Other Tales: Stories from The Ballad of Gregoire Darcy

by Marsha Altman

  “Not entirely, no,” Audley said, replacing the book. “I have some questions for you.”

  “Oh dear. Am I under investigation?”

  “Everyone is under investigation until this case is solved, Sir DuBois. Please don’t take it personally.” He gave him a reassuring smile as they sat down and tea was served. Audley did not take out his notebook. “Tell me – what do you know of the marquis?”

  “Am I on the record?”

  “A very confidential record, I assure you.”

  DuBois was not a man to back down easily. “The marquis is a hasty man. I know little of his life before he returned to the old family estate after the Restoration, but I understand his first wife died under suspicious circumstances, and that this new match with Lady Littlefield will benefit him financially – to the tune of fifty thousand pounds.” He sipped his tea. “He’s impulsive, and at times brutal, but for the most part, he puts on quite a kind face for his guests – especially in front of his fiancée.”

  “And her companion?”

  “I forget her name. She says very little at the dinners I have been present for, and I have been present for a number of them. The marquis has very few friends, so he cultivates them.”

  “If you don’t mind the intrusive question,” Audley said, stirring his own tea, “I have been given to understand that you are a recent widower.”

  “Yes, but it doesn’t seem like it, no? My wife of fifteen years died last summer by choking on a chicken bone – she did love her chicken. And while I had respect for her, and honored her passing, I cannot say I was particularly bereaved. Our marriage was arranged for financial reasons – much like Lady Littlefield’s – and we were never particularly close, but after I returned from the war, it only went downhill. We were two different people. The war shaped my character and she had not changed. We were not a match. Beyond that, I will not spoil her memory. You understand?”

  “Yes,” Audley said, and meant it. He sipped the tea – very good stuff. “Are you putting yourself on the market after your year is up?”

  “I suppose. I do not approach it eagerly, though nor am I particularly uneager. I came out here to rest after Russia – the services which I performed there earned me my knighthood, which so far, the new government has respected. I would have to go to Paris or at least some minor city to find a bride – and at my age! Who wants an old soldier?”

  “You are hardly old,” Audley observed. “And there is Mrs. Robinson’s seminary.”

  “Oh, those ladies are beyond me. They’re all from wealthy families in England and half of them are probably already betrothed – or here to have some discipline so they will be more amiable to being betrothed when they return. I know how it works. What English gentleman would say yes to his daughter being married to one of Napoleon’s soldiers, eh? Out in the middle of nowhere in a foreign country?”

  “France is not so foreign.”

  “Still, you see my point, no?”

  Audley nodded. “I do.” He did not detect that DuBois was lying about his disinterest. He had clearly considered it carefully at one time and then dismissed his chances. His logic was sound. He did not really have a chance with any of these women, unless he deflowered one of them and had to marry her – and unless Audley was mistaken, he did not seem the type. “If you don’t mind – this is purely procedural, but did you know Simon Roux?”

  “Yes,” DuBois said, to Audley’s great surprise. This was one of the first positive responses he’d gotten. “I hired him last spring to cut down some trees that were hanging over my garden and preventing the flowers from getting sunlight. He was good with an axe, but that’s really all I can say about him.”

  “Were there any problems?”

  “None. He showed up, worked for a few weeks on various projects on the grounds, and left. I paid him when he was finished. Sometimes he arrived late or hung-over, but you have to expect a certain amount of that, and as long as he got the work done, I didn’t care. We spoke very little.”

  “And he was happy with his payment?”

  “He expressed no discontent.”

  Audley sipped his tea. “Did he speak to your servants?”

  “Not the house servants, no. The groundskeeper supervised him, but he passed away of old age a few months later, so I cannot help you there.

  This was probably a dead end, but at least he could connect someone to Simon Roux. “Thank you for your time, Sir DuBois, but I must return to town.”

  He rose, and they exchanged bows. “Of course, Inspector Audley. Perhaps we shall see each other again soon.”

