discoveredinalj | Discovered in the Bleak Midwinter

A Cottage Mystery
by krisser

The sombre group gathered about a long, rectangular hole measuring six feet deep. They listened in varying degrees as the Vicar droned on about the life of the deceased. Most of the mourners wore heavy coats, gloves, and scarves to combat the snow-chilled air. Bodie stood in his well-tailored mourning suit with an equally well-dressed Doyle by his side. No coats adorned their arms or their person, for they did not plan to stay long. They stood apart from those gathered. Bodie only half listened until the tone of voice suggested the Vicar was wrapping it up.

". . . And finally, his life shed its last ebbing light. May he rest in peace." The Vicar's words galvanised the attendees to move away, throw dirt, shed tears, or leave.

Bodie remained on the fringe of the mourners; Ray Doyle remained at his side. They waited silent and unmoving until most of the people cleared out. No one approached him or even looked his way. Bodie's stance and demeanour encouraged that outcome.

Bodie knew it was because he was persona non grata. Still, even after all these years. Now, the last family member that cared for him and vice versa will lay six feet under. He paused mid-breath at the pang of disappointment that thought gave him.

Bodie knelt down to scoop up a handful of hard-packed dirt. He jiggled it across his palm a couple of times before standing. He squeezed the earth between his fingers to crumble it over the open grave, his eyes following the last dirt clod until it hit bottom. He lingered a few moments, wiping away evidence of the gesture before stepping back next to his partner. His expression conveyed he was ready to depart.

They turned to retrace their steps back to their motor only to find their way blocked by an unassuming gentleman. His charcoal suit marked him as a professional, but not the elite. His umbrella was hooked over his arm even though he wore a hat.

"Mr Bodie, if I may have a word."

Bodie turned his head to give Doyle a slight eye roll before facing the man. He nodded his consent.

The man presented his card. Chester Watkins, Solicitor. LLB. "My condolences, Mr Bodie. Your great uncle was my friend as well, and he will be missed." Mr Watkins cleared his throat before he continued. "I represented your Great Uncle Philip, and need to discuss the terms of your bequest."

Bodie's expression of genuine surprise elicited a slight smile from the solicitor. "Would four thirty this afternoon at my office be convenient? Mr Doyle should attend as well."

Bodie nodded his head in the affirmative as he fingered the card in his hand.

"Good. Until then." The solicitor shook Bodie's hand, tipped his hat, and turned away to disappear among the other departing mourners.

Bodie turned to his partner. "Let's go get a pint. There's no one here I wish to talk with."

Doyle nodded. The ring of truth in Bodie's words told him that it was an honest observation and not a lament. It had been obvious to him that the other mourners had taken great pains to ignore them both. He matched steps with Bodie's stride as they headed back to their motor. Despite the chill, Doyle was quite pleased that Bodie had asked him along.

Bodie drove to a pub in the heart of Halewood, located in the centre of the town, well away from the cemetery.

Doyle noted to himself that his partner hadn't checked for directions, but proceeded directly there. He knew the area better than he had let on.

Bodie paid for two pints and placed them both on the table of the back booth that his partner had selected. He unbuttoned his jacket as he sat back. His gaze drifted about but never settled.

Doyle sipped his drink, content to wait in silence. He knew his partner well enough to know that he first dealt with real pain internally, reticent to be seen vulnerable, before he groused about it aloud.

"Great Uncle Phil was on my mom's side. When I was a lad, he was the only one that was truly indulgent with my humour." Bodie's face softened with the memory.

Doyle held up his glass, "A toast to Great Uncle Phil."

Bodie held up his glass, and they saluted the empty seat. They each took a drink and Doyle nodded his head to the thanks in Bodie's eyes.

"My grandda and his brother were close, but my father didn't care for his in-laws and especially loathed my Great Uncle Philip. But as my father loathed most everyone, the more he spoke of his dislike, the more insistent I became to spend time with him. While my mother lived, I saw him regularly. After she passed, everything changed." Bodie played with the water ring on the table. He watched the glass slide along it before he picked it up and drank a thorough portion of the pint.

