A Case Most Peculiar

by Michael Moreau

  I dashed to the small circle of darkened straw that the boy had brought to my attention. I felt instantly that I knew precisely what had caused it but as I stooped and brought some of the charred straw to my nose I had confirmation. Lamp oil. Someone had knocked their lantern over and had started a small fire which they had quickly extinguished. The scent of the fuel was discernible but only just, it had not happened in the last few days, rather sometime in the last few weeks.

  I turned to the boy, “My dear boy did you drop your lamp in fright when you came upon Mr. Wright’s lifeless body?”

  “Yes! I was so very frightened that I dropped it and it burned a small patch before I could stamp it out with the soles of my boots.”

  I stood and smiled. The dark skinned boy tensed as he realized his mistake.

  “You dropped the lantern, the lit lantern, that you were carrying with you at breakfast time?”

  “Well I...” the boy seemed lost for words. His gaze continued to dart as if looking for one of his masters to instruct him as to what to say next. “It happened as you say sir.”

  “Then either you think me a fool for believing such a story or you believe me to think you a fool for carrying a lamp at such an hour. Neither answer is satisfactory. You will tell me...” I interrupted my own thoughts as I glimpsed something in the straw between myself and Kwame. I fell to my hands and knees as I searched through it and pulled free the piece that had caught my eye. There was something upon it that very much looked like a splatter of blood. What’s more there appeared to be several other pieces of straw with similar markings. By the shape of them I could surmise that were they indeed blood spots that had been tossed forward by a struggling Mr. Wright...right in the direction of...the lamp! There had been someone present in his dying moments and he had been reaching out to that person for help!

  The color of the stain was not apparent on the dirty fiber of straw but the shape of the marking as well as the thickness with which it had dried seemed to indicate something of the consistency of blood. I could not be certain, of course, at such an early juncture but the idea that the servant boy had come upon and surprised Mr. Wright, causing him to become startled and fall upon the pitchfork, seemed more likely than ever before.

  “You did not come to summon Mr. Wright to breakfast did you boy? You came upon him in the dark of night and startled him, perhaps by clumsily dropping the lantern? He then fell back and impaled himself. Is that the totality of this mystery, that your masters are simply trying to protect their African servant boy from any type of reprisal for what was only an unfortunate mishap?”

  The fact that the boy’s nerves had been rattled I was well aware of for I had seen to it on purpose but never did I expect him to take flight. Without a word he ran past me before I could grab hold of him. I rose to give chase but he was much more fleet of foot than I and in an instant was gone into the garden behind the house. I pocketed the piece of straw that I had been holding and turned to go back through the door into the stable. Examining in more detail the scene of Mr. Wright’s death revealed that not only had the area beneath the support timber against which he had died been cleared of straw but that the post had also been washed thoroughly. The soil in its immediate vicinity demonstrated features that were typical of having been doused with a fairly sizable amount of water.

  Eventually my inspection brought me to an apparently disused stall that had served as a repository for surplus straw. In the large pile situated near the rear I found, much to my pleasure, the pitchfork in question. Oh I knew not at first that it was that particular instrument but after bringing it out into the daylight and lying it upon a nearby work table I was able to discern with my glass what looked like dried blood around the pin that fastened the head to the handle.

  I removed a small metal pick from my pocket and prodded about until I’d managed to dislodge a sample. Lifting it to the sky I was startled to once again be greeted with what looked like dried dark blue paint. In a dash I flew back into the stable and began to collect straw from all around the circle that had been cleared. I ran back out into the diffused afternoon daylight and held the pieces up. It was very faint but there was no mistake...a slight blue tinge could be seen on a few of them. They were lighter in color than the other samples I had found, likely because whatever the original substance was it had been partially washed away by the water that had been used to clean the area prior to my arrival. If only I could locate the straw that had been removed from the base of the post. Likely, however, it had been either burned or buried

  There was no doubt about it, the next day would require a visit to the library in town. I would need to pore through medical texts to identify what rare condition or what type of poison could cause a man’s blood to become tainted such an odd hue as had the poor soul’s that had died in that stable. I could think of no other explanation for the origin of the blue substance.

  The Lion’s Den

  “You know, Inspector, my friend Mr. Woodcliffe who came to see me about a matter of business some hours ago told me about your exploits aboard the train to Leeds. Most intriguing sir!”

  It would seem that the three glasses of wine that Michael Dunning had partaken in, all before the main course was even served mind you, did much to change his demeanor from one of hostility to one of downright sociability. I, of course, never mastered precisely how to behave in pleasant company so typically I took the approach of silence in a social setting. Were I to indulge in a few alcoholic drinks, however, my tongue was known to loosen. This was not always for the best. Having been raised by a drunkard and then by nuns I knew little of polite conversation and had habit of swinging between being overly reserved to wildly inappropriate with little personal understanding of the difference between the two.

  I had, of course, taken note of Mr. Dunning’s visitor and had in fact spied upon them as they spoke in the library. It had been for naught. What the master of the house had called a business meeting had in fact been little more than an occasion for idle gossip and the drinking of two glasses of brandy each.

