The Dalwich Desecration (29 page)

“Indeed.” Colin flashed that same tight smile again as he stood up. “And now you must excuse Mr. Pruitt and me for a few hours as we have a bit of unfinished business to conclude in Dalwich.”

“Is it about that poor young woman who was murdered?”

Colin nodded grimly as he started for the door. “That it is.”

“God grant you whatever you need to triumph,” the priest called after us.

“He already has,” Colin answered cryptically as we walked out and pulled the door shut.

“You sound quite sure of yourself,” I noted as we headed for the front doors.

“Yes, I suppose you could say that . . .” he muttered distractedly, his face having grown restive.

“I must confess I haven't necessarily felt that to be true.”

Colin shoved his way out the door and I found myself hurrying to keep up with him in spite of the fact that my legs are longer. If I was having doubts about the certainty of his statement, the pace of his stride assured me that he was not. “I passed the library several times last night,” he abruptly blurted out, “and never once saw Brother Bursnell in there searching for anything. So either he is lying to Father Demetris, or Father Demetris is lying to us.”

“Lying?! They're clerics. . . .” But I stopped myself from finishing that thought, well aware of how foolish I would sound. “What about Maureen O'Dowd? You said we were on our way to
conclude
that case?”

Colin shot a hasty glance my direction without the slightest hesitation in his stride. “Father Demetris has just now put me in mind of something that has been rumbling about my brain for the last several days.”

“He has? Whatever would that be?”

“Coveting and pilfering,” he said bleakly as we charged down the uneven path toward Dalwich.

CHAPTER 27

C
onstable Lachlan Brendle looked almost like a man renewed. The color was returning to his cheeks and his eyes looked clearer than they had since he'd been shot three days before. I eyed the small medicine bottle next to his bed and was pleased to find it slightly more than half full, a testament to the clarity behind his eyes. He was once again fully upright in his bed, though he had informed us with a heavy sigh that the doctor insisted he not attempt to get out of it for another three weeks. His cheeks and jaw were freshly shaved, removing the auburn shadow he had been cultivating, and his hair had been carefully parted down the middle and slicked back on both sides. He looked rather like a young magistrate who chose to dispense justice from the comfort of his bed.

Colin and I had pulled chairs alongside the constable's bed, and Mr. Masri was seated across the room near the door in the spot usually occupied by Mr. Whitsett. As before, Mr. Whitsett had been sent to the Pig and Pint to fetch Raleigh Chesterton, but this time he'd also been requested to bring Edward Honeycutt and Annabelle White. There was no doubt that Mr. Chesterton would be livid at this decimation of his lunchtime staff, but I knew it made little difference to Colin, who was focused on collecting his suspects.

“But surely you must have
something
concrete you can share . . .” Constable Brendle was practically begging, the flush in his cheeks and the determination behind his eyes a further attestation to his rapidly improving health.

Colin chuckled quietly as he dug out a crown and sent it scurrying between his fingers. “It isn't as though I am hiding something from you,” he said, the lie coming as smoothly as the gossamer threads from a spider. “While I will confess to being a man who keeps his own counsel, Mr. Pruitt being something of an exception,” he added, gesturing at me with a distracted wave of his free hand that spoke to the fact that I too was often kept in the dark, “it is also not my habit to neglect cooperating with the proper authorities.” A thin-lipped grin fleeted across his face and I wondered how he could say such a thing without being struck by lightning or at the very least blushing. Indeed, if the present circumstances had not been so grim, I believe I would have laughed out loud myself. As it was, I held my tongue while imagining the dreadful shade of plum that Constable Varcoe would turn were he still alive to hear Colin's self-assessment.

“I didn't mean to suggest such a thing,” the constable backpedaled exactly as Colin had intended. “I was only hoping for an insight into the way you work, Mr. Pendragon. There is so much my men and I can learn from you and I would hate to squander such an opportunity.”

“Oh . . .” A faint grin raised the corners of Colin's mouth as the coin he was spinning through his fingers halted for an instant. “You flatter me,” he said with noticeable pleasure before he started the coin on its rotation again.

“Mr. Pendragon has greater than ten years on you, Constable.” I finally spoke up, perfectly content to prick Colin's ego a touch lest it should derail him. “There is much to be said about the significance of pure experience.”

Colin's eyebrows ticked a lack of amusement, just as I had known they would. “Yes. . . .” he muttered.

“Some things simply cannot be taught,” I added.

No sooner had the words left my mouth than I heard the front door open and close in the other room. The footfalls of multiple shoes clattering upon the floorboards grew closer, though no one could be heard to be speaking. Lanky, awkward Annabelle White was the first to enter the room, all angles and shuffling feet, followed by Edward Honeycutt wearing an expression somewhere between discomfort and distress. Mr. Chesterton entered a whole moment later, Mr. Whitsett coaxing him with a steady hand on his back, which the older man seemed quite displeased about.

