Stuart had done nothing to your wife. He says Gertrude doesn't even know him."

Rudolph turned to Regina and, as if he just realized he'd been revealing his private problems to a stranger, asked: "And who are you supposed to be?"

"Listen, Rudolph", Stuart decided to take thing into his hands, "I'm awfully sorry to hear about your wife, but I've never really met Gertrude, so it's hard for me to imagine why'd she want to see me. Perhaps she read some new things about my studio in the papers and now has nightmares. I'm really sorry if I've accidentally caused her pain, but I can't help you."

"Wait", Regina quickly reacted, "real or not, her apparitions are connected to us. Whatever the truth may be, seeing Stuart might just be the thing for her to get better."

Stuart gritted his teeth. He had enough experience to understand that something was buried under Regina's excuse to visit the sick woman, and he felt in his gut it had something to do with the argument Rudolph interrupted.

Farmer took a deep breath. "Sorry, Stuart, I didn't mean to accuse you of anything. I know you never did Gertrude any wrong. I just feel so hopeless. I want her to get better."

"And she will", Regina said encouragingly.

They rode in Rudolph's cart drawn by horses. Outside of the city borders, properties with stables and cultivated fields lined up, surrounded by an increasingly dense pine forest. Rudolph's farm was one of the biggest ones, with widely spread potato and wheat field. Stalls and stables lined up one next to another, different animal sounds greeted them when they entered through the port. Rudolph helped Regina and Stuart come down the opened carriage. Stuart muttered complainingly when he landed on the mud. The shaking strokes with which he tried to get rid of the dirty drops slowed down as they evoke a memory. Back in his birthplace, environment was often muddy. Oliver and him frequently returned home with dirty shoes. Mother rebuked them, but her admonishments were mostly intent for Stuart. While Oliver was spared from reprimands greater than verbal, Stuart was often beaten with a stick after Oliver was sent away. His parents blamed him for every mischief the brothers committed together.

"Here, come inside." Rudolph's house was built a century ago, before the city rush overshadowed the rural life. It was big and well-organized.

The idyllic impression was crushed when a prolonged scream filled their ears. Regina covered her head with arms and Stuart stepped away. He'd never heard such a terrible expression of pain, not even in Africa.

When the screaming stopped, the house was left in complete silence. Rudolph seemed to be in a kind of trance, swinging on his feet, unable to explain what they've experienced. The noise still echoed in Stuart's ears when a young girl climbed down the stairs. "Dear, I'm so sorry", she quickly said and turned to Rudolph. "Dad, can you hear me?" Layers of wet sheet were strewn over one of her arms, while she held a plate with mouldy unfinished meal in another hand. "Oh, no", she sounded as if she was about to cry, "not again!"

"What is it?", Regina stepped in.

"Dad hasn't slept for days", Rudolph's daughter explained. "He enters this state of mind absence... I must take him to his bed..."

Regina took a plate from her hand and ordered Stuart to take farmer to where the girl directs him. She asked her to promptly explain them where each room in the house is and disappeared in the direction of the kitchen. Stuart did as she told him and left Rudolph's motionless body on the couch in the living room. Rudolph was so cold and still it made Stuart think that it'll be equally simple to deal with him after his death. On returning to the hallway, he met Rudolph's second daughter, a ten-year-old whom he remembered often followed her father when he delivered his products in town. When he said hello to her, she raised her head to look at him with her blank, brown eyes, then lowered it without returning the greeting and slowly, as if lifting the legs caused her pain, walked out of the house.

"What a strange girl", he said to himself.

"Stuart, come!" Regina was calling him from the upstairs.

The older daughter they met earlier was sitting on the bed next to the sick woman. Gertrude was drenched in sweat. Her skin seemed incredibly thin, all veins were visible through it. The stank of urine reminded Stuart of the wounded soldiers incapable to control their digestive system after the shocks they were exposed to.

