The Shadowcutter (23 page)

“What do you mean by that, sir?”

“You were seen taking bets for the dog fight at Byrescough last night.”

“I did no such thing,” said Walter.

“I was at Byrescough,” Giles went on, leaning on his chair back. “Lunn’s dogs, yes, fine animals, and on tip-top form, but then that Irishman Coulter came in with a pair of brindled terriers and took everyone by surprise.” Walter frowned. “There was a lot of money lost last night. Some people thought that Lunn was a certain thing, but it turned out he wasn’t. Now I’ve been told Jimmy Watson put money on Lunn. Did you?”

“What if I did?” Walter said after a moment.

“How much did you lose, Mr Walter? I know it’s painful to revisit these details, but I am afraid you will have to tell me. You know what I think – you made a wager with John Edgar, on your own behalf, with all the money you had gathered from the others, and some of your own, for good measure, on Lunn’s invincible dogs. Edgar talked it up, told you he could get the best odds on a sure-fire thing. Irresistible, yes? You’d have been a fool not to give it a punt. ”

Walter made an uncomfortable grunt and looked away.

“How much money did you lose last night?” Giles said again.

“He bloody conned me – he knew about those Irish dogs.”

“And how do you know about the Irish dogs?”

“He told me.”

“When was this?”

“About two this morning. I met him on my way back from, well, I’d gone down to the laundry – to see my girl.”

“Where did you see him?”

“In the clock yard, that’s the big yard out the back. We’d arranged it, you see.”

“So you were standing there, waiting for your certain winnings, and he told you that he’d lost the lot, Mr Walter? Is that the substance of it?”

“Pretty much,” Walter said after a long pause.

“And then what happened?”

“Nothing, sir, I went to my bed.”

“Nothing?”

Another long silence.

“I wouldn’t have taken such news so meekly,” Giles said. “After all we are talking about quite a sum of money.” Walter shifted uneasily.

“We may have had a few words,” he said carefully, and glanced away.

“The full truth, Mr Walter,” Giles said softly, “It will not be so hard.”

“It’s not what you think, sir!” Walter said, jumping up. “I didn’t do away with him. We had words, and I didn’t hold back, and I may have cracked one on him, but I didn’t ... I didn’t... kill him! He was alive when I left him. He walked away, cursing me, that’s how it was, I will swear on the Bible that is how it happened! You have to believe me, sir!”

Giles was formulating his answer, not entirely taking this statement at face value. He decided he would ask Carswell to examine him for signs of a fight. Edgar might have been small and slight in comparison but he would have fought off his attacker. There might be bruises and scratches in evidence. He pulled up the green blind, and flooded the room with light, making Walter stagger back, blinking, in order to begin looking for such evidence. However, what he did see, which the dull light of the room had concealed, was that Walter’s handsome face bore signs, not of a fight, but of skilful painting. Was it vanity that had led him to the cosmetic box or a desire to conceal a battered face?

The door opened without a warning knock, and Lord Rothborough came in.

“Sir Arthur has arrived,” he said. “I never expected him to be so prompt. I hope that is not too inconvenient for you? Lady Rothborough is delaying him with small talk, but that cannot be managed indefinitely.”

“I will come at once,” said Giles. “Walter, you will stay here and take your paint off. We are not finished.”

“My paint, sir, what do you mean?” said Walter.

“Good God!” said Lord Rothborough looking at him. “Walter, what the devil have you got that stuff on for?”

“That is a question we will leave with him, my Lord,” said Giles. “Mr Carswell will come and speak to you presently, Walter. And if you think you have anything to add to what you have just told me, you must tell Mr Holt or Mr Carswell, and we will talk again.”

“I swear to you, sir,” said Walter, with a touch desperation in his voice. “And to you My Lord, on my mother’s grave –”

“Save your breath, Mr Walter. We will get a full written statement from you in good time.”

“Walter?” said Rothborough as they left the room. “Surely not. Walter has been a good servant. He’s been with us for years.”

“He was in a fight with Edgar, at two in the morning. Whether that is all remains to be seen. I wonder what scars are hiding under all that paint.”

“That is a little out of character, certainly,” said Lord Rothborough.

They met Carswell coming along the passage way, in his shirt sleeves, and looking most annoyed.

