Chapter 15 #2
She indicated the wound by extending her index finger toward it.
Adrian tilted his head and realized she was correct.
It surprised him that he’d not made the observation himself, but his mind had been on preserving each detail to memory before Kendrick came and ordered the body removed to St. George’s.
“The blood stains on his clothes are also strange,” Samantha added.
This was something Adrian had noticed as well. He moved the lantern to focus the light on the stains in question. “The blood appears to be smeared, as though the killer used the clothes to clean their blade, perhaps even their hands.”
“Kendrick told us a woman was thought to have killed the man who was found in the carriage.”
“Had Orwell been standing, he’d have had the advantage, but looking at his half-slumped position, I expect he collapsed onto the chaise lounge.
” Adrian dropped his gaze to the glass on the floor.
“If he were poisoned first, he could have dropped the glass, then attempted to steady himself. Or maybe it was the other way around.”
“Does it matter?” Samantha asked.
He shook his head. “If poison were the cause of death, then the lack of blood from the wound makes sense. Either way, he didn’t die from having his throat slit. That was done later, after the fact.”
“To confuse the investigation?”
“Or possibly because slitting the throat is a vital part of the killer’s process.”
They were silent for a moment before Samantha asked, “Any thoughts about the cravat being shoved in his mouth?”
Adrian snorted. “It would almost suggest the killer wanted to silence the victim. Beyond that, I’ve no idea though it’s possible Kendrick might shed some light on these details.”
“I doubt it,” Samantha muttered. Turning from the crime scene she started toward the path that would take them back to the sunroom and onward to the rest of the house.
“The chief constable lacks your observational skills and instinct. Not to mention a willingness to risk it all in the name of justice.”
“While I tend to agree,” Adrian said, catching up with her in two long strides, “your assessment is harsh after all he did to help us last year. Don’t forget, the former chief magistrate sacked Kendrick for his determination to get at the truth.
Had he failed to find the evidence he did, you’d be laying flowers on my grave now instead of helping me with this investigation. ”
Though he felt her shudder, she chose to remark on the last part of his comment instead of the first. “It sounds as though you plan on helping Kendrick after all.”
“I’ve been dragged into it now, haven’t I?”
“You could choose to walk away.”
He caught her elbow, halting her between the ferns that were crowding around them. “Is that what you want?”
She hesitated enough for him to know she was giving the matter serious thought. “No. Apprehending this killer before they’re able to strike again is too important. It needs to be done and Kendrick has already made it clear that he cannot manage without you.”
Aware of the point she’d chosen to steer away from, he told her gently, “I promise this won’t distract me from keeping us safe from O’Leary.”
She resumed walking without comment while he kept pace with each of her steps. Returning to the sunroom, Adrian spotted two footmen in the hallway beyond and called out to them.
When they reached the spot where Adrian and Samantha remained, Adrian said, “As you may be aware, a guest has been murdered. His body can be found on one of the chaise lounges in there.” He nodded toward the conservatory.
“I need you to guard him. Make sure no one tampers with the evidence. Can you do that for me?”
The footmen shared a hesitant look with each other but eventually nodded.
“I expect the younger of the pair will vomit,” Samantha said, directing her best are-you-sure-that-was-wise look at him once the footmen were gone.
“Possibly, but you and I need to check on the guests since I expect Moorland now has his hands full with the Orwells.” Adrian led Samantha back in the direction of the ballroom. “For starters, I’d like to speak with Miss Brighton.”
“The young lady who alerted everyone to the murder, I presume?”
Adrian pulled as much air as he could into his lungs before releasing it once more. “It’s important for us to learn if she saw anything, or rather, anyone.”
“Or if she’s the culprit we’re seeking,” Samantha suggested.
“That would make for a swift resolution if that were the case,” Adrian said. “However, I don’t believe she did this.”
“Oh?” More than a question. Rather a subtle request for him to provide a full explanation.
He caught her hand and drew her to a halt, turning her so she faced him. “I know her. Personally.”
Samantha’s lips pursed, her gaze holding his, before she suddenly blinked and uttered a far more hushed, “Oh. I see.”
“Good God, no. I don’t mean like that.” He squeezed his eyes shut while cursing himself for letting her think he’d ever been intimate with Miss Brighton. “She was a friend of my sister’s, that’s all.”
A delicate eyebrow rose. “And?”
