“I’ll go upstairs,” Silas said. “Maybe the Reilly girl is still up. Stay here.”
Silas made a quick beeline upstairs. Belloc and Posy were amazed at how softly he could tread around the house—not a peep was made. They waited for a minute or so before they saw Silas sneak back down the stairs.
“She looks to be asleep in her bed,” he said. “I guess she forgot to put the light out.”
“But why was the front door to the house ajar?” Belloc asked.
“I don’t know,” Posy said. “Maybe one of the servants had to go find something out in the yard, left it open, perhaps?”
“Possibly,” Silas said.
“So, do you think we should wake Darcy up?” Posy asked. “There’s no one here. We can be in and out in no time.”
“Well, I don’t want to frighten the poor girl,” Belloc said. “I was hoping to have one of the help introduce us to her.”
“Well, doesn’t she recognize you?” Silas asked.
“I suppose,” Belloc conceded. “Let’s go, then.”
“Wait,” Posy pointed towards the floor. “Why is this wet?”
“What?” Belloc looked around. “Where?”
“There’s a big wet puddle right there near your feet, Silas.”
“Oh?” Silas lifted his leg up. “Was that me?”
“No, it looks melted,” Belloc said. “It’s been there for a while.”
“There’s some there too,” Posy said as she walked towards the stairs.
“Hmm,” Silas said. “Someone must have gone out, I suppose.” He began looking around, searching the expansive foyer and the many rooms connecting to it.
Nothing.
He turned to the kitchen and saw the lanterns inside wearing thin. That’s strange.
Something on the floor caught his attention. Silas jerked his head downward and saw some type of tracks. Kneeling down, he inspected the print, rubbing his finger across it. “Boots.”
“What was that, Silas?” Belloc said.
“We have some boot prints on the floor.” Silas stood up and looked over to where they led, tracing the tracks to the foyer. “They keep going towards the western end of the house.” He followed the tracks and then stopped. “Here we have more tracks, boots again, but they’re smaller in size.” He kept walking, nearing the outer door located on the west wing. “Looks like both tracks lead outside, although… That’s interesting.”
“What is?” Posy asked.
“The smaller tracks stopped and waited right here for a few minutes. See how the tracks shift a bit? But then they start to lead outside.”
“I don’t understand,” Belloc said. “So we have boot tracks. People come in and out of the house all the time.”
“Well, that’s the thing, Inspector. The tracks leave the house...but they never come back in.”
“They don’t?”
“Not through this door.”
“Maybe they came in from some other entrance.”
“Perhaps. But still,” Silas said, turning to Belloc so he could finish his sentence.
“It’s worth investigating,” Posy replied, beating the Inspector to the punch.
“My thoughts precisely.” Silas stepped outside. The snowstorm had cleared a bit, but there was still a massive amount of snow on the ground. The wind had died and the moon had come out, shining on the whole of the mansion.
Silas spotted the tracks. “Both of the boot prints start from here,” he said, hovering over the sunken-in prints, “but they didn’t necessarily take the same direction. The big prints tend to veer to the left and then down center, rolling over that small hill across the way. The smaller tracks, they seem to kind of wander around to the right, as if whoever made them was a bit disoriented, maybe blinded by the recent storm. They go towards that fence over there, following it all the way down. I wonder where that fence leads to.”
“The gazebo,” Belloc said. “I’ve tutored Lucy there a number of times. It’s next to the dock...by the lake.”
“Wait. Funny I didn’t see these before. There are some animal tracks as well.” Silas glanced over to the doghouse, seeing it empty. “Their dog must have gotten loose. His tracks lead to the lake along with the others.”
“What a strange thing,” Belloc remarked. “To go to the lake in the middle of a blizzard.”
“Maybe they were searching for the dog,” Silas added.
“But where is the dog?” Posy said. “Did they not find him?”