“Oh, bloody hell . . .” Raleigh Chesterton pulled up short in the doorway as he spotted Colin and me. “Are these two gonna be here every time you send for me?” Mr. Whitsett tried to prod Mr. Chesterton into the room, but his efforts were soundly rebuffed. “I got nothin' more ta say ta them. I told ya that the last time.” I presumed he was speaking to Constable Brendle, but this time his eyes did not leave Colin and me for an instant.

“I'll not have this conversation with you again, Raleigh,” the constable answered at once, his eyes flashing darkly. And if I had not already known that he was feeling better I could most certainly see it now. “You will find yourself a chair, sit down, and be civil, or you will end up in a cell for impeding this investigation until I can get a magistrate from Arundel to release you. And in my present condition you can be sure it will take some measure of time for me to accomplish that!”

Raleigh Chesterton gave a deep-throated snort as he grabbed one of the wooden chairs Mr. Masri had dragged in from the other room and pulled it opposite to where Colin and I were seated. “I ain't the one belongs behind bars . . .” he groused as he heaved himself into the chair, folding his arms across his chest like a petulant child.

“If you please . . .” Constable Brendle said to the others, waving a hand toward the remaining chairs stationed around the room for Annabelle White, Edward Honeycutt, and Mr. Whitsett, leaving Mr. Masri seated back by the entrance to the room, his left arm dangling within the muslin sling fastened around his neck like an injured bird. Everyone looked confused and uneasy with the notable exception of Mr. Chesterton, who appeared to be nothing less than incensed. “Now, Mr. Pendragon has requested to speak with the lot of you about the murder of Maureen O'Dowd. Please know that he does so with the full support and authority of my office, and I
will
expect each of you to behave accordingly. And I hold myself to this same standard since, as you are all aware, I had a brief liaison with Miss O'Dowd some time back and therefore do not presume to hold myself above the very law I seek to enforce.” He flicked his eyes between everyone in the room before landing on Raleigh Chesterton.

“So what . . .” he snapped back corrosively, “she courted her share a men. What does that have ta do with anything?”

“She
loved
me,” Edward Honeycutt flung back, sounding almost pitiful, leaving me to wonder if he was trying to convince us or himself. “I'm the one she was going to marry and move to London with. We were going to raise our baby there . . .” The young man's voice caught.

“Remind me again . . .” Colin said at once before anyone else could interject, “. . . how exactly were you planning on making your way in the city with little money and no prospects for a job?”

“I told you, we were saving everything we could. We had been doing so for the better part of a year. We already had enough to get us there and a room for a couple of months if we chose carefully. I saved nearly every farthing I earned at the Pig and Pint, and from what Brother Clayworth gave me for looking after his books. Did you check the accounts? Did you see that I never stole a thing?!”

“As a matter of fact”—Colin flashed a brief smile—“Mr. Pruitt did indeed check the brewery's accounts and you are correct. He found everything quite in order.”

“Exactly as I told you,” Edward pronounced with satisfaction as he glanced around the room at each of us, an air of defensiveness alighting his voice. “I said it all along. Mo couldn't save as much because she had to pay Mr. Chesterton for her room. . . .”

“Well, a course she did,” Raleigh Chesterton cut in sourly. “I ain't runnin' no damn workhouse. I paid 'er fair for her work and she paid me fair for her room. It's jest business. Ain't nothin' to it but that.”

Colin slid his eyes toward Mr. Chesterton and I found myself suddenly holding my breath. “Didn't you also give a room to Miss O'Dowd and her mother when they first arrived years ago?”

“I didn't
give 'em
shite. Her mother paid me from her wages for their rooms, and when she drank more than she worked I gave Mo ‘er job and
she
paid me. All neat as ya please. Jest like it's supposed ta be.”

“Did Miss O'Dowd's mother ever pay you with something other than money?”

“Wot?!” Mr. Chesterton narrowed his eyes and glared back at Colin corrosively.

“Did you ever allow her to exchange favors for their board?” he clarified ever so glibly as he stood up and started sauntering around the periphery of the room as though we were discussing laying hens. “You know . . .” he pressed easily, “. . . trade a shag for a bit off here and there . . .”

“I didn't have ta,” Raleigh Chesterton answered, his gaze going hard as one corner of his mouth turned up malignantly. “She were happy ta 'ave a go at it now and again fer nothin' at all. 'At's the way nature intended it,” he added with a snarl.