"It was my father's idea to bring you here", the girl, whose name, according to Regina, was Isabel, said. "I think it's insane. My mother is sick and she doesn't know what she's saying!" Her eyes were filled with tears. "But our family's been through so much pain lately. We don't know what to do. First the little one, then our mother..."

Suddenly, Gertrude's eyes, which were closed when they entered, widely opened. The whites of her eyes were interwoven with thin red veins, the pupils abnormally small. Isabel muffled a scream and fell on her knees, devoting herself to a deep prayer. Stuart was anxious and had no idea what was he supposed to do. Regina reacted promptly as always. She was kneeling beside Gertrude before he even managed to see her move. She took her by her bony hands and wiped her sweaty forehead with a clean cloth. "Shh, there, there, Gertrude. Look who came to see you. It's Stuart Malcolm, the man you've been calling for." Gertrude's eyes remained attached to the ceiling, but Stuart thought he saw her shiver. "Do you have anything to say to Stuart? Do you want to ask him something?"

As if triggered by Regina's words, Gertrude moved her gaze toward Stuart. She stiffly rose into a sitting position and opened her mouth. "Stuart...", she pronounced shivery.

"Mother!" Isabel rose up and put her hands around her mother's skinny shoulders. "Do you need anything? Water? Food? You haven't eaten for days, mum, I'll cook you anything you want!"

"Isabel", Gertrude spoke after few vacant blinks, "my child. Thank you, Isabel. I love you, but I want to speak to Stuart alone."

Isabel didn't want to leave Gertrude alone with a stranger, but she insisted. "Did he do something to you?", she asked her not minding that Stuart could hear them. Gertrude denied anything memorable had ever happened between her and Stuart, but she persisted that they must speak without others bothering them. Regina led Isabel outside the room, ignoring plea in Stuart's eyes.

"Stuart", Gertrude's voice was clear by now. She tapped the mattress to encourage him to sit next to her. He remained standing. She took a glass of water from the table next to bed and drank it in one sip. "You surely find this strange", she talked slowly and took deep breaths between sentences, "but don't be scared. My sorrows aren't your worry. I needed to see you, however, because of a particular matter..."

"Why?", he couldn't stop himself from asking. Disregarding the rational direction in which his thought had flowed up to that moment, he added: "Does it have anything to do with photos?"

Gertrude was confused. "I know nothing of photos."

Stuart respired in relief. Nothing supernatural was in question, just hallucinations of a poor lunatic woman. Now that he's come here, and Gertrude is reasonably self-possessed, listening to her can't harm him. His judgment turned in another direction when Gertrude's hand vigorously grabbed his wrist. She leaned forward and started a fast speech: "Someone is leeking for you, Stuart." Her voice was changed. Stuart was surprised to recognize northern Scottish accent. He hadn't heard such pronunciation since he left his birthplace. Him and Oliver used to speak that way. They picked up regional expressions from servants and friends from the village. Their parents forced them to stop using dialect. "Do you ken who? He doesnae!" All of a sudden, she twitched and spoke as if addressing an invisible person in the corner. "Stuart", turning back to him, speaking with her normal German accent, "don't be scared, it's alright."

"I'm not scared", he lied.

Gertrude unexpectedly screamed. Her back arched and she grunted with her mouth open and eyes directed at ceiling, but her hand never left Stuart's wrist. He considered getting help, but she turned to him once again. "Sorry, Stuart", the northern way of speaking was back, "I'm terribly sorry, don't be disturbed, don't run away again, please!"

"Again?", Stuart mumbled.

"I never got to say how much I'm sorry, Stu", tears appeared in Gertrude's eyes, "for leavin' you and for bein' scunner wi' you. Ken I loved and I still love you, Stu. I'll always love you..."