“I don’t know,” Belloc replied, looking at the mansion behind him. “I want to wake up some of the staff. Maybe they can tell us.”
“Not yet,” Silas said. “We have the element of secrecy at the moment. Let’s keep it under everyone’s noses for now, until we reach the lake. If I don’t find anything there, we’ll go ahead and wake the staff.”
“Fine,” Belloc replied. “Lead the way, Silas.” Yet Silas didn’t move. “What are you waiting for?”
“It’s incomplete.”
“Incomplete?” Posy asked, curious.
“What’s incomplete?” Belloc chimed in.
“It’s unfinished. The routine—it’s incomplete. Everyone, everywhere, has their own routine, especially at night before turning in. If you were to go to someone’s house at night, you’d notice certain things are put up and straightened, and you’d notice this every night, and it’s always the same. There’s a routine. But back inside the house, the routine was unfinished. Only a few certain things were put away and straightened, lanterns were still lit, and the furniture was still out of place. The nightly routine was unfinished, meaning whoever typically does it didn’t get a chance to finish it.”
“Right,” Belloc said. “So you’re saying whoever went looking for Dominic hasn’t come back yet?”
“Precisely. Not only that, but I would guess that the smaller tracks are Darcy’s. Yet she’s in her bed, sleeping like a baby. I don’t see any tracks coming back. The whole thing just doesn’t make any sense.”
“We’ll just have to follow the tracks,” Posy said.
But before Silas could answer her, a familiar feeling suddenly overtook him. He noticed something in his peripheral vision, something that didn’t fit in with the snowy horizon. To his left, about twenty yards away, lit up by the unfailing moonlight, he saw footprints in the snow. “Now those over there are not your typical prints.”
Belloc heard his whispers. “You see something else?”
Silas didn’t answer, just approached the strange prints, and stopping a few feet from the tracks, he stared into the distant forest, putting his hands up to his ears and cupping his palms behind them. He closed his eyes and opened his mouth in an O fashion, flaring his nostrils and tilting his nose up. He moved his head back and forth, listening for any suspicious noises.
“What a strange thing,” Belloc remarked.
“Why is he doing that?” Posy added.
A snap of a branch caught Silas by surprise about fifty yards from where he stood, sounding off near the shadowed borders of the neighboring forest. He closed his mouth and, taking his right hand and closing it to create a small tube, he put it up to his eye, pointing towards the direction of the sound. If there’s something there, it’s elusive. Yet I don’t sense any danger. Lowering his hand, he took the last few steps towards the footprints. He signaled for the others to come towards him.
Belloc reached him first. “What are they?”
“But more importantly, what the hell were you doing?” Posy added.
“Easy, Posy,” Belloc said.
“Here we have more prints.” Silas moved his hand across the snow. “But these are thicker and longer—a man’s prints.”
“You think there was a man staking out the mansion?” Belloc asked.
“Can’t really say.”
Posy moved up to Silas. “But they head in the same direction as the others.”
“True enough.”
“Was he following the others?”
A s
ense of urgency washed over Silas. “Let’s get down to the dock quickly, see what we can find.”
The three of them followed the tracks down towards the dock, and once they reached the gazebo, Silas surveyed the surrounding terrain. There was a mound of snow that had accumulated to the east of the lake, and a large log had settled near the center of the water that had yet to freeze over. And over near the west end, where it was quite dark except for a ray of moonlight bouncing off the white icy landscape, he saw something: a shadowed shape in a human form. Something next to it was moving.
“I have to get to higher ground.” Silas searched for the closest tree near him. To his right, he spotted a thick oak with long, heavy branches.
Climbing it, he weaved his way through the many branches until he reached the top, about three stories high. He put his clenched fist over his right eye and scanned the terrain. He focused on the mound he’d just seen. He listened for a moment, honing in on a faint sound coming from the distant lake. It was a dog’s whine.
And that’s when he saw it.