He flattened his lips and huffed a breath. Fine. “She never made a secret of her interest in me, but I had no interest in her. A fact I made perfectly clear on more than one occasion.”
“I’m sure she and I will get along splendidly then,” Samantha said, not sparing a single drop of sarcasm as she spoke.
“My point,” Adrian said, “is that I’ve interacted with her enough to know that while she may have happily snuck off to a dark corner with me for all manner of mischief, she doesn’t have the nerve or the stomach to slit a man’s throat. Not even after ensuring he’s already dead.”
“How many of the killers we’ve helped catch so far seemed capable at first glance?” Samantha stared at him until he was forced to concede to her point.
“We’ll question her objectively,” Adrian said, in response to which Samantha offered a nod of approval.
“You should also ask Moorland’s butler to gather the servants,” Samantha said. “One of the maids had a deadly look in her eyes earlier. It could be nothing, but after what’s happened it’s probably wise to speak with her.”
“Thank you. I’ll keep that in mind.”
What surprised Adrian most when he and Samantha reached the ballroom was the quiet. Only the occasional low whisper could be heard. A result, it turned out, of Edward’s acquiring Eldridge’s help in keeping all under control. The two men had positioned themselves so each stood near one of the exits.
At Adrian’s return, however, Wrengate’s voice shattered the stillness as he stepped forward. “What can you tell us, Croft?”
Adrian cast his gaze across the crowd. The guests’ attention turned toward him in expectation. “Only that no one can leave until the chief constable grants his permission.”
“Preposterous,” a female voice cried. “It’s already past midnight.”
“A murder has been committed,” Adrian said, raising his voice to be sure all could hear. Ignoring the gasps his comment evoked, he added, “Nobody leaves until every possible witness and person of interest has been accounted for.”
“But that could take hours,” someone else whined.
Ignoring them, Adrian asked of no one in particular, “Where is Miss Brighton?”
“In there,” Lady Ottersburg answered, directing him to the gaming room where Miss Brighton sat, hunched over and weeping into a handkerchief while Lady Moorland tried to soothe her.
Adrian approached the pair. He shared a look with the marchioness whose expression seemed to implore him to be gentle in his questioning.
He nodded his understanding and drew a calming breath. “Miss Brighton?”
The sound of his voice seemed to render her immobile. She raised her red-rimmed eyes toward his. “Yes?”
He cleared his throat, then asked, “I wonder if you happened to see someone else in the conservatory, besides the victim.”
Fresh tears spilled from Miss Brighton’s eyes. She shook her head.
“What about on your way there?” Adrian pressed. “Or afterward, as you hastened back to the ballroom? Did you not encounter anyone in the hallway?”
“No. I’m sorry.” Miss Brighton buried her face in the handkerchief and proceeded to sob while Lady Moorland stroked her back.
“This is ridiculous.”
Wrengate’s familiar voice directed Adrian’s attention back to the ballroom. Excusing himself to Lady Moorland he went to see what the duke might be complaining about.
“My sister and I are taking our leave,” Wrengtate announced.
“Not until Kendrick arrives,” Adrian said. Stepping past the bothersome man, he positioned himself at Samantha’s side, near the exit.
Wrengate gave him a frosty look. “I refuse to follow orders from someone of…questionable moral repute.” He extended a hand to his sister who stood a few paces behind him. “Come on.”
The rest of the revelers shifted, as though preparing to follow his lead.
“Stay.” The solid word, spoken by Eldridge, landed like a large block of lead. He shot a no-nonsense look toward Wrengate, whose posture turned rigid.
Adrian braced himself for the altercation he feared would follow — of potentially having to physically restrain the man. He fisted his hands, his breath caught somewhere between his lungs and his throat as the tension stretched to the point of snapping.
And then Samantha spoke, her voice soft but sure.
“Your sister interacted with the victim this evening. There’s a chance he may have said something to her or that she saw something that could aid the investigation.
Allowing her to leave before Chief Constable Kendrick has had a chance to speak with her would be highly irresponsible.
It could even put the Moorlands at risk of facing charges of obstruction since it is their duty to make sure all is handled correctly. Is that what you wish, Your Grace?”
The rage now brewing in Wrengate’s gaze was indisputable. So much so Adrian struggled to keep from pulling Samantha behind him, to shield her from what promised to be an explosive outburst.