Gertrude arced once more, but this time it was so sudden and violent she uttered a scream and let go of Stuart's arm. As soon as he was freed, Stuart got to his feet and ran to the door. He looked back at woman before leaving. Drops of sweat slid down her forehead while her head shook. She bit her lips until a thin stream of blood started pouring down her chin. "Regina, Isabel!", he called out as loud as he could through the open door. "Hurry up, Gertrude isn't well!" But neither Regina nor Isabel came, but Rudolph. He pushed Stuart aside and quickly approached his wife's bed. Isabel came after him, yelling remonstrances about his lack of sleep. Rudolph put his arms around Gertrude's waist and gently turned her body around. Albeit Gertrude must've been light as feather, Rudolph struggled raising her body. Isabel hurried pass Stuart to give her father a hand. They forced her into a lying position together, but Gertrude still wiggled and shook her head.

Stuart was startled when she called for him once again. "I'm sorry, Stu, I ain't scunner wi' you no more, I never should've been, I love you!"

"Why would my wife be angry at you?", Rudolph managed to yell at Stuart between restraining Gertrude's blows.

"I have no idea", Stuart responded honestly. Regina was by his side. Stuart realized she'd been holding his hand for a while. Biting her lips, she stared into terrifying scene of daughter and father fighting with their crazy wife and mother. They finally calmed her down when Isabel put pills in her mouth. "I know no more about what and why she said to me than you do", Stuart said to Rudolph later in the kitchen where they sat and drank ale, though nobody did as much as touch their drinks.

Rudolph blankly stared in front of himself. Isabel said instead of him: "It's alright, Mister Malcolm. Mother is unwell. We're sorry we bothered you in the first place."

"It's me who's sorry", he said, "I wish I could've helped..."

Rudolph was in no state to drive them back home, so Isabel put him to sleep and ran to neighbouring farm to ask whether someone could drive them back to Dunfermlin. Regina went upstairs to check how Gertrude was. Stuart was left alone in the front yard. He waited for a few minutes when he started feeling someone was watching him. He looked around for spies and discovered Rudolph's two younger daughters hiding behind hay. One of them he saw earlier. The other one was barely five years old and he'd never seen her. He tried to ignore them, hoping they'd leave. At last he asked them what's bothering them. The older, grumpier one abandoned their hiding place and slowly came to him. With big childish eyes she regarded him from feet to forehead. "You come to see mum."

"I presume I came because your mother called for me", he answered, not sure whether she accused him of something, asked or stated what she knew to be true, "but it was all a misunderstanding, so I'm leaving." He tried to speak the way people usually speak to children, with fake seriousness and a lot of emphasis.

The child wasn't impressed. "It was no misunderstanding. It's your fault my mum's sick!"

He staggered when she pointed her small finger at him. "Pardon me, miss, but I had nothing to do with your mother's sickness. If your father had told you something, you should know..."

"My father don't know a thing", she snapped at him, "and neither does Isabel. But we know...", she looked back at the little one behind the hay, "because mother believes us and tells us the truth. We know that she was visited after Lucy died, and the visits continued. They visit her all the time and it hurts her."

Stuart was more than confused by this child's wild imagination. "Who's Lucy?"

"Our little sister", she whispered, "but she died three months ago. A flu kills babies, mister."

Stuart thought about her words. Nobody mentioned that Gertrude had lost a child only a few months go. That could explain a lot. He saw his fair share of mothers whose lives were embittered by the untimely death of a child. "Well, then, you must look after your mother because losing a child causes terrible pain."

"And it brings ghosts."

Stuart shivered. "Ghosts? Silly girl, there's no such thing as ghosts." He wanted to reassure her, but it sounded more like he was consoling himself.

"There is and one of them wants you!" She kicked the ground with her foot. "That sad gentleman visits mum every night and demands she calls for you, but now that you're here, you ain't helping!"

Isabel was running towards them. She picked the little one on her way and hugged her tightly. Upon approaching Stuart and his attacker, she grabbed her sister by her arm and pulled her away from Stuart. "Excuse my chatty sister, Mister Malcolm", she said in rage, "she has a great imagination, she has!"