  Perhaps we shall.

  ~~~

  “Inspector! Inspector Audley!”

  He had not even made it to the tavern. He was instead assaulted (not literally) by Monsieur Durand, the marquis’s man. “Inspector, His Lordship wishes to speak with you immediately.”

  “What about?”

  Durand seemed insulted that he was being asked. “Monsieur Inspector, you’ve been gone a week now, and this case is still unsolved.”

  “I was out trying to solve it. Has anything occurred involving the marquis that I should know about?”

  “No, but he still wishes – ”

  “I will speak to him when I am settled in,” Audley said. “I have been on the back of a horse for nearly three days now. If the matter is not pressing, then it will wait.”

  Eventually Durand left. The truth of the matter was that Audley knew the marquis was likely to deride him, and he wasn’t in the mood. His head was too full of other things. He needed to speak to the constable. He needed to speak to Anton. He needed to gather himself. He stopped a man on the street, a farmer he did not know. “Is there news? I’ve just returned. Any strange happenings?”

  “Non, Inspector. It’s been quiet, as far as I know.”

  Odd, but still a relief. He tied up his horse and stepped into the tavern. The door had not closed behind him before Anton, usually behind the bar, was in front of him. “Inspector Audley.”

  “Monsieur Anton. What is it?”

  “I did not know when to expect you back, but there is a man here to see you. He said he has come a long way.” He gestured over his shoulder.

  Audley peeked over Anton and noticed a man sitting at one of the tables, dressed like a proper English gentleman, his walking staff at his side, leaning on his shoulder. He was quietly sipping tea, looking rather at ease. “Who is he?”

  “I don’t know, but he has rented the room next to yours.”

  “Has he been waiting long?”

  “Non. He arrived earlier today.”

  “English?”

  “Yes, but he speaks French almost perfectly.”

  “Thank you. And could you ready a meal for me?”

  “Of course.”

  Audley tapped him on the shoulder. “Good man. Thank you.”

  “Of course, Inspector.”

  Anton scurried away, and Audley walked across the mainly empty tavern – it was early yet – to the Englishman. His black, frizzy hair was nearly out of control, but everything else about him was neat and proper. “Sir?” he said in plain English.

  “You are Inspector Audley?” said the Englishman, his face pleasant and calm.

  “I am.”

  The man rose from his seat, not relinquishing a hold on his walking stick as he offered the other hand in greeting. “Pleasure to meet you. My name is Brian Maddox.”

  CHAPTER 9

  Audley gladly shook the man’s hand, so stunned that he had not yet decided whether he was in a state of belief or disbelief, either one reasonable. “You – you are?”

  “Yes,” Maddox said, reaching into his waistcoat and producing the very letter Audley had written him, now almost two weeks ago. “I came immediately upon reading it. Couldn’t help myself – very interesting stuff. And I’m obviously a bit of a nomad. But you look exhausted – would you care to sit with me?”

  “Of course,” Audley said, scrambling into his seat. “Yo
u have no idea – well, I’m a bit surprised to see you, to say the least. I only requested a translation – ”

  “– of the kanji. It’s ‘wolf’, of course. I had to look it up myself.” Brian Maddox, a man with graying black hair and probably in his forties or fifties, had a very pleasant manner of speaking. “But the story you told was very interesting. Not the sort of thing we see everyday. I had to be in this area on some business anyway, so I thought, why not stop by? I hope I’m not intruding on your investigation.”

  “No! Not at all,” Audley stammered. “Not at all. Though you did translate the kanji in the French edition, which I only discovered yesterday in someone else’s home. It seems your book is quite popular.”

  “Good for me, I suppose, but bad for your case, no? It doesn’t narrow down the list of suspects, assuming we’re looking at your murderer.”

  “No,” Audley said, still flustered that Brian Maddox was sitting across from him so casually. He gratefully took the wine Camille brought for him. “But that is assuming it was written by the murderer. And that there is only one.” He continued, “Mr. Maddox, since I wrote you, there have been two more murders.”

  This seemed to disturb Maddox. “Two?”

  “Yes.”

  “Goodness. I didn’t know my work was going to be inspirational in such a fashion!” he said. It was meant to be lighthearted, but it didn’t come out that way. Maddox was suddenly rattled, possibly by the severity of what he was facing – but what else was he expecting to find? “Well, I suppose you can hardly tell me everything. I’m no French detective.”

  “Just as you left things out of your book.”

  This did bring a smile to Maddox’s face. “So, you figured that out? I suppose so, as you’re an inspector. I’m more regularly accused of making things up to put them in than purposely leaving things out. Except for names and places, of course. I don’t want to force the publicity on my family.”

  “I read your book recently,” Audley said, “and I admit that parts of it were a bit – hard to believe – but there were definitely things you left vague. Like what happened to your bodyguard in the Japans.”

  A shadow crossed over Maddox’s face. “Yes. Miyoshi. That was very personal, and Nadezhda – my wife – and I decided to leave out the details.”

  Audley nodded. So it had all been true – Maddox was too invested in it for it to be otherwise. That or he was a terrific actor. “There were things that amused me and fascinated me, but at the moment, I seem to be called to a thousand places at once. Perhaps we will trade details later tonight?”

  “I would be honored, Inspector Audley.”

  Audley raised his eyebrows. “I would be honored, Mr. Maddox.”

