Chapter Sixteen
Nate noticed that something was amiss the minute he and Magistrate Hunt dismounted their horses outside the Groby’s cottage.
Several sets of departing bloody footprints dotted the dirt path in front of the butcher’s slaughterhouse.
And while the blood could have come from an animal, the multiple sets of footprints struck Nate as unusual.
He glanced at the magistrate, and they both quickened their pace.
Upon entering the slaughterhouse, Nate recoiled as the smell of blood, flesh, and death assailed his nostrils. He’d never been able to abide the stench of animal slaughter and had always taken care to avoid Smithfield’s and other like areas in London.
“Good Lord!” Magistrate Hunt cried and raced forward.
“What is it?” Nate asked, following the magistrate, but then slowed when he almost slipped on a wet pool on the floor.
“What the devil…” And then he saw Collins.
The man lay there, covered in blood. “Is he dead?” Nate asked as he came closer to inspect Collins’s battered and swollen body.
His entire face was a purple and bloodied mess.
“Not yet.” Magistrate Hunt knelt, not appearing to care about what he was kneeling in, and put an ear to Collins’s heart before he lifted his head and looked at Nate. “Help me carry him inside. Then run and get Dr. Elias.”
As they picked up Collins by his arms and legs, the man groaned.
“Careful,” Magistrate Hunt said as they shuffled Collins outside.
They moved slowly so as not to slip or further injure Collins. Then, just as they reached the cottage, they saw Alice Groby’s wagon roll to a stop outside her gate.
“Let’s get him inside before the children see him.” Nate tried the cottage door, and it swung open. They carried Collins inside and laid him gently down on the kitchen table. Then Nate went back to intercept Mrs. Groby and the children before they entered the dwelling.
“What has happened?” Alice Groby asked as Nate met her by the front door. “What are you doing in my house? And why is there blood outside?” She glanced down at Nate’s bloodied hands and gasped. “Why…what? Are you hurt?”
“There’s been an accident,” Nate lied. “It’s Mr. Collins. We’ve put him on the kitchen table. You will want to steer the children away from him. They might be frightened.”
Alice nodded, and Nate stepped aside to let her in. Holding her babe in her arms, she ushered her on through the parlor and into the rooms beyond. She returned several minutes later and said, “I’ve put them down to sleep. They had a long day at the lake.”
“That’s good,” Nate said, stepping aside so she could get a good look at Collins.
Her hand flew to her mouth as she gasped at the sight of him. “How did this happen?”
“We don’t know,” Magistrate Hunt said. “We found him like this a few minutes ago. But judging from the bloody footsteps outside, he had more than one hostile visitor this afternoon.”
Mrs. Groby fetched a bowl of water and a cloth and began tending to the battered Collins, who could barely open his swollen eyes to look at her.
Nate left the cottage and ran to fetch Dr. Elias. Upon his return, he and Magistrate Hunt waited for the doctor to finish tending to Collins before meeting with him in the front parlor.
“It was a vicious attack,” Dr. Elias said, “but I don’t believe the intent was to kill him. Although his attacker, or attackers, could have done.”
“I agree,” Magistrate Hunt said. “There were plenty of knives in the slaughterhouse. If the attackers wanted to kill Collins, they would have used one of those. This was a beating intended to punish.”
“Do you have any idea who could have done this to him?” Dr. Elias asked the magistrate.
“Well, I would say Groby, but he’s in jail,” Magistrate Hunt said.
“I think I may have an idea,” Nate said, turning to Mrs. Groby. “Do you know what Mr. Collins planned to do today?”
“He were going to collect some of the payments owed to my husband.”
“From Morris and Trent, correct?”
She nodded. “Mr. Hornby, too. Mr. Brown and Mr. Whittle paid my husband what they owed for the month before he…” She squeezed her hands together.
“I told Mr. Collins it weren’t a good idea.
They wouldn’t pay me on account of my being a woman, and I didn’t think they would take kindly to paying him either. ”
Nate glanced at Collins’s motionless body on the settee. “It certainly looks that way,” he said.
“Are you going to arrest them?” Mrs. Groby asked.
“Not without proof, and that would mean waiting for Collins here to wake up and tell us who did this to him.” Magistrate Hunt leaned over Collins and shook his head. “Might be a while before he can talk again.”