It was clear as day to him. The shadowy shape he’d seen before were now two shapes, one tall and round and the other small and fragile. Quickly, he scaled down the tree, and without turning to his companions, he began sprinting back towards the mansion.
“Where are you going?” Posy said, confused. “What did you see?”
Belloc turned to Silas, watching him speed away. Thinking, he turned his head back to the lake. “He must’ve seen something over there.” He turned to Posy. “I want to know what he saw.” Belloc took off walking as fast as he could, struggling to keep in rhythm with his cane.
“Wait!” Posy yelled out. “Not you too. You can’t just walk out there.” She paused. “Well...at least you could wait for me to help you.”
Belloc and Posy negotiated their way around the western border of the lake, jumping over rock formations and piles of branches. With every single obstacle, it seemed like the end for Inspector Belloc, but he persevered, fiercely intent on finding out what Silas had discovered.
After a few minutes of climbing and jumping around all the snowy rocks, they came to a place that led towards a clearing. The moonlight shone a fat stream of silver gleam straight into the center of the lake. Once they reached the bank, they could clearly see what was ahead.
“Is that a woman?” Posy strained her eyes. “It looks like one of the servants.”
“Look there!” Belloc pointed to a strange large mass. “The dog.”
“Why is he just staying there?”
“He knows that woman.” Belloc attempted to step on the ice. “He’s guarding her.” He took another step and continued.
“You’re going to get yourself killed. If you fall in that water, I’m not coming after you.”
“I don’t care.” But then Belloc stopped and turned to Posy. “You coming?”
“You’re kidding.”
“Time is of the essence, my dear child.”
“I can’t believe I’m doing this.” Posy placed her right foot on the ice. It cracked. “Why am I doing this?”
“It’s your job! Now make haste, please.”
Posy treaded lightly as she stepped on the frozen lake, and every now and then, a crack would send her nerves into disarray. But after she’d made some progress, she clearly saw what was ahead of her, and the more she understood the scene, the less she cared about her own safety.
Once she was about fifteen feet away from the body, she saw a blood trail staining the milky ice. She followed the trail as it significantly widened with every step she took towards the body. White ice turned to blood-red slush, and the scent of dried blood crept its way into her senses. Soon, bloody handprints accompanied the trail, lots of them, as if someone had crawled on the ice.
Belloc knelt next to the body. He turned to Posy; his face was ghostlike. His hands trembled as he dropped his cane onto the ground. Upon reaching the body, Posy saw it was Glenda, who lay on her side, wrapped up in her coat. One of Glenda’s boots was off, exposing her naked foot, and upon closer inspection, Posy noticed that her heel was slashed through.
That would explain the crawling. But where was she crawling to?
Posy moved up to Belloc, who was trying to contain his breathing. Dominic lay on all fours, panting and whining, keenly aware of the tragedy surrounding him. “Are you all right, Inspector?”
“She tried to keep the baby warm. That’s all she wanted to do. It was probably crying. She just tried to warm him up. Poor woman.”
“What baby?”
Belloc pointed towards the front of Glenda’s body. As she stepped over the body, Posy saw a small newborn wrapped up in Glenda’s arms, dead from an apparent stab wound. The baby had bled out, and Glenda had made sure the tiny boy knew the warmth and love of her embrace for the few minutes they would be alive together. There was a deep gash across Glenda’s throat.
“That baby?” Posy struggled to regain her composure. “Is that—”
“It has to be.”
“Darcy’s?” Posy gasped. “But she’s in her bed, asleep.”
“Is she? Asleep?”
Posy exhaled, her knees wobbling. She bent over, grabbing the cold ice with her exposed palm, her eyes gripped with horror. She then saw a carriage in the distance. “Oh, no, Inspector, it seems the Reillys are home.”
“God help us,” he replied.