  “Nonsense.” I spoke up. “The jewel thief made a crucial error and I just so happened to be in the correct place at the correct time to notice it.”

  Michael Dunning scoffed, “You’re too modest Inspector. The story I was told speaks volumes about your talent. Speaking of which, you’ve no doubt deduced by now that everything here is precisely as we have all told you repeatedly. Again I apologize for my daughter’s foolishness in summoning you but you are welcome to stay on for a few days should you care to take in some of the countryside and I’ll of course compensate you for your time and any expenses you have incurred.”

  His comment carried with it a certain amount of frustration toward his daughter Elizabeth. He sneered at her as he spoke to which she responded only by looking away. She was dressed elegantly but of course still in the monotone colors of mourning. I, as the guest, sat at one end of the dining table with Mr. Dunning opposite me. To his right sat Adrian, to his right Elizabeth and to her’s the nanny, Tripti. To Michael Dunning’s left, to my surprise, sat his wife with their youngest son seated beside her. I thought to take the opportunity to speak with her but Michael Dunning’s glaring expression when she had first entered the room told me that it would not be wise. I would wait to find a more opportune time or at least until we had all drank more heavily of the wine.

  “As everyone who has had occasion to speak with me so far will no doubt attest, sir, I am not prone to obfuscating my true intent. The simple fact is that I have indeed found evidence that events did not unfold precisely as I have been informed. Of course I do not imply any type of misconduct...likewise I do not discount the possibility either.”

  Adrian Dunning smiled grimly as he sipped his wine, “Inspector I may remind you that it is only due to my father’s fair temperament that you have been allowed to even stay here on the estate.” he looked up and locked his gaze with mine, “Were it my decision I would have had you escorted from the prope
rty immediately.” he finished with a slick smile, an attempt to mask his contempt within a vein of upper-class sarcasm. It did not succeed.

  I saw his mother glower at him disapprovingly. “You will forgive my son Inspector. His manners seem to have taken leave of him this evening.”

  “Think nothing of it.” I assured her, “As to your father’s graces, Mr. Adrian, they were anything but present only a few hours ago when I chanced to speak with him on the grounds.” I expected an angry stare in response but it seemed as though nothing could break Michael Dunning’s pleasant mood. “As to why I remain that is solely the purview of your sister, Elizabeth.”

  “Who had no right to call for the prying eyes and meddling hands of a man of your profession if I do say so myself.” he chuckled, expecting his father to join in but the elder Dunning, though not the most welcoming individual himself, refused to do so.

  “I had every right.” Elizabeth finally spoke up, her soft voice attempting not to become elevated but her frustration was evident. The way that her lovely features and fair skin seemed to suddenly come to life with vigorous passion told me that, even had I not detected it in her tone. “I will see to it that if anything devious has happened to Colin the responsible party will pay dearly for it.” she turned directly to Adrian and gave him a wicked stare.

  The mother looked appalled and even their father put down his glass and came to attention.

  “Foolish little games. That’s all this is. A distraction from real life is all this is for you isn’t it sister?”

  “You murdered my lover!” she yelled at the brother seated next to her as her voice began to break.

  Mr. Dunning rose from his seat and slammed a fist onto the table, an act which startled everyone present save for myself. “See here! Such ridiculous accusations have no place at my dinner table!” he then looked at Adrian, “And neither do your petty arguments.”

  Elizabeth eyed her father harshly and though it was hard to discern through the rippling air coming off of the candles that lined the center of the table I thought I caught sight of tears welling up in her eyes.

  “I will not let the matter rest.” she spoke with a more subdued and respectful tone, “If I find that anyone in this household” she looked around at all, “had a hand in Colin’s death rest assured that I will see him or her brought to justice.”

  “So many tears for the stable boy...a distraction from her duty to marry a man of good standing and help secure this family’s fortune.” Adrian said smartly.

  With no hesitation at all Elizabeth slapped her brother squarely across the cheek and stood to leave the table. “Then what is your excuse brother? Is it that no decent lady will have you or that your interest lies elsewhere?”

  “Enough!” Michael Dunning yelled then turned and looked straight in my direction, “Pray Inspector, that you will ignore this most inexcusable conduct. I can assure you that it is not typical of my family’s behavior. Since Mr. Wright’s death my two eldest children have done nothing but squabble. I may not have welcomed your arrival but to force you to be witness to such a display is outside the boundaries of polite society. If you wish it you may be shown to your room and I will have the maid bring you your dinner.”

  The simple truth was that I reveled in their bickering. Upon every slip of the tongue rode the possibility of some little detail being revealed, something that could assist in my investigation. To my dismay, however, both children quickly apologized and agreed that such arguments should be reserved for times other than dinner. By her comment I gleaned that Miss Elizabeth shared my suspicion about her brother’s sexual preferences. It was enlightening and only lent further credence to the notion. As to Mr. Dunning, I began to understand how he could hide his long-standing opiate addiction so well. A few clever tactics to conceal the actual imbibing of the substance coupled with a wife who was in no position to take notice, children too busy bickering to care, and a penchant for wine which made him more than social at dinner disguised it well. Far be it for me, of all people, to judge someone based solely on the weakness of character that addiction more often than not brought with it but my past dealings with those of similar frailty had taught me that it was difficult to trust them completely.