  ~~~

  Now that the infamous Brian Maddox was in town, and at his disposal for some unknown reason, the last person Audley wanted to speak to was the marquis. He recognized, however, that it was a necessary part of the job, and so when he had eaten and washed his face, he went quickly to the de Maret Manor. He was ushered into the marquis’s study. The marquis himself did not acknowledge him at first, seemingly rifling through some book instead. Audley knew the tactic – making a man wait, trying to humiliate him.

  The marquis finally closed the book. “It is good to see you back on the case, Inspector Audley.”

  “I was never off it,” Audley said. “I had investigations elsewhere.”

  “And they were?”

  “Once again, I am forced to remind you – I am not obligated to report to you, My Lord. I keep my own counsel and will until this matter is settled.”

  The marquis turned to him angrily. “And when will it be settled, Inspector? We have three dead people and four dead livestock. Your only lead – these so called ‘bandits’ in the woods – disappeared while you were gone.”

  Audley swallowed, but controlled his expression admirably, and certainly did not verbally reveal that this was new information to him.

  “Yes, that’s right. A group of men from town got together, put the pieces together themselves while the famous inspector was off gallivanting to God-knows-where, and went into the woods. It would have been a blood-bath, but it seemed the bandits had already moved on, and quite hastily. Their camp was still set up, the fire still lit – or so I am told. But now the killer – or killers – are gone.”

  Audley was not cowed. “It seems as though someone must have tipped them off for them to leave so conveniently quick. I wonder who could have done that. Someone with something to gain for the killers not to be found?”

  “What are you implying, Inspector? Or attempting to imply?”

  Robert Audley made the decision to have no more patience with this man. He was still standing, not invited to sit or offered refreshment like a normal guest. He was still tired from his journey, and he was eager to get back to the tavern and speak with Mr. Maddox. “If you are attempting to cover up your previous records by dismissing your servants, then it does seem convenient that the last remaining former servant, an old woman with no connection to Simon Roux or the bandit found outside the Murrell house, would be killed as soon as people start asking questions. You would certainly benefit from that, would you not?” He stepped forward. “And what of Miss Murrell, or Sophie as you know her? Surely your intended would not take well to the idea that you took liberties with your female servants, willing or unwilling. Unfortunately for that man, still unnamed, he met with the real Wolf, saving Sophie’s life. Had she been killed, it would have been another victory for you – if not for the Wolf.”

  “Very clever, Inspector Audley,” the marquis snarled, not backing down either. “And Simon Roux? The very reason you are here? The very reason I hired you?”