"I'm not imagining! Stop it!" Her sister got away and screamed before running away: "You're stupid, Isabel! Stupid and blind! I'll blame you when mum dies!"

The child in Isabel's arms started crying. Isabel had to let her down. She immediately ran after her sister.

"You never mentioned Gertrude had recently lost a baby", Stuart said.

Isabel took a deep breath. "Aye, sorry. Dad keeps it a secret if he can. It was doctors' top reason why we should put her in an asylum, they claim it's her nerves..." She was on the edge of crying, so Stuart stopped her from further talk and thanked her for getting him and Regina a ride.

When they came close to Regina's place, Stuart begged to stay at her house overnight. He was scared of being home alone. The events of that day created fertile ground for nightmares.

White sheets were still covering two chairs and a wooden tea table in a small living room before they settled in there. Regina removed them and lit a fire in the fireplace. She brought a bottle of wine and candles. "I usually sleep downstairs, in room meant for Cook, but you can choose whichever spare bedroom you like the best."

"Thanks", he replied. He had been procrastinating a question that's been bothering him the whole day. Adjusting a brave face, he spoke: "Why did we go to Rudolph's farm? What did you want to prove?"

Regina puttered with her hands around her hair until it fell loose down her shoulders. It was long and shone golden in the dim light. Stuart never saw her with her hair dishevelled. It made him feel uncomfortable, as if she revealed a private part of herself to him. When she turned her face to him, he saw that she was blushing with guilt. "I don't know", she said and drank a sip of wine. "I was angry because we weren't getting any closer to explaining the photos. But it was strange, wasn't it? Rudolph coming to your studio, claiming his sick wife won't stop mentioning you, and all of it just now when we're facing all kind of peculiar occurrences. I guess I hoped Gertrude's sickness will turn out to be another peculiarity connected to what we've already seen..."

She already emptied her glass and filled it up again. Stuart was worried about Regina's drinking habit. He barely touched his cup. "Perhaps", he suggested, taking the glass from Regina's grasp, "it would be best if we went to sleep. It's been an exhausting day."

Perhaps first and only time ever, Regina obediently nodded and retired downstairs. Taking the candle to light his way, Stuart walked down the main hallway in search for a room to sleep. The first door he tried to open was locked. He tripped over an object covered with a sheet. Lighted by his candle, Stuart caught an unclear glimpse of an item he revealed. He jumped away from it and accidentally kicked something else. The other item caused him an even greater panic. He calmed down and approached two items. The first one which caused him to jump away in fear was a stuffed raven. It had smooth black feathers and shinning, yet dark eyes. He put his candle down in order to return the other item on its place. It was a skull. Much smaller than man's head, perhaps a skull of a monkey or of some larger rodent specie. "I wonder where'd she get these from", he muttered to himself. When he covered them with sheets, he noticed that the door behind him opened when he crashed into them. He was delightedly surprised to recognize a dark room.

It was bigger than the one in his basement, with a newer desk and shelves full of glassy bottles with names of chemicals written on them. Opposite of the door was a mahogany cabinet with inscribed pieces of paper glued on every drawer. "Rape", Stuart read with dread climbing up his spine, "child murder, domestic violence, street cases..." He opened the last drawer. His heart was beating fast as he took out a folder. Photos fell from it to his feet. "Damn it!" He bent down and quickly collected them. Returning them to the folder, he took a look at each one of them. As he supposed; he found a stock of photos from the crime scenes.