“You can’t let them get away with this!” Mrs. Groby said. “You arrested my husband without nowt evidence!”
“Your husband declared his intention to kill a man who was found dead the very next day. I think that’s proof enough.”
One of Mrs. Groby’s children began crying, and she excused herself, only to return seconds later holding her small daughter in her arms. Mrs. Groby soothed the child as tears fell from her own eyes. “What shall I do now?” she said. “Without that money and Mr. Collins’s help, we are doomed.”
Nate glanced at the magistrate, who looked uncomfortable. This isn’t right. Something must be done to protect this woman and her children. What if the attackers return?
*
The Black Horse—a whitewashed building with black beams, a heavy, black wooden door, and a thatched roof—stood at the corner of an otherwise quiet cobblestone street in Braithwaite.
Inside, the low-beamed tavern smelled like sweat and ale.
It was a small establishment, and Nate and Magistrate Hunt immediately spotted the three culprits sitting at a table drinking pints of ale.
“Gentlemen,” Magistrate Hunt said as he stopped by their table. “May I have a word?”
“Aye, Magistrate,” Morris said. He was the oldest of the four men, aged about five-and-fifty, with a slim build and a sharp, sour face. “What can we do for ye?”
“According to Mrs. Groby, Mr. Collins came to collect Groby’s money from you today. Did you pay up?”
“Why should we pay Collins? We don’t owe him the money,” Trent said. He was a short but powerful man who enjoyed pugilism as a sport. Nate noted a cut on his hand as well as his bruised knuckles.
“He was collecting it on behalf of Mrs. Groby, as you well know,” Magistrate Hunt said. “But you lot didn’t want to pay your debts, so you beat the man half to death.”
“Says who?” Trent said. “We’ve been here all day. Just ask Peterson. He’ll vouch for us.”
Nate and the magistrate turned to the publican, who glanced at the table of men before giving a slight nod.
“There you are,” Trent said, turning back to his ale. The other two men at the table grinned.
“Very well,” Magistrate Hunt said. “Mind you keep out of trouble now.” Then, much to Nate’s astonishment, he turned and strode out of the tavern.
“We cannot leave Mrs. Groby and her children in the house with Collins while those men are on the loose,” Nate said as he followed the magistrate outside. “They are dangerous.”
“I don’t think so,” Magistrate Hunt said. “They have made their point. But I will ask Dr. Elias to take Collins home and care for him. His injuries are severe, and Mrs. Groby has her hands full with her children.”
“Perhaps, I should ask her to come and stay at Villa De Lacey. I hate to think of her alone with her children in that cottage. Those men might—”
“You needn’t worry. They won’t do any more damage. A woman is no threat to them. They owe Groby the money, not his wife. And Groby is…well.”
“As good as dead,” Nate said.
The magistrate shifted his stance but said nothing.
“You have to consider the notion that those three men could have framed Groby. When I went to see him in jail, Groby told me that he’d hired Trent to follow his wife because he was suspicious of Collins.
Trent may have convinced Groby that she was cuckolding him, either with Otis, Collins, or both men.
That would have enraged Groby and led him to make the ‘threat’ he made at The Black Horse, which was likely more of a way to save face than an actual threat.
But once he made that threat, he opened the door to being blamed for Otis’s death, no matter who murdered the man. ”
“So you think they could have murdered Otis, knowing Groby would be blamed, to alleviate themselves of their debt?”
Nate shrugged. “It’s a strong possibility. Money is always a powerful motive—not to mention jealousy.”
“Jealousy?”
“Yes. Groby is successful. He has a decent business and a beautiful wife. He loans them money, and they are indebted to him. When they can’t pay with coins, they are forced to give him their chickens or cattle, and sometimes, they must do his bidding. I’m certain that injured their pride.”
Magistrate Hunt furrowed his bushy gray brows. “Earlier, you said Collins was the killer, now it’s Trent, Morris, and Hornby. Why can’t you accept that the killer could just as well be Groby?”
“I can and do accept that. All I am trying to express is that there are many other suspects, and that you should not be so quick to try and execute a man who might be innocent.”
“But they are not killers. They proved that today when they spared Collins’s life. Furthermore, it doesn’t fit.”
“What doesn’t fit?” Nate asked.