*
“LINE THEM UP,” a scruffy-looking man said as he stood near a darkened set of docks. A ship whistled its bell somewhere inside the gray horizon, and the strong smell of salt water permeated the harbor air. “Do it quickly now. I want two rows made, all even and together. Make sure the bags are put over their heads and are tied nice and tight. All the bags need to have holes so they can breathe. We don’t want a repeat of what happened with the last shipment.”
“Yes, sir,” another man said, this one wiry and malnourished. He turned around to a group of more malnourished men in order to spew out his orders. “Let’s hurry it up! Get them ready to board. The captain’s already antsy to depart and be on his way.”
“Aye!” the rest of the men shouted. One by one, the men broke away, heading towards a large mass of gray forms sitting along the edges of the docks.
“Get them up, will ya,” one of the men said.
At the sound of his voice, a group of about twenty-four children, all boys, stood up, moping and fussing. Their hands had been tied behind their backs, and their faces were covered with large, blackened potato sacks. The men placed the children in pairs, forming two straight lines.
“Get them on the ship quickly, I said. And keep your voices down. Load the rascals into the lower decks. If we hurry, we can be at the factory by sunup.”
“You heard him, you little runts,” another man said. “March on! We’re all going home...well, to your new home, where each and every one of you will be kings in your own right. Doesn’t it sound like a grand ole adventure?”
The children wept as they were herded into a large and ominous ship. After everyone was on board, the ship set sail, breaking away from the light of the docks, on its way into a gray horizon. The scruffy-looking figure stood at the edge of the water, watching the new cargo sail away as he smiled, pleased with his work. He took a letter out, sealed it inside an envelope, and gave it to an adolescent boy who stood next to him waiting for instructions. “See that this gets delivered promptly. My driver will take you there.”
“Aye, sir.”
“And here.” The man gave the boy some coins. “You did well this time around.”
“Thank you, sir.” The boy grabbed the coins, then took off running into the night.
***
A doorbell rang. An eerie, tall butler answered the door. “It’s you,” his voice boomed.
“I have a letter for the missus.”
“I’ll take it. Thank you.” The man closed the door. He turned around and signaled to one of the servants. “Promptly deliver this letter to the madam.”
“Right away,” the housemaid said as she accepted the letter. She turned and made her way up the stairs. Once she reached the third floor, she rang a small bell that hung near one of the windows. A graceful, slender lady’s maid responded to the call. “Miss Clarice, the letter is here.”
“Thank you,” Clarice said. “You may go now.”
The housemaid departed. Clarice took the letter and read it, making sure it was exactly the news that the lady of the house wanted to hear.
Speedily, she walked down the hallway towards the master bedroom. Without being disruptive, she opened the door and entered the room. Once inside, she stood there for a moment, as if waiting for further instructions.
About ten feet from her was a beautiful middle-aged woman sitting on the floor, reading a nighttime fable to a group of small children. After reading the entire story, the woman acknowledged Clarice’s presence.
“What is it that you need, Miss Bingham?”
“The letter, mum. I have it for you.”
The lady of the manor didn’t say anything else to Clarice but instead just lifted her hand up in the air. Clarice approached her and placed the letter in her mistress’s hand. With a slight wave and a flick of a wrist, Clarice was dismissed.
“Yes, mum.” Clarice shut the door behind her.
The lady sighed as she took out the letter. Blood was smeared across the page, and in French, it read:
Two feathers plucked.
Mr. F.
The lady smiled as she set the letter aside and placed her attention back on the children. “Now, where were we? Would you like me to read another story? A scary mystery perhaps?”
“Yes, mum,” they cried out in unison.
“Very well, my dears.” She opened a book and once again started reading to the children.
***
Silas had already reached the front entrance to the Reillys’ mansion by the time Belloc discovered Glenda’s body. He burst in through the door and dashed towards the stairs. Reaching the second floor, he raced down the long stretch of hallway, stomping his wet shoes on the luscious burgundy carpets and bumping into the gold-laced furniture.
The Valentine Circle Page 10