Disgusted by atrocious display of murdered people, Stuart put the folder back in the drawer and moved away from it. The room didn't seem so magnificent as in the beginning. He knew all about Regina's father's work, but why would someone keep such horrifying selection of photos? The ones he saw showed a naked woman, an undernourished vagrant, maimed and disgraced in the most terrifying manners. Stuart thought not even war scenes could prepare a person for such a scene. He remembered chief Maxwell claiming Regina's father was never interested in police cases, only his profession. From what he just saw, that was far from truth. Tottering, he found a way to another door. He opened it and discovered a simple bedroom. He stepped in, but stopped when a thought occurred to him; what if Mister Jamieson slept in here? The two of them would've had many common interests, but after what Stuart had just seen, he wasn't sure whether he'd like to sleep in his bed. Shivers went down his spine again. What if chief Maxwell was right and Jamieson truly never interfered in business outside of his own, what if those murdered people were his business, but outside the work he did for Maxwell...

At last, he returned to the living room. He had enough of wandering through the house in the dark, discovering strange items and rooms with hidden horrors inside. Just then he remembered he hadn't mentioned Regina Gertrude's dead baby. "Better that way", he whispered to himself, "she'd only get more ridiculous ideas. I'm sick of it all! Woman went mad because she lost a child. Unfortunate, but nothing to do with me!" Sure that he's right, Stuart closed his eyes.

Carol was sitting in a wicker chair. He walked towards her timidly. He was scared of her reaction. They hadn't led a real conversation for a long time, but now he felt he owed her a chance for a decent talk. He could see the curled line of her back lighted by the spring sun beneath the thin scarf. He had no excuse for his faults. He didn't even consider the deeds she might incriminate to be faults.

"So you're both going", Carol spoke, aware of his presence long before he was prepared to announce himself. "And I suppose there's nothing I can say to put you off it?"

"Application can't be withdrawn", he confirmed.

He expected her to scream accusations at him, but Carol simply sighed and nodded. "The wedding date has changed because of your leave, of course", she informed him. "We'll marry before the two of you set off to Africa."

"Oliver didn't have to do it", he said, "he should stay here with you. I'm the one who should go."

Carol finally turned her face to him. He was horrified to see it was wet from tears pouring down her cheeks. Her voice sounded so calm he thought she was restrained from emotions. Seeing the truth beneath made him uneasy. He adored her, respected her, would fall on his knees to beg for her mercy. None of it would bring Carol any satisfaction. "How can you say that? Oliver would follow you anywhere, he'd protect you from anything..."

"I never asked him to do so", he felt tears threatening to erupt from his eyes. "He has you and his job and everything he needs here, while I have nothing! Why can't he let me find my own way?"

Carol stood up in her full elegance. As if tears weren't sliding down her face, she gracefully pronounced: "Because he cares about you and loves you more than anyone else."

Stuart couldn't force himself to look her in the eyes, so he stared in the distance behind her shoulders. Next to the apple tree behind their house, he saw two figures. One of them strangely resembled Gertrude, a woman who didn't belong neither to this place nor time, and the other one was a young man Stuart had never seen before. Just when he wanted to ask Carol why are those people watching them, she vanished into thin air and Stuart fell into a pit.

He woke up with pain in his back caused by the poor sleeping position in Regina's chair. It was quite early in the morning. "Regina is surely still sleeping", he thought. He went into the hallway. He recognized the two items into which he crashed during his nighttime wandering. The image of a dead bird, skull and photos in the dark room got stuck in his mind. Everything in the house suddenly seemed like evil foreboding. Taking his coat, Stuart left Regina's place. He walked until he found his way to the bar where he met Regina. Black Cat was empty at this time of the day. It suited Stuart. He found enough coins in his pockets for a glass of whiskey, which was just what he needed. Since Regina expanded their business, Stuart could afford such treats. Barman put the glass in front of him and, since a handful of the other guests were common drunks, he leaned on the bar and whispered: "Ay, Stuart, all good?"

"What?" Stuart was muddleheaded. He thought about his dream. He was worried about Carol and his siblings in Edinburgh. From what he gathered until now, the person sending those weird photos could truly be a serial killer. He considered sending them a telegram, just to check if they're safe. "Aye, all good. Why?"