Bodie looked up and caught Doyle's eye. "Ray, I'm sorry you didn't get to meet him, he was the only relative that I had that I hoped to introduce you to one day." Bodie emptied his glass.

Doyle stood, placed his hand on Bodie's shoulder and squeezed it gently. He might not know why the solicitor wanted his attendance, but he knew that his partner had needed him here. He continued to the counter to replenish his partner's drink, and order a couple of ploughman plates.

---

Bodie drove them to the solicitor's office just before the appointed time. He didn't notice the light dusting of snow or low hanging clouds as he pondered what his uncle had done. Whatever it was it might provide a good topic for the five plus hour drive back to London afterward.

A parking space was available along the kerb directly in front of their destination. Bodie pulled in smoothly, and turned to face Doyle. "Now we find out why we're here."

Doyle nodded as he opened the door latch. They stood, and straightened their jackets as they mounted the stairs. Bodie looked at his partner before he knocked on the door. He hoped he could live down whatever stories were revealed.

Mr Watkins greeted both men and indicated seats, sitting down behind the large oak desk. "Mr Bodie, your great uncle very much enjoyed the conversations and the letters received from you throughout the years. He quite looked forward to them in fact." The solicitor smiled at Bodie, shuffling the papers on his desk until the one he wanted was sitting on top.

Doyle wiggled in his chair, trying hard not to make noise and failing miserably. He still couldn't fathom why he was here.

Mr Watkins smiled again, this time at Doyle, but turned his attention back to Bodie. "Your great uncle wants to bequeath you a house in the Cotswolds, Stow-on-the-Wold, to be exact."

"Wants to?" Bodie was confused by the tense used. He was positive that he had just attended his uncle's funeral.

"There's a stipulation, you see."

Bodie heard his partner's under breath comment, "Of course there is!"

Mr Watkins picked up the top sheet of paper and read it aloud. "Codicil of stipulation. My great nephew William Bodie and his partner, Ray Doyle, must reside in said house for one full week concurrently. If they are able to ascertain the secret of the house, then the house and property are William Bodie's free and clear."

"What?" exploded out of Doyle's mouth. "Why me?" He sat up straight, surprised and dismayed that he was included. He figured that the job alone would dash all hope of attending the house; both of their attendance was a certain fail.

On the same wavelength as Doyle, Bodie said with regret, "Our job is sure to interfere. Besides, I only have clearance to be away for the day." Bodie would have liked a house waiting for them when they reached old bones.

Mr Watkins shuffled a few more papers. "Not to worry, gentlemen. I have already contacted your employer with the will's stipulations and your Mr Cowley has agreed to both of you staying to fulfil the requirements."

Doyle flopped back in his chair, flabbergasted.

As always in tune with his partner, Bodie was equally astonished. He just didn't show it in so overt a manner. "Mr Cowley, himself, agreed?" Bodie needed the reassurance.

"Yes, quite a pleasant chap, very understanding."

Bodie and Doyle immediately turned to look at each other, mirror images of astonishment adorning their faces.

"Now," the solicitor's voice regained their attention. "Food has been laid in, lights and heat are already on." He handed Bodie a set of keys and directions. "Your week begins tomorrow." Mr Watkins jotted a note on his calendar. "We'll meet back here a week Monday afternoon at four."

Bodie stood, and shook the solicitor's hand, nodding his head the whole time. "Thank you, Mr Watkins. See you then." He followed his partner out the door, puzzling over the Cow's behaviour. There must be something in it for the old man for him to agree to both agents being away for an entire week.

Once the door closed behind them, Doyle look over at Bodie, "You know the Cow is going to dock us for the week!"

His brilliant partner. "Of course!"

Doyle nudged Bodie with his shoulder as they exited the building. "Do you think we can find an Oxfam before we get to your house? I'll need more clothes."

Bodie's snort was the exact answer Doyle had expected.

Doyle drove the first three hours as Bodie slept and then his partner took over and he slept. They got back to London just shy of one in the morning. Bodie dropped Doyle off with the plan to pick him up at five. They could beat the morning traffic and arrive early enough to meet the will requirements.