  “That you bribed my superiors to get me here is of no concern to me. I answer only to the law. And no, I have not made that connection yet – but I intend to, if it is to be found.”

  “So you will forget his killer, then?”

  “I will find his killer, and however many more killers there may be here. I sense I will not be terribly surprised with the outcome.” He bowed, excusing himself. “Good day, My Lord.” Then he turned, and walked out.

  “Audley!” the marquis howled. “Don’t get foolish ideas in your head from town rumors! It is dangerous to accuse a noble.”

  “It is dangerous to kill a noble,” he replied, “but it was only a quarter century ago that they were so readily doing it. Remember your place, Maret.”

  “And you remember yours! Audley! Get back here!”

  But Audley ignored him, and turned his thoughts to other things as he breezed past the footman and back out into the afternoon sun.

  ~~~

  “Is it true?” Audley asked Anton upon returning to the tavern. “Did a mob really descend upon the woods to look for the bandits?”

  “Yes, Inspector,” Anton said. “But they found nothing – only the camp.”

  “Which they ransacked, of course.”

  “I imagine. I was not there.”

  Audley rubbed his chin. “I don’t suppose any of it is left – or maybe something is.” Already, a plan was forming. “Well, we shall see. Tell me, where is your other guest?”

  “Mr. Maddox? I believe he has gone out on some business. He said he will be back before dark, hopefully.”

  Yes, Mr. Maddox said he had some business in the area. But what could he possibly have? Maybe he was just interested in the case. From the way he wrote, and the way he spoke, the Englishman was obviously an obsessive fellow, curious about all kinds of oddities, and rumors of a werewolf and a murder mystery would entertain anyone. Maybe Audley had revealed too much in the letter when he briefly summarized the case to explain why he needed a quick response – but he hadn’t expected the response in person.

  Or maybe Maddox would be an asset. If his stories were true, he was an incredibly resourceful person, and he owed allegiance to no one. He seemed to favor Audley, and might be willing to help. Audley did not dismiss him yet. He decided to procee
d cautiously. These new developments would take thought. “I will take my meal upstairs. And will you have Camille prepare an overnight package of food?”

  “Going on another journey, Inspector?”

  “We shall see,” was all he said as he nodded to the barkeep and headed up the steps to his room. He would need his energy for tonight, and not just to talk to Brian Maddox.

  ~~~

  Audley took dinner early. Not finding Mr. Maddox in the tavern, he knocked on the door next to his room in the upstairs inn. “Hello? Sir Maddox?”

  There was some shuffling before Maddox opened the door. “The Sir Maddox in the family is my brother. Unless there’s a tall, blind doctor staying here, you’re out of luck.” He was dressed in a multi-colored blue bathrobe and sandals.

  “I’m sorry – I hadn’t realized you’d retired,” Audley said, bowing.

  “What? No, I haven’t. I simply – have been rather distracted.” He stepped aside to open the door more.

  Audley noticed Maddox’s sidearm, in the form of a small blade tucked into his cloth belt. “Are you always armed?” he asked.

  “Yes,” Maddox said. “A samurai is always armed.”

  “You weren’t when I met you before.”

  “Of course I was.”

  “You were not.”

  “Think hard, Inspector.”

  Audley focused on their first meeting at the bar. “Your walking stick?”

  “Very clever. Come in, Inspector Audley.”

  Maddox’s room was identical to Audley’s except that Brian Maddox had a few more personal items with him. Audley noticed a curved sword on a stand that certainly didn’t come with the room. There was a rack for another blade, and Audley noticed the matching, smaller version was the one in Maddox’s belt. He said nothing about that as Brian picked up his walking stick and held it up vertically. It looked like an ordinary English walking stick from afar; complete with the copper top, but the wood was a lighter shade than normal. Now that he saw it up close, Audley noticed a small line in the wood.

  “Observe,” Maddox said, and pulled open the stick, revealing the hidden blade. It was straight but still seemed bizarre to Audley, and he watched as Maddox handled it with great skill, holding it up for inspection.