I heard Annabelle White suck in a mortified breath and hoped she did not recognize the inference Mr. Chesterton was clearly sallying at Colin and me. It made me wonder why Colin had insisted on her being here? I couldn't imagine that she might be involved in the murder of her friend. If anything, she seemed quite undone by Miss O'Dowd's death—and yet I had been fooled by such perceived sentiments before.

“And what of Maureen O'Dowd . . . ?” Colin was forging ahead before I realized what he was implying. “Did you ever presume to try and initiate the same sort of arrangement with her that you had done with her mother?”

“
How dare you!
” Raleigh Chesterton roared even as I noticed Edward Honeycutt stiffen in his chair. “I loved that girl like me own daughter. Only a right bastard like you would dare ta suggest such a vile thing.” He pushed himself to his feet, the bulk of his round frame clearly meant to be an implied threat in spite of his advanced age.

“Do sit down, Mr. Chesterton,” Colin sniffed without so much as a hint of concern in his tone. And to my surprise, Mr. Chesterton did as bidden. “I am merely asking the most obvious of questions,” Colin explained. “Your outrage is duly noted.” He spoke as though the topic was tiresome, his arms clasped behind his back as he continued to slowly pace from one end of the room to the other. Only Constable Brendle, from his central position on the bed, was able to follow Colin's course without having to turn his head. “What about you, Miss White?” Colin abruptly paused near Annabelle White so that his body momentarily blocked her view of Mr. Chesterton. “Had you ever known Mr. Chesterton to have sought favors from your friend Miss O'Dowd?”

“No, sir,” she answered at once, her voice higher pitched than I remembered it normally being and carrying a slight quiver.

“And you . . . ?” Colin pursued, placing his hand on the back of her chair and leaning over her as though the two of them were enjoying an intimate conversation. “Has your Mr. Chesterton ever made such a suggestion to you?”

She looked terrified as she stared back into Colin's face hanging scandalously close to her own, her bright brown eyes appearing almost ready to pop free of her head. “Never . . .” she gasped.

“
I ain't sittin' for this shite!
” Raleigh Chesterton howled as he sprang back to his feet again. “I ain't the one that's flouncin' around with 'is own ruddy kind.” He spun on the constable with rage in his eyes, his round face and shining pate burning to a deep crimson. “You can throw me in a cell fer as long as ya like, but I ain't listenin' to another feckin' minute a this rot.”

“You might want to rethink your logic, Mr. Chesterton,” Colin piped up before anyone else dared utter a word. “Because if you insist on being imprisoned, I will simply have these proceedings moved to the constabulary office, where you will be forced to listen and respond from inside a cell.” It was a patently absurd bluff on Colin's part as the constable was not fit to be moved under any circumstances, and yet it was enough to give Mr. Chesterton pause. He appeared to momentarily deliberate Colin's words before slowly lowering himself back into his seat with a churlish snarl. “All right then,” Colin said as he turned to face Edward Honeycutt. “You were obviously the person closest to Miss O'Dowd, and I will apologize now for anything I am about to say that might offend you. You must understand that I only mean to discover the identity of the fiend who took her from you.”

The young man nodded silently but did not look back at Colin. “I know,” he mumbled under his breath, and it immediately renewed my sense of pity for him. The poor thing seemed such a sorrowful lad that I scarcely knew what to make of him anymore.

“You are aware that your fiancée had something of a reputation at one time?” Colin started in again, his voice sounding rather perfunctory.

“That was in the past,” Edward Honeycutt shot back, his eyes remaining downcast.

“What about you? Were you true to her?”

The young man's eyes finally shot up as he glared at Colin. “I already told you I was. Ask anyone.”

“Miss White . . . ?” Colin called out at once, never taking his eyes from Edward Honeycutt. “Did you ever witness the fine Mr. Honeycutt here trying to fiddle about with another girl after you knew him to be serious with Miss O'Dowd?” And having asked the question, he slowly turned back toward Annabelle White. “Perhaps with you . . . ?”

Her pallid face seemed to grow even whiter as she stared back at Colin, her eyes locked on his as though he held her in a trance. “No, sir . . .” she answered as though from somewhere far away. “No, sir,” she repeated, and then her eyes flicked down and I wondered if perhaps that fact had disappointed her.

“Very well.” Colin allowed a mirthless bit of grin to pull his lips taut as he began to circle back to the side of the room where I was seated, passing Mr. Masri and Mr. Whitsett as he came. “We have all heard Constable Brendle admit to a brief liaison with Miss O'Dowd before she began to be squired by Mr. Honeycutt . . .” Colin nodded to the constable as he came up behind the chair next to mine and stood there, leaning against it as though he had suddenly become too wearied to stand on his own. “What about you, Mr. Whitsett? Or you, Mr. Masri? Do either of you have any such similar confessions to make?”