Bodie set his flat to rights and packed enough to last a week plus. They were sure to encounter more snow than in London. He hoped the heating was adequate.

He picked up a waiting Doyle and away they headed. It was almost like a holiday. It was as far as Cowley was concerned, he was sure. He'd have to make a point to call his boss later in the day. It was quite decent of him to accommodate the terms of the will this way. Bodie was sure he'd pay for it some other way.

He turned to look at Doyle, sloughed down, head against the window, snoozing away. He was a mate for going along with the terms as well. He had talked of his partner quite a bit and his uncle must have figured that together they would surmise the secret of the house.

Bodie woke Doyle as they stopped for breakfast on the outskirts of the Cotswolds, in Swindon.

Refreshed and on their way, both men were excited at the prospect of the time off. The honey-coloured stone buildings provided a better distinction of entering the Cotswolds than the road signs. Doyle thought it was truly like the quintessential English village of old. Thatched roofs, arched gables, and arched doorways really set it apart from other areas.

Bodie's eyes were wide as he took in the yellow limestone boundary walls. The passing gates into green open meadows beckoned one to walk, even filled with all the snow. He drew in a deep breath and relaxed somewhat as he let it out. They could enjoy the holiday time whatever the outcome.

The house itself was at the end of a narrow lane, a final turning revealing a small stone cottage. Bodie stopped at the end of the stone path to the front door, gazing at the prominent chimney near the front door. If the heating wasn't enough, at least they'd have a fire for warmth. Assuming that it had been cleaned in living memory.

They were out of the car like kids, Doyle ducking away as Bodie reached to ruffle his hair. "First one to come up with the answer gets two rounds on the other," Bodie challenged, excited at the prospect of figuring out the mystery.

"I'll explore downstairs, you go up," Doyle said as he dashed past Bodie inside and headed down the hallway.

Bodie watched his partner move away before he smiled, shrugged, and followed his direction. Inside he made for the stairs. Hand on the railing he started up. The twisted ash banister was smooth to the touch. Years of hands running up and down the staircase had left its mark.

"Bodie, have you looked through the library?" Doyle yelled from downstairs.

"Haven't been in the house two minutes yet, have I?" Bodie shouted down as he paused on the step.

"There's quite the collection of books on sex." Doyle answered equally loud.

"Never a bad topic! Good for the old boy," Bodie responded automatically while leaning over the banister. He followed it upward, hand on the railing all the while. He enjoyed the sensations against his palm. The banister composition hinted at movement, but nothing was openly defined.

Bodie walked into the first room. Obviously, from the size, it was the master bedroom. The room had been cleared of his uncle's personal items and clothes, but the art and knickknacks remained. Impressionist art adorned the walls, while the snuff boxes he'd collected still sat on the shelves. Bodie could still feel his uncle's personality in the house.

Bodie headed for the next room to discover an artist studio. "Doyle!" he called out louder than usual. "You'll love this room. Paints, brushes, easels, and accoutrements all provided." Bodie headed to the adjacent room, fully expecting Doyle to make haste to see for himself.

He anticipated another bedroom but was wide off the mark. It was a games room. Billiards, darts, backgammon, chess, and many more in the cupboards. There was a loo across the hall and one adjoining to the master bedroom. Unless he missed one downstairs, the master was the only bedroom and only one bed was present.

One night sharing was easy, but a whole week would test his willpower.

Bodie looked about and still no partner. "Oy! Doyle, where are you?" He really had expected his more than curious partner to join him on the mention of paints.

"Here." Doyle called out. "Library."

He went down-stairs, running his hand absently over the smooth banister, feeling the movement quicken with his brisker pace. The wave in the wood was not easy to see, but his hand detected it, and stayed connected. Up and down, up and down, faster, faster, the tactile of the smoothness left his hand tingling.

Bodie planned to join Doyle but passed the library as he spied what could be called a solarium. Winding plants combined with evocative art that only hinted at the what or who, yet, he felt the effect. It made him feel primal. Ready. He took in a few rapid breaths, looking about more slowly. He wasn't sure what he was supposed to be ready for, exactly.