Barman shrugged his shoulders. "Strange for you to drink at this hour. You seem worried, is all. You heard the sad news?" Stuart shook his head. "You know that farmer, Rudolph, comes often to sell his stuff on the market? His wife died last night." Stuart had to refrain from expressing shock. "Poor thing, sick for days. They lost the youngest lass just a few months ago. And all of Rudolph's other children lasses, too. Hard situation for them, ain't it?"

"Aye", Stuart muttered, "damn right bloody hard."

He was returning home walking like a drunk. He felt like a mess. Gertrude, though sick, still very alive just the day before, dead prostitute's smile in the photo, dead girl standing in the bathtub, his brother's death... "But Oliver died three months ago", he whispered to himself, ignoring the woman shouting offends at him after he slightly pushed her. "Why would it bother me now? People die... What's good is that he's dead and at peace, not like those people with opened eyes and whatnot... Photos..."

"There you are!" Regina was in front of him as soon as he stepped into the studio. "Where've you been? Did you even sleep last night? I found no bed unmade..."

"I stayed beside the fireplace", he quickly explained. He walked pass her and collapsed on the sofa.

"Are you sick?", Regina asked in a worried tone.

"No, just... You haven't heard? Gertrude... she passed away." More than shocked, he was surprised. What had caused physically healthy woman to die so suddenly? After all his deliberation over death during the last two centuries, cases like these still perplexed him.

Regina's face turned white. Without explanation, she handed him a photo turned on the blank side. He looked at the other side of it. It was a photo of the room in which Gertrude slept, but not a living soul was in it. "Oh, no", Stuart whispered. It was the same format the other unknown author's photos which appeared out of nowhere. "He or she must've been to your house after I left", Stuart said after Regina told him she'd found it on the doorstep. "And on Rudolph's property some hours earlier... After yesterday, him and his daughters must've been exhausted, they wouldn't notice an intruder. But why would someone kill..." He couldn't even say it out loud.

"The whole case remains a mystery", Regina said dramatically. Beneath all concern, she was intrigued and excited. Stuart was angry and couldn't understand her cold attitude. People were dying, his family was somehow marked, and she enjoyed it! "But none of the murders whose places of commission have been photographed are connected. I'm still not convinced a serial killer is our only possible conclusion..."

"That's it", Stuart got up, his heart beating fast, "you might find this fun, but not me. I'm taking photos to the police." He hurried downstairs and picked up every peculiar photo on his display. He decisively paced to the door, but Regina's surprisingly strong hand grasped his elbow.

"What do you expect the policemen will say? They'll say you're insane!" Stuart pulled forward, but she wouldn't let him go. "My father used to be an inspector. You don't think he would've figured this out if there was a logical explanation? He had all the experience needed. Stuart, there's nothing logical in this! Accept that we're dealing with something alien, something police can't help us with..."

"We didn't even try!" Regina faltered as he got away from her grasp. He closed the door behind himself, but she was coming for him. Wrought up and alarmed by her intransigence, he locked the door. Regina knocked and yelled, but he walked away. Now she can't stop him. "I'll take the damn photos to Maxwell and that's it!"

He passed the Black Cat, but the voices of the crowd which formed in the meantime followed him down the street. Everybody spoke silently, but all sentences carried the same message. "Rudolph's wife died... Doctor said 't was natural, but I hear' it might've been poison, too... After all, ol' farmer Rud went a bit mad after his youngest child died... Gertrude's mental illness must've caused him great pain... Aye, all daughters, little one's somehow strange, the oldest one quite religious..."

He quickened his pace, but among gossips he wanted to avoid, he heard his own name. He didn't stop at first, but even when other voices went silent, he could hear somebody's steps following him and a man's voice calling out his name. He had an urge to run, he felt endangered as an irrational idea occurred to him; might it be a ghost haunting him?

