Chapter 19
A lfie knew he should be doing something but he had no idea what that something might be.
He stared down at the body of Captain McConnell. After the incident with the rocks, he’d been more worried about the killer striking again than the strange disappearance of McConnell’s body. And of all the places for it to reappear, there were few worse than in the middle of the Samhain celebration. His Samhain celebration.
Good Lord.
He ran a hand over his face. If he didn’t have a clue what to do next, hopefully someone else did. He looked around for Mrs. McConnell. She needed to be taken away from such a horrible sight, he knew that much. He caught sight of her being led into the house, flanked by Janie and several of the other servants, James’ unhappy cries announcing their departure.
Most of the villagers were gathering up their things and leaving, mothers covering their children’s eyes as they streamed out the garden gates. Should he try to stop them? He could order them to stay, but then what? Ask them one by one if they’d stashed a dead body in the bonfire? If the murderer hadn’t already made his escape, he’d only lie.
Dominick and Doctor Mills were kneeling by the body, far too close to the still-blazing bonfire for Alfie’s liking.
“For God’s sake, put that out!” he roared, directing his anger at the cluster of men and boys who’d gathered around the body, peering over each other’s shoulders for a better look.
To his surprise, they snapped to at once. Within a few minutes, nothing was left of the bonfire other than sodden and smoking embers. The ring of smaller bonfires remained lit around them, giving Alfie the feeling that he was at the centre of some dark ritual.
“Isn’t that the architect fellow?”
Magistrate Carnbee. Wonderful. It was his duty to investigate, but by God, Alfie did not want to deal with him right now. At least they’d be able to eliminate whatever pompous nonsense he came up with to explain the body’s reappearance. With Carnbee’s record, whatever he thought had happened most assuredly hadn’t.
“Yes. Captain McConnell. You dined with him here a while back. He went missing and you said he’d simply run off on his wife. The weeping one who was just led away.”
Carnbee’s next harrumph sounded more intoxicated than usual. “Haven’t seen him for some time, now that you mention it. Why’s his body in your fire?”
A headache was building behind Alfie’s eyes. “When he disappeared, his wife and one of the servants saw him dead on the ground, but by the time they fetched help, he was gone. We didn’t know what happened to him.”
“Well, this solves that then,” Carnbee said. “He wasn’t quite as dead as he looked, stumbled off not knowing help was on the way, collapsed into the wood pile, and here we are.”
Carnbee clapped Alfie on the shoulder. “Poor luck for you as well as him that he chose this pile to fall down and die in.”
As much as Alfie hated to admit it, what Carnbee said made sense. If McConnell had only had some sort of emergency and wandered off, that meant there was no mysterious killer carting his victims away. The rocks coming down off the crag could have been an accident, the sheep’s heads some poorly thought-out mischief. They’d been chasing shadows this whole time.
Doctor Mills shook his head.
“If you’ll pardon my saying so, sir,” he said nervously. “This man hasn’t been dead for weeks. I’d say, two days at most.”
“What?” Alfie, Dominick, and Carnbee all cried in unison.
Doctor Mills twitched like a coney looking for the nearest hedge. “Well, perhaps three. I’d have to examine him further to be certain and these are hardly ideal conditions. But no, he certainly hasn’t been dead for as long as he’s been missing and from the bruising here…”
Alfie had to look away as Doctor Mills prodded the flesh of the dead man’s throat.
“From what didn’t get burned, I’d say his death wasn’t an accident. This blackening here, you see? It isn't from the fire. It appears to be bruising, although from rope or hand I can’t say without more thorough inspection.”
“Strangled,” said Dominick with grim certainty.
The doctor nodded. “Again, I’ll need to examine him, but I’d say, most definitely.”
Mrs. Hirkins had been right when she’d described seeing a rope around the captain’s neck when she found him in the drawing room. But if he’d been strangled back then, why was he only dead now?
The magistrate grumbled, but no new theory was forthcoming from his quarter. Finally he grunted. “Very well, make whatever arrangements you need. I assume you can provide a cart, my lord?”
Alfie looked around for a footman to alert Graham when he spotted the stablemaster himself emerging from the woods, followed moments later by a dishevelled Madam Carnbee.
“There you are, my dear,” said Carnbee upon seeing his wife. “No, no, don’t come this way. Absolutely dreadful. Ah, you there! See our carriage is brought ‘round, then fetch a cart for the doctor.”
Magistrate Carnbee didn’t spare Graham a second glance, too busy with his wife who was demanding to know what was going on. Graham gave a heavy shrug of his shoulders, then headed towards the stables to fetch the carriage and cart as instructed, his thoughts on the matter hidden behind his bushy beard.
Alfie cleared his throat, then did it again when he couldn’t think of anything to say.
“Is there anything else you need, doctor?” he asked finally.
Doctor Mills shook his head. “Nothing more to be done until I take a proper look at him. I imagine you have quite a bit to handle yourself. Shame he was found tonight of all nights. I was rather looking forward to the celebration.
“Which does remind me. Mr. Trent, before I go, allow me to examine your hands. I’m afraid you may have burned yourself dragging him out of the fire.”