  Adrian was more difficult to read. His true emotions lay under a deep facade of sarcasm and wit. Despite the Petersons’ providing their glowing opinion of the man I could observe little but a spoiled and insecure brat, long in need of a good spanking from parents who no-doubt played little role in his rearing. I believed the Petersons’ affections to have stood in the way of their fair judgment. From Miss Elizabeth intelligence and compassion was evident to even the most dim-witted of souls but her brother, though possibly wise in the way of study, displayed none of her poise or sincerity.

  “So tell me Inspector. Where did you attend university?” Michael Dunning began to speak just as Mrs. Kyle entered with a cart full of serving trays. Young Kwame entered behind her dressed in the livery of a footman and carrying himself with a grace I had not witnessed earlier in the day.

  “I did not attend university sir.”

  Adrian scoffed and put down his glass of wine. “You did not? Surely you are joking Inspector. Every gentleman attends university.”

  “I find it interesting that you consider me a gentleman Mr. Adrian. Thus far you have appeared to have quite an unfavorable opinion of me.”

  “You will forgive my brashness sir. I have a tendency to speak my mind. Please do not mistake my strong belief that you have no business here for rudeness or my having any personal quarrel with you.”

  He was taking a new approach, I recognized the tactic well for it was one of my own. Being overly brash with me had done nothing but raise my ire, now he would consider a more political approach and attempt to convince me that I truly was wasting my time.

  “That is good to hear. I too wish no altercation. I am merely fulfilling the duties of my vocation.”

  “As much as I may believe your investigation to be unnecessary I shall do no more to hinder you sir. I can see that you will not be daunted by the likes of me.” with that he let forth an insincere chuckle as he raised his glass to me. I did the same but made sure that my expression was visibly less than genuine. I wished him to be uncertain whether or not his ruse had succeeded.

  “So if you did not attend university...” Michael Dunning began but was interrupted by the protestations of his youngest son who was giving the lady of the house some trouble as she tried to tuck his napkin into his collar. “If you did not attend university then how, may I ask, did you acquire the skills that you possess?”

  “God-given talent and a bit of good fortune sir.” I responded.

  The master smiled as he glanced around at his family. “I have always upheld that true talent cannot be taught and that some of the most successful men in history have been of the variety that took it upon themselves to seek out their own path in life.”

  Miss Elizabeth chuckled as the maid placed her plate down in front of her.

  “What do you find so humorous my dear?” he asked of her.

  “Nothing Father.” replied she while attempting to regain her stolid facade.

  “Nonsense,” he spoke up, “if there’s something amusing then out with it.” his tone was not accusatory, he sounded honestly curious.

  “If that is what you believe then why did Adrian waste five years’ worth of tuition at Oxford?”

  Adrian gave her a scowl but said nothing. That time it seemed more playful, as if for just a moment they were children squabbling instead of obstinate adults.

  “Despite his overwhelming success at extra-curricular activities he’s obviously not a businessman, no matter how much he’d like to profess it so.” the entire family seemed to chuckle at that statement, even Tripti who tried desperately not to.

  “Now just a...”

  Adrian’s protestations were silenced by my question, “What, pray-tell, were his extra-curricular activities?”

  “B
allroom dancing.” she barely finished the sentence before erupting into a laughter I had hardly expected of an upper-class lady. Even her father and mother joined in and Tripti could do little to prevent her own laughter.

  “I was very good wasn’t I?” Adrian smirked and let out a little laughter himself as he mocked bowing his head and extending his hand to a dancing partner, “Still, I take great offense at my skills in being derided.”

  I had obviously judged Mr. Adrian wrongly. He was not completely without a sense of humor. I had been told that at times he could do quite well in social gatherings when the need arose. Still, underneath his suddenly more pleasant facade I sensed a selfish and vindictive nature.

  The rest of our dinner was filled with mostly polite conversation. I steered clear of inquiries about the matter at hand and instead attempted to better gauge the personalities of my hosts. Save for her brief, and minor by most standards, outburst earlier in the evening Miss Elizabeth was the paragon of both her sex and station in life. She was typically soft-spoken and of the highest order of intelligence but there was also intense passion and a certain nearly unbecoming stubbornness that lay directly beneath the surface.

  Her brother, Adrian, was indeed capable of being quite charming and even entertaining when it suited him but I surmised that it was but a clever act, one that fooled most but did not me. The makings of a sociopath were evident in the subtleties of his behavior. As to the father, it was precisely as I had gleaned earlier. He seemed to be a mostly fair and kind man but one who cherished his privacy and peace, quick to become roused when it was threatened. Years of opiate addiction had only made his mood swings more wild but he masked them with drink when in the company of family and close friends.