“Major Vernon, two constables have barged in and commandeered my cadaver!” he exclaimed. “This is Sir Arthur at work, I take it, sir?” he said to Lord Rothborough.

“Yes, unfortunately,” said Rothborough.

“You got an hour’s work,” said Giles. “That is better than nothing. You have that sample?” Carswell nodded. “Will you go to the Steward’s room and examine the man there, Mr Carswell? I am looking for signs of a recent fight.”

Chapter Twenty-two

“Tell me, Lord Rothborough,” asked Giles, as they went upstairs to speak to Sir Arthur. “How did you come to hear about Edgar?”

“It was all Maria’s doing – she was at my sister’s house in Berkshire, at some neighbour’s party. He was the entertainment. After she had seen him, she never stopped talking about it. So I asked my sister to enquire of the neighbour. She gave me his address.”

“Which was?”

“Swalecliffe, of all places. He had a little shop there when he was not travelling about. Presumably his wife keeps it. The new wife – oh dear, I had forgotten about her.”

“I think I shall go and see her,” said Giles. “Edgar was at the dog fight last night, with a couple of whores in tow, and talking to Don Luiz Ramirez. I want to find out a little more about our shadowcutter before we clap poor Walter in irons for his murder. And if I go to Swalecliffe, Sir Arthur will be able to get on in his own way here, for the time being, and all will be peace.”

“A good plan,” said Rothborough. “He won’t make much progress, I don’t suppose.”

They found Sir Arthur waiting in the library outside Lord Rothborough’s study. With the air of a man who had prepared his words, he at once launched into a speech full of justifications and precedents, only to be swiftly disarmed by Lord Rothborough, who said, “Yes, of course, Sir Arthur, of course. It cannot be otherwise. It is your business and Major Vernon is entirely in agreement with me. Major Vernon is going away, I understand, yes?”

“Yes, I am,” Giles said.

This took the wind quite out of Sir Arthur’s sails and would have sufficed, had not Carswell then joined them.

He looked as if he had put his head under a pump to cool his temper – he was wet-haired and scarlet-faced. He had at least put his crumpled linen coat back on, but it did little to help his dishevelled appearance.

“And what is he doing here?” Sir Arthur said to Lord Rothborough.

“Mr Carswell came over from Ardenthwaite,” said Lord Rothborough. “I thought it best, the moment the body was found, to get the nearest medical man in the neighbourhood to look at it.”

“The nearest medical man!” said Sir Arthur. “Your own man, you mean, sir, your b...b...”

“It was simply a matter of convenience,” Lord Rothborough went on. “I do not mean to belittle Dr Conway’s expertise, of course not.”

Sir Arthur did not look very convinced.

“The body will go to Dr Conway’s house at Dallingham,” said Sir Arthur. “He has agreed to undertake a full post-mortem.”

“It will do no good for your men to haul it off in this heat,” Carswell said. “Given the extreme weather, you ought bring a medical examiner to the body, rather than take it elsewhere – and as soon as is practical, before any more useful evidence is lost.”

“I do not care for your tone,” said Sir Arthur.

“As the only qualified man within ten miles of the cadaver, I think you should take note of my suggestion. This one can’t be written off as a suicide!” he added.

“You are offensive, sir.”

“Whether you are offended or not scarcely matters,” Carswell went on. “I am only trying to help you, sir, in a matter of justice, which rather takes precedence over petty matters of local politics. Surely?”

“Mr Carswell, please!” said Lord Rothborough. “It is all settled. Dr Conway is to be instructed. It is quite out of your hands, though I dare say, Dr Conway would be extremely grateful to have your preliminary notes. Two heads are always better than one, after all. Yes, Major Vernon?”

“Yes, certainly.”

“And I believe Major Vernon has some other work for you that will take you away from here this very day,” Lord Rothborough went on breezily. “Now, Sir Arthur let me see you to your carriage?”

When they were alone, Carswell asked, “What business is that?”

“We are going to Swalecliffe to talk to Edgar’s widow,” Giles said. “How did you get on with Walter?”

“He had certainly been in an altercation. He had some bruising and an impressive amount of scratching to his face, as if someone went for him with their nails. And I didn’t get a chance to check Edgar’s nails. Those dolts wouldn’t let me in!”