"Stuart, dear Lord, slow down, would ya?" He stopped. A breathless man approached him. He'd been running after him for some time. Stuart was surprised to find that he was panting, too. "Where you running to? Haven't ya heard me calling ya?"

"Sorry, Jim", he said. It was the banker whose mother he photographed when she passed away four years ago. "I was lost in my thoughts a bit."

"Aye, right. Listen, I have a tricky thing to ask of you. Well, not really tricky considering what you do, but nevertheless..."

Stuart instantly knew what it was about. "Who died?"

"My cousin. He drowned. I mean, that's what we say..."

A suicide. Stuart's heart skipped a beat. The envelope with photos he held burned him like hot coal, but the fascination with death (suicide!) was too great to miss this opportunity.

"We never got to take a photo together and his funeral's tomorrow. Would you come to my place? I'll prepare everything. I heard you have some new cameras, but I'd like you to bring your old one, the classics are the best... I'll pay double your usual charge..."

"Don't worry, old boy, I'll be there."

Jim walked away leaving Stuart motionless, with aggravating photos in his hand. "Suicide", he muttered, "haven't had one for years." He couldn't stop himself from wondering would Jim's brother turn out changed in the photo. Unnoticed hand or neck movement, rolling eyes, curling lips, anything to satisfy Stuart's curiosity. "Besides, Regina might be right", he made excuses as he changed direction. "Policemen know nothing about photography. And the photos seem normal if you don't know the context. They wouldn't believe me with the lack of proof I have. I should get more evidence and then take it to the police."

Regina was sitting on the sofa with her legs and arms crossed. She directed a furious look at him, but softened when upon noticing the envelope. "So you came to your senses and gave up?"

Stuart approached daguerreotype camera. "We have a home visit to do. A suicide case. Hurry up."

The client's black-clad wife let them in. She showed them into the living room. Coming from behind, they saw light hair of a man sitting on the couch. They realized it was the deceased cousin only after Regina's salute got no reply. The mistress of the house was so quiet they barely heard when she asked if they'd like some tea. When she left the room, Stuart set out to placing camera in front of the dead man. The banker's cousin's pose was traditional for full-body portraits, with his hands in the lap and head held high thanks to the retainer on the back of his neck. Occasionally dressed as he was, he could pass for a healthy human being without doubt.

"Makes you wonder", Regina said, looking at the subject of Stuart's camera, "why'd someone take his own life? Many people suffer terribly, but remain alive, while someone seemingly leading a decent life makes such a horrible decision."

"You can never know what the quality of someone else's life truly is", Stuart answered while adjusting the lens, "it might seem decent to you, but it's what's in someone's head that really matters."

"You speak as if from a personal experience."

The banker walked in, limping a little after a few sips of something to calm him down. "There you are!" He pretended to be jolly. First time seeing Regina, he shook her hand, claiming he "had heard all about her". His wife joined them carrying a teapot on a plate. Banker directed her to stand aside while he settled on the couch next to his cousin. Stuart noticed how he avoided to look at his deceased relative. In excessively cheerful tone, he announced how he wants the photo to turn out; the two of them sitting next to each other, no furniture in their surroundings. "Just make sure he looks alive, eh?" He patted Stuart on the back and prepared to sit down, but then his eyes accidentally met his cousin's. He confusedly blinked and stopped for a few seconds. Silent, but effective, his wife held his elbow when it seemed he might fall and helped him sit down. The banker put his mask back in an instant. "C'mon, Stuart, old chap!"

The hourglass was turned.

As promised, the banker paid two times more than Stuart usually charged. He offered him and Regina to stay for lunch, but they refused. They had to develop the daguerreotype. Stuart discreetly looked at Regina, wondering how'd she react if he recommended they develop them in her father's dark room. Does she know about his private collection?