"Bodie!" Doyle called out.

Bodie moved to the call.

Doyle was curled in a big chair, shoes flopped off, surrounded by books. He looked up at his partner, pupils opened wide. "I know what his secret is," Doyle looked all over the room at the books.

Bodie stood, arms akimbo, His head leaned forward, brows raised in expectation, waiting for the big reveal.

"Your uncle was gay."

Bodie sat down in the closest chair, not really surprised. The clues had been all over, subtle, yes, but not hiding. "Probably why my Aunt made him stop coming to dinner." Bodie sat all the way back in the chair. "My father's sister. She was a horrid woman, much like my father. My uncle was really quite lucky to miss those dinners."

"Was he out?" Doyle asked curiously.

"Not likely. If my aunt, or father, for that matter, had known they would have had him arrested. Was still illegal when I was a lad."

Bodie knew it didn't matter one whit to him. He should have sussed it out, they had never talked birds. The last ten years they had talked about Doyle, a lot.

Did his great uncle think . . . think that Doyle and he . . .

The brick wall in his head crumbled.

Doyle and he . . . he felt primed, ready. Thank god he was sitting down. He leaned forward to hide his burgeoning erection pressed tightly against his jeans. He drew in a few steadying breaths before he looked up at Doyle.

"This place has that effect on you." Doyle sat, legs spread, not hiding his own erection.

"The pictures made you randy?" Bodie opted for light.

"Not alone, watching you figure it out as your cock filled, that made me randy." Doyle opted for honesty.

Bodie pressed down hard on his erection, he was ready to come from Doyle's words alone.

"I'm in the same situation here, mate." Doyle watched Bodie's eyes dilate wide as he focused on the outline of his prominent hardness. Doyle stood, walked over to Bodie, parted his legs, and knelt between them in fluid movement. "I know a cure." Doyle unzipped Bodie's flies, slipped his hand inside, and cupped the bulging cock. He squeezed the warm flesh, and worked it much like he would his own.

Bodie moaned, "Don't want a cure." He arched back as his hips jutted forward under Doyle's control. His climax felt more powerful than he could remember.

Doyle sagged into Bodie's chest before he straightened himself.

Bodie looked up at his partner, a fear nagged at the back of his mind. "This . . . it's not just the house?"

Doyle's shoulders relaxed. "It was never about the house."

Bodie smiled. "I'd quite like that remedy each time it popped up." His smiled turned lascivious. "It could happen a lot."

"Sounds like you'd need a doctor for that."

"I have one. Dr Doyle."

"Dr Doyle, my mum would like that."

A kip and cleanup later, Bodie stood at the window and looked out at the landscape covered in white. "It's snowing."

"That's a good thing. We have a week to explore." Doyle counted.

"I don't want to explore the snow," Bodie retorted as he turned around.

"Neither do I." Doyle moved to stand in front of his partner, his voice low and gravelly.

Bodie smiled, as he moved his hands to Doyle's shoulders. "That's all right, then."

------

One week later, Bodie entered the solicitor's office. He sat in the same chair he had the week prior and stated without preamble.

"The secret was that my uncle was gay and inside the Cotswold home he was able to be himself. The old place offered him a refuge from the socially imposed mores. He must have hoped that I would recognise that I now had a place where I could have the freedom to choose. Hence the reason that he stipulated that Mr Doyle attend as well." Bodie finished his conclusion with practised efficiency.

"Well done. Your uncle would have been pleased." Mr Watkins nodded his head several times. He turned the papers he had out on his desk around to face Bodie, and handed him a pen. "With your signature, the house and property become yours. As he wished."

"Thank you both." Bodie signed the papers. He shook the man's hand as he was promised that the deed and accompanying paperwork would be sent to him. He bid Mr Watkins adieu.

Bodie left the office with a spring in his step. Doyle was leaning against the motor, smiling at him.

His great uncle turned out to be just that.

fin

notes: Thanks to my betas. Prompt line was - shed its last ebbing light-