“Men don’t usually scratch in a fight,” said Giles. “I wonder if his sweetheart was the one who spoiled his face for gambling away their savings. He told me he came from her bed to meet with Edgar. Perhaps he went back and confessed?”

“And she let him have it?” Carswell said.

“A visit to the laundry next, I think,” said Giles. “And at the same time we can see if they have been given any suspicious shirts to launder.”

-0-

The visit to the laundry confirmed Giles’ suspicions and revealed soon enough the cause of Walter’s battered face. His sweetheart, a strapping young woman called Janet, was happy to confirm she had given him a battering for his recklessness. The wedding, she declared, was now off if he was going to be such a fool with money. Further enquiries revealed no blood-stained garments had been tossed into the great baskets of soiled linen that arrived each morning from the house.

“It’s a pity we cannot direct a search of the house,” Giles said to Carswell as they walked back together. “But our hands are tied. We shall go to Swalecliffe and see what we can discover there.”

“Must we go today?” Carswell asked. “I have this devilish business with my parents – I have let Lord Rothborough take them to Ardenthwaite but I feel I should see them in person.”

“We shall make a slight detour to Ardenthwaite, then,” Giles said, as they went inside. “But the important thing is that we leave here as soon as possible. It is all rather irritating, but needs must. I shall have to explain to Mrs Vernon, but I think she will understand. Coming here, for all this perturbation, seems to have done her good. Lady Maria has been so kind to her, and Lady Rothborough.”

They came up the stairs to the sound of some energetic piano music – Scottish airs, arranged in a modern style that sounded complex but not unpleasant. A half-opened door revealed Laura and Lady Maria seated together at the piano.

“Listen to that!” he murmured to Carswell.

He could not resist the opportunity to take some rest and savour the sight of Laura in her blue and white striped muslin, absorbed in her music, playing the lower part with enormous competence. If Lady Maria had the showy upper portions, Laura was the steadying hand in terms of rhythm and harmony. She played better, he thought, than she had ever done before. It had been Carswell’s idea that she take up her music again – he had made it a priority that regular practice be part of her daily regime. It had certainly paid off; it had given her a place to channel her passions.

They reached a grand climax of the piece and finished with a tremendous flourish.

“None of us could manage the bottom part until you came,” Lady Maria said. “Too many octave spreads.”

“I suppose I just have large hands,” Laura said quietly, looking down at her spread fingers.

“You have beautiful hands, Mrs Vernon,” Lady Maria said, taking her hand. “I wish I had your hands.”

Laura flushed becomingly and smiled. Giles wanted to dash in and snatch her hand back from Maria. He wanted to steal her away for a quiet, inconsequential talk in one of the cool corners of the great house. He longed for a slow, idle, intimate conversation that might lead again to the pleasures they had rediscovered last night. He had no wish to get on with business at all. In that moment, he could have tossed the whole case into Sir Arthur’s ample lap and not cared any more about it.

Lady Maria caught sight of him in the doorway.

“Oh, and Major Vernon heard it all!” she exclaimed, jumping up from the piano and flinging open the door. As she did so, she revealed Mr Carswell, who had been at his heels. He stepped back at once, as if searching for a shadow in which to hide himself.

Lady Maria was having none of this. One glance was enough to make the situation clear to her and she advanced towards him, a look of wonder on her face.

“Oh is this... my goodness, sir?” She looked to Giles for affirmation of her instincts. “Is this Mr Carswell?”

“Yes, I am afraid so,” Carswell said. “I should not be here. I will be gone in a –”

“No, no, do not go! And do not apologise,” Lady Maria said, and with great aplomb, grabbed his hand in both hers and stood gazing at him, with utter delight. “This is too marvellous! I have wondered all my life about meeting you, you have no idea, and now here you are! Oh goodness!”

Then, unable to restrain herself, she kissed him on the cheek and threw her arms about him. Carswell resisted but only for a moment. He bowed his head and allowed the embrace, and returned it.

Feeling a little like an intruder, Giles went into the room where Laura sat still at the piano. He sat down beside her and kissed her hands.

“I am sorry, I have to go away tonight – but only for a day or two. Will you be able to manage without me?”

Laura looked a little grave for a while and then managed a smile.