Upon their return to the studio, he didn't allow her to go with him to the dark room. "Leave daguerreotypes to me", he said. Regina was offended. Stuart didn't care. The growing closeness which kept them together every day was losing its meaning for Stuart. He wanted her near only because now that he had Gertrude's death haunting his consciousness alongside others, staying completely alone was a worse option.

When the process was done, he left the daguerreotype to continue developing on its own. Upstairs, Regina kept herself busy by preparing lunch. When they were done eating, Regina removed the plates and brought two cups of coffee. Stuart rarely drank coffee. It was just one of numerous things Regina brought with herself. Instead of being thankful, Stuart felt his pride was hurt. Brown drink in his cup reminded him just how much better standing than him Regina was. "Would you please leave?"

Regina slammed her cup against the table. "So now you want me to leave? And just a while ago you begged me to stay by your side. What, I'm a housekeeper now, departing when you get tired of me?" She angrily picked up her things and pushed her chair away. "Remember we're in this together." Lowering her head, she added: "I'm worried, too, you know, and quite aware I might be the reason why your family is endangered. No matter what we're dealing with, don't act like you're the only one bothered by our ignorance!"

He heard the door slamming in the studio above him. Regina was gone. Stuart regretted driving her away. Resentment he felt for her slowly dispersed. What did he have to blame her for? It was as she said; she had stayed by his side, comforted him. His behaviour was more than wrong. And why did the discovery he made in her house have to cast an ugly shadow on Regina? She probably doesn't know about her father's creepy photos. Besides, there might be a perfectly reasonable explanation for them. Everybody Stuart heard speak about Regina's father described him as hard-working, kind man. "My judgment is imbalanced since Oliver died", he made a conclusion, "I see hidden intentions and dark shadows wherever I look." He sighed out, realising he'll have to crawl begging for Regina's forgiveness once more.

He wasn't aware of the cupboard door right above him Regina left open. The top of his head hit the sharp edge of it. He succumbed to dizziness and fell to the floor...

Stuart never got to ask Carol why were two people watching them from afar because Oliver's arrival interrupted him. Carol ran away before her betrothed came close enough to see her distress. "She'll come to her senses", Oliver said to Stuart. He had already told Stuart everything about his decision to join the army. They fought about it, or at least Oliver tried to provoke a fight by yelling, but Stuart remained uninterested. He silently suffered his brother's endeavours to force him to stay home. Eventually, Oliver accepted Stuart was lost case.

"What senses?", Stuart asked, though he rarely answered Oliver recently. "She blames me for taking you away. You shouldn't go to Africa. You must think about Carol and your future."

"We already talked about this." Stuart couldn't remember when. Perhaps Oliver meant one of his monologues in which he eloquently explained his reasons and duty. "I'm not letting you head off to war on your own."

Stuart turned his back on him. He returned the stare to the two personas in the distance. They were closer now. He was sure the woman was Gertrude. The young man recently, too...

"Banker's cousin...", Stuart whispered. "The young man who took his own life."

"Taking a part in war is equal to committing a suicide", Oliver said. Stuart looked at his brother, but instead of a young husband-to-be, an old man was standing next to him. His brows, hair and beard were completely white, his face was pudgy.

"Who are you?"

"Stuart!" Regina was waving with her hand in front of him. Suddenly woken up, Stuart wined, but couldn't get up. He was still dizzy. "You were bleeding", Regina was kneeling next to him. "Must've hit your head hard. Thank God I came back. Didn't feel good about how we separated."

"I'm sorry, Regina", Stuart mumbled. It came to him he had forgotten the daguerreotype developing in the dark room. He left the unperfect apology hanging in the air and urged Regina to check the photo.

The subject of Stuart's camera was unchanged, sitting still in the photo next to his cousin just like in reality. There was a thunder in Stuart's mind; why didn't he move?

"You hurt yourself badly", Regina repeated, pretending not to take notice of the photo, but Stuart didn't miss her sly peeking.

TO BE CONTINUED...

Submitted: 20th February 2023

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